randomplaces | Greater Love 1

"I cain't give you a job. Wouldn' work. I cain't have a girl in the bunkhouse."

Lisa O'Mally's green eyes seemed to shoot sparks. "So I'll sleep in a tent. I can do this job, if you'll give me half a chance."

"I told you...."

"Look," she interjected, "is anyone else trying for this job?"

The boss of the flying W ranch scratched his chin. "Wal, no, there ain't. Reckon there ain't much interest in cowpunchin' no more."

"Well I'm interested."

He sighed exasperatedly. "Look, I done tol' you...."

Hands on her hips, the tiny redhead played her hole card. "Do you want me to tell the lady at the paper that you're a bigot? That you won't give jobs to women?"

"Now see here," he said angrily. "I got women workin' fer me, but I don't need no cook or housekeeper right now."

"Fine, I’ll say you don't offer equal job opportunities."

He tried to reason with her. "Look, a purty gal like you kin git herself a good job. Y'kin git hurt punchin', some a them broncs 'r mean. N' there's all kind a’ other stuff kin happen. Wouldn' you rather git a nice sit down job? Yer paper here shows you got enough smarts."

She shook her head resolutely. "I'm not afraid of getting hurt, and I can ride anything on four legs."

He looked at her skeptically. "I need someone ta work th' young stock. Most my hands 'r too loco fer a colt. But I need somebody ta wrangle th' rough stock, too."

She nodded. "I'm your man."

He swore. "Fine!" He got up from his desk and went to the door and threw it open. "Ryan, saddle me one ‘a the broncs."

The leathery-faced foreman snapped to attention. "The Cat?"

The boss glanced at Lisa uncomfortably. "Naw, better make it that white-foot bay."

Lisa stepped forward. "I'll ride The Cat."

The boss shot her a patronizing look. "Miss, I cain't ride The Cat. She's a killer. Y' better stick with White-foot."

She shook her head. "You wanted to see how I can work. I'll ride The Cat."

The boss looked a little sweaty. "I don't want nobody gittin' killed."

"Nobody will get killed," she assured him.

He swallowed, then turned and nodded at Ryan. "Saddle The Cat."

Looking pale under his tan, the foreman hurried to comply.

Lisa noticed that the boss’s hand was shaking as he put his hat on, and felt pity for the old man. "Look, I'll write down that if I get killed or break something, then it's my responsibility."

"Naw," he said quickly. "I'll cover that." He opened the door for Lisa, squaring his jaw at her scowl and gesturing her through. They were silent as they left the house and headed for the corrals where the rough horses were kept.

"She's ready, Boss." Ryan reported when they reached the pens.

The Cat was a black mare. Not some mustang or bronc, either. Her uplifted head looked like a sculpture, her mane a river of obsidian. Her limbs were slender and perfectly formed, her body muscular and lithe. She stood quietly beside the cowboy who held her head.

But her eyes were smoldering coals.

Lisa walked around her slowly, noting the flicking of the black ears to follow her progress. Except for that one sign of life, the mare could've been carved from stone.

The foreman pointed to a ruckus in the next corral. "Y'kin still ride White-foot. They'll have him saddled as soon as he's hog-tied."

She walked to the fence and watched as six punchers fought with a lunk-headed bay with one blue eye. Glancing over her shoulder, she compared the still readiness of the mare to the blind stupid fury of the bay. She shook her head. "I'll ride The Cat."

"Your funeral." He shrugged. "You want a hand up?"

"No thanks." She swung up easily.

The moment her seat touched the saddle, it was as though an atomic bomb went off.

The Cat twisted, jinked, and twirled. She reared and stood on her head. She rolled over like a dog and arched her back like the cat she was named for.

Then she got mean.

When the girl jumped off to avoid being crushed in a roll, the mare tried to reach her with hooves and teeth. She stomped Lisa's hat to shreds.

Then she started to kick high with her back legs, ending each kick with a jerk that seemed to tear Lisa's back in two.

Gritting her teeth, Lisa jerked the mare's head to one side and jabbed her with her spurs.

Ears lashed to her skull, the mare screamed and became a dervish.

Lisa was aware of the white faces of cowboys thronging the fence. She caught a glimpse of one lanky fellow down on his knees in the dirt, hands clasped. The boss stood with a hand over his mouth.

Her attention snapped back to the job at hand as The Cat came out of her spin with a vicious sideways jerk. When she stayed in the saddle the mare reached for her toe with bared teeth.

Lisa swore and kicked her in the face.

Screaming shrilly, the mare headed for the six-foot fence. Maddened by fury, The Cat became even more cat-like as she tried to climb the rails.

Then she was falling over backward.

Lisa heard Ryan shout hoarsely for her to jump. Someone else added, "Holy Lord Jesus, HELP!"

She kicked her feet free and rolled to one side just as the mare came down with a saddle-shattering thud.

The white-faced crew watched as both combatants staggered to their feet and stood facing one another with chests heaving, one with ears back, both with teeth bared.

Even though she could barely lift her head, the mare made a last attempt to bite.

Lisa caught her upside the head with a fist.

Then, gasping for breath, they stood and glared at one another.

The mare, dripping foam and blood, was the first to look away. Her ears flicked forward, then back, her eyes softened, and she gave a nicker that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. Then she gave Lisa a friendly head-butt.

Bloody and filthy herself, the girl grinned shakily and rubbed between The Cat's ears. Then she turned to the boss. "How's that?"

"Ya ain't rode her yet," he said obstinately.

"Boss!" Ryan protested, but subsided under the other's quelling look.

"She ain't rode the hoss yet," the boss asserted. "Deal wuz, she steys on."

Lisa gave him a narrow look and gathered the tattered reins. Then, speaking softly to the mare, she swung into the broken saddle.

The Cat glanced over her shoulder with a look of protest.

Lisa patted her shoulder. "S'okay, girl. Let's show these dudes what we're made a'."

"Aw c'mon, Boss," called one of the hands. "They're both half dead. Have a heart."

He clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Deal's a deal."

The Cat looked around at the circle of men and put her ears back.

Then, heads up, the girl and mare made a circuit of the corral as the cowboys hollered and cheered.

Lisa stopped her in front of the boss. "Well?"

He wiped at one eye surreptitiously. "Yer hired." Then he turned to the hands and scowled. "Don't you low-lifes have work to do?"