Thunderhead - Son of Flicka Page #2

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Come on, come on, come on, come on.

Come on. Come on.

- Don't be so stubborn.

- Can't you handle him?

Rob, he's white.

Well, well. So Banner always sires true.

- He always has.

- Banner isn't the horse Rob thinks he is.

- Now, if that had been Appalachian...

- Oh, you and your Appalachian.

I just can't understand it. A white colt.

He's just as good as any other.

- Of course he is.

- Whoa there!

Whoa!

He's a goblin, that's what he is!

He looks just like a goblin!

You keep out of this.

You hear me? You keep out of it.

- Ken, Ken.

- He's not a goblin. He's a racehorse.

- A racehorse?

- By Banner out of Flicka?

It takes a racer to sire a racer, Ken.

- He was sired by a racer.

- But Banner isn't a racer, Ken.

I know.

Just a minute, young man.

You mean Banner's not his father?

- No, sir, he isn't.

- Well, then, who did sire this colt?

- Appalachian.

- Appalachian?

- Mr Sargent's stallion?

- Yes.

Thatjugheaded colt by Appalachian?

I don't believe it.

- But it's so. Honest it is.

- Now whose horse doesn't sire true?

- What is this all about?

- Well, Mom, I've always wanted a racer.

Mr Sargent said

how wonderful Appalachian was,

so I took Flicka to his ranch

and turned her loose in the pasture.

- You took her over to my ranch?

- Yes, sir.

Don't you know what it costs to have

a colt sired by a famous stallion?

- How do you expect to pay?

- Out of my winnings.

Mr Sargent said

that Appalachian's colts always win.

- Guess he's got you there.

- You asked for it.

Me and my big mouth.

OK, son. Just forget about the money.

You don't owe me a cent.

If you want to register the colt,

I'll give you a certificate.

Gosh, thanks, Mr Sargent.

I can't understand how come that colt's

pure white, when my stallion's coal black.

Maybe he takes after his grandfather,

through Flicka.

That's it. He's a throwback.

A throwback to the Albino.

If he inherits any traits of that wild devil,

you'll have a tough time with him.

Here!

Attaboy!

- Goblin sure is loco, isn't he?

- No, he's not loco. He's high-spirited.

Come on, Ken.

- I tell you, they don't brand racehorses.

- He has to have some identifying mark.

- But I've already notched his hoof.

- We'll put it under his mane. It won't show.

Come on, Gus. Bring the distemper shot.

- Has Goblin got distemper?

- Of course not.

We give him the shot so he won't get it.

- Well, that's the last one.

- Good. Let him up.

It's all over, boy. Come along.

- You can turn them all out now, Ken.

- OK.

Cut Flicka and her colt out, Gus.

Ken'll want to ride Flicka.

- Thanks, Jack. We'll return the favour.

- OK, Rob. I'm glad to have helped.

Banner!

You ready to take them out again?

You are, huh? Well, that's fine.

Take good care of the herd.

- Banner! Come on, Banner!

- They're all yours. Take them away.

Flicka!

Hello, there.

What's the matter, girl?

You want to go too, don't you, girl?

All right. You can go.

Hey, aren't you going with your mama?

Are you gonna be stubborn again?

Come on. Get out of here. Go on.

So long, Flicka. Goodbye, Goblin.

See you next spring.

Good boy, Ken.

It was nice of you to let Flicka and her colt go.

Well, I don't exactly need her. Anyway, she

has to take Goblin out to winter on the range.

- Don't worry about him. He's tough.

- I know, Dad. But he isn't like other colts.

I'll say he isn't. All the colts I've ever seen

act like they're tied to their mothers.

They follow the mares. That young fellow

will want to go off on his own.

He'll investigate everything for himself.

Won't make any difference

whether it's a coyote or a porcupine.

When the storms come down from the hills,

and the herd takes shelter in a deep canyon,

that little fool horse will want to stick

his nose right in the wind and fight back.

Banner won't stand for any nonsense.

Goblin may be the grandson

of the great Albino,

but to Banner he'll be just another colt.

Ken!

Ken! Here they come!

Dad! They're here.

Open the gate. Come on, Nell.

Do you want to see what we've got?

- Look at Goblin run.

- He's practically flying.

- What kind of watch is that?

- A stopwatch.

- Where'd you get it?

- I'm timing Goblin.

I bought it with my own money.

Look at the size of the Goblin.

Look out! Here they come!

You'd better look out too.

- Close the gate, Ken.

- Yes, Dad. Hi, Gus.

- What do you think of your horse now?

- Great. How far is it to the top of that knoll?

- A couple of hundred yards.

- He made it in almost nothing flat.

In 15 seconds.

Say, Tim. Cut out the Goblin and put him

in that other corral, will you? Thank you.

- Hey, boss.

- Hello, Gus.

Boss, Taggert and Sky High

and Brownie's missing.

- They're missing?

- Rob, they're your prize mares.

- Maybe wolves got them.

- Cougars.

- If they did, we would have found signs.

- What could have happened to them?

They probably strayed.

We'll go and find them.

It's no use. Tim and me

looked everywhere for them.

- You sure?

- Ja, boss.

- Well, I guess that settles it.

- Yep. That settles it.

Thanks, Gus.

Come on, Hildy.

The herd's so small

we can't afford to lose those mares.

- We'll have to buy some others.

- They're so expensive.

And with Ken's schooling,

and Gus and Tim to pay, and the taxes.

Well, we'll figure it out some way.

Now, don't you start to fret.

Things are going to be all right.

OK, Goblin. You can quit your fooling.

The way things are going around here,

it's about time you and I got to work.

That's the boy.

Come on. Oh, so you're gonna

be that way, huh?

- Bet you miss.

- Stay out of here. You'll get yourself killed.

- By thatjughead?

- Do as I tell you.

I told you you'd miss.

I won't miss next time.

What did I tell you?

Ken, look out!

Ho!

Ho.

Get down.

Ho.

Ho, doggone you.

Mrs McLaughlin!

Mrs McLaughlin!

Come on. Ho!

- See? What did I tell you?

- Rob, stop him!

Throw him down, Kenny. Throw him!

Stay with him, son.

- How do you like that?

- Pretty good.

- Let me see you pull that off.

- What's going on here?

Oh, nothing much.

I'm just breaking Goblin, that's all.

- Are you sure it isn't the other way around?

- Of course not.

Why, I've got him

practically eating out of my hand.

Yeah. I can see what you mean.

Yeah. Well, all I need

is just a little more time.

Hello, Goblin.

Here, boy. Look.

Sugar. You're not supposed to have it,

but I know you like it.

There. Good, isn't it?

Yes, sir. You and I are going to get along fine.

If you'll just listen to reason,

you'll be a racehorse before you know it.

Now, take it easy, son.

This isn't going to hurt you.

It's only a halter.

Don't tell me we have to go through

this foolishness again.

You know who's boss, so behave yourself.

Ho! Doggone you, cut it out.

You want me to take this halter shank to you?

Now, Goblin, I'm trying to be patient.

Ho!

Stop it!

Come back here, you crazy bronc.

Come back here!

OK, be like your grandfather. See if I care.

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