Old Harold
There are legends in the West, born out of truths and half truths. Famous brave men, strong spirited women and one legendary horse, Old Harold.
A crowd of boys gathered behind the flour mill after school was let out.
There was a score to settle.
Joe was one Cartwright who was not going to back down from classmate Trampus
Marston. The Marston family had a big ranch bordering the Ponderosa’s east
side. They raised horses. Ben and Bill Marston were friendly but not what
you call friends. His two sons, Trampus 14 and Bill Jr. 18 have been in
physical altercations with half the boys in town. Mrs. Marston, Ellowina,
is an unpleasant woman especially if her sons are caught misbehaving. Her
sons could do no wrong in her eyes.
Today Trampus and Joe wanted to prove to something. Who was the better rider. The gauntlet was thrown when Trampus bragged he could ride any wild bronco better than the older men that were at the Wild West Rodeo that went through town a week ago. Joe, being Joe, laughed at him and said he would out ride Trampus Marston to the ground.
The rodeo left behind one of the broncs, retiring him from their show. Fenced in at the livery this horse was up for auction this weekend, a throw away. Joe and Trampus decided this bronc would be the test. Jeb at the livery wasn’t the most watchful or reliable of workers. Passing him a bottle from his father’s liquor cabinet, Trampus’ brother Bill arranged to halter the horse and bring it to the mill.
The two boys tossed a coin to see who would seat the bronc first. Winner
in this toss was Joe. He was nervous. “Bets down, Trampus called. The boys
laid down money betting if Joe could stay on.
Mitch had a watch he ‘borrowed’ from his father. The horse eyed the boys
warily. He was about 15 hands high, almost as tall as Cochise. The horse
had light eyes, matched his grey coat except for a wicked streak of black
running through its mane. When asked what this horse name was, the boys
were surprised it was Ol Harold. The owner of the rodeo said he earned his
rest. The horse had some bad habits which costs the show money every town
they hit. One was he had a taste for beer thanks to the crew. The other
was he hated working even for the 8 seconds he had to shuck off his rider.
Mitch went over to Joe. “How bad could a horse named Ol’ Harold be anyway.
Just stay on, you probably won’t even wake him up.” Mitch said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, he sure don’t look like much. But Trampus said I had to stay on,
so if I am on this nag for an hour that ought to do it.”
“Make it quick Joe, I gotta get my Pa’s watch back and you are already
late getting home.” Mitch said.
“Don’t remind me. But I got to do this, it’s a matter of family pride now.”
Joe said trying to convince himself.
“Come on Cartwright, let’s get this done.” Trampus said with a sneer.
Joe went to where they tied up Ol’ Harold. We gonna ride him open without a fence?” Joe said.
“We don’t exactly have a big arena for ya boy, want to quit now and pay
up?” Trampus said.
“Well I don’t wanna end up in Reno on this nag.” Joe argued.
“Joe’s right, how about we use that pen over there, it will at least keep him from running a muck.” Mitch said.
“Alright we will use that corral, but it looks like they used to have pigs in there instead of horses.” Trampus said complaining
Joe sat on the fence just like they seen the other bronc riders do last
week. A kerchief was placed over Ol’ Harold’s eyes. The horse resisted with
a few well placed bites as a bit was slipped in. Joe and Mitch placed Joe’s
saddle on the horse who stood for it. Switching his tail in protest and
stomping on Mitch’s toe.
“He is one nasty nag Joe. Be careful.” Mitch said hoping up and down unable
to put weight on his foot.
Sitting gingerly on the saddle, Joe held his breath. With a whoop and a
holler the kerchief was removed. Ol Harold at first stood looking around.
as if surveying the landscape. The boys around the corral burst out in laughter.
“Just stay on, Joe maybe you could break a world record.” Mitch said.
Joe was embarrassed. “Maybe he just don’t feel you up there Little Joe.”
said Trampus busting a gut.
With both legs Joe kicked Ol’ Harold in the sides hard.
