The Jacksboro Gazette (Jacksboro, Tex.), Vol. 65, No. 45, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 12, 1945 Page: 3 of 8
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THE STORY THUS EAR: FUcka's colt,
long overdue, la born on Goose Bar
ranch, high In the Rockies. Ken Mc-
Laughlin, FUcka’s 12-year-old owner. Is
startled to see that the foal Is white, and
so a throwback to the Albino, the wild
white staUlon that is FUcka’s grandslre.
Next morning Colonel Harris and Charles
Sargent, a millionaire horse breeder, are
house guests. The colonel has brought
his mare to be bred by Banner, Rob
McLaughlin’s staUlon. Colonel Harris,
Sargent and McLaughlin ride out to
bring back Banner. The big red horse
sees them at a distance, and runs over
to his master. Banner then turns to drive
the mare Harris is riding into his band.
The confused marc obeys Banner.
ONE WORD SUGGESTION
FOR ACID INDIGESTION—
CHAPTER V
Rob and Charley caught sight of
Harris’s white face and the sound
of a single profane shout as he swept
past them. Leaning back like a
steeple-chaser, he kept his seat and
his knee-grip, allowing his body to
whip pliantly from side to side. Any
guidance or control of his mount
was out of the question and he did
not attempt it—merely held the
reins and let her go.
Charley Sargent chuckled. “Even
an artilleryman don’t often take
part in such a charge as that.”
The mares disappeared over the
crest of a rise and then, for a few
moments, all that Rob and Charley
could see was a cloud of dust above
the mountainside.
Howard and Ken had the gates
to the pasture open. The mares
knew the way. As Banner got them
close he slowed up. They made the
turn. Presently the stable ser-
geant and the Colonel’s orderly
burst into exclamatory and profane
speech which expressed their ad-
miration and astonishment at the
sight of the red stallion bringing
the band of mares and colts at a
headlong gallop down through the
pasture and into the corral.
Gus closed the gates.
Only then did the two soldiers see
that their Colonel was in the band.
He was dismounting from Taggert,
straightening his hat with a hand
that trembled slightly. His face
was very white. Gus took the mare’s
bridle.
“Some ride!” he remarked, brush-
ing himself off, for he was cov-
ered with dust and foam and bits of
gravel. The orderly presented him-
self and saluted.
“Where’s the mare?” asked Har-
ris.
He might have saved himself the
question, for Banner was already
Fearing and pawing at the gate of
the eastern corral.
The men opened the gate and the
stallion went in.
Charley and Rob rode down to the
corral with innocent faces, and the
Colonel met them, impassive,
thoughtful as ever, his eyeglasses
neatly on the bridge of his nose.
“You yelled something as you
passed us,” said Rob. “I didn’t quite
catch it.”
The Colonel grinned. “You may
not have heard—just as well you
didn’t. But you knew what I was
saying all right. However, it’s over
now, and it’s all right—it’s all right
—” he turned away grinning. “Quite
an experience. I wouldn’t have
missed it.”
“Makes you feel good now, Mort,
don’t it?” said Charley, “to be
standing here in the corral, all
safe and sound and on your own
two legs, nice sunshine — dinner
cornin’ up—”
“I must have been asleep at the
switch when I let you two hand me
that mare.”
Ken and Howard arrived at a gal-
lop and flung themselves off their
horses. The Sergeant and orderly
were blanketing the mare again and
Banner was put back with his’ own
mares by Tim.
Gus and Tim filled the feed boxes
which stood on the ground near the
corral fence with oats and the
mares and colts began to feed.
There was nipping and kicking and
some scrimmages. Rob supervised
the process, his harsh voice quell-
ing the disturbances. He had Ban-
ner’s share of oats—a generous half-
bucketful—in his hand, and the stal-
lion would put his head in cautious'
ly, his eyes looking up over the edge
into Rob’s face, then withdraw it
and chew the oats, turning his head
to watch the mares, then dip it in
again and take another mouthful.
The process of covering his eyes
and nose—upon which depended the
safety of his mares—outraged his
every instinct and he shook all over.
Only his trust of Rob made it pos-
sible.
At last Rob dropped the bucket
and told Tim to open the corral
gates. “That’s all,” he said to Ban-
ner, “there isn’t any more.” He
gently raised his arms and ad-
vanced toward the mares, as it
were, pushing them before him.
“Take 'em back, Banner,” he said
to the stallion.
The band drifted slowly out
through the gates and began to
graze on the long lush grass beside
the little stream.
“What’ll they do now?” asked
Harris.
