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

against a welcher.”
    Dil nodded grimly in spite of the offensive insinuation. “Let’s get a paper and write it up.”
    As pen and paper were gathered and the witnesses assembled round to watch the ceremony, Red River and Ty Lee waited by the corral fence.
    â€œWell, pard,” Red River said. “It looks like we got us a job offer. What do you think?”
    Ty Lee shook his head. “It’ll be all right. He seems straight enough.”
    â€œI hope you don’t think I talked out of turn. I mean, I never intended for you to risk your neck like this.”
    Ty Lee leaned over the rail and studied the Black Queen. “All those days of the war. How many good friends have we had to say goodbye to? This ain’t nothing no matter how it turns out.”
    Red River shook his head. “She could hurt ya, pard.”
    Ty Lee turned to get his saddle from his pony. “Tain’t nothing,” he said softly.
    The wranglers saddled her up and got ready to hold her head so Ty Lee could get his foot in the stirrup. He waved them away, slipped his hand close to the bit shanks and held her nose next to his face. He spoke softly to her and gently rubbed his hand under her chin, kind of like a mother comforts her fretting babe. He and that mare stood there in the middle of that corral for nigh to five minutes talking and getting to know each other. Finally, Ty Lee smiled, spoke another soft word, and eased into the saddle.
    She took her four jumps and spun around. Ty Lee stayed with her. She tried it again. Ty Lee hung in a little tighter. She bucked her heart out for nigh on to twelve minutes and Ty Lee Driscoll clung to her back like he had been growed out of it. Old Ty Lee and that mare took on the appearance of a finely tuned New England glider as each part swayed in rhythm against the other. Witnesses to this day say that it was just about the prettiest thing they’d ever seen.
    Suddenly, she quit. We’re not talking a run out, mind you. She just plain quit and stood in the middle of that corral like a Jersey cow waiting for the milk stool and the bucket.
    There was dead calm in the crowd as Ty Lee eased himself to the ground. He gave the mare a pat on the neck, jerked the saddle, and walked to the corral fence.
    â€œPoetry. Pure poetry,” Dil Townsen whispered.
    Arky Blue looked like he just swallowed a plug of chew whole. He turned to walk away.
    â€œWhat do you want for her?” Townsen asked.
    â€œShe’s your horse,” Arky Blue said. “He rode her fair and square. I’m cleaned out and she has no more value to me.” He mounted up and rode away, never to be seen in Williamson County, or Texas for that matter, again.
    Townsen counted out the original losses to his partners and kept the profits for himself. When it was over he turned to Red River and Ty Lee. “You boys got a job on the H-7 as long as there is such. Take the mare, Driscoll. She’s yourn.”
    Ty Lee nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Townsen. You say she’s mine to do with as I like?”
    â€œYes, sir. Now let’s get you boys a well-deserved steak dinner.”
    Ty Lee opened the corral gate and gathered the Black Queen’s halter rope. He led her into the open and slipped the halter. “Go on. Get!” he said.
    The mare took off into the mesquite at a dead run and without a backward glance.
    Sam watched it all a-grinning and said nothing.
    Ty Lee looked at his partner and smiled. “Her war is over too.”
    Red River Sam nodded and pulled his hat close over his eyes. “Let’s go eat that steak.”

The Murder Steer
    The cowpuncher was watching his bacon fry in his camp skillet nigh on to sundown when the youngster returned from checking the picket line. The youngster seemed unsettled as he nestled down next to his saddle on the far side of the fire.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?” the puncher asked. “You look like you just seen a