As soon as he reached out to the newborn the colt swung his head around and bit a small chunk out of Bills hand. Ira had never heard Bill yell so loud. He scared both of their horses, their pack mules, the black colt, Ira and himself and maybe even the dead mare.
Damn, that little shit foal took a big piece of my hand. Hurt like hell, it did.
Calm down, Bill. Hell, you didnt yell like that when you got hit with that Ute arrow last year. Didnt know you could jump so high, you oughta be a grasshopper instead of a trapper. If you wasnt too damn ugly, that is.
Pipe down dammit, Ira, that hurt a lot more than it should. That young buck is pure bad evil.
Aw hell, lets just get a rope on him and well drag his ass if we have to. Why dont you just bite him back, ifn you got any tooth left? Ira said.
Bill ignored him and with the rope on the colts neck, the unlikely trio headed down the trail toward Brule Falls. Bill had wrapped his hand in one of the dirtiest bandanas there ever was, rubbing his sore fingers with his other hand. He couldnt explain the burning but he knew something wasnt right.
Damn that little bitin black bastard. Bill kept repeating.
And every time Ira would yell, Shut up, will ya Bill. Im tired of hearing itbitin this and bitin that.
As they approached town they forgot about the colt and the bite and thought about that whiskey theyd been missing for what seemed forever. But Bill still couldnt quite shake that burning in his hand. He decided to unwrap it, you know a trapper couldnt be seen bandaged. No one was tougher than trappers. He might be called a name and then he would have to fight and spend at least one night in jail. Well, thats what always happened before when he came to town, whether he had a bad hand, been called a name or anything else. After unwrapping his rough granite-like hand real slow he looked at his best drinking utensil and he couldnt believe his eyes. It had swelled to twice its size and had already started to turn black with the bright red sores oozing a pinkish liquid. It seemed to be eating his hand.
Ira, look what that son of a bitch foal did to me!
Ira looked at the hand and instantly got sick. He had seen his own frostbitten toes before they fell off, and they never even looked that bad.
The hell with the whiskey. Wheres the doc? We gotta get that fixed first. Ira said.
They moved off till they found the Docs office. John A. Winters was the only doctor or anybody close to being a doctor within fifty miles. He was kind of old and definitely a mean spirited man, but he knew basically what to do for most anything. Rumor had it he wasnt a real doctor, just someone who enjoyed the pain of others so he started learning how to fix people up. That way others could come to him hurting. I guess he just got used to doctoring and just kept with it. When Ira and Bill showed up, Doc was getting ready to go home for the night. This made him a little meaner than usual.
Doc, you gotta do something about my hand. Bill said. I got horse bit and now my hand is up and rotting away.
Doc said, Hands dont rot away, they just feel worse because you can see it and think it looks bad. Damn, I knew I shouldve went to drinkin earlier. You already stopped me from doin what I wanted, so let me see your poor little hurt paw.
The Doc saw the hand and had to look again to see what was probably the ugliest hand he had ever seen.
Lord almighty. Horse bit you say, are you sure it wasnt a rattler-snake bite instead? Doc asked.
I swear Doc, it was that little black colt outside. He was suckling a dead mare and the little bastard turned around and bit me. And the mare was givin bloody milk too, she was. Bill said.
Doc looked out the window at the some of the ugliest horses and pack animals and saw a solid black beautiful colt behind them.
He dont look big enough to nip a fly much less bite a big ham hock hand like yours. Besides colts wont nurse a dead mare. Doc said.
After a little while Doc pulled Ira aside and said Looks like the only choice we got is to chop it off. Infection is way too far-gone. How long ago did he get bit, about a week at least Id say?
Ira answered, Doc, I swear it was only yesterday morning.
Ive never seen anything like this before. Doc says. Do you think hell take to losin that hand alright?
Ira just looked pale and said, Nobody could take that kind of news good, Doc, but if theres no choice hell do it. He can drink with either hand and for everything else hell learn or Ill learn him.
An hour, a full bottle of whisky and a lot of clorophorm went by and the dirty cutting job was done. Ira couldnt take it so he went to see about selling the colt. When he got back he hollered happily, Hey Bill, I got 10 dollars for that colt.
Bill looked at Ira then at the place where his hand should be and saw the bandage and said That devil of a damn colt cost me a good hand and barely got us enough for a good drunk. Damn himDamn that black bastard to hell!
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