I wrote this story back in like 2019. That was about the time I really started working on my writing skills and I can definitely look back and see how much I've improved. Even so, I've always thought the story was fun so I decided to publish it anyway. It was also the first story I ever wrote in first person too.

The Gentle Bronc

See that horse in the corral over there? That's Old Chap, looks like a fine critter don't he? Come over and look at him a little closer, see, he's gentle as can be. Go ahead and give him a pat, he likes his neck scratched the best. Say his name, see how he pricks his ears and turns his neck ta' look at ya' when ya' do? This is as good a horse as ever you'll see, but I give you fair warnin', don't try to ride him. He's probably the worst bronc in the state. Why don't I git rid of him ya' say? Truth of it is I wouldn't part with him for anything in this world. Why you say? Well, that has a very interesting story attached to it.

I was in town buying my monthly supplies. I was luggin' a barrel of flour out to the wagon and had just stepped out the door of the general store when a lanky fella with a brown beaver hat in his hands came up and started talkin' to me so fast that I almost dropped that barrel on my toes. From first glance I could tell he was a tenderfoot. He was wearin' a long pale gray coat with tails a'flappin' behind him over a blue vest and white shirt with the skimpiest black bowtie around his neck ya' ever saw. He had on trousers to match his coat, only the legs seemed too short to fit into the tops of the boots he was wearin' and they kept on poppin' up as he walked showing flashes of his yellow socks underneath. I'd never in my life seen socks so yellow and was contemplatin' about them so hard that I had to ask him to repeat the beginning of what he was saying again. He said he was from Ohio and had been here only a week and that this was his first time west and that he was here to see a few relatives and improve his health and that barrel of flour grew heavier and heavier as the speech went on. I finally just walked over to my wagon and hoisted it in, and he followed after, jabberin' all the way, and I was really gittin' tired of it. At one point when he had to pause for his breath I asked him what it was he wanted.

He smiled and placed his beaver hat on his mop of blond hair, "I want to know if you're interested in buying a good horse, he's right over here, come take a look at him." Before I knew what was happening, Tenderfoot had dragged me across the street and I found myself lookin' into a long muddy brown face. The tenderfoot said that he had bought him to ride on while he was in town, but didn't need him any more since he would be leavin' town by stage. He tried to impress me by tellin' me that Old Chap, as he called the horse, had good breeding. I guess easterners like their horses to have blue-blood in im', but that didn't interest me. I had to admit he was a good lookin' critter with a sound body and a broad head, and good muscles in his hindquarters and legs, which promised speed. As I looked at him I compared him with my hardy little range mare that I used around my ranch. This fella would be able to work faster rounden' up the cattle that roamed over my land, and he would certainly be able to travel longer distances. Then Tenderfoot told me to examine him closer if I wanted too because he was verygentle, so I stuck my hand out to Old Chap and he pushed his nose into it friendly-like. After runnen' my hands over his legs and body I asked Tenderfoot what his price was. He paused a moment and shifted his weight from foot to foot and his eyes got so fidgety that you couldn't tell where he was lookin'. Then he put his pointed chin in the air and said, "I'll let you have this splendid horse for 200 dollars." Well I about jumped out of my boots and I told him good that was the most ridiculous price for a horse I'd ever herd, and for a horse that wasn't even saddle broken. I assumed so because he didn't have on a saddle and was only tied to the hitchin' post with a rope halter. "Oh no, he's broken to a saddle and a bridle too," Tenderfoot put in hastily.

"He's gentle and fast and broken. Sir, it's worth every penny for him," he said in an exaggerated tone as he stood up straighter, puffin' out his chest and hookin' his thumbs in his vest pockets. I offered him one fifty. Tenderfoot seemed dissatisfied with my price and stuck with two hundred. I looked at Old Chap and he turned his head toward me and blinked, and suddenly I realized that I wanted that horse. Tenderfoot, I could tell, wanted money so I decided to try somethin'. I took one hundred and fifty dollars out of my pocket, the extra I had from my supplies, and held it up in front of Tenderfoot's eyes.

