While the two cowboys were trying to get the saddle on, the sorrel snorted and snapped his teeth and fought at their slightest touch. Connie slid down from the fence.
“Lefty, let me ride Firewater,” she pleaded.
“Not this baby, Connie,” said the cowboy. “He’s thrown me twice.”
“Oh, Lefty, don’t be stubborn. You know I can do it. Anyway, I’m not afraid to wipe up a little corral dust. It won’t be the first time.”
“Quit your teasin’,” muttered Lefty.
But in the end he gave in, just as Connie knew he would. When the sorrel was saddled, the cowboys blindfolded him, and held his head between them until Connie was mounted. Then the ropes were released and the blindfold jerked away.
“Yip-ee!” yelled Lefty, jumping aside. “Ride ’im, Connie!”
For an instant Firewater stood perfectly still. Then he ducked his head, shot up into the air and came down stiff-legged. At every jump he seemed to go a little higher and strike the ground harder. Connie’s slender little body whipped back and forth as she waved her hat and used her rowels.
But after a few minutes Firewater stopped bucking and the girl rode him off across the sage. She came back flushed and triumphant.
“Nice work,” praised Lefty as she slid to the ground.