THE CANYON–CHAPTER 2

It had been 2 years since he has seen the black colt. He had grown a lot, even as a 2 year old. The wild did that to a horse. They had to be strong to survive. Every muscle had a purpose, every movement depended on muscles. They had to be strong to make it in the wild, no exceptions. The wild didn’t suffer weakness. Only the strong survived. The black colt was strong, very strong.

The cowboy thought how nice it would be to have a horse like that. What would it take to make it come true. No doubt time, a lot of time had to be put into making that dream come true. He had a lot of time on his hands, especially since he had left the bar J ranch.

He got ready to ride on, and he did. The just turned in his time one Monday morning and rode on. No explanation, no  excuses. Most would call him a “saddle bum”, he thought as himself as just independent. Sure he wanted to settle down one day but not just yet. He hadn’t seen everything yet. At least not in the West. He always wanted to see what was over the next mountain. Their was always something there, rather it was good or bad, there was something. He just had that itch so to speak.

The horse the cowboy was sitting on lifted his head suddenly, testing the air with his nostrils. He smelled the cat. He snorted. The cowboy was alerted also. He had seen tracks around but hadn’t got a look at him. Since the scent  was new, he must be close. To close for comfort that was for sure. The horse shifted his legs some. He was ready to move if necessary. The cowboy pulled his 30/30 rifle from the scabbard. He was loaded but no shell was in the chamber yet. It was to dangerous to keep a shell in the chamber all of the time, rather rifle or pistol, sometimes called a belly gun. Unless the cat attacked, he would have plenty of time to put a shell in.

The cat moved cautiously through the trees. He caught the scent of the horse, then suddenly he stopped. He also caught the scent of the man. The horse meant meat, food but the man meant death. He had best find another place to hunt. This place was not safe, not safe at all. He searched his surroundings to make sure he was moving away from the man. Moving down the mountain and into the boulders would get him back to safety and away from the man. As he moved, the scent gradually weakened. He was going into the right direction.

The bullet hit the tree to left of the cat. The cat shot forward through the trees out of sight of the cowboy. When the cowboy saw the cat, he decided to give him a good scarce. He did that. The cat was never in any harm as the distance was to great to be deadly for the cat. The cat knew what the shot meant, he had been shot at before. He was safe now and would live to hunt another day. Unknown the cowboy, the cat stopped behind a boulder and looked back at the cowboy, taking notes so to speak. He would remember, he would remember him well.

The shot put the herd on instance alert. They were at a dead run in just a matter of seconds. The black colt was in the middle of the herd. He wouldn’t stay there long. As a 2 year old, he wasn’t a threat to the old stallion but his time was growing short . Only a month ago, the old stallion had run off a young stud colt. It was just the course of nature. This colt had learned his life’s lesson well. He would do well. He would survive and have his own head, but it would take time.

The young Indian boy froze when he heard the gunshot. What did it mean? The herd had instantly run down the canyon to get away from the supposed danger.

Like the black colt, the boy had grown too. He as stronger, with many kills to his honor. He definitely had not forgotten the colt. He came frequently to the canyon to watch him. As a matter of fact, the black colt knew he was there. He had grown accustomed to see him as he would any of the wildlife in the area. The boy posed no threat to the colt. Once when the boy had decided to take a nap in the warm sun, he awoke to see the colt only 40′ away, seemingly checking him out. When the boy woke up, the colt just walked off, not afraid in any way. The boy wanted to give him time to grow before he made an attempt to capture and ride him. This would be a great honor to ride such a beautiful horse. It would greatly improve his status as young warrior. It wasn’t respect that he wanted only. He wanted the black colt. He wanted that connection that you can only get from a horse. He looked upon this as a spiritual quest, his destiny.

He worked his way back to his faithful horse. He was dead. The boy recognize it instantly and kept himself back in the trees in an attempt to detect the further danger. All was quiet. Was someone waiting for him to do the same thing? After a hour, he felt like it was safe to come out of concealment. Their was no sign of an attack by a wild animal. He had heard no gunshot, plus no gunshot wounds on his horse. The horse was older but no old enough to just die. The boy thought of this, How old was he? He was given to him by his father when the boy was young. The didn’t know how old. Maybe it was just his time. He looked down at the dead horse, no emotions, no tears, just respect for a faithful servant, respect. He walked off. He would need a horse.

It was a sunny day. His thought traveled to the future, the near future.

 

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