"Here's ah hundred and fifty dollars," I told him slowly. "Ya' kin either take it or leave it." Tenderfoot stared at that roll in my hand for a long while with his lips drawn in such a tight line that they turned white. I then slowly began to put the roll back into my pocket, letting it disappear gradually. Then Tenderfoot took a step, almost a leap, so his nose was almost touchin' mine. "One fifty he's yours," he said so fast that you couldn't have said "boo" without him beatin' you to the finish. I smiled and pulled the money back out of my pocket and held it out to him. He snatched it and stuffed it into his coat pocket. As he turned away he mumbled something that sounded along the line of, "He's all yours," and he hurried down the street. I watched him go as long as I could see those yellow socks flash from under his trousers, then turned to my new mount and untied the knot that fastened him from the hitcin' rail. He led so well that I almost didn't have to hold on to the rope, I could have just thrown it over his back and he would've followed me as though he were a dog. Well, I tied him to the back of my wagon, hopped into the seat, and clucked to my team and we headed back to the ranch with my new buy.

I don't have the biggest spread in this area, but its fair sized I reckon. I don't have to worry about not trustin' my hands though, because they're all close friends of mine that used to work for the biggest spread in this area, but were all disbanded when the owner decided that cattle ranchin' wasn't for him and moved back east to live with some relatives. I had just started my ranch when the rancher let the boys go. I had felt sorry for them so I invited all five of 'im over ta' supper one evenin', and they just never left. They went to work for me and we all just kinda' run the ranch together. Well I came struttin' into the yard like a turkey showing off his plume with my new horse tied behind. I halted the team in front of the barn and the boys came from inside the house and stood around to admire my buy. I climbed off the wagon and stood beside them before untying him, admirin' with them. Old Chap was a muddy brown with the only marking on him being a white hind foot. Others may not think his color beautiful, but when the light shines just right on his coat it does look right pretty. I then led him into the barn and when I came back I had him outfitted in one of our best saddles and my fancy silver studded bridle. I led him into our corral and the boys perched themselves on the top rail ta' watch, all the while makin' comments about what a good horse he looked to be. I flipped the reins over Old Chap's head, grabbed the saddle horn, placed my boot in the stirrup, and swung myself up on his back. I'd no sooner felt the seat under me when I had a strange feeling that I was goin' up and then there was sky, then there was grass, then sky, then grass, it was as though the whole world was turning upside down and flippin' sideways at the same time. There was a hard loud thump and I found myself layin' flat on my back starin' at the sky, achin' all over with the boys leanin' over lookin' at me. I sat up slowly and began to gather my senses. Old Chap was a few yards away, standin' there as though nothin' had happened. I got up with the boys dustin' me off and stared at that horse, and he stared back.

