This story is
Cochise's
version of what happened in the episode called
Stallion
Suitable for all ages, nothing to offend, hope you like it, and if
you
do, please post feedback, as it makes me feel loved LOL
THE KING IS DEAD, LONG LIVE THE KING
I ask you, the ignominy of it all. We ride out to the railway depot
and it seems like it's just another day. Nothing to indicate that my
world is about to be turned upside down. Not literally, you
understand, but it just might as well have been. And by the time we
leave, I am reduced to being led, by Ben, and all I can see is the
huge backside of the black stallion that Joe is now sitting astride.
When we left the house, Joe, my master, well, that's how he likes to
see himself, and who am I to shatter his illusions? was not in a
very
good mood. He was complaining to his father, as he wanted to stay
close to the house and catch up on his chores, and Ben insisted they
went to the depot, to collect a package. It was going to be Joe's
birthday, the following day, and he was hoping to be able to take
the
day off and spend it in town, with his friends. That thought didn't
exactly fill me with joy, as Joe being in town means me either being
tethered at the hitching rail, outside the saloon, or spending the
time in the livery stable. Now, a change of scene can be fun, and
there are usually a few nags to chat to, but I'm the active type and
don't like standing still, for hours on end. I was born to run and
am
at my happiest when Joe and I are racing across the Ponderosa. Joe's
father doesn't share our enthusiasm for speed and over the years
there
have been many words said on the subject, mostly by Ben, and then
ignored by Joe. The boy just loves to be on the move, always has
done,
from the first time I set eyes on him. I knew we were made for each
other, as he came rushing into the barn, on that day when Ben and
Adam
brought me home from Winnemucca's camp. It was love at first sight,
for both of us, and I am not ashamed to admit it. That first night,
he
even slept in the barn with me, well, for most of the night, until
his
father found him and made him return to the house.
But now, it looks like our special relationship is over. Since
setting
eyes on the black, when the train guard opened the door of the
freight
wagon, Joe has acted like I don't exist anymore. He removed my
saddle
and put it on this usurper. I mean, how dare he? That saddle was
custom made for me. Hoss bought it for Joe, for his twenty-first
birthday and, over the years, it has moulded to my shape on one
side,
and to Joe's, on the other. I just hope that the black finds it
uncomfortable and while he's wriggling about, to try and make it fit
him, I hope he tips Joe off his back. Not to hurt him, you
understand,
I would never want that to happen, but just to make Joe realise he's
made a mistake, and that he should be on my back.
I heard Ben say `Happy Birthday', as Joe led the black out of the
wagon, so maybe Joe's just pretending to like the horse, so as not
to
hurt his father's feelings. I sure hope so, and that Joe will be
back
to riding me, when he goes out in the morning, even if it does mean
a
boring stay in the town's livery stable.
By the time we got back to the ranch, my optimism about Joe just
liking the horse, to be polite, was very firmly lying in the dirt,
being walked all over by Mr Big Butt, as Joe took care of him, after
his run.
The two of them raced the train, and won, leaving me and Buck, Ben's
mount, far behind. I could've kept up with them, but Buck's getting
on
in years, now, just like his owner, and was no match for the black.
He's a good friend, though, even if he does still call me `young
`un',
and we have spent many a night, talking about our masters, and
joshing
with one another, about who loves who, the most.
Now that the black has arrived, I won't be taking part in such
conversations, again, as I now know that Ben must love Buck more
than
Joe loves me. Oh, I know Ben did ride another horse, Cinnamon, he
was
called, briefly, but after he tossed Ben down a hill, he was
relegated
to the remuda. I cling to just one thread of hope, like a drowning
man
to a rope, or Hoss to the last flapjack on the table, that maybe the
black will also prove to be unreliable and Joe will come back to me,
but I think it's unlikely. Even I have to admit he's one fine
animal,
but then he would be, as Ben Cartwright knows his horseflesh; after
all, he chose me.
Joe did come and rub me down, but he didn't spend as long with me,
as
he usually did, and was soon over at the black's stall, whispering
sweet nothings into his ear.
Once we had all been bedded down for the night, Buck, being the
senior
horse in the barn, filled the black in with some ground rules, and
introduced him to Sport and Chubb. Sport was his usual, distant
self,
just tossed his head about, in acknowledgement of the black's rather
demure `hello' and continued eating his supper. Chubb, on the other
hand, was friendly, as he always is, and asked the black about where
he was from. They say that humans get to be like their horses,
sooner
or later, and it was certainly true of the Cartwright men. All our
owners resembled us, and I began to worry if Joe was going to start
acting more like the black and less like me.
The next morning, one by one, our men came to saddle us up, and, as
I
feared, Joe readied the black and not me. Soon, I was the only one
left, and, what's more, Joe had ridden off, without even speaking to
me, let alone bringing me the coffee that I usually got, first thing
each morning.
That night, I complained to Chubb, who has the stall next to mine,
and
he said I mustn't let it sour me, as Joe would like me even less if
I
started to look like I was bothered about it. I did toy with the
idea
of a hunger strike, but have to confess to being a bit of a hog,
when
it comes to my grub, and so couldn't go without, long enough, for
Joe
to even notice.
And that was how things carried on, for the next few days, until the
morning that the black was stolen. I watched it all going on, and
while I was upset that Joe got hit on the head, I can't say I was
sad
to see the back of ole Mr Big Butt.
Mind you, as much as I disliked him, I was sorry about how he ended
up. When we got to the cabin, and the man shot his son, I expected
Joe
to get on me and ride to town, but I guess I'm kinda pleased that he
didn't. Hope you don't think badly of me, for thinking like that,
but,
hey, a horse has gotta look out for himself, and this was one time I
was glad that Joe didn't think I was up to the ride. If it had been
on
the flat, then no contest, but up all those hills; that's something
else Joe and I share, neither of us like heights.
When Joe returned to the cabin and collected me, I could tell he'd
been crying, and I felt so bad for him. He always was an emotional
boy, and as he's got older, that hasn't changed. When he was
younger,
and in trouble with his father, he would come and tell me all about
it. And once we got back home, he did the same, and told me what had
happened to the black. I did my best to show him I was sorry, and I
really was, as I hate it when Joe is sad. He's had his fair share of
tragedy and I always try and let him know that I care, and I'm sure
it
helps him to cope.
Anyway, things are pretty much back to normal around here, now. Joe
seems to have got over his loss, and we have been up to check on the
boy, a few times. I even let him have a ride on me; he's a nice kid.
His father's taken a job on the railroad, and is really making an
effort to provide for his family. The boy getting shot, was
obviously
a wake up call to the fact that he had to change. I know that Joe
will
never forget ole BB (Big Butt), as I affectionately think of him,
but
he only has to look at that boy, to know that BB's death was not in
vain.
THE END
Little Joe forever
Lynne