you’ve
got to do some work afoot.’
‘ So I
should be,’ protested the Kid. ‘Walking’s only fitting for hosses,
food-dawgs, mules, squaws ’n’ white folks.’
‘ In
that order?’ asked Colin Farquharson.
‘ All
the way ’n’ all the time,’ confirmed the Kid.
‘ Day’s
going to come when a gal’ll show you a squaw’s good for some things
that a horse or a food-dog isn’t,’ Dusty Fog warned. ‘See if it
don’t.’ xiv
‘ Damned
if I can think what them “things”’d be,’ grinned the Kid, taking
one of the coiled ropes from by the caracol’s gate. ‘Well, seeing’s there ain’t no
chance of getting out of it, let’s make a start.’
With the manada de hermanos safely in the
enclosure, the mustanging party had to carry out the even more
difficult and exacting task of securing them so that they could be
removed. For one thing, the caracol had neither food nor water to supply the needs of
the horses. Nor could it be used to trap other manadas with the young stallions running
loose inside.
There were various methods by
which the securing could be carried out. Some mustangers fastened a
forked stick to a front ankle of each horse, the shank positioned
to trip the animal by tangling its rear legs if it moved at any
gait swifter than a walk. Others lashed a block of wood to the mustang’s
foretop which swung and banged against the horse’s face when it
ran. In California, the mesteneros frequently blindfolded their catches and allowed
the wild horses to mingle with domesticated mounts. In their
sightless condition, the mustangs stuck close to the other horses.
Probably the most cruel method was that of the Paiute Indians,
stitching shut the nostrils of their captives.
Being humane as well as a shrewd
businessman, Trader Schell would have nothing to do with such cruel
methods. He had taught his family that the unnecessarily brutal
treatment could be avoided and defeated its own ends. Far too many
of the captured horses died as a result of it. Maybe Trader
Schell ’s ways
meant more work, but his losses rarely went higher than one in
twenty. That compared favorably against the one out of five which
died after being caught by the crueler members of the mustanging
business. Nor did the matter end there. The Schells’ horses could
be trained with greater facility and fewer of them became
unmanageable outlaws or mindless, nervous wrecks.
Entering the caracol on foot, carrying coiled ropes and
other equipment, the men paired off and made ready to start work.
Jeanie hovered in the background, available to help any couple
requiring assistance.
Picking a brown stallion from
amongst the milling manada, Dusty swung his rope and made a fast hooley-ann
throw. xv He aimed true, the loop falling over
the horse’s head and tightening about its neck. Feeling the touch
of the hard-plaited Manila fibers, the brown reared upon its hind
legs in an attempt to escape. That was the reaction sought by the
small Texan.
Working as
Dusty ’s
partner, the Kid brought off a mangana throw. Right hand turned downwards, he
sent his loop flying in the horse’s direction so that the circle of
rope stood almost vertically. With perfect timing, the Kid’s loop
encircled the horse’s raised and pawing forelegs. A flick of his
wrists tightened the rope about them. As they returned to the
ground, the trapped legs caused the horse to tumble on to its
side.
Darting in as the animal tried
to rise, Dusty girthed its body with a rawhide strap. While the Kid
held both ropes, deftly controlling the stallion’s attempts to free itself
or turn on and bite Dusty, the small Texan buckled another strap to
its near rear fetlock. The upper end of the strap connected to the
girth and, on being drawn tight, raised the left hoof from the
ground.
Having fixed the sarprima, as mustangers called
such a device, the Texans removed their ropes. Although able to
stand and move with limited freedom, the fastenings effectively
prevented the