Riding the Devil

By Robin Radlauer-Cramer

José’s story is set in the rich setting of a Southern California Rancho while California was still part of a newly independent Mexico. Eleven-year-old José dreams of being a vaquero, a cowboy. However, he must first conquer his fears by facing the injustices of his era, animal cruelty, wild animals and the vindictive young vaquero, Chaco.

José’s adventure begins when Patas Locas, a horse with a strong and wild spirit, comes to the Rancho and seems to be “unbreakable” and unrideable. The arrogant Chaco, a young vaquero, is repeatedly thrown from Patas Locas. The stallion refuses to be “broken” in the traditional manner. Frustrated and embarrassed by his lack of success, Chaco lashes out at José. Ashamed, José interprets his feelings of compassion for the animals as cowardice. Like any son, José seeks his father’s approval. But José’s vaquero father is angered and disappointed when he misunderstands José’s behavior and sees his son as weak and fearful.
Fifteen-year-old Gogo is considered “the dummy” of the rancho due to his speech impediment and general shyness. He too is bullied by Chaco, teased for his odd speech, and for being so big and awkward. But some people on the Rancho recognize that Gogo has a gift with animals. Unlike Chaco who tries to control “Patas” by force, Gogo is able to calm the wild animal with a gentle touch.

José discovers his strength and unleashes his fury when Chaco puts a helpless young horse in the holding pen with a California Grizzly Bear who has been captured for the traditional bull & bear fight. José risks his own life to free the young filly. Instead of being recognized for his courage, José is falsely accused of mistreating the young horse. The consequences of his actions take José on an adventure he never wanted with results he could only dream of.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robin Radlauer-Cramer
• Release date: Oct 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311856821

Robin Radlauer-Cramer

As the child of two successful children’s authors, Ed and Ruth Radlauer, Robin Radlauer-Cramer always said she wanted to grow up to be an author, a teacher, or a bus driver. At age 60, she has been all three and more. Robin worked on many nonfiction children’s books with her parents, and co-authored Bicycle Motocross with her father in the late 1970’s.Teaching is the career Robin has excelled at for 30 years. Reading and Writing are her favorite subjects. In order to share her love of reading with students, she immersed herself in children’s literature and served on the California Young Reader Medal committee for three years.Aspiring authors are told to “write what you know.” Robin knows children’s middle grade literature. She also grew up riding horses in the rolling hills (former cow pastures) of Southern California and trained her young horse herself. These experiences give her first-hand insight for creating some of the characters and events in her story.Robin currently lives near the beach in San Diego County with her husband and their two cats. Her grown children live nearby and make her proud every day.

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Acknowledgment

Riding the Devil would not be finished, or any good, if it weren't for the love, support, and suggestions from my brother, Dan Radlauer, and my boogie-boarding, soccer-mom pal, Andi MacLeod. Thank you so much.

Rancho Rincon del Diablo Structures

Rancho Rincon del Diablo Area

Rancho Rincon del Diablo Families

For Reader’s Theater of scenes from this book, go to: http://ridingreaders.weebly.com

Table of Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgment

Rancho Rincon del Diablo Structures

Rancho Rincon del Diablo Area

Rancho Rincon del Diablo Families

Part I

1. White Fear

2. The Devil in Them

3. Papá Joaquín

4. Rincon Rancho del Diablo

The Devil's Niche

5. Branding

6. Pig Roping

7. The Bear

8. How to Slaughter a Pig

9. Bear Bait

10. A Fighting Chance

11. Doctors & Liars

12. The Consequences

13. Bull and Bear Fights

14. Patas y Vaqueros Locos

Crazy Horses & Cowboys

15. Losing Little Bear

Part II

16. Exiled

17. Alone

18. Riding the Devil

19. Gogo's Training

20. Riding, Riding

21. Vaquero Gogo?

22. The Return

Part III

23. The Devil's Revenge

24. Breaking Cowboys

25. Agony

26. Pedro's Lessons

27. Dirty Work

28. Covering Pedro

29. Blame Goes Around

30. Young Trainers, Not Breakers

31. Gogo's Reward

32. Chaco Awakens

33. Who Knows?

34. Here We Go Again

35. Where Did She Go?

36. Young Vaqueros

37. To Be a Vaquero

38. Peace

Author's Note: Is this a true story?

