Summary: A short story of how Cochise and a new friend came to Joe.  

Rated: K+ (1,190 words)

                                                                                  The Paiute Pony

Prologue

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Joe Cartwright strolled to the barn, apple in hand. It was a special occasion, well, it was to him anyway. He leisurely walked over to Cochise, his seven-year-old pinto. ‘Cooch’ nickered to his owner and friend. “Hiya, Coochie. Today is a special day, you know that?” Joe held the animal’s large head up so that their eyes met. Cooch tossed his head and neighed. “That’s right. Today, five years ago, you came into my life. Pa bought you from the chief and you were all mine. Still are, huh, Coochie?” he stole into the stall to give his buddy a good brushing. The horses’ brown eyes were always on him, ever watching, ever playful. He batted the curry comb from the young man’s hand just as Joe had started to comb through the stallion’s mane. You wild thing, you beautiful wild thing… His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a horse trotting into the front yard. “Soaring Eagle, I thought you’d never show up!” Joe held his friend’s horses’ bridle. Thunder nickered to his father. The Indian laughed heartily, “I wouldn’t miss this day for the world! It is Thunder’s birthday, after all.” Giving the horse a once-over, Joe noticed red horseshoes making a path along the horse’s shoulder, “You still paint him? I feel sorry for the guy…it’s almost like girls puttin’ on make-up!” Soaring Eagle feigned anger. “It is Paiute custom, Joe. Maybe Cochise could use some paint around the edges…he’s beginning to look a little dingy,” the boys laughed again and spent the night remembering that fateful day…

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Soaring Eagle slowly walked up to the corral. He whistled softly as he climbed the rough wooden fence. A handsome two-year-old black and white pinto stallion pranced up to the boy. “Hey, Feather. Did you miss me, hmm?” Soaring Eagle gently patted the horses’ thick neck. A tall shadow passed over them; even in the fading light Soaring Eagle could tell it was the shadow of his father, Chief Winnemucca. “Son,” he said sternly. “I’m sorry, Father. I couldn’t keep away,” he receded from the imposing figure of the older man. “Oh, Soaring Eagle. You know this horse has been sold. It’s bad enough that you gave him a name, let alone slipping away from your chores to pet him. I told you not to go near the pinto again. Ben Cartwright and his son will be here in the morning to pick him up. Say your goodbyes now. There will be no tears in front of the white men,” Winnemucca glared at his youngest child. “I understand, Father. I’ll be inside in a moment,” Soaring Eagle turned away to hide his salty tears. The Chief strode away silently. Soaring Eagle put his mouth to the pony’s ear. “Feather, I’ll miss you. You’ve been a good pony, and you’ll make this boy very happy, I’m sure of it. Goodbye, my beautiful Feather,” his voice caught in his throat as he turned and ran back to his wick-e-up.

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“Here he is,” Winnemucca handed the lead rope over to Ben. Joe, his thirteen year old son, strode up to his new horse and rubbed the velvety nose that was sniffing his pockets for the treat. Joe chuckled as he pulled out the shiny red apple he been hiding in his shirt. “What have you decided to call him, Joseph?” the chief eyed his son standing behind him. “Cochise, sir, after that Indian in Arizona.” Soaring Eagle couldn’t hold back any longer. He jumped on the pinto’s sleek back and urged him into a gallop. “Soaring Eagle! Come back here! Ben, I’m sorry for what he has done,” the Indian’s bronze face suddenly turned bright red. “Chief, may I go after him? Please?” Joe pleaded with his green eyes. Winnemucca nodded his approval and the boy swung into the saddle.

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Soaring Eagle sat crying in a forest glade. Why did I do that? I’m in trouble; big trouble. The small stream in the glade laughed as it tumbled over rocks and crevices. He heard his name being called ever so faintly. Joe finally rode up to him. His heart ached at the sight of his friend in such a distraught state. He knelt beside the child and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Soaring Eagle shied away and faced Joe. “He is my horse. I raised him, I gentled him, and I was the first to ride him. You had nothing to do with him. Your fancy was to have him for your own. You can’t take him from me. And his name is Feather, not Cochise.” For a ten year old, he’s sure got spunk, Joe inwardly smiled. “I never meant to hurt you, Soaring Eagle. But a deal has been made. A promise has been made. I’ve never know you to break your promises,” the older boy said gently. Soaring Eagle’s head shot up, “I didn’t break a promise, Joe!” Again he smiled inwardly, “No, I suppose you didn’t, not with me here. We’ll say you were just out exercising him. Hey, how about this. The first foal that Cochise, er, Feather, sires will be yours.” The Indian boy’s bright brown eyes sparkled at the thought. “Really? You mean to keep?” he stammered. This time Joe smiled outwardly. “O’ course I do! Now, let’s get back to the tribe before your father has a stroke!” White boy and Indian boy walked back to the horses arm in arm. Soaring Eagle looked from Joe to Feather, Feather to Joe. “Joe, would you like to ride your horse?” he asked tentatively. Joe bit his lip, a habit he had while he was thinking. “How about you ride him one last time?” They hopped onto the ponies and galloped back to their fathers.

Epilogue

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“What are you gonna name him?” Joe wiped his hands on a towel and stood back from the newborn black and white pinto colt. “Thunder. He looks fast, doesn’t he?” Soaring Eagle sat down into the soft straw and gazed in awe of his new pony. The sturdy dark brown mare nuzzled her baby as he took his first wobbly steps. Ben, Chief Winnemucca, and the other two Cartwright boys lazily ambled into the warm barn. “We thought we would see how things were coming along. Is it a boy or girl?” Hoss shuffled passed the men to get a good look at the new life. “Boy. His name is Thunder, Hoss. He will be as swift and strong as Feather, I mean Cochise ever was!” Soaring Eagle edged out of the stall so not to disturb Coffee and Thunder. “We’ll start breaking him in a few months,” Joe put his hands on the Indian boy’s bare bronze shoulders. “Thank you!” Soaring Eagle flew into his friend’s arms.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.