Page 73 of Doozer

“Is this all of it?” I asked, expecting to see an array of branding gear.

“Everything we need is right in here,” he said, picking up the bag. “Grab the rest, will ya?”

“Where are the irons and the torch?”

“I haven’t taken a brand to a horse in twenty years,” Duke replied.

“But you said—”

“I still call it branding, because “chipping” a horse sounds stupid coming outta my mouth.”

Duke opened the bag to reveal syringes, hair clippers, a deck of playing cards, and several bottles.

“One of them bottles is for the horses… and one’s for us,” Duke whispered like a little kid with a secret.

“What is all this?” I asked.

“Branding takes several hours, and four guys to do it. Plus, it don’t make the horses very happy.”

“I can’t imagine it does,” I said.”

“Instead, I chip my horses. Then, I use all the time I saved to play cards and day drink.” Duke held up the bag. “There’s six syringes in here. Each one has a microchip in it. All we gotta do is shave off a patch of hair on their necks, give em a quick scrub with what’s inside bottle number one, inject a chip into each one of ‘em, and then it’s onto those cards and what’s in bottle number two. Whatta ya say?”

“Sounds a lot better than what I was expecting,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief that wrestling livestock to the ground wasn’t in my future.

“Let’s get set up over there by the fence line,” Duke said, and guided us to the spot that would become our “branding station.”

Duke shoved his fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle and within seconds, I saw Bubba trot up over the hill with a whinny. Penny wasn’t far behind, and her baby was following as close as it could.

“Wow,” I said.

“He knows my call,” Duke explained as the horse slowed to a walk and lumbered toward him. Duke handed him a carrot and stroked his nose, crooning softly to him.

Before long, a wild herd of beasts came running, kicking up dust behind them, and I couldn’t stop myself from stepping back as they surrounded Duke.

“You can’t show fear,” Duke said, grabbing my shoulder to keep me next to him.

I notice Bubba pin his ears back and move to bite another black and white horse getting a little too close for comfort.

“Bubba, you leave Goliath alone,” Duke ordered, as Bubba made a cricket sound in the back of his throat.

“Is he protecting his kid?” I asked.

“Oh, Bubba’s not the sire. And that there’s a filly. Girl foal.” Duke pointed to Penny’s baby, now suckling at her mama’s teats. “Bubba’s a gelding, so we bred Penny with Dumbass.”

“You named a horse Dumbass?”

“Considerin’ he’s a dumbass, I sure did. But that horse is fast and pretty, so is Penny, so we’re hopin’ their foal’ll do somethin’ great.” He grinned. “She’s one of the ones we’re gonna chip.”

I looked at the tiny horse and nodded. “She doesn’t look so tough.”

Duke laughed, grabbing a rope, and throwing it over one of the bigger horse’s necks. “Hand me those clippers.”

He showed me how to do the process on three horses, before handing me the ‘lead’ and nodding to Penny’s filly. “Your turn.”

I approached the horse as Penny watched me warily, throwing the rope over the filly’s neck and securing it the way Duke had done. Well, I tried to. The horse let out a squeal turning quickly and kicking her hind feet out, delivering a direct hit to my ribs.

I couldn’t stop a groan as I fell flat on my ass, my lungs devoid of air while Duke let out a bellow of laughter as the horses all made a run for it… as far away as they could get from me.

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