Chapter VIII

A Leather Skin Full of Hate

Walking past the stalls I didn't see a real working horse among any of the horses. They were the socialite horses of the world. The racehorses everyone put up a million dollars to own and then never paid any attention to until they stepped on the racetrack. The owners let the trainers, handlers, and other flunkies handle the horse and get him or her ready for the race. No wonder there were so many psychotic racehorses in the world.

One of the men was walking toward me. I smiled when he looked up. "Where's Heater?"

Without stopping or saying a word, he pointed back down the breezeway behind him.

I walked down the aisle looking into the stalls. The horse that caught my attention was the third stall from the end. I stepped up to the gate. "You're Heater aren't you? You look like the crazy horse Leonard was telling me about."

He charged the gate. I held firm. I knew he couldn't get through the gate with the speed he had built up from the back of the stall. When his nose got past the gate I hit his nose with my fist. The bite he wanted to put on me was forgotten as his head slammed up against the frame. He backed up shaking his head. No one had ever mistreated him like that before. It was a new experience to him. Again he charged. Again I smacked him on the nose. He backed up shaking his head and assessing the situation. He wanted a piece of me in the worst possible way.

I needed a lariat. Turning around, I was going to go get one of Sam's ropes out of his canvas bag. Leonard and Linda were there. She had been taking pictures with the camera that always seemed to be in her hand.

"Leonard, where's my suitcase?"

"In the bunkhouse. Go out and turn to your left. It's the room all the way to the back as you go in the front door." He pointed toward the opening where we were standing closest to.

I glanced over my shoulder into the stall at that insane stallion. "Don't go away. I'll be back."

I had packed my own lariat in the bottom of my suitcase. Some things a cowboy just doesn’t leave home without. In front of Heater's stall I uncoiled it and looped out a small loop. I was fixing to open his stall door when Leonard shook his head. "I wouldn't if I were you. He'll bust loose."

"We'll see." I shook out a loop as Linda and Leonard backed down the aisle and started shutting gates between us.

I put my hand over the gate. Heater charged and we went through the same thing we did the first time. I belted him on the nose and he backed up. As he backed up I opened the gate and shook out a loop. Seeing the open gate he charged. I dropped the loop under him. I pulled as he stepped into the loop. I had two front feet bundled together. He went down. His face was on the floor as he skidded out of that stall. Before he could get his senses and his feet under him I dropped a loop over his head, did a half loop around his nose, caught his right front leg with the rope, and snugged it up.

Heater pawed the air as he tried to get all his legs under him. One of them wasn't working like he wanted. He finally fought his way to his feet. With the object of his hatred in front of him, he tried to rear up and stomp me. The loop around his nose and right front leg wouldn't let him get his head up. Lift up his head and it pulled on his leg. There wasn't anyway he was going to get head and leg up enough to rear up on his back legs. He wanted to run over me if he couldn't stomp me. He started to charge and he stumbled. Again he couldn't get things organized like he needed to charge. If his right leg wouldn't work he would use his left front leg to stomp me. He tried to get it up but the problem with that idea is every time he lifted his left leg to get it up, he was pulled down by his right leg.

That horse hated me with a passion I had never seen or felt in my whole life. He stumbled forward and I grabbed that makeshift rope halter I had dropped on him. Staying out of the way of his left front leg was easy enough. I stayed to his right. He spun in a circle trying to get me in position to stomp me with the parts that still worked. I held on and stayed one step ahead of him. He was breathing heavier and heavier as he snorted and pawed at me. Finally he was exhausted and gave up. Too soon I thought. He was lathered all over from the fight but he wasn't past hurting me if I let him have the chance. I walked into his stall and picked up his water pail. I came back out and threw the water on him giving him a dousing. He hated that too. Once again we went through the motions of him trying to get me under his hooves.

He finally gave up knowing he wasn't going to get me the way he was trussed up. Up until that moment I had been busy trying to stay alive. Now I had a chance to look around. There were twenty or thirty people in that barn standing behind the gate with Linda and Leonard. They had been watching the show.

"Leonard, may I have a brush and a pail of water?"

A brush and pail appeared under the gate. I walked over and picked it up. This time when I walked back over to Heater he didn't try and get me under him. He stood there quietly hating me while I brushed him down with the water to cool him off. After I had him cleaned up I reached up and scratched behind his ears. It didn't please him at all. He hated me and the only thing that was going to please him was to kill me.

