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Short Stories & Tall Tales



Hellfire
By Christopher Scott

“Yahoo, come on Sam, you can do it.”

The men of the Circle B lined the corral fence to watch the spectacle; hooting, hollering and waiving their hats in approval as young Sam Perry rode upon the back of the meanest, orneriest and rankest horse ever to leave its mark on Circle B soil.

There was no doubt among the men lining the fence. Sam Perry was just the man to take the wild out of this beast.

Sam was an old hand at breaking horses. When Tom Breeden, the ranch owner, had laid down the challenge. It was short and sweet, but almost impossible to win. The wild mustang had been on the ranch for the better part of two months now. A dozen horses had been brought onto the ranch to be broke and Tom was anxious to get this last one ready to ride, as he wasn’t too keen on feeding something that didn’t earn its keep. So the challenge was laid down. Whoever could break this horse, would own it. Several men had tried their luck, and all had failed. Sam was the last of the willing challengers and the one with the best chance of claiming the prize.

Sam had turned out to be quite the young man considering the way he had been treated as a child. Abused and abandoned by a worthless woman who claimed to be his mother with no idea where his father might be. If in fact he was still alive. For all she knew, he could be long dead and buried just about anywhere. As stated, the woman was worthless. A big dreamer with big plans on her mind. And apparently, Sam didn’t fit in. She happened to be passing by the ranch one day and it must have made quite an impression on her as she had stopped her carriage in front of the house and had the boy run up to the door to ask some fool question. As he reached the door, she rode off, never to be seen again.

Tom, it turns out, was thrilled. He took Sam in and treated him as one of his own.
That was twelve years ago and at the age of twenty-four, Sam had been on the ranch for half his life and from that very first day, He repaid Tom’s kindness by working hard at whatever task he was given to do. Breaking horses was the task he most loved, and the one he excelled at.

***

Sam was holding his own on the back of the horse called ‘Hellfire’, as the ranch hands had so aptly named him, They continued their robust calls of encouragement, that is until Hellfire came directly toward the fence where they were sitting. There was a mad scramble of boots and hats as the men jumped and tumbled to the ground just as Hellfire raked the top rail where the men had been sitting.

“That bronc has the devil in him,” exclaimed one of the men as they all cautiously climbed back up onto the rail.

“Well, he’s rank, that’s for sure,” called another.

Hellfire continued kicking up dust as Sam did his best to hang on, but before the dance was over, Sam lost his grip and rolled out the back door, landing in a heap in the middle of the corral.

The men roared with laughter. “I told you he was rank, didn’t I," came a shout from one of the men on the rail.

Sam stood up and began to dust himself off. It seemed Hellfire would not be his. Sam was finished for the day.

He paid little attention to the horse that had just thrown him as he turned his back to it and headed for the fence. Hellfire, on the other hand, had other plans. He lunged forward and upon reaching Sam he knocked him to the ground and began stomping him with his front hooves. Once again the fence was cleared, but this time it was to the center of the corral. Hellfire was forced back as the men gathered around Sam. He was unconscious and bleeding badly from a nasty gash on his head. Some of the men carried him to the house as a couple others saddled up and headed into town to fetch the doctor.

***

Once the doctor arrived and Sam was being properly tended to, Brody Tanner, the ranch foreman, headed for the door.

“I’m going to put a bullet in that horse," he declared.

“You touch that horse and it will be the last thing you do on this ranch," replied Tom Breeden.

“That horse has the devil in him," replied Brody.

“No matter," answered Tom. “You take Hellfire and put him in the North pasture, next to the barn. Sam here will be the one who decides that animal’s fate, no one else, is that clear?”

“I’ll do it Mr. Breeden, but only because you told me to," answered Brody as he headed towards the back door. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it," he murmured under his breath as he stomped out of the house and off the back porch.

Brody headed straight for the barn and grabbed up one of the rifles stored in the tack room. He quickly walked over to the window that overlooked the corral where Hellfire stood. He slowly lifted the rifle to his shoulder and took aim at the horse. He held a steady bead to his head, right between his eyes. Hellfire stood motionless, almost daring Brody to pull the trigger.

“If it were up to me," thought Brody. “You’d be drawing your last breath right about now.”

Brody lowered the rifle. As soon as he did, Hellfire reared up on his back legs and pawed the air. He neighed long and loud, dropped back down on all fours, walked to the far side of the corral and stood with his backside toward Brody.
Brody replaced the rifle and headed to the corral. He threw open the north pasture gate and chased the horse out of the corral.

“This grass is too good for the likes of you," growled Brody as Hellfire trotted off into the pasture.

***

Sam was in a coma for two days. He suffered a broken shoulder and a severe head injury. It took him several months to fully recover from his injuries.

One evening, as Sam and the rest of the men were enjoying their supper, Tom Breeden entered the room carrying a rifle. He walked up to Sam and handed it to him.

“It’s time someone made a decision concerning Hellfire, and I’m leaving that up to you. The way I see it, you have three choices. You can shoot him, break him or turn him loose. In any case, I won’t feed that horse another day unless he earns his keep. After supper, make your decision.” He turned and walked out the door.

The men all weighed in, giving Sam their ‘expert’ opinions. Some advised him to get even and “shoot that worthless horse,” while others advised him to get back into the saddle and break that horse once and for all. One thing’s for sure, they were all in agreement that Hellfire deserved either death or servitude for what he had done to Sam.

After supper Sam took the rifle and headed out toward the barn.

“How about a couple of you men round up Hellfire for me and put him in the corral?” he asked.

Several of the men went after the horse.

Once Hellfire was securely in the corral, all the men lined the fence. Several of them wagered amongst themselves. Hellfire, sensing something was amiss, impatiently paced about in the corral. Sam stepped through the fence rails with his rifle in hand. He raised it to his shoulder. Both man and horse stood motionless, looking each other in the eye, neither one attempted to move.

Some of the men began to chide Sam, crying out, “Pull the damn trigger, what are you waiting for.”

“Stop thinking about it and just do it," shouted others.

Finally, Sam brought the rifle down.

“Yee Haa!” shouted some.

“I’ll get the saddle," offered another.

Sam leaned the rifle against the fence and slowly walked out to the center of the corral as Hellfire stood in the corner, nervously pawing at the dirt.

“What the hell is he doing," grumbled Brody. “That kid’s going to get himself killed.” He walked over to Sam’s rifle and grabbed it up. He took aim at Hellfire, but before he could pull the trigger, a voice from behind him called out a warning.

“What I told you earlier about touching that horse still holds, Brody.”

Brody turned to see Tom Breeden standing behind him. He lowered the rifle and walked back over toward the rest of the men.
Sam stood in the center of the corral looking straight at Hellfire. The men talked amongst themselves, trying to figure out just what Sam was up to.

“What the hell is he doing now?” they wondered aloud.

“I think that kick in the head has done something to that boys brain," commented one of the men.

Finally, Sam walked over to the one gate that would set Hellfire free and shoved it open as far as it would go. Hellfire trotted through the gate and up toward the top of a small rise. Once he reached the top, as he had done before, he reared up on his hind legs and pawed the air. And as before, he neighed long and loud before dropping back down to the ground and disappearing over the rise.

The disappointed men all stepped down from the rail fence and headed back to the bunkhouse. Only Tom remained. Sam stepped out of the corral and Tom put his arm across Sam’s shoulders as they walked away from the empty corral.

“Good choice Sam," stated Tom. “Good choice.”


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