Chapter Three The First Victory
The next few weeks were busy ones for Jim. School took most of the day,while after school there were chores to do. Since Mr. Meadows maintainedhis hostile attitude toward the mustang, Jim was very careful not toshirk any of his farm work in order to spend additional time on Ticktock.In spite of the full schedule, he managed to spend an hour or two on hispony each day. He went over the pony's coat for an exhausting hour everyevening and worked on the matted tail and mane. A few applications ofmethylene blue to the saddle sores caused them to start healing, whilethe remaining lameness quickly disappeared.
The first week-end Jim laboriously put in an entire new floor inTicktock's stall. He carried fresh clay from a hill on the other side ofthe farm and packed it firmly over the floor of the stall. He kept thepony's quarters scrupulously clean and filled with fresh straw forbedding.
While Jim was at school, the little horse cropped busily at the springgrass and waited for his master's return. He sensed that Jim was the onlymember of the family who was ready to lavish affection on him. Mr.Meadows' hostility was quite open and apparent. Jim's mother, while atleast neutral, was seldom seen by the horse. As for Jean, Ticktock hadn'tquite made up his mind. Jim's little sister hadn't decided whether to bescornful of the horse or to like him as she did all the other animalsaround the farm.
Under the circumstances it was not strange that the mustang welcomed Jimhome from school each afternoon, particularly since the reunion usuallymeant an apple. The little pony had never had anyone really love himbefore and he was quick to respond. Like most horses, the mustang hadalways wanted to be close friends with some man. While the cow hands onthe range had treated him well, no one had ever singled him out for anyparticular attention. He had been roped, saddled and worked. That was thebeginning and end of his ranch existence. Perhaps his very gentleness hadkept him from notice, as many cowboys preferred a rather wild andunmanageable horse. Ticktock didn't lack spirit. He simply didn't see anysense in bucking and kicking up a fuss.
It was three days before Jim ventured to ride his horse. He examined thesaddle sores and decided they were not too tender and that he could avoidsitting on them. He put on the bridle for the first time and led Ticktockup beside a small platform by the feed shed. Gingerly he climbed on thepony's bare back. Mrs. Meadows, unobserved, watched nervously from thekitchen window. Secretly she thought the mustang looked somewhatmean-tempered, but she kept silent. Her fears were unfounded, for thepony stood calmly while Jim climbed awkwardly on his back. The horsecraned his head around as if to make certain his rider was firmly seatedand then stood waiting for orders.
Jim sat puzzled for a moment. He had ridden their broad-backed farmhorses many times, but this was different. He had heard somewhere younever clicked to a saddle horse--and he wanted to do things right. Yousaid "giddap" to a work horse, but that sounded a little undignified fora Western ranch horse. Finally he just pressed with his knees, lifted thereins and said: "O.K., Ticktock, let's go." The pony seemed tounderstand, for he started off at a brisk walk. Once outside the yardgate, Jim gave another press of the knees and they were off at a trot. Itwasn't a very comfortable trot, as jolting along bareback on a spine asprominent as Ticktock's still was, couldn't possibly be anything butpainful. But Jim enjoyed every moment. As he was still being careful ofthe pony's tender foot, he rode him only a short distance down the road.The return trip was made at a full gallop. Ticktock was not slow, so thehorse and rider made a triumphant entry into the yard.
As Jim slid off there was no doubt in his mind that Ticktock was thefastest as well as the finest horse in the world.
After the first trial, Jim went for a daily ride, each one growinglonger. He led the horse into the yard, took the bridle over to theplatform, gave a shrill whistle, and Ticktock would trot up to be bridledand mounted. Then they would go dashing off down the road, chasingrustlers, carrying the mail, or acting out whatever happened to be thecurrent daydream.
Springdale no longer held any fascination for Jim. Saturdays were tooprecious to be wasted in town. There were too many odd jobs to be done.He repaired Ticktock's feedbox, and built a rack for a bucket in onecorner of the stall. He wasn't going to ask anyone to water his horsewhen he was away, and he had no intention of letting the pony be thirsty.
The second Saturday after Ticktock's arrival, Jim was lying on the frontporch resting from his labors. He munched on a cookie and gazedcontentedly at his horse. Ticktock was in the front yard grazing. Theregular pasture didn't seem quite luxuriant enough to Jim. Besides heplanned to ride any moment now and wanted his horse near. The orchardwould have been the ideal spot but the bull was again occupying thatarea. The boy thought about the bull and frowned.
Jim wasn't the only one who disliked the bull, for Mrs. Meadows was verynervous concerning the big red animal. She was also home this particularSaturday. Her last words to her husband, before he and Jean left fortown, had been about the mean-tempered bull.
"Carl, I wish you'd see Colonel Flesher and sell that ugly brute. When Istay home without you I'm always afraid that he'll get loose."
"I'll get rid of him this fall," Mr. Meadows had said, laughing. "He'ssafe enough in the orchard and I'm certain there's nothing you'll want inthere today."
Jim lay thinking about the time he had been trapped in the tree. He wasstill angry about that and wished he could think of some way of eveningthe score. Besides, that orchard would certainly make a nice privatepasture for the horse. Grazing in the yard was not too satisfactory. Hismother had objected at first on the grounds that Ticktock would eat ortrample her flowers. They had finally compromised by agreeing that themustang could graze on the strip between the drive and the orchard fence.As Jim disliked tethering his horse, he had to watch carefully; but itwas worth it. The pony was near and each mouthful he ate was that muchless lawn to be mowed.
