Thunderhead - Son of Flicka Page #3

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Of all the mean-tempered,

stubborn, good-for-nothing idiots!

Ken.

Losing your temper's

no way to train a horse.

- I'm not gonna train him.

- Wait a minute.

You started this.

You gotta see it through.

You can't quit

because you're having a little trouble.

It isn't little. I can't teach Goblin anything.

And what's more, I think he hates me.

If he did he wouldn't let you

in the corral with him.

No horse is going to be broken without

a scrap. Every wrangler has to expect that.

I know, Dad. But one minute,

Goblin's as gentle as a kitten,

and just when I think I'm getting somewhere,

he turns outlaw.

Goblin can't make up his mind whether

he wants to be like Flicka or the Albino.

He's fighting himself, like most of us do.

But he's too good a horse to throw away

when a little patience may see him through.

I want you to go find Goblin

and bring him back.

- Yes, sir.

- Just a minute, Ken.

You'd better keep this.

You might use it after all.

Thanks, Dad.

Oh, there you are. In Banner's place.

Think you're quite a horse, don't you?

Better watch out. Here comes Banner.

That'll show you who's boss.

The Albino.

Banner, come back!

Banner!

- Ready?

- Mm-hm. Sit down.

- Where's Ken?

- Goblin took to the hills. He went after him.

Do you think we should let him

go on with this? Goblin's wild.

He'll be all right. Ken's getting to be

a good hand with horses.

- Broke Flicka, didn't he?

- Goblin isn't like Flicka.

This is no time to discourage him, just

when he's taking an interest in the ranch.

Breaking Goblin's

very apt to make a man of him.

Dad!

Dad. Dad, the Albino's come back.

He's raiding the herd.

- The Albino?

- The Albino hasn't been around for years.

But it's true. I saw him. He was running

like the wind, right into the herd.

So that's what happened to the mares.

Get Gus and Tim.

Tell them to bring their guns.

Hold it. They came this way, all right.

- He must have gone up through that gorge.

- There's other horses with him.

That's fine. He's probably taken

some more of my mares.

- Dad, Goblin's gone with the Albino.

- Gone with him?

Here are his tracks. I notched his hoof.

If he gets near the mares,

that Albino will cut him to pieces.

Well, come on.

- They turned north.

- Heading for the Buckhorn Range.

Yeah. Come on.

- Any luck?

- Not a sign.

- That Albino has done it again, boss.

- He just can't disappear.

There's a million canyons in this range.

He could be in any one of 'em.

Well, come on. We might as well go home.

Goblin.

Dad, look!

Well, what do you think of that?

Hello, boy. Gosh, am I glad to see you.

Holy smoke!

- Dad, he's hurt. Look at his flank.

- Yimminy. He's cut all up.

- He's been hit by a hoof. A mighty big one.

- He must have had a fight with the Albino.

- Looks like he's been sideswiped.

- Is he all right? It won't stop him running?

I don't know.

He's been pretty badly shaken up.

My guess is he's going to be...

all right.

- What are you doing?

- Don't bother me. I'm busy.

Whatever it is, I'll tell your mother if you

don't tell me. I guess you'd better tell me.

I've got to get him used to the blanket

before I saddle him.

Aw, you can't break a horse.

Stay out of here. Goblin's dangerous.

Anything's liable to happen.

Ho, Goblin.

You're a big boy now, so act your age.

That will scare him, you silly.

Sure it will. But we're going to

fight this thing out, right now.

Now, look here, young man.

Didn't take me long to make him

understand what the blanket's for.

- He didn't understand. He got tired.

- Wait till I put the saddle on him.

Bet you he pulls the snubbing post

up by its roots.

Here, boy.

Dangerous.

When I climb aboard you'll see a real fight.

Whoa, Goblin.

For goodness' sake, Goblin,

don't act like an old cow.

Give me some action.

Whoa!

Stop it!

Ken! Look out!

Mrs McLaughlin!

- Goblin, stop it!

- Ken! Watch the fence, Kenny!

Mrs McLaughlin! Look!

Ho!

Ken!

Oh.

Ken! Ken, darling. Are you all right?

- It's broken. It's broken.

- What's broken?

- My stopwatch.

- Oh, Ken. I could spank you.

You don't suppose Ken set this up

in favour of Goblin, do you?

- Take him around once, son. I'll time him.

- OK, Mr Sargent.

- It was nice of you to let Ken use your track.

- I'm as interested in Goblin as he is.

Why not? That's Appalachian's colt

he's riding.

You're telling me.

- Ready, Ken?

- Yes, sir. Ready.

- Go!

- Come on, Goblin! Let's go! Come on!

- Come on! Come on!

- Ken, be careful!

- What that horse needs is a pacemaker.

- He needs more than that.

Put Joe up on Southern Belle.

Joe up on Southern Belle!

- Now you know why mothers get grey.

- That horse is unpredictable.

He doesn't like people to tell him what to do.

It makes him mad.

- Ken says he's just high-spirited.

- Uh-huh.

- Oh, isn't she beautiful?

- She can run, too.

If Goblin can catch her, we'll know he's good.

All set? Let her... go!

Run, Goblin!

Run, Goblin!

I don't know.

- He's catching up! He's catching up!

- Come on, Goblin.

- Come on!

- Ride him, Ken! Ride him!

- Come on!

- Come on, Goblin.

- Ride him, Ken!

- Run, Goblin, run!

- What did he make, Charley?

- 47 seconds. A half-mile in 47 seconds.

- 47?

- Appalachian's colt.

He did it, Kenny.

He can run, can't he, Mr Sargent?

I told you he could run.

You'll enter Goblin

in the Multnomah County races next year.

I'll get you ajockey's licence

so you can ride him.

- Gee.

- Now, just a minute, Charley.

- There's a race just made for that horse.

- You can't depend on him.

- Did you see him run?

- Sure I saw him. But that's not enough.

He's gotta run when you want him to.

He'll be all right. I'll train him.

I'll make a real racer out of him.

Goblin's a racer! Goblin's a racer!

Don't call him Goblin. He isn't a goblin

any more. He needs a new name.

- You name him, Mom.

- Ken, I don't know.

- Go ahead.

- Let's see.

Those thunderheads,

they're like white horses in the sky.

- How about Thunderhead?

- I like that.

That's a fine name for him.

Thunderhead.

- Hold still.

- It's going to look great.

- I'll have to shorten the sleeves.

- It's swell of you to do this.

Nonsense. But I want you

to promise me something, young man.

- Sure.

- Promise you won't take any foolish chances.

You're not a professional jockey.

- I can ride, Mom. You know that.

- I know. But you will be careful, won't you?

Sure.

- Put the truck in the barn, Gus.

- OK, boss.

They're here.

You go upstairs, dear. Get your report card.

- I want to talk to your father first. Alone.

- OK, Mom.

- Hello, darling.

- Hello, honey.

- How'd the sale go?

- Pretty good.

Harris took the whole lot.

- That's the end of the thoroughbreds.

- Rob, I'm sorry you had to sell them.

Why? Nobody's interested

in hunters and jumpers these days.

Now we can concentrate on cavalry horses.

Take a look at that, Mrs McLaughlin.

Should be enough

to last us the rest of the year.

We might be able

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