About the Author

Riding the Devil

PART I

Chapter 1

White Fear

Even though it was mostly brown and black, all I saw was the white. The white of the foaming slobber from its mouth. The whites of its eyes, ringed with fear. The off-white foam of sweat growing moment by moment under the saddle. And the white socks above diagonal hooves. My eyes followed those white socks as they flashed around the bullpen. Up and down, side to side, they bumped and jumped. Sun shone through the puffs of dust that flew up behind his hooves.

Some people said that unmatched white socks above a horse’s hooves were a mark of the devil. This horse certainly seemed possessed. When I tried to look away, other white splotches caught and held my eyes as if they possessed me as well. My buckets and pole for fetching water from the stream lay forgotten next to the bullpen.

The off-white clump of foamy sweat growing just below the saddle grabbed my attention next. The grayish foam jiggled as it clung to the horse’s sides. Why didn’t it fall off? A rock flew into the foam and much of it did fall. My eyes jumped to another white: the white that ringed the horse’s eyes. You can’t usually see that part of a horse’s eyes. The whites of horses’ eyes only show when they are scared. My stomach lurched as the ground reverberated beneath my feet.

Another rock struck the horse just below the white-ringed eye. A squeal of anger came from the horse. He looked for escape from the tiny pen he was held in. Following the horse’s eyes, I knew his fear like I knew my own.

"What are you staring at, José? Chaco yelled at me. He threw another rock, but missed. Take that you devil! Chaco was mad because the horse bucked him off. What did he expect? Breaking horses meant vaqueros were bucked off regularly. Even though it gave me pleasure to see the bully thrown off the horse, my hands balled into fists at my sides now. Chaco’s normally light face was blotched red with anger. Take that!" he added as he threw another rock.

Chaco! a deep voice called. Enough! I knew that voice; it was Don Rafael, the owner of the rancho. I looked past Chaco to see Don Rafael Garcia de Rodrigo walking towards the bullpen with his son, Pedro Garcia de Rodrigo. Even though Don Rafael hardly ever got real mad, he could make me feel worse by being disappointed in me. I stared at Pedro as he tried to keep up with his father’s giant strides. A familiar sadness welled in me because we no longer played together.

With the Don nearby, I inched behind one of the posts, hoping that Don Rafael wouldn’t notice I was just standing around watching.

He walked up to Chaco and put a hand on his shoulder. Throwing rocks is not part of breaking a horse, Chaco. With his other hand, Don Rafael took a rock from Chaco’s hand, then turned to watch the horse. The saddle was empty, but the horse still lunged, bucked, and snorted as he tried to free himself from the strange object attached to his back. He probably wondered why he wasn’t still out running free over the grassy pastures surrounding our adobe and barns. The confinement of the small bullpen was probably making him crazy.

I wanted to tire him out, Señor. Then he won’t have the strength to get rid of me. Chaco grinned down nervously at Pedro.

I see, said Don Rafael, nodding his head. But throwing rocks is not the way to tire him out. Let him settle down a bit; then you can get back on him. Don Rafael’s short hair was covered by his stylish sombrero, which was adorned with a fine leather band and small silver buckle.

You’re right, Señor. He’ll get tired soon, Chaco said flatly. He flexed the arm muscles he always showed off by rolling up his sleeves. But I also think he did it because he couldn’t say what he really thought to Don Rafael.

I looked at Pedro, standing beside his papa. Pedro’s eyes were glued to Chaco, watching his muscular arms enviously. Although we were both eleven, Pedro was a little taller, rounder, and a lot lighter skinned than me.

Where’s Gogo? Don Rafael asked Chaco. He’s supposed to be helping you with this horse. He surveyed the center of our rancho, which sat on a flat area partway up a hillside. The center of the rancho included the adobe, the big J-shaped building. The short end of the J was the Garcia’s home, while the long side contained a row of rooms, one room for one family. The bottom part of the J was the kitchen area,

Chaco coughed and spit, another sign of annoyance. I didn’t need the Dummy, Don Rafael. He saddled him and brought him over. That’s all the help I need.