“They’ll hang around the corral
for a while, grazing and thinking
about oats. Then they’ll work up
through the pasture to the county
road gate. It’s open. They’ll go
through it and on up to the range
again. Banner’ll hold them together.
Tim, keep a look-out When they’ve
all gone through the county road
gate, close . r
“Yes sir.”
Ken saw his mother approaching.
Now is the time, he thought—ev-
erything over and everybody here
together—
The men grouped around the
trailer, loading the Colonel’s mare.
The sergeant and orderly got into
the front seat of the car and drove
away with her.
The men stood watching a mo-
ment.
“Dad,” said Ken.
“Well, son?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Sure enough?”
“I’ve been saving it since last
night.”
Everyone turned to look at him.
He had their attention at last.
“It’s in the stable,” he added.
“Come and see it.” He seized his
father’s arm and urged him through
the corral gate.
Suddenly Rob guessed. “Not
Flicka’s colt?” he asked.
Ken nodded, beaming, his blue
eyes shining with excitement.
“Yep!”
Rob explained to the others.
“Ken’s saddle mare should have
foaled in the spring. She’s been up
here in the pasture all summer like
run
Banner was already rearing and
pawing at the gate.
Sitting Bull, waiting for the event,
swelling up like a balloon. It must
be fourteen months—”
“You wait here!” said Ken ex-
citedly when they were all in the
corral. “I’ll bring them out.
They’re in the stable.”
In a moment the stable door
opened, Flicka trotted out, then, for
a space, nothing. Flicka turned and
looked back and nickered. Still noth-
ing. At last an angry little squeal
was heard and Ken appeared, shov-
ing the white foal before him.
Nell was the first to speak. “Why,
Kennie!” she exclaimed, “a white
colt!”
Charley Sargent found his tongue
and with delight in his eyes looked
at Rob. “I suppose this is an ex-
ample of Banner’s true breeding. I
remember you said, one sorrel after
the other—as like as peas in the
pod—” He turned to Mort Harris
and said sadly, “I sure do sym-
pathize most deeply with your bad
luck, Mort— Your mare—”
Harris gave a howl and turned
and looked in the direction the car
and trailer had gone, then seized
his head and pretended to tear his
hair.
Ken was caught in one of those
agonizing moments of life where
extravagant hopes and deep despair
were somehow reconciled by wish-
ful thinking. Also, he was trying
with all his wits to think of a way
to suggest to them that this was a
happy event. Also, he was on the
watch for anything his mother
would say, for, from out of her first
words, the colt would be named.
Also, he must keep his guilty secret.
“Isn’t he a beauty?” he cried hap-
pily, “and a white horse is good
luck, you know. Everybody knows
that!”
Rob’s face was convulsed. He took
his hat off and wiped his forehead.
“My gosh, Ken—” he began, but
there was nothing to say.
Flicka nickered again for her
baby. It started to run toward her,
saw Highboy standing against the
fence with reins loosely thrown over
a post, and ran to him instead and
tried to nurse on him. A shout of
amusement and incredulity rose
from the spectators. Highboy, an-
noyed, moved away from the foal,
turned around and butted it gently.
The foal stood, bleating, then it rah
to Cigarette and tried to nurse on
her. Flicka called it unavailingly.
When it passed near its mother it
seemed to recognize no difference
in her from the others.
Nell’s face showed horror. “Why
—it doesn’t know its own mother!”
The foal surged about the corral.
“A white horse is good luck,” re-
peated Ken desperately. “Gus said
so. Everybody knows that.”
Rob found words at last. "A
throwback!” he
He looked at Ken—one of those
blasting looks which Ken could not
meet. Somehow, it was his fault.
Nell was studying the foal. It did
not look like the Goose Bar colts.
A newborn foal of pure breed
is built on the perpendicular, its
little back so short that all four
legs seem to be in a close group
underneath it—and the neck con-
tinues the perpendicular line, car-
ried straight up to a small inquir-
ing head like a sea-horse’s. But this
foal was built on the horizontal like
a full-grown horse. It had a repel-
lent look of precociousness and ma-
turity, with its heavy neck and the
big knobby head on the end of it,
the large mouth with thick rather
loose black lips, the short, uneven
legs—
“Why,” she exclaimed in a
shocked voice, “it’s a goblin!”
The blood rushed to Ken’s head
and made him dizzy. He went to
the corral fence and took hold of
the rails to steady himself.
No one spoke for a moment.
Goblin.. She had named it.
