“Do you mind if I use your phone?” asked Jim. “Mom will be worried about my being so late.”
“I’d be glad to drive you home,” offered a stranger who had been in the card game.
“Jim has a horse,” said Morgan to the speaker. “He wouldn’t think of riding in a modern contraption. Let alone leave Ticktock behind.”
“Thanks anyhow,” said Jim politely.
“It begins to look as if I am going to have to assign a reporter to follow you,” said Arnold. “Wherever you and that horse go, there’s news.”
Chapter Eight
Exile
The account of Jim’s speech before the Rotary Club and his subsequent finding of Horace by the roadside received prominent mention in the next issue of the Springdale Gazette. As usual, Bill Arnold gave the account of both episodes with many asides and much humor. Mr. Meadows read the paper with amusement and considerable pride. He had been very intrigued when the first account and the advertisement of the Pony Express had appeared. Now his pride in his locally famous son grew even greater. He was well aware how hard Jim had been working and saving and knew without question what the purpose was behind all the industry. With quiet satisfaction he watched his son going out to drive cattle, run errands, or work at the auction.
Jim’s father was also becoming reconciled to Ticktock. As the mustang blossomed under Jim’s loving care, the older man could see that he had been rather hasty in his first judgment. Much against his will, he had to admit, at least to himself, that Ticktock was an unusually smart horse. Now that he had put on some flesh he was also a rather smart-appearing pony. In spite of all his observations, Mr. Meadows said nothing. Like most men, he hated to admit that he had been wrong. Also, he was reluctant to abandon a stand that he had definitely taken. He had said that Ticktock must go when fall came, and he hated to eat crow. In his own mind he resolved to say nothing further about the matter but instead just let events take their own natural course.
He knew Jim would never dispose of the pony until he was forced to; so if nothing was said the pony would simply remain by silent agreement. Mr. Meadows knew that he would ease his son’s mind a great deal if he could tell the boy about his change of heart, but somehow he never seemed to find the right moment. After all, he decided, the worry was doing Jim no harm but merely making him work harder to earn money for feed. So the days went by and nothing was said on either side about the pony’s fate. Jim could sense a little lessening of the hostility on his father’s part, but he was still worried. Mr. Meadows seldom changed his mind when he made a decision and thus far Jim did not want to play his trump card about paying for Ticktock’s feed. However, it was still summer, and he felt there was plenty of time.
Jim made himself a lariat and began practicing. It was a slow process but he was determined. After about a week’s exercise he was able to whirl an open loop over his head. Then he began lassoing fence posts, tree stumps, and even occasionally his sister Jean. After several trials of the latter, however, he had to abandon Jean as a target. She objected rather loudly to being roped and wouldn’t play unless Jim let her take turns at lassoing him. Jean had been rather lonely all summer anyhow, as Jim spent most of his time with Ticktock instead of playing with her as in former years. Jim would give in and let her try roping him, but half a dozen unsuccessful attempts would usually end with Jean hitting him in the eye with the rope. Although he was very fond of his young sister, he had a great deal of contempt for women as cowboys.