But it is not safe, said Don Rafael. "Let’s find him so he can hold that devil while you get on again. José! Run and get Gogo for us. He’s probably helping his papá in the smithy.

My heart bumped nervously when Don Rafael said my name. It meant he knew I was just standing around. Si, Don Rafael, I answered, hoping he hadn’t noticed my empty water buckets nearby. My eyes darted to Pedro, hoping he might join me on my errand. But he ignored me.

Just my luck, I’d have to go alone. I always felt strange around Gogo. The fifteen-year-old boy was huge, and different. His big, buck teeth stuck out making him look like a wild dog baring his fangs. Since he didn’t say much, I never knew what he was thinking. Everyone said he was stupid because he hardly ever spoke and when he did, it was hard to understand. He had a hard time saying things, and said a lot of words wrong. Others said he was missing something in his head because his mother died when he was born. Gogo’s papá, Señor Mando, was the blacksmith at the rancho. Señor Mando was the biggest man I ever saw.

*****

I found Gogo in the smithy, between the row of rooms and barn that faced the Garcia family’s big house. He was helping his papá. Good morning, Señor Mando, Don Rafael wants Gogo to help at the bullpen.

"Good (clang) ... morning (clang) … José," said Señor Mando between rings of his hammer against the big anvil he used to shape hot metal.

I peeked at Gogo quickly. He was pumping the big bellows that blew air onto the coals in the forge where he heated the metals until they were hot and soft enough to beat into the shape of a tool. Once again I wondered how blowing cool air onto burning coals could make them hotter. The smithy was surrounded by a low adobe wall, and only partially covered with wood and thatch. There couldn’t be any thatch above the coals or it could cause a fire.

"Go (clang) ... ahead (clang) … Gogo. The coals are … (clang) ... hot enough … (clang) ...for now."

We jogged back to the bullpen. It felt strange being with the big silent Gogo.

When we got back, the horse was no longer jumping and thrashing. He was just pacing back and forth as far from Chaco and the others as he could get. When Gogo walked up to the railing, the horse turned and walked right up to him.

Gogo, I want you to hold onto this horse while Chaco gets on him again, ordered Don Rafael. And stay here to help him get back on if he’s thrown.

Y-y-y-es, D-d-d-don Rraf-f-fal.

Don Rafael, I don’t really need The Dummy’s help, said Chaco. He’ll just make things worse.

Gogo looked down. He slowly climbed over the fence and easily caught hold of the horse’s reins. Gogo’s big head looked even bigger because of his short, but big hair. It was so thick and straight it almost stood straight out from his head.

Don Rafael’s eyes changed quickly. His name is Rodrigo, or Gogo, Carlos. He won’t make things worse. Go ahead, get on the horse again.

Chaco climbed over the rails and marched up to the horse. When he saw Chaco coming, the horse’s head jerked up and those white socks started jumping up and down as he tried to move away from the cruel vaquero. But Gogo held the reins firmly, looking down, shaking his own head the whole time. Something must be bothering Gogo.

Hold him still, Dummy, said Chaco quietly.

Gogo moved one hand up the reins closer to where they hooked onto the bit. His other hand reached up and stroked the horse on the neck.

Chaco gathered the reins near the saddle horn, lifted his left foot into the stirrup and swung easily into the saddle. The horse tensed up and danced around Gogo while Chaco got his right foot in the other stirrup. I said, ‘Hold him still, Dummy.’

Gogo kept a firm hold of the reins and continued stroking the horse’s neck. But the horse still pranced nervously in place. Okay, Dummy, let him go.

Once Gogo let go of the reins, the horse exploded into action. He leapt into the air, tossed his head, and came down hard on all four feet at once. Oof, escaped Chaco’s lips. Without hesitating, the horse put his head down low and kicked out violently with his back feet. Chaco flew in a neat arc over the horse’s head and landed in the dirt with a thud. But that didn’t slow the horse down at all.

Chapter 2

The Devil in Them

I looked away to hide the smile on my face. Gogo was already outside the bullpen by the time Chaco got to his feet and climbed out too.

