“That’s true. And those are the very reasons why you should want him calmed down and happy.”
Joey remained silent, but his face was clouded and angry.
Pete spoke up gaily. “Say, Joey, I tell you what. I’ll bake one of yer fav’rite pies fer supper—coc’nut custard. That oughta make you git over bein’ jealous, huh?”
Joey whirled around. “I’m not jealous!”
Pete raised his hand, hastily. “Okay, okay, so yer not. My mistake.” He made a low bow. “Pardon me, yer majesty.”
“Well, son,” said Jim. “Whatever your trouble is, it’s not doing you any good. So if we want peace around this ranch we’d better put our heads together and come up with something. What do you suggest?”
“I don’t know,” Joey said gloomily. “I just know that white mare would spoil everything.”
“All right, so you have nothing concrete to offer.” Jim turned to Pete. “What about you?”
The old foreman rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Wal, I offered a coc’nut custard pie an’ got jumped on. I dunno what else to say, ’cept what all three of us know already. Joey’s upset ’cause Fury’s upset. An’ Fury’s upset ’cause he’s got a hankerin’ fer the white mare. Jim, you want the mare here on the ranch, but Joey don’t. An’ that leaves us settin’ in a great big kettle of fish with our boots on.
Jim smothered a grin. “Does that mean you haven’t any other suggestions?”
“No, it don’t. Matter of fact, I been beatin’ my brains out fer the last three days, tryin’ to think of somethin’. An’ jest now in the kitchen I did think of somethin’.”
“You did?” said Joey eagerly. “What is it?”
Pete folded his arms. “Wal, first of all I want you to know I already made that coc’nut custard pie. Are you gonna eat it or ain’t you?”
“Sure I am,” Joey grinned. “Now tell us what you thought of.”
“I make the best danged coc’nut custard pie in the West,” Pete muttered, “an’ I ain’t gonna throw it out if I gotta swallow it whole, all by meself.”
Jim gave him a poke in the ribs. “Come on, Pete. Don’t keep us in suspense. What’s your plan?”
“Wal,” the old man began, “I been around horses fer a good many years. All kinds of horses—little runty ones an’ high-spirited ones like Fury. An’ I happen to know that high-spirited horses’re always happier with some kinda animal pal to run around with.”
Joey’s face fell. “There you go again with the white mare.”
“Rest yer tonsils!” Pete said sharply. “The white mare’s got nothin’ to do with it.” He glared at Joey and continued. “Jest the other day I seen in the paper about a champeen race horse that’s got a billy goat fer a mascot. Seems like this horse won’t even eat or sleep unless the goat’s right there in the stall with him.”
“That’s right,” said Jim. “I read that story in the paper.”
“Once, down in the Panhandle of Texas,” Pete went on, “I knew a stallion that had a hen fer a mascot. Him an’ that hen was closer’n five minutes to eleven. He wouldn’t even walk into his stall till the old biddy flew up and perched on his back.”
Joey smiled. “Are you kidding, Pete? Did you ever really see the hen on the stallion’s back?”
“Shore I seen her. Ev’ry mornin’, reg’lar as clockwork, she laid a brown egg in his mane. I hadda git up early ev’ry day to rescue the egg afore it got broke.” Pete wrinkled his nose. “Ever try to comb a busted egg outa a horse’s mane? It’s harder’n tryin’ to shake a collar button out of a gittar.”
Jim spoke up. “Then you’re suggesting that Joey should find some kind of an animal mascot for Fury, is that it?”
“Right. A goat, a hen, a cat, a dog, mebbe even a bullfrog fer all I know. Leastways, all Joey kin do is try to find some kinda little critter that Fury might dote on enough to simmer him down.”
“What do you think of the idea, Joey?” Jim asked.
“I think it’s great—if it works.”
“It’ll work,” Pete assured him. “But on’y if you find the right critter. If I was you, I’d saddle Fury an’ start lookin’.”
“I’ll take him over to Mr. Appleton’s farm,” Joey said, “and introduce him to Mrs. Appleton’s goat. If he likes the goat, maybe I can buy him with the money I’ve been saving for a new rifle.”
“Good idea,” said Jim, “but first you’ve got to go and clean out the stalls.”
“Sure, Jim, right away.”
After his chore was completed, Joey mounted Fury and rode down the valley to the Appleton farm. Explaining to the astonished Mrs. Appleton his reason for coming, he led Fury by the bridle to the far corner of the barnyard, where he found the goat standing on the roof of the henhouse. The goat took one look at Fury and lowered his horns. Fury took one look at the goat and bent his ears back.
“What’s the matter, Fury?” Joey asked. “Don’t you like this beautiful goat?”
Fury wiggled his nostrils and turned his head away.
“Gosh, I can’t say I blame you,” Joey said, trying not to breathe through his nose, “but I just thought you might like him.”
Mrs. Appleton came across the yard. “Well, Joey, how’d it go? Do Fury and Billy like each other?”
“Well, yes,” Joey fibbed, “but not well enough to live together. Have you got a nice friendly hen that we might try?”
“Oh, I have hundreds of hens. Wait right here and I’ll bring one out to you.”
When Mrs. Appleton returned with the hen, Joey held it tightly and placed it on Fury’s back. Fury bucked and threw his head around. The hen took one look at the wide, frightened eyes, cackled furiously, and gave Joey a nasty peck on the hand.
“Ouch!” Joey yelped. “Here, Mrs. Appleton, please take your hen back. I don’t think she’d make a very good mascot for Fury.”
“It doesn’t seem so, does it?” The kindly woman glanced around the barnyard. “Let’s see now. Have you thought of a pig, Joey? I have a very sweet pig that might be just what you and Fury are looking for.”
“Well, I’ve never heard of a horse and a pig being friends, but we can see.”
“All right, just follow me. The pigpen’s right over here.”
“I’m not sure Jim would like having a pig in our barn,” Joey said, “but if Fury and the pig spark to each other maybe I can argue Jim into letting it come.”
When
