Buster

My sister had a small horse that no one else could ride and anyone who mounted him soon had a skinned up hide. It was haying time and Daddy took on some extra hands. With brawn, brains didn’t matter much. A rancher understands. One new hand started boasting of broncos he had ridden. Bragging around my brothers should have been a thing forbidden. It didn’t take them long to brand that young cowpoke a phony. They hatched a plan to get him on my sister’s half-broke pony. If a man bragged of his horse savvy, he’d better know his beans. They’d all been breaking broncos since before they hit their teens. That evening when Sis brought the cows, Buster was so mellow my brothers knew it was the time to trick that boasting fellow. They asked their prey if he would like to ride the little horse. The horse was acting gentle so he took the bait of course. My sis got off and he got on, or such was his intention. Buster remembered all the tricks those lads forgot to mention. He gave one buck and that cowpoke was hanging from his mane. He almost had him shaken off when he came down again. Then Buster noticed the barn door was opened just a skin. He was wider than the opening but still he wanted in. He made a mad dash forward, just a-heading for that crack. He made it through, the buckaroo was skinned right off his back. The fellow was a sorry sight a-lying in that muck. He must have thought the world was done or a bolt of lightning struck. Those rascals stood there laughing at the gent so mortified then feeling sorry complimented him for his fine ride. The moral of this story you don’t rate a horse by size and misjudging one like Buster could get you a big surprise. For Carol's "A Horse Story" contest Won 3rd