Manifest Destiny

The round-up worked its way downriver to the outskirts of Medora town. Quite a few citizens came out to observe the activities. Among them was the lady Medora, Madame la Marquise—sidesaddle on a pretty mare, her delicate face shaded beneath a Mexican sugarloaf hat that was wider than her shoulders. Mr. Roosevelt walked through the crowd to greet her.

Joh

Wil Dow wasn’t close enough to hear the words Roosevelt exchanged with the lady; he did see Roosevelt’s flashing smile.

Just then Wil happened to notice Joh

Wil watched with increasing suspicion until Joh

Wil jumped off the fence and hurried forward while Roosevelt met the round-up manager’s gaze. Joh

There was nothing Wil could do about it. He backed away slowly with a scowl.

Joh

Cowboys gathered. Wil Dow found Pierce Bolan beside him. “Watch this,” Bolan confided. “Joh

Roosevelt spoke another half-dozen quiet words to the lady and then turned to accept the bucking horse.

Wil Dow stated agape at Madame Medora. It was the first time he’d seen her close up. Her riding habit was black. She wore hobnail boots with soft leather leggins; of course it was not done for a woman to show the least bit of ankle. Lady Medora’s skirts would have dragged the ground if she had been standing upon it. Even so, Wil Dow knew that if a gentleman should give her a hand up into the sidesaddle, he was required by custom to look away, lest he catch a glimpse of limb.

He’d heard it said that Madame la Marquise was considered quite risqué because—rumor had it—she now and then su

Two men boosted Roosevelt into the saddle. They stepped back, gri

The horse exploded under the boss and Wil Dow winced; he could feel the hard shocks that must have run up Roosevelt’s bones.

The horse leaped high in the air, all four hoofs far from the ground, spine bowed—and came down with a crash that swung the rider far over. The horse pivoted; the rider was clutching at things but there was sky visible beneath the crotch of his trousers and it was just a matter of instants now. His hat and glasses were gone into the dust. Wil Dow saw the revolver bounce out of Roosevelt’s holster. There were shouts from the men: “Go to him, cowboy!”

“Stay by! Stay by!”

There was a great deal of laughter: nobody expected Roosevelt to stay on board. But he was making a good fight of it. Wil worried: Roosevelt had more than his share of stubbor

Oddly, it was Joh

The horse reared, kicked, came down hard two legs at a time—that second shock nearly twisted the rider in half. It brought a cry from Madame la Marquise. The horse planted its front feet and kicked its hind hoofs high in the air. Roosevelt would have come off if the horse hadn’t slammed forward under him, as if catching him. Then it ran forward, stopped dead in its tracks and dropped its head between its splayed front legs. It arched its back and swirled, gone mad.

Somehow the rider was still up. But then the horse went straight up in the air as if it had been hit from underneath by a ca

The cowboys cheered, their humor being as cruel as it was rough, but when the horse clambered to its feet Roosevelt was right there, reins gathered, both fists gripping the horn.

He hauled himself back into the saddle as the horse sunfished end-for-end. He hadn’t secured his seat; his feet were half out of the stirrups; and the horse was swapping ends fast enough to make a wooden cigar-store Indian dizzy. It was no wonder Roosevelt flew off.

The lady Medora gasped; the cowboys cheered the horse; Joh

The outlaw’s teeth snapped together; it uttered a loud malevolent grunt; it surged and lashed; and at last—just when it seemed inevitable the rider must soar away yet again to wheel shoulder-first against the dusty earth—the horse gave up and ran.

Tamed for the moment, it galloped full out while the rider resettled his seat and his composure.

Madame Medora clapped her hands energetically. Sewall and Dow followed suit. Dutch Reuter and several of the punchers joined in the applause. But several others did not; and Joh

Wil Dow saw that Roosevelt’s ferocious grin was aimed at the lady. “What a rattling good time.”

Madame Medora smiled back demurely under her hatbrim.

Roosevelt looked down. “I rode him for you, Mr. Goodall. All the way from the tip of his ear to the end of his tail.”

Joh

Pierce Bolan said dryly to Roosevelt, “Next time Joh

Roosevelt’s blue eyes flashed behind the dusty lenses. “Nonsense. It’s all good fun. I think it’s perfectly bully!”

The lady returned to her château; the round-up went on into the evening, at which point there was a great turmoil of men trying to find teetotalers willing to take their places on night-guard. Roosevelt and Uncle Bill immediately volunteered, as they did not drink. A considerable amount of pressure was brought to bear upon Deacon Osterhaut, who finally agreed to stand a watch but not without berating the boys about the Wages of Sin. “It is not God’s will that any of you patronize the fleshpots of this evil Gomorrah.”

Wil Dow thought of going into town to See The Elephant with the rest of the boys. It was tempting. But he decided to save his money and his health. He enjoyed a drink now and then but it would give him a dread headache and that was something he did not care to endure on the back of a bucking horse. He took Pierce Bolan’s place on night duty and earned the rancher’s undying gratitude.