"Maybe ya' got on him to fast," one of my boys, whose name was Mac, suggested. They all stood around this time as I tried again, this time slower as so not to fright'n him, if that was the trouble. He stood there as though he had done this all his life, but I'd no sooner got in the seat when the world began flippin' round again, only I got a softer landing this time, for I came down right smack on top'a Jim, and we both went down together. We picked ourselves up, and there was Old Chap, lookin' at us as though we were a pair of fools. I was now bound and determined to ride that horse. It was now clear that I had been cheated into a bronc. I walked toward him again, this time I would be ready. An hour later I came out of the corral, battered and bruised, leading Old Chap by the reins, glowerin' ahead as I walked him to the barn with my amused friends paradin' behind. I could've kicked myself at the thought of buyin' a horse without riding him first, and what made it all the worse was that I'd been hoodwinked by an Easterner of all people. That night I laid awake in my bunk with my limbs all sore and achin', tryin' to think up a way to beat that horse at his own game and I finally drifted off into a restless sleep. In the morning as I sat down to breakfast with the boys, I felt more confident. After breakfast I stomped out to the barn and looked that horse in the face. He looked back at me, his eyes clearly sayin', "Wan'a try again?" I fairly shouted, "Yes I do and what's more I'm gunna' succeed!" As I slapped the saddle on Old Chap he turned his muddy brown head, and with a look I'll never forget, he just stared at me with his big black eyes, his small ears pointed forward. I about threw my hands in the air in surrender right then and there, but Sam walked in right then so I pulled myself together and tried to look confident, though my heart was sinkin' lower and lower inside ah me. I led Old Chap out to the corral and the circus started over again. No matter what I did, that horse wouldn't have me on his back for more than a few seconds, and every time I was picken' myself out'a the dirt he would look at me like I were the biggest fool he'd ever known, and I guess he was right. He didn't throw me 'cause he was mean, he just wouldn't tolerate anyone who thought he could ride him. I offered the boys a chance to try, but every one of them turned me down. I even tried to gradually put my weight on him but even that didn't work. I finally gave up the fight and saddled my gentle little mare and rode into town, determined to find that eastern polecat that had cheated me out of one hundred and fifty dollars of good hard-earned money. It didn't take too long for me to find out about him once I walked into the general store. A group of the men in town had gathered together and told me all I needed to know. It seems that he had been gamblin' 'round town a bit and was in some debt. He had sold almost everything except the shirt on his back and raised enough money to pay off the debt but not quite enough to get a passage on the stage. One of the boys had talked to Ed Johnson, who owned the livery stable, and he said that Tenderfoot had seen Old Chap saddled and bridled and up for sale in front of the stable and had asked Ed how much he was, thinking to ride to the next town if he couldn't take the stage. Ed had said he let him go for twenty dollars and Tenderfoot had jumped at the offer, not knowing the horse was a bronc. When he found out he couldn't ride him he gotten rid of the saddle and bridle so no one could test ride him and began trying to sell him, and I just happened to be one of the first ones he offered. After taking the money he had jumped on the next stage out of town, taking my money right along with him. After hearing the whole story, I walked out and slowly mounted my mare, and started back for the ranch. I could still hear the laughter of the men back at the general store and I felt lower than the dirt under my horse's hooves. After that I couldn't get a moments peace in town. The minute I'd walk into a store or a café, half the men would start pullin' jokes at me and keep it up as long as I was there, and I'm sure that even after I'd leave there were still some laughs bein' throwed around. And it was the same thing at the ranch with the boys. I tried in every way I could think of to get rid of that horse. I must have tried to sell him to every soul in town and every ranch within twenty miles, but news sure spreads fast. It seemed my story had stretched as far as the next county and I was turned down every time, and more than once I was turned down with a laugh. Well, I'd had about as much of this as I could take, and one evening as I stared at Old Chap and he stared back, I told him I'd had enough and I marched up to that corral gate and flung it wide open. I took hold of his halter and led him out in to the yard, facing him toward the open plains. I unbuckled the halter and slipped it off and jumped back ta' give him room to run. And Old Chap just stood there. Flicking his tail, he turned his long face and blinked at me with the most befuddled look that made me want to wince. But I was determined not to have feelin's toward him and I took off my hat and with all my might I slapped that horse on the rump with it while yellin' as loud as I could. Old Chap gave a mighty kick and bolted, runnin' at top speed for the plains. His mucles rippled somethin' beautiful under that muddy hide as he ran with his head up and his mane and tail streamin' out behind him. I listened to his hoof beats slowly fade away and as long as I could see his dark speck, I watched him until he finally disappeared over the rise. I tossed the halter I was still holdin' into the barn and walked triumphantly to the house, thinking I had solved my problem and that all my dealings with that bronc were through. But for some time that night I laid awake in my bunk, wonderin' if he was all right. I began wondering if he would find enough to eat, maybe he didn't know where to find water, but then I thought that was ridiculous, for wild horses could fend for themselves. On the other hand, I didn't know if Old Chap had ever been wild, he may've just been a horse that had been broken too late, and I had never turned anything out, man or animal, to fend alone if it couldn't take care of itself. But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, I was through with that horse and I wasn't going to think about him anymore. The next day I was feelin' pretty high as I walked outside with the boys to do the mornin' chores. We would have a busy day today, because we were going out to the range to tally and brand the new calves. For some reason as I walked across the yard, my eyes were drawn to the corral. Its gate was still wide open, the way I had left it last night. I suddenly stopped in my tracks and my jaw dropped open as I stared at what I couldn't believe. There was Old Chap, standin' there in the corral like he'd never been gone. Well, I got so frusterated at that horse, I ran straight at him wavin' my arms and hat and yellin' like a crazed Comanche. Old Chap just stood there, watchin' me come at him, tryin' ta figer out what in the world I was doin'. I got within' ah few feet of him before I had too skid to a stop so I wouldn't ran into him before he finally moved. He trotted forward and around the corral, and passed the open gate as if it were closed and we j'ist kept goin' 'round and round' that corral. I could hardly keep myself under control, then I had an idea. The next time he came 'round to the open gate I threw my Stetson hard at him. It hit him right in the middle of his neck and he turned out the gait, just as I had hoped he would do. He cantered pass the boys and straight out for the open again and we watched him as he disappeared over the rise for the second time. I shut the corral gate this time so to discourage him if he came back, and for some reason I had ah strong fealin' that he would. After the boys had laughed themselves out, we took care of the stock and then they rounded up our extra horses and we headed out for the range. As we left the ranch house behind, I thought about Old Chap. What if he came back again? Would he just stay around the ranch? Maybe this was just the thing that would get him to go away. If no one came around for a few days maybe he'd get tired of waitin' and finally run away for good. I tried not to think about it. My mind was kept pretty busy roundin' up the new calves and all that day it didn't bother me much. But as I tried to sleep under the stars that night, all I could think of was that Old Chap was somewhere out there under those same stars. I began wonderin' why that horse even had to come into my life. Day after day we drove, roped, threw, and branded, and night after night I tossed, turned, and squirmed in my bedroll, Old Chap's long muddy brown face with those big black eyes starin' and hauntin' me. It was the first time I had ever wanted this job to take longer than usual. It actually did, we had more calves then we'd expected and it took most five weeks to get the job done. But those five weeks went by faster then I wanted. The brandin' was done and the tallyin' was counted up. There was nothin' left to do but head back for the ranch. As mile after mile went by and we came closer and closer to our destination a chilling dread came over me. All the way I kept lecturin' myself and askin' why I let that bronc bother me so. After all he was just a horse. Once we sold the yearlin's I'd make back the hundred and fifty that I'd lost on him easy. I don't know if that made things better or not, but as dusk began to fall and we finally came in sight of the ranch I couldn't help but look in the direction of the corral. From the distance I was at I didn't think anything was there and as we came closer I could see the closed corral gate. Everything was still in order and I didn't see Old Chap. I was relieved as I climbed out of the saddle of my little mare and the boys did the same. All I could think right then was that it had worked! Old Chap had gotten tired waitin' around and had run off, I hoped it was for good. We led our horses toward the barn to unsaddle and give them a well deserved rubdown. I threw open wide the barn doors to give the boys behind me room too come in and we trooped inside. After we had hung the saddles over the stall dividers and givin' each horse a through rubdown, we prepared to feed them for the night. I walked to the back of the barn to get some oats from the feed room. We have a fairly large room in the back that we keep the grain, hay, and other feeds in. Well as I opened the door and stepped through, all my feelin's of relief hit the ground like a ton pound brick. For what do ya' think I saw? There in the middle of the feed room chompin' on the grain stood Old Chap. We had put in a door in the back of the room so as to make bringin' in the feedbags easier. All we had to do was drive the buckboard to the back of the barn and carry the feed through the door into the feed room instead of chucken' them through the stalls all the time. When we had left to brand the calves, the door must not have been properly shut and the wind had blown it open. And after we were gone Old Chap had come back and walked right in through the obligin' door and helped himself. Half of all the feed was gone and the hay in the corner was half knocked down and a quarter eaten. For the first time in my life I felt like bawlin' like a kid. No matter what I'd done, he'd always come back. I didn't care if he did like me, I didn't like him, and that was the point. We finally coaxed him away from his feast and I locked him in the soundest box stall at the back of the barn and told the boys ta' keep him there. I now didn't care if he was here or not, just as long as he was out'a my sight.