Jim was turning over the weighty problem of whether to go for a ride nowor to try arguing his mother out of another cookie, when he noticed thebull coming through the orchard gate. Either the gate had been insecurelyfastened or else the latch had been broken. He jumped to his feet inalarm.
"Mother, the bull's loose!" he shouted.
His mother came through the door onto the porch just as Jim started downthe steps. She made a frantic grab and caught her son by his overallsuspenders. She pulled him, kicking and struggling, back to the center ofthe porch.
"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded.
"Ticktock is in the yard," pointed out Jim, almost beside himself withfear for his precious horse.
"The bull won't bother a horse," Jim's mother reassured him.
"He will too!" cried Jim. "I saw a movie of a bull-fight and bullssometimes kill horses."
"Nevertheless, you are staying right here," said Mrs. Meadows firmly. "Ifanybody gets hurt, it is not going to be you. Besides, Ticktock is aranch pony. He can take care of himself."
The bull took a long curious look at the mustang who continued to grazepeacefully. Ordinarily the bull stayed clear of the large work horses butthe pony looked small enough to intimidate. He gave several snorts andbegan to paw with his front foot. Ticktock just went on grazing, ignoringthe bull completely. The big animal lowered his head and prepared torush. Jim squirmed and struggled in another attempt to get free but hismother now had him by the arm and showed no intention of letting him go.Jim wasn't quite certain what he could do if he were free. All he couldthink of was that his pony was in danger.
"He's going to rush!" he shouted.
"You couldn't stop him," said his mother. She too began to wonder aboutthe mustang's safety.
The bull lunged forward, gathering speed as he went. His short legsworked furiously, like pistons in a racing engine. Just as he seemedcertain to smash into the pony's side, Ticktock jerked his head up andmade a quick wheeling movement. The bull rushed past harmlessly.
"There!" said Mrs. Meadows, with a huge sigh of relief. "Tic
ktock cantake care of himself."
"I guess he's too smart for an old bull," said Jim with more confidencethan he really felt.
The bull turned around and was pawing again. After his experience in theorchard, Jim was well acquainted with the ugly animal's tactics.
"Look out, Ticktock!" he shouted.
The mustang needed no warning. He was watching the bull with a quizzicallook. He seemed amazed, as if he couldn't quite believe that a "cowcritter" could possibly be stupid enough to try any tricks on a smartranch pony like himself. He cocked his head and stood waiting as if hewere saying, "I'll just wait and see if this is really true. Maybe I justimagined that bull was rushing at me."
Bull and pony fighting]
The bull rushed all right. He came ploughing across the yard like afreight train, the driving hooves taking huge chunks out of the smoothgreen sod. Ticktock calmly and neatly side-stepped. He decided this timethat he hadn't been mistaken. The bull was actually trying to scare_him_. The whole thing was ridiculous. As the bull came charging back thethird time the pony decided he had enough of such foolishness. He wheeledsharply when the animal was a few feet away. As the bull roared past,Ticktock lashed out sharply with both hind feet. Running the open rangeas a colt had taught the mustang how to use his only weapons, his feet.He had learned well, as the bull now discovered. Ticktock planted a firmkick squarely on the fat side of the big red animal. The bull, almostknocked over by the force of the blow, gave a loud bellow of pain andsurprise. Jim jumped up and down on the front porch, cheering as if at aboxing match.
"Sock him, Ticktock; let him have it!"
By now Ticktock had his ears back and his teeth bared. He stood watchingthe bull, willing to give him another lesson. The bull, however, neededno more instruction. He promptly dropped all ideas regarding the littlepony, moving a respectful distance away. Snorting in baffled rage anddisappointment, he walked across the yard and began pawing furiously inthe flower beds.
"My flowers," moaned Mrs. Meadows. "Now I know that bull is going to besold. I could kill him with my bare hands."
"I'll chase him out," volunteered Jim.
"No you don't. You are still staying here," insisted Jim's mother.
Jim gave a whistle. "Come here, Ticktock."
The mustang trotted up to the porch. Jim climbed on confidently. He hadno bridle but he was long since past the point where he needed reins tomake his wishes known to the pony. He rode over to the nearest tree andbroke off a substantial switch.
"Come on, boy; after the bull."
Ticktock went after the big animal. Cutting steers out of herds, chasingback strays, and all such maneuvers were old routine with him. He neededfew directions; all he required was to know where Jim wanted the bull togo. They turned the animal back and, after a few trys, chased him throughthe orchard gate.
Once inside, Jim gave the defeated and lumbering bull a triumphant swatwith his switch. The big beast broke into a reluctant run. Shouting andwaving his arms like a wild cowboy, Jim chased the vanquished bull to thefar end of the orchard.
When finally there was no place farther to go, he relented. Returning, hefastened the gate securely and slid off Ticktock.
"You're the bravest and smartest horse in the world, Ticktock. I'm goingto get you something for a reward."
Jim swaggered into the kitchen, trying to walk as he thought a bow-leggedcowboy would.
"Ticktock is really a smart horse, isn't he, Mom?"
"He seems to be very intelligent," admitted his mother.
"We can handle that bull all right," boasted Jim. "Why we can chase himall over."
"I noticed you did," said Mrs. Meadows dryly. "I don't say he didn'tdeserve it this time, but don't make a practice of chasing him. That bullis going to be sold and there is no use running the fat off him."
"Oh no, we won't run him," protested Jim. "But any time you want himhandled, just call on us."
"All right," laughed his mother. "Now go get the apple you were planningon asking for. And you can have a cookie for yourself."
"One down," said Jim as he gave Ticktock his apple. "Mom's all for you.We'll show the others too. You wait. If only you hadn't taken that biteat Dad."
The mustang stopped munching long enough to grin.