This is a story about a horse and the poor smuck working with him. It all takes place in Wyoming out in the boondocks "is there any other place but boondocks in Wyoming?" during the 1960's
This is one devious horse; it takes every opportunity it can to buck you off and leave you on foot miles from home and seems to have an affinity for dumping you in water. It is the ugliest thing you have ever seen, but it has the heart and soul of a champion and will go all day and the next, if you can stay on him.
The author grew up in Wyoming in the 1960’s and 70’s and during this time, when he wasn’t out adventuring with his best friend Max, he was working on the ranch and breaking horses. He had one horse that was appropriately named H-bomb. This was a buckskin horse that was a great horse but you had to ride the horse, you got lazy and she would buck you off. All the stuff wrote about here about this horse and author are based on stuff that has happened to him or that he knew happened to somebody. Out of all these stories came H-Bomb the horse.
The author grew up on a ranch in the Big Horn Basin of Wyoming and during his high school years he broke horses for pocket money. He has been a cop for most of his adult life and if he got on a horse now, he wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.
Excerpt
Do I want to be a cowboy with a horse like H-bomb
Careless like I kicked him in to an easy lope and relaxed to enjoy the ride, the wind was blowing easy like around me and the day was finishing up pretty good. I mean the sun was shining, the birds were singing and old brown was behaving himself life was good.
Then I pulled on the reins to slow him up and felt my pleasant moment vanish, life was not good any more. The chin strap broke, it was all downhill from there if you can imagine. When that brown horse felt the strap break he was gone. I mean to say we were off to the races. The wind wasn’t blowing easy like anymore it was more like a hurricane now. I couldn’t feel the sun shining on me anymore we out ran it and the birds had quit singing, heck they were sucked up in the vortex behind us.
I took down my rope and tied it off hard and fast to the horn, shook out a loop and waited till we streaked by that post. As we went past that post I dropped the loop over it. Now who would have imagined that an old fence post would turn to concrete and grow roots that reached halfway to China?
When I came to sometime later, not sure how much later but later; I looked around on a very strange sight. As I looked back the way we had come from I could see that fence post off in the distance with my rope still around it. At the end of the rope was a saddle, looked like my saddle but it was not looking too good. About twenty feet from the saddle toward me laid that old brown horse, looking like he was dead. I should be so lucky. From H-bomb there was a furrow in the ground that ended right where I was sitting.
Shoeing H-bomb
I picked up the front foot again and went to work; I was sweating away when he started feeling heavy again. I dropped that foot and jumped out of the way but he never fell over this time, I think I moved before he got totally relaxed.
I walked over and slapped him in the belly and told him to knock it off. I picked up the foot again, same story. After what seemed like an hour on just that one foot I finally got him finished. The sweat was just a streaming off of me at that point.
I leaned against him for a minute and slipped the halter off of him and started to walk to the saddle shed. I had just taken about two steps when I felt him grab me by the back of my pants by my belt. I tried to turn around and I couldn’t and the next thing I know he had me picked up in his month, no matter how much I wiggled or squirmed I couldn’t get free, I was like worm on a hook.
In those days I was a skinny kid, now days he would have to use a crane, so he picked me up and took off walking.
I was trying to see where he was going when I seen the water tank coming up. No, this can’t be happening, but it was. He walked up to it and dropped me right in, SPLASH.
I thought you sorry son of a gun, dirty rotten no good buzzard, you are history. But he just stood there looking at me like, ‘there you feel better?’ I had to admit it was hot and I was hot and the water did cool me off and felt good, after I got over the shock.
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part V
Thirteen Sick Tasteless Classics, Part V is humorous adult literature featuring adult content and language. The work satirizes and spoofs thirteen classic tales from U.S. and British literature, a