“Goblin,” shouted Howard, “Gob-
lin, Goblin, Goblm!”
But Ken was not licked yet. He
turned to his mother. He would pre-
tend it was just a word. He would
pretend that she hadn’t named it.
“Mother, would you think of e
name for him?” he pleaded, "some-
thing about his being white—and—
and—about his going to be a won-
derful race horse—”
“Race horse!” The exclamation
was a chorus.
Suddenly Ken’s face flamed. He
looked at his father. “You said—
there might be one gentle one in
the lot and you’d have a race horse!
And Flicka did get gentle. I gentled
her. As gentle as a kitten. You said
that too. And then, because of her
bad leg, she couldn’t be a race-
horse and it had to be her colt in-
stead of her. And here he is. And
he’s a horse colt. And he’s big and
strong. And he’s got her blood and
her speed. And the speed and spirit
of all the Albino’s colts. And his
mother will teach him manners be-
cause she is gentle so he can be
schooled and trained for a race
horse—he won’t be hard to handle
even if he has got a white coat
from the Aibino!”
“The Albino was his great grand-
sire,” explained Nell to Sargent.
“And Banner’s his sire,” drawled
Sargent. "Now what about all Rob’s
theories of line breedin’? He bred
Flicka back to her own sire, and
look what he got!”
But Rob was looking at his small
son standing there red in the face
and with fire in his eye, fighting for
his foal! And the anger went out
of his heart and a silent cheer was
there instead. Good for you, son!
“Name him, Mother,” insisted
Ken desperately. “Give him a name
that will be right for a big winner
of races. And something about his
being white.”
“Cottage cheese!” yelled Howard
derisively, and then, mincing about
delicately, “or Cream Fuff!”
“Pearl of the Harem,” joshed Sar-
gent.
“Mooley Cow!” exclaimed How-
ard and cantered awkwardly
across the corral.
“Somebody stop that guy or he’ll
go on forever,” said Rob, making
a pass at Howard.
Howard ducked but fell into the
arms of Sargent who grabbed him
and clapped his hand over his
mouth.
Nell had not spoken. Ken watched
her. “Mother,” he urged her, “go
on, mother—”
Sargent let got of Howard who,
casting a glance at his father, de-
cided he had gone far enough.
There was an ache in Nell’s heart.
She looked at the foal—that stub-
bornness, the mulish head, that
stupidity, trying to nurse on every
horse in sight, not knowing his own
mother; and its anger—it ran across
the corral head down, kicking out
with one hind leg—it seemed full of
hatred.
“Mother!” insisted Ken.
In despair Nell raised her eyes
and saw, up behind the line of the
green hill, a great thunderhead
pushing up into the dark blue of the
sky. It was so dazzling white it
half blinded her.
“There,” she said calmly, “see
that? A thunderhead. And it’s pure
white. We’ll call him Thunderhead,
Ken—and that’s a fine enough name
for any race horse.”
No one spoke. The silence was
like a cool shadow on a hot, dusty
day.
Ken stood quiet, feeling weak—
the name was so beautiful. Thun-
derhead. He looked at the great
cloud, and turned away so that the
others could not see his face.
Thunderhead. That would carry the
colt to glory. With that name what
horse could fail?
The colt, still making little rushes
about the corral, kicking and bleat-
ing, came up against the group of
people by the fence. He had no fear
of them. An ordinary colt would
have veered away but Colonel Har-
ris got it by the neck and was
nipped and let it loose.
Nell put out her hand. The foal
careened against her and for a mo-
ment its face was hidden and there
was darkness—that welcome and
familiar darkness of all the long
months inside its mother. He
pressed closer and stood quiet.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
*
} ASK MS
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{ ANOTHER 7 \
9 I O
% A General Quiz , ?
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The Questions
1. Why are dykes used in Hol-
land?
2. From what tribe of Indians
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of New York City?
3. What Is a poltroon?
4. Were the army and navy the
first to have lieutenants?
5. Military training in peacetime
is compulsory in how many major
countries?__
The Answers
1. The land is below sea level.
2. The Manhattans.
3. A coward.
4. No. Lieutenant means anyone
Who has authority in place of a
superior and was used first to
mean those serving the govern-
ment or the church.
5. In 45 major countries, while it
is voluntary in only 10, including
Great Britain and United States.
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The Jacksboro Gazette (Jacksboro, Tex.), Vol. 65, No. 45, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 12, 1945, newspaper, April 12, 1945; Jacksboro, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth729957/m1/3/: accessed April 26, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Gladys Johnson Ritchie Library.