"Man is not man, but a wolf to those he does not know."
-Plautus
It was a clear day, one of those days where it just seems like the world is perfect and everything in it is wonderful and fine. Joseph Cartwright was feeling good. He'd completed a lengthy cattle drive along with a few drovers, most of whom were temporary and flaked off when they arrived in town. The exception was Candy, who -in addition to being a good cowhand- was Joe's friend and an unofficially permanent fixture around the Ponderosa and Cartwright clan.
Joe and Candy had had their fun in town, gotten clean, had some drinks, talked up some pretty girls. Candy had played a few hands of cards in the saloon with some drifters while Joe concluded the transaction with the cattle buyer.
Now they were on their way back, Joe carrying the cash from the sale of the cattle. It was a lot of money, but Joe wasn't worried. He'd carried money before, and he knew how to handle it. It might've been nice to have more than just Candy along, but Joe had sometimes headed back to the Ponderosa entirely alone. His father had taught him and his brothers how to handle themselves. He knew how to fight, and he knew how to ride.
They had one stop to make on the way back, in the little town of Redton. A friend of Ben Cartwright's, David Beckett, had purchased a horse sight unseen. When he'd mentioned to Ben where he was to pick up the horse and when, Ben had told him that Joe was heading that way at that time anyway, and might as well pick up the horse on his way back. The horse was already bought and paid for, it was just a matter of taking over the charge of him.
Joe anticipated no problems with that. Candy tended to have hard luck with horses, but Joe could manage almost any bronc, and this one didn't come with any known issues. Of course, it being a horse none of them had ever seen, Joe knew it could be anything from a nag to a mustang. Mr. Beckett seemed confident of his buy, and Joe had no reason to doubt the man's knowledge of the matter. In any case, there wasn't any reason to be too concerned, especially not before he'd actually seen the horse. And especially not on a beautiful day like today.
Joe's pinto chomped at the bit in his mouth and bobbed his head eagerly. It had been a long, slow trip. The little horse didn't mind hard work, but he was also a high spirited animal and liked to stretch his legs. Seeing as there was no work today, and probably egged on by the cooling breeze stirring his mane, Cochise wanted to have a bit of a run. He was asking, never demanding, for the pinto never fought Joe, but he was eager to go.
Seeing the land ahead was fairly clear and reasonably flat, Joe acquiesced to his horse's request. Giving the horse a little kick in the sides and offering him more rein, Joe let Cochise move from his easy trot to a faster gait. The horse tucked in his hindquarters and launched himself forward like he'd been shot. Cochise tended to think an easy shift from one gait to another was overrated, as many cow ponies did.
Joe saw Candy's horse toss his head. Candy reined the horse in. The red chestnut would follow any horse that moved if he was allowed to. He wasn't a willful animal, he just wanted to go along with the flow and be with the herd so much that sometimes he was a bit of a handful to keep still if other horses ran past him. Evidently Candy wasn't feeling like a gallop because he didn't chase after Joe. Joe didn't look back to see what he did, instead he focused on his riding.
Joe had spent so much of his life on horseback, and so many years on this particular horse, that he didn't think about it anymore. He just settled into the correct position, and did his best to become one with the horse as it galloped. Cochise had a short, rather sharp stride that could take a rider off-guard and throw him, but Joe didn't even feel it and moved with Cochise just so; to his mind the horse had the smoothest gait of any animal he'd ever ridden.
Cochise didn't move into a full gallop. Without urging from his rider, he would never go so fast that he couldn't test his footing. The horse was as sure-footed as a goat, and always steady under fire. Now on unfamiliar ground, he would not exceed the safety of a swift canter unless Joe forced him. Joe had no intention of forcing his mount to do anything, not on a day like today. A canter was plenty fast enough, Cochise could cover a lot of ground with that funny stride of his.
Joe let himself fall into the horse's rhythm, the feel of the wind on his face, the smell of dirt and dry grass kicking past him barely noticeable. But he didn't let himself fall too far into the trance of riding, he kept alert, watchful and wary of any place he didn't know well, especially when carrying money.