"Ay, that horse sure got rid of you fast, Chaco," said Pedro, his grey eyes shining.

Chaco’s light face turned red again and his eyes slid up toward Don Rafael. The Dummy let go of his bridle too soon. I didn’t get seated right. Chaco’s little mustache curled almost into his mouth as he pursed his lips.

Carlos, Chaco, Don Rafael’s voice no longer sounded warm and friendly. His name is Rodrigo, or Gogo. We all looked up as Don Rafael continued. "No one could get seated on that horse. I warned Carlos when he was brought in. Horses like this one have the devil in them."

Watching his wild jumping and twisting, I thought Don Rafael might be right.

H-h-he n-no d-debil, said Gogo, who was pacing back and forth behind us.

Pedro looked disdainfully at Gogo, then back at the horse. Those socks are a sure sign of the devil. He nodded his head importantly. The stallion pawed the ground, his right front and left rear feet flashing white. Usually, if a horse has two white socks, they are either both in back or both in front.

H-h-h-he n-no d-debil, Gogo repeated quietly scratching his hair nervously. Something was bothering him. He was upset. Gogo’s strange behavior scared me; I moved a little closer to Don Rafael and almost tripped over someone half my size. Looking down I saw Eduardo. Six-year-old Eduardo was the youngest boy on the rancho.

What does the devil look like, José? The skinny little boy always seemed to be nearby, like my shadow. And he was full of silly questions.

He n-no d-debil, said Gogo again and kept pacing.

What does the devil look like? asked Eduardo again.

Chaco turned and looked down. He put two fingers up behind his head, He looks like a man-horse, but with horns. Chaco pawed the ground and pretended to charge Eduardo. And he’s all red and eats little boys!

Eduardo shrieked with glee and ran behind Don Rafael. Like Gogo, Eduardo’s Mamá had died. All the women on the rancho babied him. He hadn’t learned to keep a respectful distance from the Garcia family yet; especially since he often played with their youngest child, four-year-old Rosita, Rosa Garcia de Rodrigo.

Gogo, get him settled again so Chaco can get back on, said the Don.

Still shaking his head, Gogo obediently climbed into the bullpen. The horse came straight to him and nudged him with his nose.

Chaco followed. Gogo tightened up the reins and moved the horse up against the railing so he couldn’t dance away when Chaco approached. It looked like Gogo was talking to the horse. That’s strange. He doesn’t talk to people, but to a horse?

Make sure you don’t let go too soon this time, Dummy, said Chaco. Gogo never stopped shaking his head. He looked into the horse’s eyes instead of at Chaco.

Chaco, he’s called Gogo, repeated Don Rafael.

"Make sure you don’t let go too soon, Gogo," said Chaco with a mocking tone.

This time Chaco made a big show of getting settled in the saddle, checking the reins, and clearing his throat and spitting a couple times before saying, "Okay, Gogo, you can let go now."

In one motion, Gogo released the reins and climbed the railing to get out of the way. He must have known what was coming. The horse spun around on his hind feet, then launched itself into the center of the bullpen. Once again, he made a violent crow-hop, landing on all four feet, followed by a violent thrashing out with his hind legs and somehow twisting his body. It looked like the horse was going to throw itself onto the ground. But at the last moment, he righted himself, sending Chaco to the ground instead.

The horse snorted and bucked away from Chaco who cursed as he got up and moved towards us.

A sympathetic groan escaped Don Rafael’s lips.

Why does he keep throwing Chaco? Isn’t he broken yet? asked Eduardo.

I looked at the crazed frothing horse as he bucked furiously. My feet felt his movements as he crow-hopped, and lunged at the rails of the bullpen. I said quietly, I don’t think he likes Chaco.

Chaco threw his head back and laughed at me. "You are so wise, little Josefina. He doesn’t like me! Ha! Horses are too dumb to like or not like anything. You’re almost as wise as Gogo there." My face burned with shame whenever Chaco turned my name, José, into the girl’s version, Joséphina. He just doesn’t know who’s the boss yet, Chaco explained.

