Free Little Britches by Ralph Moody

my face straight, but I was laughing all over inside. I was sure from the way Father said it that he was going to let me ride Fanny, now that he knew I could do it. It didn't make any difference if I had to wait a day or two. After breakfast I got my spurs from where I had hidden them under the hay, and poked them in the front of my blouse. I thought I'd be at least part cowboy if I had spurs, even if I did have to walk.
    Mr. Corcoran was a milk-cow man and not a horseman. He didn't have any nice horses like Fred Aultland's bays, or Carl Henry's chestnuts. They were mostly horses about like our Bill and Nig. There was an old black plug in the corral with the cows. He had faded out to a brownish color. Mr. Corcoran brought out an old work-harness bridle with blinders and put it on the horse. Then he boosted me on and gave me a switch. "Old Ned ain't too spry, but you give him a cut with that switch and he'll get a move on. Now don't let none of them cows get into Fred's or Carl's grain or they'll skin you alive. And don't run none of the cows—some's with calf and they're all milkers."
    I wasn't too happy with Ned, but at least he was a horse. I had driven the herd nearly as far as the wagon road when Mr. Corcoran bellowed after me, "Be careful not to let 'em get no green alfalfa, it would bloat 'em and kill 'em."
    Everything went fine till I got past Aultland's house. Fred's field, from the house to the section corner, was unfenced and half a mile long—and it was in alfalfa about six inches high. My cows spied it from a hundred yards away, and some of them started running for it. I kicked Ned with my heels, but he wasn't at all nervous, and didn't even hurry his walk. Then I clipped him a little with the switch and he took half a dozen trotting steps before he went back into a walk. His feet were as big as footballs, and every time he trotted, I bounced a foot high and came down with a thud. He was a lot wider in the withers than Fanny, so I couldn't get a good knee clamp on him, and I wasn't a bit sure I wasn't going to bounce clear off his back.

    Some of my cows had already reached the alfalfa, and I expected to see them start falling over in great, bloated corpses. I swung my switch high and started cutting it down over Ned's rump—my spurs, which I had twisted onto my bare feet as soon as we reached the road, had crumpled at my first kick. At the second cut, Ned got the idea I wanted him to hurry and trotted a dozen or so more steps. I was so busy staying on that I couldn't think to swat him again and lift him into a canter. Now all the cows were in the alfalfa, and I knew my career as a cowboy was blowing up right in my face. I didn't care about falling off any longer. They had to be gotten out of there some way. After a couple more hard licks the switch broke in my hand. There was only one thing left to do, so I piled off Ned and took after the cows afoot, yelling at the top of my lungs. The only stick I could find was too heavy for me to handle with one hand, so I waded into the herd swinging it like a baseball bat. Instead of driving them back into the road, I only drove them farther into the alfalfa field.
    I was so busy swinging and yelling that I didn't see Fred until his tall bay horse was almost on top of me. Fred had a long blacksnake whip and snaked those cows out of there in about a minute and a half. Ned was making the most of his chance. He hadn't moved a foot from where I slid off, and had his nose buried in the alfalfa halfway to his eyes. Fred told me to go get him while he kept the cows moving. I couldn't much more than reach Ned's belly, there was nothing to climb up on, and I had no idea how I'd get aboard him. Fred yelled, "Hang over his neck and kick; he'll hist you up."
    He did, and I went up with my club in my hand. Ned had a lot more respect for it than he did for the switch, and I caught up to Fred in a hurry. The things he said about Mr. Corcoran were good to listen to. They were just the