Cochise crossed the flat stretch in a thunder of hoof beats, and bounded up a ridge without slowing down, though Joe felt clearly the shift in the horse's power as he shifted his own position to help Cochise uphill. At the crest, Joe pulled him in. Cochise tossed his head and played with the bit, not ready to stop, but he obeyed. He danced a jig for a moment until Joe slid a hand along his satiny neck, stroking and soothing him. The pinto settled down, and Joe looked back.
Candy was taking it slow, letting his horse trot along at an easy pace, picking his way through the low brush. The horse was a fine animal, but nowhere near as confident on this terrain as Cochise was. It might have been owner's pride, but Joe knew he had the better horse.
Cochise half-reared, not unexpectedly. The horse was as impatient to go on as Joe was, he didn't want to be standing still. Joe knew he'd quiet down once they were traveling the trail easy-like. He also knew that Cochise wanted to get home to his barn and his good feed. He'd be disappointed to stop in Redton.
After a seeming eternity, Candy caught up. He seemed wholly unconcerned with the pinto's impatience, and in no great hurry to get much of any place. Candy never hurried his horse if he didn't have a need to, in fact actively avoided ever going faster than necessary. He knew only too well the value of a fresh horse. Joe knew what it was like to have a horse break down, or have it shot from under you, but he couldn't help wanting to go fast sometimes.
Of course, Joe knew Cochise could take it. The horse could outdistance any animal in a flat sprint, even if he couldn't overtake them before they broke their wind. Cochise was fast, but Joe knew well enough that a racing horse was faster still. Not something he'd ever had to worry about though, and a racing horse couldn't cover wild ground the way Cochise could, nor go as long as the little pinto.
"You know, sometimes I think you indulge that horse too much," Candy remarked with a grin as he pulled his horse to a stop near Joe, "Other times... I'm sure of it."
"At least my horse has a name," Joe responded.
"My horse has a name," Candy said, though it was unclear if his tone was amused or defensive.
"Oh yeah, then what is it?" Joe inquired.
Candy just grinned and clucked to his mount to move along. The chestnut did so reluctantly, not wanting to leave the horse he'd just reached. Joe shook his head, turned Cochise around and hurried to catch up. Once he pulled even with Candy, he slowed Cochise down and the horse instantly understood to match with the other animal. He had to take about a stride and a half for every one of the chestnut's, but it didn't seem to bother him.
"So what kind of horse is it that we're supposed to be picking up anyway?" Candy asked after a time.
Joe shrugged, "An expensive one."
"Oh good," Candy said brightly, "'cause it's not risky enough you carryin' all that money around. We need us an expensive horse too," his ever-present grin betrayed his sarcasm.
"You know, if you're worried, you can always quit."
"You know me, Joe," Candy responded, "I'm never worried. Too much work in bein' worried. If I worried, I'd have to ask for a pay raise."
"And Pa'd tell you that you're already being paid fairly," Joe said.
"Exactly. That's why," here he paused for humorous or dramatic effect, "I don't worry."
Joe laughed at this, and Candy laughed along with him.
Riding along like this, it was easy to forget how the two of them had first met. Candy had strolled into a guarded camp at night like it was nothing, answering in an easy and off-hand kind of way the questions put to him, all in order to secure for himself a can of peaches. He'd seemed confident and relaxed, but Joe had learned since to read the ranch hand, whose mercurial temperament could change in a flash. Candy could go from friend to foe in a moment, and Joe had seen firsthand how violent the man could get if sufficiently provoked.
But something about that first meeting had inspired confidence in Joe. He trusted Candy, probably because he and Candy had worked the point position together. Candy was a superior scout and point man. Though he could be sneaky and even dishonest when the need arose, Candy was reliable and trustworthy with those who had earned his loyalty. Those people were few, but Joe's father was one of them. By proxy, Joe and Hoss were as well. Over time, an easy friendship had sprung up. Candy wasn't hard to get along with, once you knew you could trust him.
Candy was the sort of man you wanted on your side. You didn't want him working against you, and you especially didn't want him angry. He was too clever, too quick, too tricky, and entirely too deadly. These were traits Joe recognized, and understood, because he shared at least some of them.
