Diablo. Big as one o' them beer-pullin' horses, quarter horse sleek, blacker'n the blackest black ya kin see inside yer head er elsewheres. They said as how he was the best saddle bronc ever, 'n' weren't nobody gonna stay on him.
Ha! He was the Devil hisself made horse.
How else ya gonna explain as how the bosses was right? Nobody stayed the eight seconds when the Devil's horse were buckin'. Weren't no big deal, him tossin' riders them first ten, twenny times, with the prize the bosses offered goin' up a grand each time. But then he bucked off forty, 'n fifty, 'n the guy who tried fer the hunnerd grand fer the 100th ride weren't on longer'n four-five seconds.
He weren't no normal horse, 'n I bin knowin' 'bout horses fer longer'n most folks bin around. I tried. I told 'em 'n' told 'em but weren't nobody'd listen.
So's I shut up, did my job, kept outa the way of the Devil's horse, 'n watched alla them rides. 'n a bit beyond.
This here's the story 'bout how the Devil's horse got rid a thousand 'n' one times.
'n' cuz I'm nice, 'n' this here Eric Alan Westfall guy is pretty good, I'm givin' ya some samplescovers 'n' blurbs 'n' chaptersof some of the books what he's writ: