Summary: Hoss exhibits, once again, his ability to find friends in the strangest places. A WHB for “The Tall Stranger”
Rated: Family Friendly / Word count: 1973

 

 

Junebug

Hoss stumbled a few times as he made his way up the hill. The loose rocks and soft sand beneath his feet provided treacherous footing at best, but he refused to slow his pace. He’d gotten a late start that morning and it was going to take speed, agility, and a good bit of luck if he were going to scale the steep slope in time.

A moment later, he slipped as he tried to jump from one boulder to the next. He paused as he bent to rub his ankle and was glad to find that he hadn’t sprained it. He stood for a moment, rotating his foot until the pain passed, then shifted his gaze upward. “This is just plain silly,” he chided himself, but even as he said the words, he knew they weren’t true. He needed the solace he would find at the top and if he missed his chance today it would be weeks before he would have another opportunity.

It was late afternoon when Hoss finally did decide to detour. He knew if he followed the path to his right he would find an area where the ground evened out and he could rest, even if only for a moment. As the crooked path slowly began to straighten, and it didn’t take all his powers of concentration just to walk, he began to lift his head and look at the beauty around him. Tall, powerful pine trees grew straight and strong right up into the sky. He’d often wondered as a boy if he climbed to the very top if he would be able to touch a cloud. When he’d asked his pa and older brother about it, they’d been quick to inform him that he’d better not try and find out.

Hoss chuckled at the old memory as he proceeded around a clump of bushes to where he knew there was a small spring. Gratefully, he took off his pack, overburdened with the load of food he’d overseen Hop Sing pack for him, and took out his canteen. There was still a little water left in it but it was warm and he dumped it onto the ground, watching as the hot sand greedily soaked up the moisture. He drank his fill from the spring and had just finished filling his canteen when an odd sound met his ears. It was definitely an animal of some sort.

Hoss paused and cocked his ear, straining to hear the sound again. A minute later, he could tell in which direction the creature was located and from the sound of its hoarse crying, it was in trouble. Leaving his gear behind, Hoss made his way through the dense brush. He picked up his pace as the animal cried out again.

“I hear ya, I’m comin’,” Hoss called out. The path grew narrow a few times and as he reached out for support, he was glad for the thick foliage. Eventually the path widened into a ledge and Hoss could tell from the sounds of struggling that what he was after had gone over the edge. Proceeding cautiously, he made sure to test his weight on the ledge with each step he took. When he finally looked over the edge, he groaned allowed.

“Of all the . . .” he muttered. “dog-gone animals got nothin’ better to do than go around gettin’ stuck in mud holes.” Hoss placed one hand on his hip while he shoved his hat back and wiped at his brow with the other. The animal really was lucky in where it had landed. A little more distance in either direction and Hoss wouldn’t be worrying about how to get the creature out. Hoss peered over again to get a better look. Getting the . . . foal, yes he was pretty sure it was a foal out of the thick mud, would be hard enough, but he also, somehow, had to get it back up on the ledge.

Making a decision, Hoss turned to go back for his pack. He was pretty sure there was still a length of rope tucked away inside, unless Little Joe had found a need to borrow it, yet again. As he walked, he kept his eyes and ears alert, looking for any signs of the foal’s mother. Hoss was pleased to find the rope, although it wasn’t nearly as long as he had hoped.

By the time he got back to the ledge, the foal was no longer making any noise, and as Hoss looked for a way down, he glanced anxiously at the exhausted animal.

“Now, don’t you go givin’ up on me,” he spoke softly as he lowered himself over the side. “I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy, so you just hang on.”

Hoss was able to climb a little further before he ran out of footholds. He turned to look down and see if there were a place safe enough for him to jump, but a moment later, the choice was taken from him as the branch he was holding snapped and he plummeted down into the mud. His sudden entrance managed to bring a little life back into the frightened foal and it whinnied pitifully as it made one more attempt to break free of the thick dark mud that was plastered all over its body.

“Dad-burn it, now look what you’ve done.”

Hoss made several attempts at standing up before he finally succeeded and then made his way toward the foal. He’d expected the animal to give him some trouble, but the poor creature had just spent its last bit of energy.

“There now,” Hoss said as he reached out to clear some of the mud from around the foal’s eyes. “You’re just a little one, aren’t ya?”