Rather unlike Joe, Candy was ever ready to pick up new skills. Joe had been born to the land of horses, cattle and sometimes logging, it was all he'd ever really known from the time he was small and he was interested in little else. For Candy, most of it was new. He gave the impression that he'd been a little of everywhere, done a little of everything; he learned quickly enough, but there had at first been a bit of a rough patch. Candy had no cow sense at all to begin with.
Joe had said it. Hoss had said it. But Ben had told them to have a little patience. Their pa was right, as always, and Candy got the hang of it.
The country was mighty pretty, and there wasn't a threat in sight. Though both men kept an eye out, there was nothing to do but relax into the ride and enjoy it. Candy was also capable of riding in companionable silence, which was what the two of them did for the next couple of hours.
From time to time, one of them would say something, the other would respond, and then they would wax silent once more. When you were on the trail for a long time, you learned not to exhaust your topics of conversation all at once, but to take your sweet time considering and pondering and letting your thoughts do a bit of wandering until you found something worthwhile to say.
You also learned to keep your mouth shut just to conserve water if need be, and to avoid eating more trail dust than you had to. During such times, it was easy to get along with most people. Joe found that, in the quiet of the trail, he grew to judge a man by how he sat on a horse. Not just by his overall horsemanship, but how he sat in the saddle, how gentle or rough he treated his mount.
Candy wasn't the best horseman Joe had seen by a long shot, but he was generally kind to his horse, and didn't yank at the bit even when the big animal tried to take off and join with other horses he saw in the distance. He just turned the horse in a circle until the horse began to pay attention to him again. Though he joked about Joe indulging or spoiling his horse (which he did), Candy could be caught stroking his own horse not only to soothe it, but just to sort of pass the time. And the chestnut hadn't learned to reach out and sniff his pockets searching for handkerchiefs.
It was these quiet things he did, when he didn't know anybody was paying attention, that said most about him to Joe. A lot of men rode their horses like they were machines, treated them roughly and then got rid of them when they couldn't do their work anymore. Joe knew it was normal, a lot of people did it. But he always felt greater respect for the man who would take the time to have affection for his horse, to realize the horse was putting in a lot of work for him and deserved a little consideration, and who would put in effort to make sure his horse stayed sound.
Even when a horse had once stepped on his hand, Candy hadn't taken it out on the horse. Most men might've smacked the horse in the side or cursed it or later held a grudge, Candy seemed to take it pretty much as a matter of course. He'd known the horse was grumpy when he'd approached it, and seemed to think he'd gotten what he'd deserved for his trouble. Joe figured that moment and the events surrounding it might've been when he'd decided that he and Candy could be friends.
Eventually, Joe's thoughts turned to recollecting the drive out here. It had been a pretty long haul for cattle driving. Moving cattle was a slow business, because the animals just didn't go fast, often strayed, had to stop and eat and drink, which sometimes forced you to take a longer route to serve their needs, and of course both riders and horses had to do far more work driving cattle than they would if they'd merely been riding along the trail. You had to be constantly alert to the cattle, to the other drovers and to the country around you. A some of the hands Joe had worked with this time might be back eventually, some others had been merely stopping at the Ponderosa to make some money and then shove off. Cow hands came and went, especially on a spread the size of the Ponderosa.
Joe wouldn't be sad to see a couple of the men go for good.
One of them had been a continual thorn in Joe's side because he drank on the trail, which wouldn't have been so bad if he weren't a noisy drunk that riled up the cattle. Another had the misfortune of being physically incapable of taking any even mildly negative remark about himself without a fight. He and Candy had been at each other's throats for most of the drive, either because Candy couldn't keep his jokes to himself or because he stepped in when one of the other drovers couldn't keep his mouth shut; Joe was never sure which in the aftermath, but he was glad to see the man go either way.
Some of the others had only proven inconvenient when they got to town. Far as Joe and his family were concerned, if a man brought hired men into town, he was at least a little responsible for how much of it they tore up, and some of the drovers had done a little more celebrating than Joe wanted to pay for. He'd paid them their wages and sent them on their way. There wasn't anything else to do. They'd done the work for which they were hired, but Joe wanted nothing further to do with them.