Well I was just startin' to think that I'd be stuck with him for life when one day it seemed that things might take a turn for the better. It was the morning that I paid the boys for their months work and Jake decided he'd ride to town and buy a new watch that he needed, since he'd broken his old one while makin' flapjacks. Don't ask me how in the world he did that, I still can't figure it out myself. Well anyway, he'd seen a right pretty one in the general store and he wanted to get it before anyone else did. So he rode into town that afternoon, and when he got back he said that he had some news that would interest me plenty. He said that a Mr. Martin was in town. He owned a big rodeo and was traveling ahead to make arrangements to put on his shows. He'd come to town for that purpose, and had walked into the café to spread the word while he happened ta' be in there too. Mr. Martin had overheard some other fellers funnin' to Jake about Old Chap, callin' him the "gentle buckin' horse". Jake said that Mr. Martin became very interested and had asked him if he knew the owner of this buckin' horse. Jake told him that I owned him and that he worked for me. Then came the part that just 'bout shocked me out'a my boots. Mr. Martin had asked if maybe I would think about sellin' the horse and if I did to bring him to town tomorrow. I almost threw my hat in the air and jumped for joy I was so happy. I almost left for town that very instance, but as it'd be dark by the time I got there I guessed that I would have ta' hold off till mornin' though I could hardly sleep that night I was so anxious. I thought that night would never end. All I could think of was that I was finally going to get rid of that bronc that was just eatin' and sleepin' in that box stall, livin' a life of luxury. I was the first one up next mornin' and for the first time since I'd gottin' him, I spent the entire time before breakfast groomin' Old Chap's coat till it did shine right pretty even if it was muddy colored. And after we had breakfast, I saddled my little mare and put an older saddle and bridle on Old Chap in case Mr. Martin wanted ta' try him out, and started for town. It was gettin' hot so we couldn't go as fast as I would've liked ta'. We arrived about noon time and I tied Old Chap along with my mare in front of the bank, made a few errands, then set out ta' locate Mr. Martin. I finally found him sittin' in the sun outside the store. He was just like I pictured him, young, tall, thin, and finely dressed. He motioned toward the chair beside him and invited me ta' join him.