"You really ought to get a life. This isn't it. Hating humans when they are the ones who are feeding you isn't wining you any brownie points. You are going to end up in the glue pot and no one is going feel sorry for you."

I scratched him under his belly and under his chin. One thing for sure, I wasn't wining any brownie points with Heater either. I had never seen so much hate packed into one animal. I led him back into his stall still trussed up. If I had turned him lose he would have had me for dessert. I headed him back out toward the gate before I stepped out and shut it between us. I reached back through and untied him. He didn't charge and he didn't try and bite me but it was on his mind.

Most of the people had left. Linda and Leonard walked over where they could look in the stall at that wild racehorse. Leonard shook his head. "If I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have believed it. I think I'm getting a better idea what a cowboy is."

"How do you control him? You have to put a bridle and saddle on him to race him." I was wondering how the others did it.

"We put another horse in the stall and crowd him over until he doesn't have any room. It takes eight men at least to get a bridle and saddle on him. We keep him between two horses as we lead him out. Once we get him in the starting gate the jockey is on his own. He likes to run so he usually isn't any trouble once we have him aimed down the track."

Leonard and Linda were walking with me back down to the other end of the barn. The others in the barn didn't turn and ignore me like they did earlier. Most of them would smile and nod an acknowledgment as they stared at me. I was wondering if they thought I was a show off or what?

Leonard answered that for me with a question. Probably the same question that was on everyone else's mind. "By the way, what is it you accomplished back there besides the fact you are better than eight men and a couple horses?"

"I found out that horse is crazy. He's not untamed or undisciplined. He's crazy. I've never thought any animal should be put down but that horse should. Any normal horse would know I just bested him and he would respect me the next time. They might not like it but they would respect me. There is a difference. Heater doesn't know respect. I could go back down there in an hour or more and we would have to go through the whole process all over again to make him behave for a few minutes. Heater could be the fastest horse in the whole world and I would still suggest putting him down. He's going to kill someone if he ever gets the chance. Maybe a lot of people are going to get hurt. How do you justify keeping an animal alive knowing he's going to kill you if you give him the opportunity?"

Leonard stopped before we walked out the end of the barn. "You get him down to Brazil two days from now and he can do whatever he wants. I'll let his new owners worry about whether they can control him or not."

I had the hands make me a cage for Heater. I wasn't walking that horse onto a plane. I'd get him in the cage and have the cage put on the plane. It was like you would treat any wild animal. I asked the resident vet to give him a tranquilizer before we loaded him.

He looked at me kind of funny. "You get him tied up like I heard you did the other day and I'll give him a shot. Otherwise, forget it. I'm not getting into the stall with that horse."

You never know how a tranquilizer is going to affect an insane person or animal. It can make them mellow or it might make them even more insane. I could only hope because no one had tried it on Heater before. The day we were to fly out, Heater and I went through our routine again. He wanted me so bad that he couldn't stand himself. After the fight he let me lead him into that cage we had waiting for him. For a few minutes at least, he knew who was in charge of the situation. I dropped a cersingle on him, along with a halter and a martingale. Every time I got close to him he tried to kick me. I finally managed to slip two hobbles on him. One set on his front feet and a set on his back feet so he couldn't kick the side of the plane out. I strapped the back hobbles to the front set so he couldn't get either set of hooves up without falling down. The martingale would keep him from getting his head up and rearing up. It was a shame to truss up a horse as much as I did Heater but I wanted to get to Brazil alive. Having him kick the side of the plane out wasn't an option with me.

The vet gave him a shot after I had him trussed up. Heater tried to stomp him but he couldn't do any more than shuffle his hooves. If there ever was a straight jacket for horses, Heater was in one. They picked the cage up with a forklift and put it in the trailer. My suitcase and me went in front of the truck with the driver. I had washed the spray out of my hair the night before and I had my cowboy hat pulled down on my head. At the airport they forked Heater's cage up on the plane and strapped it down. We were on our way in a matter of hours.

On the flight down to Brazil, I swear that horse went even more insane if that were possible. His eyes got the look of a demon in them as he watched me riding in the seat beside him. I thought he hated me before. I was wrong. Now he hated me. I don't know if it was the tranquilizer that pushed him over the edge or being trussed up got to him? It didn't make any difference, one way or another, once we landed he became the other person's responsibility.

The jet landed in Brazil. I had a handful of transfer papers for someone to sign so I could get rid of that insane horse. A big old limousine drove up beside the plane as the forklift lowered Heater and his crate down to the tarmac. A couple of men got out of the back as the driver got out. They were staring at the way I had Heater tied down.