Joe liked to have a good celebration as much as the next man, but he didn't like breaking store windows or bar stools or beer mugs, and he certainly didn't like harassing the locals. He liked a nice bar girl, but he understood the job they did and would never have considered trying to take advantage of them just because they were paid to cozy up to paying customers. There were certain rules of etiquette that deserved to be followed, even if you were in a two-bit bar in a two-bit town.
Of course, Candy got himself into his share of trouble, but that was different. For one, the trouble was nearly always to do with the gambling table. For two, Candy didn't go looking for trouble, it just seemed to naturally find him and he tended to meet it like a bull in a China shop. For three, Joe knew that Candy would repay any kindness from his employer with loyalty the likes of which money couldn't buy, and therefore deserved a bit of special dispensation. At times, he'd repaid his debts with blood, sometimes his own.
Once he exhausted the possibilities of thinking about the drovers, Joe turned his thoughts towards Redton and the horse they were going to get. He'd been near Redton before, but never had occasion to actually visit the place. It was a small town, and there had never been anything for him to go for. Now he was going for a horse, and he didn't even really know what kind of horse it was to be.
He remembered well the last time he was sent off to get someone else's horse. Candy had tagged along for that one too, and it hadn't gone very well for him. The horse had been a big black, a devil to rope and impossible to ride. But the horse had a peculiar talent for rounding up other horses, including wild ones. A horse like that could be worth his weight in gold, and was worth more to the man who owned him now. That man's dreams had all been tied up in that horse, and the horse had seemed to know it.
Joe didn't expect to see the likes of that one again. Even though the horse had been difficult to handle, Joe had seen he was beautiful, though not enough for the price. It wasn't until he learned of the horse's skill that he understood. He'd learned not to judge a horse based on his conformation or his attitude. A horse could have hidden value just like a man could. Especially if you hadn't met him.
Joe honestly didn't know what to expect.
The ride to Redton was uneventful. They arrived early, and hung around in the only saloon in town until the man they were to meet showed up. Joe noted him as not particularly friendly, and seemingly in a hurry to transfer custody of the horse. As soon as he found them, he hurried them out of the saloon. It was a short ride out of town to the small spread where he and his partner had been keeping the horse.
It was here that Joe met the man's partner, who seemed just as eager to be rid of the horse as the first man. Joe began to feel uneasy about this horse, sensing trouble in the way the men sort of talked over each other to hurry the process along.
They found the animal pacing in a corral.
"He ain't much to look at, I know," said one of the men.
"But worth every cent paid, I'm sure," the other supplied, as though he was worried that Joe and Candy might just ride out without the horse, even though he was paid for.
Despite what the men said, Joe saw instantly the value of the horse. He was a stallion, and stood a little over sixteen hands; a dark bay, almost black except around the sides and shoulders, where his red undertones showed through clearly. He had no white markings on him. If he'd been standing still, the horse would have appeared heavy, almost clumsy, with a short back, deep chest and high withers making his legs look shorter than they were. But when he moved, those pieces fit together to make an animal with a long, easy stride. This stallion, Joe's horse sense told him, was fast. Very fast.
But Joe could also see him from the perspective of a cowboy. This animal lacked the hindquarters of a good cow pony, the way he carried his head high and reacted to every sound suggested a horse that couldn't deal with the rugged ways of the wilderness. This was a horse who'd probably never seen a cow up close, and that was unusual in the west. Joe wondered just how far this animal had been shipped before he got to Redton. There was something about the way he moved that fairly radiated a sort of defiance, and Joe suspected the horse would be a handful after all.
Coming to a slow stop, the stallion stood with his head high, neck arched, tail slightly raised. He was pretty as a picture, but there was a fierce look in his eye that reminded Joe of the name with which he had come: Firebrand.
Joe glanced at Candy, who looked uneasy; clearly he too remembered the last time he was sent to fetch another man's horse. That black had made a fool of him.
"I'll get him," Joe said before the hand gathered himself to do so.
