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the black the next morning. He lasted the same four jumps and hit the ground crawling. She broke his leg and bit off a piece of his shoulder before the others dragged him to safety. The Square Bit boys realized right quick that she was a stomping, teeth-gnashing, kicking, farting whore from hell with no mercy toward Mex, black, or white. Every man but Arky Blue had a go at riding her and she managed to get a piece of every one of them before he made it to safety. Old Arky was nearing forty and said the hell with it after watching a few of the others. He figured that he wasn’t up to spending another winter with a broken leg or arm and he had nothing to prove.
    In fact, Old Arky was getting ready to put a .36 ball in her brain when he came up with the notion that the black might be the most valuable bronco of the bunch. He’d never seen any animal with less looks and more guts. When the boys got to considering it, not a man among them had lasted more than four jumps. Arky proposed that they might turn a nice profit by placing out wagers that no man could ride her. Of course they knew that there never was a horse that couldn’t be rode, but if they kept a poke back to pay off the winner, they could turn a handsome profit watching the wannabes pay to get their turn at a dance with Satan’s mistress. The way she went through the Square Bit crew it could be quite a spell before she was rode down, and the profits promised handsome. They came up with the name Black Queen for her, more to get a sucker’s curiosity up than any other logic. A black queen is considered bad luck by many who favor the pasteboards and is an omen of impending disaster. Them old boys didn’t realize at the time just how prophetic a handle they had placed on her.
    Well, the Square Bit boys had no idea what a gold mine they had on their hands. The boys decided that since they had to work, they would make Arky the mare’s manager. He quit work and took her out on circuit, hitting every small settlement, ranch house, and bar he could find. No less than forty wranglers, some of the biggest reputations in Texas, took a crack at her. In six months she piled all forty, killed two, and crippled a big-eared kid from down by San Antonio. She turned a five hundred dollar profit for the partnership. As she built her reputation, Arky made sure that she ate better than any broomtail alive and she gained a good two hundred pounds of green bile meanness. As she filled out, her strength grew but her quickness never slackened a bit. She grew into the strongest, meanest, quickest bitch that ever drew a breath or lipped grain from a trough. She had some kind of hate festering deep down in her guts for anything that walked on two legs. It weren’t enough that she would just pile an hombre. She took a particular delight in leaving her mark on him before he could make a getaway. Once she felt the load shift from her back she took a specific satisfaction in turning on the rider with teeth snapping and hooves stomping in an ears-laid-back endeavor to finish him off with a murder. Some mighty fine vaqueros were witnessed with the wide-eyed shakes after making an escape. More than once old Arky had to pull his revolver to keep a gent from putting a bullet in her out of sheer frustration and hatred.
    While the mare didn’t change much during this time other than get meaner and stronger, Arky Blue did. Arky got the big head for better want of a term. He took to dressing up in fancy duds and standing the house to a drink when he entered any new establishment. He smoked nickel cigars, wore fancy stitched stovepipe boots and charged it all to expenses. While his pards labored away on the Square Bit, Arky led the high life and looked down on most folks as “unworthy” of his company. He’d twist his mouth and say “Well, sir, I’ll tell you,” like he knew something special and had some kind of privileged insight on just about any