The gate slowly creaked open, and the jingle of spurs entered the corral. A tall young, bowlegged cowboy strode across the corral towards the waiting horse. He stood there for a moment contemplating the animal, while absentmindedly smoking a cigarette. The cowboy snugged his worn out Stetson down on his head, and took a final drag from his cigarette and tossed it off, as he stuck a worn out boot in the stirrup and put a hand on the reins.
“I’m a darn fool,” he thought to himself, as he swung up on the beast, exhaling plumes of tobacco smoke around his head. For a brief moment, he thought nothing was going to happen. Then the tough old mustang began to shake and tremor all over. Hernando sighed deeply, and gripped his legs tighter around the horse.
The horse seemed to sky rocket into the air, and came back down to earth with a bone jarring thud. Up and down, pitching and twisting, the beast raised hell for a few more leaps, and then the cowboy found himself suspended in mid air, with nothing below him. Reality kicked in for Hernando when he slammed into the poles of the fence with a sickening crash.
He got up slowly from the ground, brushing the dirt and grime from his chaps and reaching out for his hat, while swearing under his breath in Spanish. As he placed the Stetson firmly back on his head, he glanced across the corral at the old mustang. It stood there contemptuously watching the cowboy, stomping its foot and snorting loudly. Raucous laughter echoed across the arena, and Hernando glanced back over his shoulder to see Shorty nimbly climbing up the fence to take a seat.
“Boy when you gonna’ learn how to straddle a hoss’ like a real man,” he taunted in a deep Southern drawl.
“Well if it is so easy, why don’t you get off the fence and ride the animal yourself,” Hernando retorted with great irritation.
“Naw, it is more enjoyable, if I seat right here and watch you make a fool of yourself,” was Shorty’s reply as he lackadaisically rolled himself a smoke.
By this time Hernando, had managed to catch the mustang again, and was talking soothingly too as it as he tightened the cinch. Gritting his teeth, he stuck his worn out boot back into the stirrup and swung into the saddle again. As the horse began to shake again he dug his spurs into his side and hung on for dear life. Up and down, left and right, he pitched with all his might, but the mustang could not throw the cowboy. Slowly the fight began to leave him and the bucking lessened up.
Hernando loped the horse over to the fence where Shorty was sitting in total shock, and said, “Well, I reckon it’s your turn.” He swung down off the horse handed the reins to Shorty, and began to roll a cigarette.