After I'd sat down he asked, "Is that bronco really as good as I've been hearing?" Well I answered him, "Mr. Martin, it's more power ta' the feller who tries ta' ride him and even better. But he's tame as a kitten when you ain't ridin' him." He seemed quite impressed and said he figured on usin' him in his bronco bustin' act if I'd sell him. I was more than ready to agree and told him that he could look Old Chap over and he could name his price. Well we walked down the street and I led him over where Old Chap stood tied ta' the hitchin' post. As I watched Mr. Martin look him over carefully, all I could think of was what if he didn't buy him, then I would be stuck with him all over again. But I argued with myself that there was no reason why he shouldn't buy him, after all, he was lookin' for a bronc wasn't he? And I didn't think he could find much better. Mr. Martin took his time as he felt Old Chap's back and ran his hands down his legs, and for a reason I still can't figure out, he looked inta' Old Chaps mouth right carefully. He finally turned to me and said, "This is a mighty sound horse you've got here. Even if he didn't buck he'd make great show. Tell you what I'll give you two hundred for him right now." My heart nearly jumped into my throat and I didn't realize till then that I'd been holdin' my breath. Two hundred dollars! I was goin' ta' get back my hundred and fifty plus another fifty dollars! Well I jumped at the offer and we shook hands. He didn't have the total in cash on him, so he invited me to his hotel room where he'd get the rest and then treat me to a good lunch at the café. That sounded more then good ta' me and as we started away I gave Old Chap a triumphant look, but all he did was stare straight ahead. Ta' me it seemed he knew that I was sellin' him, 'cause that was the first time he'd hadn't looked back. Tell ya' the truth I was almost glad he didn't. We were almost to the hotel when we suddenly heard a dozen or more gunshots behind us. We whipped around in time ta' see two men run out'a the bank, one of them carryin' a black bag in his hand, and both shootin' wherever they had a mind to. I later learned that the two men had gone inta' the bank posing as new ranchers in the area. They'd said they wanted loans to buy their ranches with and both named an amount that was big enough so the casher had to open the safe. When he did, the men pulled guns on the cashers and emptied all the money out'a the safe and put it in the black bag. They had everyone back up against the wall and then made a run out the door for their horses. That's when we saw 'em. They must've saw the sheriff come out of his office with his deputies and decided their horses were too far away to get to in time, assuming the two bays at the far end of the hitchin' post were theirs, so they turned to the next closest ones. Well the next closest turned out ta' be my horses. I didn't even think about Old Chap, all I thought of was losing my pretty little mare. I took my six-shooter from my holster and took a couple shots, and that's when things started happenin'. The robber in front had the money bag and was the first ta' reach the hitchin' post. And by the most coincidence, chose Old Chap for his getaway. He yanked the reins free and jumped onto that horse's back, and in all my born days I've never seen anything like what happened in those next few seconds. As soon as that bank robber settled inta' the saddle, Old Chap threw down his head and all four feet came off the ground. If anyone in the world was more surprised that day, it was that robber as he clung onta' the saddle horn for dear life. The other man was about ta' mount my little mare when Old Chap had shot up in the air and he was so stunned by the sudden demonstration of a rodeo that he relaxed his grip on the reins. My little mare didn't know for the life of her what was goin' on and she decided not to be a part of it. She wheeled so fast that the robber was caught off guard and was flung back against the hitchin' post and the two startled bays that were to be the getaway horses jerked their reins free. All he could do was watch dumbfoundedly as my little mare cantered down the street with both bays at her side. At the same time, Old Chap was showing all that he didn't exactly appreciate his sudden rider. After coming off the ground the first time, Old Chap came down with all legs stiff and landed of all four feet. And with his rider still in shock from the hard landing, his hind quarters came up so quick that the outlaw slid onto his neck, but still holding onto the horn in one hand and the black bag in the other. Old Chap gave two spins, one kick, another spin, and came down hard on all four feet again. With that the outlaw lost his grip. Old Chap knew it and with one last mighty heave, the rider came off his back. Both man and bag flew through the air for a good fifteen yards before landin' in the dirt with a heavy thump, and Old Chap just stood there as if nothin' had happened. The sheriff took command and marched the one off to the jailhouse as his deputies carried the other with the townspeople trailin' behind em'. I was still holdin' my six-shooter in my hand, feeling dazed as I stared in bewilderment at Old Chap still standin' in the middle of the street flickin' his tail, and he stared back. At that moment, Henry Wattles, president of the bank came running up to me with his face almost as white as the handkerchief he was dabbin' it with. "Thanks to your horse we saved every bill from my bank," he told me. "If those robbers had gottin' away, the bank would've had to close its doors and this town would've been in real trouble," and as I watched him scurry away, I suddenly began to realize exactly what my horse had done.

