Duster (9781310020889) Read Free Page B

About then I heard a good, loud horselaugh right
behind. I looked back real sudden, caught there like I was with
that steer on the ground, and saw Ike Partley sitting his horse
just a few yards away and laughing 'til I thought he was going to
fall off it. I wished he would fall off into the patch of cactus his gray was
straddling. He must of come up while I was so busy thinking about
that steer that I didn't pay any mind to the noise of him riding
up.
    I started to say something to Ike, but I
didn't know what to say, so I clamped my mouth shut again and
turned back toward my steer.
    "Kid, you sure busted him down flat," Ike
said. "Now, if you want to drag him out just give me the nod an'
I'll break trail for you. I figure if you got enough rope for the
job you oughta have him out on the holding ground by tomorra noon."
He went off into another laughing fit, and I could tell right then
what I'd be listening to when we bedded down that night.
    "Yes sir, you really dusted him down," Ike
said, and right then he hung the name on me that I carry to this
day. "You're a real cow duster, you are, Duster Dorword."
    I just sat there and got redder in the face
while he yukked it up for a while longer. When he got tired of
that, he kicked his horse up beside me and talked at me between
giggle fits.
    "Kid, pretty soon you'll know all about
these critters you an' me are chasin', but for right now, you just
try to remember a couple of things. One is that they're bigger an'
meaner than you, an' got more pure fight in them than you and your
horse put together. So, what you got to do is let them do the work,
an' you just sort of point them in a direction to go.
    "You can't muscle them out of this brush,
an' you got no dogs trained to push 'em out for you, so you keep
'em headed the way you want with your horse. Unless you want to
throw an' brand a critter, you use your rope for a flail to whack
them with when need be and forget about roping them down.
    "Most of 'em, you'll find, won't take kindly
to being pushed in one direction, so you tail 'em down to give them
some manners. Mind, though, if you tail a critter maybe four, five
times and it still turns back on you an' wants to fight, you leave
it be. It'll take the dogs to move one like that out into the
open."
    Ike was talking for my own good, so I sat
still in my saddle and looked him in the eye while he set me
straight on the business I was getting paid to be in.
    This was a country where men ran more to
tough than to meat; but even so, Ike was remarkable for being so
straight up and down and narrow-like. He had sun wrinkles set deep
around his eyes, and the skin at his throat where his bandanna
hadn't covered it was all brown and cracked like leather. Every
time he grinned at me or took one of those laughing fits I could
see where he was missing some ivory right in the middle of the
yellow nubs of teeth he carried. It must of been convenient for
spitting, judging from what I could see of him in action that
way.
    "Now, you shake loose from this fellow an'
I'll show you what to do with him," Ike finished up.
    I booted the hammerhead a bit so he'd move
forward and give me some slack in my rope. That steer hiked his
tail up in the air and scrambled on his feet right away. He took
out trying to run even before I could shake the loop loose, so I
had to follow after him trying to let him free and him steady
moving on, tripping and snorting for maybe fifteen, twenty yards
before he finally kicked my loop off.
    Soon as he done that, he lit out hard as he
could, and Ike right on him. My hammerhead wasn't to be left
behind, either. He knew lots more about the cow business than me
and he wanted in on it all, so I had a good spot real close to
watch Ike work.
    As far as I could tell, Ike hadn't any idea
there was a thorn bush closer than the Indian Nations. He just kept
his head down and rode.
    One of those old longhorn cattle could give
a racehorse a mighty fine go of it for a short stretch, but Ike