Sunday's Colt & Other Stories by Randy D. Smith

done and I’ll feed you boys. That’s the least I can do. Right now, we want to see old Rattlesnake Jack here ride down the Black Queen.”
    Driscoll mumbled softly, producing an immediate chuckle and a nod from Bonnet.
    â€œWhat’s that he said?” Dil asked.
    â€œTy Lee says that feller won’t last more than four jumps. Says that mare will pile him square and sharpen her teeth on his ass before he can be rescued.”
    Dil was immediately concerned. “What makes you say that?”
    Driscoll looked a little sick. “You don’t have no money on this ride, do you?”
    Dil shook his head. “Come on, hombre. What makes you say that?”
    Driscoll turned back to the fence and leaned on the rail, pointing as he spoke. “He’s got his saddle too far back and his stirrups too long. He’s going to wedge into the saddle and try to muscle her down when he needs to use a light touch. He’s too wide-shouldered and top-heavy to stay on that mare the way he’s going to try to ride her. He’ll try to strong-arm her and that’s what she’s a-wanting. She’ll make three or four stiff legged jumps to jar his nuts loose, then do a wheel about on her back feet and send him a-flying. Just about the time he thinks he caught up with her, they’ll be a-going in different directions.”
    â€œAnd you could do better?” Dil asked.
    Driscoll didn’t answer so Red River Sam took the reins. “Damn right he can do better. There ain’t a man living that can stay a bronco or shave a steer better than this man. I’ve seen him make horses go into battle that were too poor to eat and then nurse them thirty more miles to the next fight with nothing more than an encouraging word and an ear rub. I’ve seen him ride the worst green broncos the Confederate cavalry had to offer and in less than an hour turn them over to a private, house broke and eating out of his hand. This is the best horseman that ever threw a leg over the cantle of a saddle. Even old General Forrest hisself said that Driscoll was the finest natural born cavalry rider and horse breaker in the entire Confederacy. God strike me dead if I didn’t hear the words myself.”
    Dil went wide-eyed. “Is that a fact?”
    â€œIt is.”
    Dil turned to Driscoll. “Is that the truth of it?”
    Driscoll looked to his feet. “I ride a little.”
    Dil turned to watch Rattlesnake Jack gather the reins and put his foot in the stirrup. “We’ll see, by God. We’ll see.”
    Old Jack swung into the saddle, drew up his reins, and dug those sharpened spurs hilt deep into her flanks.
    â€œWhy’d he want to do that for?” Ty Lee mumbled.
    The Black Queen hunkered down as Jack set his weight into the saddle, but when them spurs found their mark, she fare-thee-well exploded into a stiff-legged, bone-jarring, detonation of full-blown, head-down, broncobusting, gut-wrenching vaults. As powerful as Rattlesnake Jack was, he could no more keep her head high than drag a ton bull with a greased lasso. She made four leaps into the middle of the corral, growling, farting, and groaning with each surge of energy. Old Jack flopped like a rag doll as he tried to find her rhythm. It looked like he was just about to catch up when she wheeled about and launched old Jack into the sky. He hit the ground headfirst and shattered like a Christmas tree ornament as those sharpened spur rowels dug into his own back.
    True to form, the Black Queen wheeled about again and made for the wreck that used to be Jack. It took four men to drive her back and drag the remains of Jack to the corral fence. They shoved him through the space between the running poles and piled him neatly in some fresh horse apples on the far side. The entire affair had been a full-blown disaster.
    â€œHar. Har. Har.” Arky Blue laughed as the rest waited in silence to see if Jack would stir with life