Then all hell broke loose. Ol’ Harold dipped his head as if ready to charge
like a bull but instead went straight up in the air as if lifted by an invisible
hand toward the sky. The boys gasped as he came down on all four hoofs with
a thunderous sound. Joe hung on hoping this soon would be over. His teeth
were jarred and clenched his legs tight. The next thing Joe knew he was
spinning, the horse twisted left but spun right, trying to shake off his
rider. The big rump of the horse hit the old fence hard, sending Mitch and
Trampus backward. The two crawled in a ball as the raging horse stomped
ever closer. Taking a flying leap over them, Ol Harold and the unfortunate
rider were off full tilt down the Main Street of Virginia City.
The crowd of Joe’s school mates all chased after them, some were whooping and hollering cheering Joe on some was truly afraid for him. Mitch for one was scared that Joe was going to end up badly hurt or worse.
Joe was pulling on the reins which only seemed to fuel the fire. Up ahead was a fringed surrey loaded with the good ladies of Virginia City Social Society. They screamed as Ol’ Harold went charging at them. A few, who were able, dove into the street to avoid flying hoofs. Mrs. Browne, a very large woman could only wait as her life seemed to passed before her eyes. Ol Harold spooked the horse pulling the surrey causing the horse rear straight up. The surrey tilted backward spilling the remaining unfortunate women into the mud. It was a pile of skirts, lace and bloomers with legs twined. The pile of unfortunate women was pinned underneath Mrs. Browne.
Some men tried to head off the horse; two were bit for their efforts. Two
wagons were toppled over spilling vegetables and milk all over the street.
A well place kick from Ol Harold sent a milk can flying right into the glass
shop window.
Roy was sitting in his office when his deputy Clem came running in.
“We got a run away crazy horse out there Roy and he is destroying Main Street.“
Roy grabbed his rifle. “Well I know one way to stop him.”
“No Roy, Little Joe Cartwright is riding it, or hanging on, we got to get him down first.” Clem said.
The horse took another series of bucking and turns then as if sniffing
the air, charged into the saloon.
Patrons dived for cover; tables went flying spilling beer, poker chips and
cards. The saloon girls went screaming and running to the safety behind
the bar. That’s where Ol Harold stopped, tuckered and lathered. The tired
horse stopped cold stuck his snout into a full pitcher of beer that sat
on the bar.
Roy entered the saloon unable to believe his eyes of the destruction. Now
as if job was done, the old nag was making himself at home with a pitcher
of beer.
Roy looked upward at Little Joe. “Get off that animal now boy!”
Joe unlocked his white knuckled grip from the reins and slid oh so gingerly
off the saddle.
“Now I am going to take you to the jail house, mostly for your own safety, that crowd out there are looking to skin you alive. Clem and Jeb, you take that animal back to the livery.”
Reaching for the bridle Jeb pulled back his hand just before the Ol Harold tried to take a bite.
“Take the beer with ya Jeb.” Roy said rolling his eyes.
Ol Harold followed as long as he got a few sips here and there on the way
to the livery.
Jeb walked backward holding out the pitcher of beer to Ol’ Harold like a
carrot on a string.
The crowd roared with laughter at the sight.
Joe did not dare look up into the crowd. He was walking gingerly with one
bruised backside from the animal’s abuse. Roy put him in a cell and asked
Clem to ride out to the Ponderosa to fetch Ben.
The other boys were rounded up. Mitch and Trampus were put inside with Joe.
Sitting there waiting to be picked up by their parents the boys contemplated
on their fate.
“Joe I think you definitely won that bet.” Trampus said sitting there miserable.
“Yeah, did you see those ladies spill out into the street. That alone will have my hide nailed to the barn door with my Pa.” Mitch said with a nervous grin.
“But did you see that milk can go flying. It was like a shooting star going straight through the glass shop window. Mr. Johnson was red as a beet swearing and yelling.” Trampus said now chuckling.
“All I know is when my Pa gets here he may open this cell door with or without a key to get to my hide.” Joe said dejectedly.
“Joe we may get in Dutch with our Pa’s but I think we will be heros with the kids at school, legends even.” Trampus said.
“Do you really think we will be remembered? Might make this worth it won’t it.” Joe said.
“YOU WILL REMEMBER THIS DAY YOUNG MAN, I ASSURE YOU OF THAT!!” Ben roared.
AND I WILL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER BELIEVE IT IS WORTH IT...”
In the years to come it could be said that what went on in that barn that night between father and son was painfully memorable. In Little Joe’s opinion even LEGENDARY.
The End