Hoss figured the foal was not more than a few weeks old. As he wrapped his arms around the animal’s middle to tie the rope, he frowned.

“You’re nothin’ but a bunch of skin and bones. How long you been stuck in here anyway?”

The foal made a sound then, something between a long sigh and a despairing moan, and Hoss couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, don’t blame me,” he said. “You got about as much sense as dairy cow fallin’ in here.”

After Hoss had fastened the rope around the foal the best he could, he tied the other end to his belt loop and began the climb back up – which proved to be much more difficult than going down had been. When he finally made it to the top, he sat down for a few minutes to catch his breath and proceeded to drain his canteen. Then he stood, and spitting into his hands, began to pull. The mud was reluctant to let go of its prize and after about five minutes of struggling, Hoss was nearly at his wits end. He decided to give one more mighty pull before climbing back down to work out a different arrangement and at last, with a loud slurp, the foal broke free. The thin creature wasn’t hard to pull up after that and soon Hoss had the animal down by the spring where it drank greedily.

Hoss chuckled and pulled out his handkerchief as the animal noisily sucked up the water. He had moved the rope to the animal’s neck, although he didn’t think it was in any condition to try and bolt.

“Your ‘bout as black as coal during midnight,” he said dipping the handkerchief into the spring. Hoss was surprised to find that the animal was actually a light fawn color underneath all the mud. He worked on the foal a little longer before he decided it was time to go.

“Well, little filly, you and me best get goin’ if we wanna make it home before dark, and I s’pose you’re too tired to walk.”

The foal, having drunk its fill, had promptly lain down and didn’t look as if it had any notion of getting up again anytime soon. With a heavy sigh, Hoss picked up the animal and wrapped it over his shoulders. The foal offered no protest, and Hoss hoped that his rescue efforts hadn’t come too late. The climb down was as slippery and difficult to manage as the way up had been with his added burden.

Once down at the bottom, he heard the soft nickering of his own horse, Chubb, tied in the trees a few yards away. He was grateful to get the young foal off his back and he carefully secured it over the saddle then mounted up, turning to look back up one last time before leaving.

“Well, guess I’ll have to go watch that sunset some other day,” he said then smiled as he gave the foal a gentle pat. “Funny, I don’t seem to remember now what it was that was troublin’ me so much.”

An hour later, Hoss rode into the barn on the Ponderosa and wearily climbed from the saddle.

“We’re here, little one.”

Hoss gently lifted the foal from Chubb’s back and carried it over to an empty stall. There was already a soft cushion of straw waiting for some animal, Hoss wasn’t sure which, but it didn’t matter now. He’d claimed this stall for his new little friend.

“I’ll be right back, ya hear,” Hoss told the animal as he quickly backed out of the stall. “Don’t you go anywhere.” Shutting the barn door just for good measure, he hurried toward the house.

“Hop Sing,” he yelled as he opened the side door to the kitchen. “Hop Sing, you in here?”

“Hop Sing here, why you yell?” the oriental man’s voice wafted from somewhere. “What you doing in Hop Sin’s kitchen? Why you back home?”

Hoss kept opening and closing his mouth trying to answer the barrage of questions. Hop Sing had come up the cellar stairs carrying a broom and dustpan and when he finally stopped talking long enough to notice the state Hoss was in, he quickly shoved the big man out the door and swept up the mud from where it had fallen on his clean floor.

“Hop Sing, I need some hot water out in the barn, and some towels, and some whisky.”

Hop Sing didn’t ask any questions. Hoss had been coming home with foundlings since the day that Hop Sing had arrived on the Ponderosa and the routine was old hat.

Later that night, Hoss sat on the step on the porch outside, looking up at a sky filled with stars.

“Hey,” Little Joe said, coming to sit beside him. “Is that little filly gonna make it?”

“I think so,” Hoss answered accepting the cup of coffee Joe handed him. “She’s a tough little thing.”

“That puny little half pint?”

Hoss frowned and narrowed his eyes. “She ain’t no such a thing. She’s got spirit and she’s determined.”

“If you say so,” Joe answered with a grin. “What are going to call her?”

Hoss pursed his lips as he thought, his eyes roaming the yard as he considered and finally landing on a small fawn colored insect making its way across the moonlit yard.

“Yeah, that’s it. I’m gonna call her Junebug.”