Pedro laughed confidently and nodded in agreement with Chaco. No horse knows who’s the boss at first, Eduardo. This one will learn soon enough; just like the others.

We could shoot him if he doesn’t, suggested Eduardo. Everyone laughed.

Chaco smiled at Eduardo, I don’t think that will be necessary -

That’s stupid, Eduardo, I burst in. He’ll learn, it’s just that…

Eduardo’s bright brown eyes looked down and his wavy brown hair hid part of his face.

"No, Eduardo. It’s just that Joséphina is afraid of the big horsy." Chaco said with his mocking tone again. He stood tall with his chest out, made fists that flexed his arm muscles, and spit in the dust.

José is afraid the horse won’t be happy, said Pedro sarcastically. I gaped at Pedro, with his round face. Pedro puffed his chest out like Chaco did. It went almost as far out as his stomach. When did Pedro start taking Chaco’s side?

Boys, that’s enough, said Don Rafael. He turned to Chaco, Maybe you’ve had enough for today?

Chaco laid his hand on Pedro’s shoulder. He was always showing off for Don Rafael and his family. Don Rafael, I’ll ride him as many times as it takes. That’s what we vaqueros do.

Eduardo moved closer to Chaco, put his hands on his boney hips and nodded his head and said, That’s right, Don Rafael. That’s what we do.

Yes, yes, it is. Don Rafael looked at the horse, now trotting nervously around the bullpen. Horses are here to work for us. He paused, then spoke as if to himself, They are animals and don’t have emotions like we do. But once in a while there is a horse that refuses to be broken. His voice trailed off.

My palms felt sweaty and I made my hands into fists at my side. Looking at the horse, it was clear he was no longer a proud stallion with a free spirit. He circled the tight confines of the bullpen, his coat sleek, almost black from the sweat. The pulsing veins stood out on his neck. His nostrils flared brown and pink as he snorted in frustration.

Why does that crazy horse make my stomach so tight if he has no emotions? I looked down as my own feelings ran wild inside me. The ground vibrated again as the horse hopped near where we stood. Stiff legged, he jumped again and again, trying to shake off the cursed saddle strapped snugly to his back. My stomach bucked right along with the horse.

I looked to Pedro for understanding. I thought we felt the same way about everything, but now he looked pleased by the frantic fight of the stallion. When we used to play together, I told him how I hated to see the animals treated so roughly. He knew I hated seeing panicked animals. But Pedro wouldn’t meet my gaze now.

He had changed in the last year and a half since his training started. It wasn’t just that he grew taller than me. When Pedro turned ten, his mamá and papá no longer allowed him to play with the rancho children. His lessons began. He was learning what was needed to be a Don. He’d become heavier and softer because he no longer ran and played with the other children. He was learning to read and write and given his own horse, Duque de Oro. Oh, how I wished I had my own horse.

José, I believe you have a job to do, said Don Rafael glancing at my water bucket as he turned away from the bullpen. To Pedro he said, Come along, Mijo, your study break is over and your mamá is waiting for you. Pedro tore his eyes from the frantic horse, smiled at his handsome papá, and followed him without a backward glance. My heart fell into the deep pit where my stomach used to be.

Finally, the horse stopped running around the small pen, and just stood, head down, breathing heavily.

See? It’s going to be okay, José, I promise, said Eduardo, reaching up to pat my back.

Now the little one was telling me it would be okay? What do you know, Eduardo? I spat out. I spun around and walked away,

Why do I watch the humiliation of another proud animal? Even though it was good to see Chaco thrown to the ground over and over, somehow the horse’s humiliation had become my own.

"Hey, Joséphina! I thought you had a job to do," said Chaco. I blinked my eyes and swallowed hard.

Eduardo looked back and forth between Chaco and me. Chaco grinned widely as he put his hand on Eduardo’s shoulder. Eduardo’s eyes lit up because the god he worshiped had noticed him. Chaco acted brave and strong, but he didn’t follow the vaquero’s code of honor. He treated people differently depending on who they were. If you were older than him, or a member of the Garcia family, he was kind and polite. But if you weren’t, watch out. Anyone younger than Chaco was supposed to worship him like Eduardo did.

I turned and walked away.