Mr. Martin woke me outa'f my thoughts when he said, "Sir, that's the best bronco buckin' I've seen in years and now I'm willin' to double my offer for him!" I looked at Mr. Martin, then at Old Chap, and he turned his head toward me and blinked, just like he did the first time I saw him.

Then I straightened, stuck my six-shooter in my holster, and put my head up as I answered, "Mr. Martin, I wouldn't sell that horse for a million dollars! As far as I'm concerned, he's got a permanent home and'll live a life of luxury the rest of his days!"

Mr. Martin laughed out loud and said that he couldn't blame me and that he would definitely treat me a hardy lunch anyway. And I don't think I've ever been more proud as that evenin' when I led Old Chap home for good, and I'll never forget the looks on the boy's faces when they heard my tale. Ever sense then you might say he has been spoiled some.

So there's the story of Old Chap, and now ya' know why I won't part with him. See, he knows I'm talkin' 'bout him, he looks at me and twitches his ears. You're wonderin' if I could ever break him? Well, ta' tell ya' the truth I'm not real sure 'bout that, I know he still wouldn't like it, and if I took it real easy I might, but I really doubt that. But I've never even thought about tryin' it, he deserves his way of life for what he did. So the answer is, no, I've never tried to ride him again and I don't believe I should.

There you have it! Hope you enjoyed even if was a little choppy at some points.

Fun note - It's hilarious that my family can never remember this story by its title. But just say "the yellow socks story" and they know exactly what I'm talking about. Even like two years after reading my story, my Uncle didn't know what I was talking about. I sighed and said "the yellow socks?" "Oh that one! Yeah, I remember that one!" And even when I say the actual title my dad says, "Oh yeah. The yellow socks story." I sometimes don't know whether to be outrageously frustrated or laugh hysterically. LOL

For some reason that one little sentence about Tenderfoot's yellow socks (which are never mentioned again) just struck them funny, and for the life of me I still can't figure out why. :D