One of them motioned toward me. "Is that my horse?"

"Not yet. You sign these papers and he's all yours." I held out the papers for him to sign.

The man took them and signed them where needed. I handed him a copy. He motioned for the other man to open the cage. I shook my head. "I wouldn't do that. He's pretty wild from the trip. Why don't you take him out to the stables first before you unload him?"

He said something to the other man in a language I didn't understand. They opened the gate on the cage and begin taking the hobbles, cersingle and martingale, off of Heater. I was watching his eyes. He was biding his time until they freed him and then all hell was going to break lose.

My suitcase and lariat were still on the plane. I tried to stop them. "Wait until you're out at the stables. He's gonna get us if you turn him lose."

The man dropped the martingale off and it was all Heater needed. He body slammed the man in the cage with him. The guy went down and Heater decided to stomp him. I was racing for the gate to close it. Heater might have been insane but he was damn smart insane. He knew if I closed that gate he was locked up again. He backed up and threw his weight against the gate before I dropped the latch. The gate flew open and slammed me up against the side of the cage behind it. The first man never understood he couldn't reason with this horse. He was trying to get up beside him to get his halter. Heater screamed, rose up on his hind legs and laid a front hoof down along side the guy's head. The man dropped to the ground with his skull split.

I waved my hands in the air to get Heater's attention. Heater hated me more than anything in the whole world. He came around the cage at a run. The window was down on that limousine and I dove through it. He hit the car with his chest as his hooves skidded on the pavement. He tried to stick his head inside to bite me. I pushed the electric button and rolled up the window. I had his neck trapped for a few seconds. I knew it wasn't going to take him long to break that glass. I jumped out the other door and headed for the plane. I heard the window break and knew Heater was loose again. I looked for the driver. He had locked himself inside Heater's cage. It was probably the safest place to be right now. Men were coming our direction either running or driving those little tow vehicles. Either way it didn't make much difference. Heater was too insane to be scared of anything. Lucky for the men, Heater wanted me more than he wanted them.

Running for my life, I jumped on a crate that had been set off the plane and bounded into the open cargo door as Heater tried to follow me. He misjudged. Those steel horseshoes he was wearing weren't giving him any traction on the tarmac. He slid into the crate pushing it up against the plane and fell down. He was down for a few seconds. I snapped open my suitcase and grabbed up my lariat. Finally I had something in my hands equal to the wild horse that wanted to kill me. All I had to do was get in position and let him come to me. And of course not miss my throw.

Heater was back on his feet and headed toward the men who were coming our direction. I jumped down off the plane and whistled as he ran over the first man. Heater knocked the man flying like a rag doll. He made a circle and men were scattering. Something finally told them that they weren't going to win the war with this horse by shouting and waving their arms.

I waved my hands in the air and screamed at him. Once again he focused in on me. I checked my rope as he came at me at a dead run. I gave a swing over my head and laid the loop out in front of him. He stepped into it and I pulled gathering up two legs in the loop. Heater went down head over heels as his body kept going when his legs were no longer under him. I dropped a loop over his head and a half hitch over his nose and snugged him down to both front legs this time. I didn't want him up for any reason. He tried the rope a couple of times and then quit struggling. He knew he had lost the fight again. He glared at me. Next time. He would get me next time. I could see him thinking how he was going to do it.

While they were busy loading the ambulance with the three men Heater had almost killed, I was busy putting the hobbles, cersingle, and martingale back on him. I didn't care what they did with that horse as long as he wasn't free to kill me before I left the country.

My schedule for the flight was to drop off Heater and go to Venezuela to pick up another horse for a flight to France. I had a two hour wait for the hop to Venezuela. I walked into the terminal to get a sandwich. After the flight down I was starved. I hadn't packed anything to eat and it had been a long flight.

I walked up to a lunch counter. I didn't recognize anything on the menu. Whatever it was they were serving I didn't know if I wanted it.

One of the ladies walked over. "May I help you?"

"I'd like something to eat but I don't know what any of that stuff is."

"Are you the cowboy who roped that wild horse out there on the field?" She was studying me.

"Yes." I wondered if I was in trouble again.

"That was pretty fancy roping." She was writing on a ticket.

"Thanks. What about food? I haven't had anything since I left the states this morning. My backbone is pushing against my ribs." I didn't mind talking about roping but I had rather talk about food.