"You do that," said one of the men who'd been dealing with the horse up to now.
Joe didn't much care for the man's tone. He went to his saddle and took the lariat from it. He went into the corral cautiously, his eyes on Firebrand, who stood still now. Long necked, lean bodied, heavier fore than aft, the stallion's every line bespoke of the speed Joe knew he must be capable of. He knew he must be careful never to lose hold of this horse, or like as not he'd never get him back.
Firebrand surprised him. Instead of shying away or bolting as he'd expected, the horse stood as still as glass, his nostrils slightly flared to take in the scent of the approaching man, one ear tilted to listen. A shiver ran across the stallion's smooth skin, but it might've been a fly, nothing more. Joe began to feel a bit silly using a rope on a horse that seemed perfectly possible to halter.
To his annoyance, though the horse was still, the high way he held his head made it impossible to simply slip the rope onto him. Joe had to toss it to get it over the animal's head. Joe wasn't sensitive about his height (or lack thereof), but it could be a nuisance at times. But this wasn't the first time Joe had been forced to toss a rope another man could just have slid over something, and he did it easily.
When the rope tightened, he prepared for the horse to buck or bolt, but Firebrand merely stood still for a long second, letting the tension on the rope increase, then abruptly deciding to follow Joe towards the gate, as peaceful as a lamb. But the high head, far forward ears, still flared nostrils and most of all the fire in his dark eyes kept Joe wary. This horse might be quiet now, but he was a powder keg waiting to go off. Joe didn't want to do anything that might rankle him, and so took his time leading the horse from the corral.
Firebrand stayed peaceful while Joe led him over to where Candy was waiting with the other horses. Candy hadn't bothered to dismount when Joe decided to take over. He took the rope from Joe so that he could conclude business with the other two men. Joe and Candy had exchanged a look, they both expected the horse to do something when he changed hands. But he didn't.
It wasn't until Joe turned his back that the stallion suddenly shifted moods. With a squeal, Firebrand suddenly lunged forward, nearly taking the rope from Candy's hand. Joe turned in time to see the stallion strike out with both forelegs. Candy hadn't given the horse enough rope to reach Joe, and the stallion turned his frustration towards the ranch hand.
Firebrand attempted to rear up, but he didn't have enough rope to do so. Instead, he whirled and slammed his chest into the shoulder of Candy's mount. The chestnut neighed a protest, started to brace himself against the onslaught, then instead turned at his rider's behest. Firebrand went for the hand of the man that held him, but the chestnut turned and swung his hindquarters into the stallion's way, thwarting the attack. Candy had immediately picked up that Firebrand was after him, not his horse, and he could therefore use his mount as a shield.
The attack was over as suddenly as it had begun. His opportunity lost, Firebrand's ears came forward and he snorted, tossing his head. He pawed with his foreleg at the ground, as though pretending that was all he had intended from the start. Candy continued to keep the back of his chestnut between himself and the rogue stallion.
"Well this'll be fun," Candy remarked sourly.
Author's Note: This story is completely written. I will be uploading one chapter per day. It is potentially slightly AU, but not on purpose. It does not especially matter, but the story was intended to be set in season 9, prior to the episode "To Die in Darkness" (and therefore also prior to "Salute to Yesterday"), though in my stupor at times I may have forgotten the order in which episodes occurred and may therefore have made references to episodes which technically had not happened yet. I was thoroughly incompetent and wholly irresponsible in my writing. You may consider yourself warned.
This story was written in a frenzied two week period, during which I was nursing a nearly dead cat (he survived and is well now, by the way), and surviving on only a few hours of sleep a night and a regular infusion of extremely unhealthy caffeine. Such is not my usual habit, and I would not be at all surprised to find my writing suffered for it. This story came forth without prior plot or plan, and its writing was a way of gritting my teeth and continuing on even when the going got rough. If it is worth nothing at all to read, it was worthwhile to write, and perhaps you shall find you enjoy it. Perhaps you will merely be reminded as a writer that one must be legally conscious and have some basic concept of what they intend for a story to say and where they wish it to go in order to do well. If that is all you take with you when you have finished, I will be content with that.