"I'll bring you something you'll like. Have a seat." She motioned toward the chair by the bar and left.

A man walked up from my left and reached out his hand in the offer of a handshake. He started saying something I didn't understand. I shook his hand and nodded even though I had no idea what he was saying.

More people gathered around me and pretty soon it was a din of confusion in a language I didn't understand. People were wanting to shake my hand for some reason. The lady returned and set a big bowl of brown beans and a big chunk of bread in front of me. She was right, it was something I liked. Those were darn good beans.

I finished that big bowl of beans and got up to leave. I was digging money out of my pocket wondering if they took American money? She set a sack down on the counter in front of me. "This will get you back home with out staving to death. There's no charge. One of those men you saved today was my cousin. I can't thank you enough."

I put some dollars on the counter. "I was doing my job. I don't expect payment for saving someone's life. Is this enough?"

She stared at me for the longest time before she leaned up in my face. "Are you a girl?"

"Yes." Now would she take my money since I wasn't the cowboy she thought I was?

The reaction wasn't what I expected. She screamed as she jumped up in the air, waved her arms, and shouted something I didn't understand. Everyone in there was shouting and pointing at me. I had enough of the circus. Escape wasn't to be. People were shouting and pushing at me. They weren't mean about it but they weren't easy either.

A couple uniformed men walked in and everyone started shouting all over again and pointing at me. I had no idea what it was all about. The two men pushed everyone back and stood staring at me.

The one on my right pointed at me. "Senior?"

I nodded. "Yes?"

He pointed again. "Senorita?"

"Yes?"

They started shouting. Senorita, Diablo, and a few other words I understood. The rest was lost. One of the soldiers took my hand and led me into the main terminal while shouting. Pretty soon, the circus I had hoped to escape had changed into a grand event and I had no idea why.

The lady who had waited on me passed in front and I grabbed her. "What are they saying? Why is everyone pointing at me?"

"Because you roped Diablo, the devil. They can't believe you're a woman. Everyone is arguing if you are an American cowboy or a cowgirl."

I pulled out my passport. "Well why didn't they ask me."

I held my passport up and one of the soldiers clutched it. He stared at the picture and then screamed. "Senorita."

A couple of the men lifted me up on their shoulders and started out to the front of the terminal. I tried to stop them "Wait, my plane. I have to catch a plane to Venezuela. I can't go any place. I have to catch a plane. Wait."

A dozen people loaded up in the back of a utility truck and we sped off down the streets. I knew I was going to miss my plane and no one would know what happened to me. I was in a strange country, couldn't speak the language, and had no idea what any of us were doing.

"American embassy. I need to go to the American embassy." I had an idea if I could get them to understand.

Shouting and laughing they all screamed. "American, si."

The truck pulled up to a large house and everyone got out. Finally the shouting and screaming had stopped. A man walked out of the house. The soldiers walked up to him and gave him my passport. They pointed back at me saying, senorita.

The man walked inside and shortly returned with another taller well dressed man. I had dropped down from the back of the truck onto the ground. They walked up to where I was standing. I had no idea what it was I had done wrong.

"You are this woman?" He held the passport open and there was the picture of me taken by the photographers three days ago. The tall man was eyeing me suspiciously.

"Yes."

I cleared my throat. "Listen, they made me up for that picture. I want to apologize for anything I did wrong. I'm sorry for what ever it was I did. Can I go now? I'll miss my plane. I have to be in Venezuela to pick up another horse tomorrow." I held out my hand for my passport. It didn't hurt to try and bluff my way out of this situation.

Putting the passport back in my hand he nodded. "Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Simon Pladure. One of the men you saved today is my brother. The other man is my foreman. That is my horse you caught. I am in your debt."

"Are they going to be all right. The one who had his skull split looked in pretty bad shape."

"Yes, they will be all right. I'm sure they will be a lot smarter when they get better. I heard you tried to tell them not to let the horse loose?"

"I tried. Heater had a long ride down here and he was itching to take it out on anyone who got close to him at the moment. He should have been put up and let settle in for a few days." It wasn't a lie but I wasn't going to tell Simon the horse he had bought was crazy and never would be all right.

Simon took my arm, an all too familiar situation with people outside Montana. He led me back into his house. "Please, you must be my guest for tonight. There will be a party in your honor."

"But I can't. I have a plane to catch. I must be in Venezuela by tomorrow." I was led into the house under protest.