Crazy Horse (9 page)

Crazy Horse stood in Red Fox Meadow in the golden-pink dawn light. He stared wistfully down the length of the long, white fence toward the mountains, looking as if he expected Cadillac’s solitary, graceful figure to appear.

“Where is he, Crazy Horse? Where’s Cadillac?” Kirstie whispered. The fresh air, the wide open space calmed her after a disturbed night’s sleep. She’d left her mom in the kitchen making coffee, and Matt making a list of all the sale barns he could find in the phone book. “You know where Cadillac is, if only you could tell us!”

Before he attacked the phone book, Matt had been out to the stable to take Crazy Horse’s temperature. “Normal,” he reported. “No infection. And he wants out,” he told Sandy, still in her robe, yawning as she came downstairs. “He’s leaning over the door of the stall, yelling at the top of his voice to be allowed out into the meadow.”

“I know. I heard him whinnying. In fact, he woke me up.” Sandy had agreed that Crazy Horse knew best. “If he feels up to it after his adventure, and you’re satisfied he’s OK, Matt, put him out.”

Kirstie had seen her brother’s face color as he realized that their mom was trusting his judgment without calling in Glen Woodford. He’d walked tall out of the house to take Crazy Horse to the remuda. And he’d grinned at Kirstie, who’d scrambled into her school clothes and run out to join him.

Now, after he’d gone back to the house with a new spring in his stride, she drank in the quiet scene: the green grass showing through patches of melted snow in the meadow, the horses munching at the hayrack, Crazy Horse standing by the fence, one sore foot lifted clear of the ground, looking longingly into the distance…

The sound of the phone ringing inside the house made Kirstie quicken her pace as she returned from the remuda for breakfast. Who could it be so early?

“Larry Francini,” Sandy told her, one hand over the mouthpiece. “Matt’s upstairs in his room. Run and get him, please!”

Kirstie rushed to pass on the message, but by the time they both got back to the kitchen, their mom was already off the phone.

“Never underestimate the county sheriff!” she told them, her gray eyes alive, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Larry may look like your average guy who couldn’t put two and two together, but he just came up with something good!”

“Anything to do with the fancy rope and bridle?” Kirstie asked. This was clearly good news. Sandy was lifting newspapers and magazines off the window-sill, searching for a pen and a piece of paper to write on.

“Nope. Actually something about this place!” She scribbled down a name and number and showed them.

Kirstie narrowed her eyes to read the scrawl. “Columbine Falls Sale Barn—970-555-0929.”

“What is it?” Matt snatched the paper. “Why has Sheriff Francini given you this?”

Sandy’s smile broadened. “He got there before us, Matt. He said he’d spent yesterday evening calling the barns to the south of here to see if there was a horse like Cadillac going through the sales. He drew blanks. Then, late last night, a call came through. The caller had heard he was asking questions, said he had a mystery tip-off, if the sheriff wanted to hear it.”

Matt listened and nodded. “Saying what, exactly?”

“Telling him that a gray gelding fitting Cadillac’s description had been located at Columbine Falls Sale Barn in southwest Colorado.”

“Let’s go!” Matt’s reaction was instantaneous. He reached for his jacket and hat. “The Falls is 200 miles from here; that’s a three-hour drive. C’mon, Mom, let’s get moving!”

Sandy steadied him. “According to the tip-off, the horse is scheduled to be put through a sale early this afternoon. That gives us plenty of time to go down and identify him.”

Matt nodded. “What about Sheriff Francini?”

“He’s not coming. He’s been in contact with the county sheriff down there, fixed up for us to meet him at midday.” All was organized and in order, Sandy gave them to understand. But even she couldn’t hide her excitement.

“What about me? Can I come?” Kirstie begged. She didn’t want to miss the big moment when Matt walked into the sale barn to claim his horse.

“You’ve got school!” her mom reminded her. No arguments, no softening under pressure.

And so a silent, pale, frowning Kirstie was dropped off at the gates of San Luis Middle School at eight-thirty that morning. She’d pleaded and reasoned to no effect. “No way, Kirstie!” Sandy had stood firm. “School is important. Matt and I can do this without your help!”

Left out in the cold, overlooked and rejected; that was how she felt when Lisa came up to her in the school yard. Her mom and brother would be away all day, reclaiming the stolen horse. They’d have all the joy and relief, all the pleasure of a great reunion.

“Why the black looks?” Lisa quizzed. “No one died, did they?”

“Nope.” Kirstie walked on ahead, chopping her replies, taking it out on Lisa.

“What then?”

“Crazy Horse came home.”

“Hey, Kirstie, that’s great!…So how come you’re not over the moon?” Lisa ran in front of her to intercept her.

“And they found Cadillac!” she snapped, sidestepping into the classroom. “At least, they think they did. In some sale barn in the south. That’s where Mom and Matt are driving right this very minute!”

Lisa twisted her plaited friendship bracelet, working herself up to a big statement. “Being your friend means a lot to me,” she told Kirstie. “But I guess to you, it doesn’t mean as much.”

“How do you figure that out?” Kirstie blushed. Though she stood in line for the school bus to take her home at the end of the day, her mind was elsewhere.
Had Mom and Matt gotten to the sale barn in time?
she wondered. Was it truly Cadillac that the mystery caller had spotted?

“If
I
was in
your
place, I wouldn’t shut
me
out.” Lisa’s sentence came out all mixed up. “Not like you did all during today!”

“Like when?” The yellow bus drew up. Kids began to climb in.

“Like when I saw you in the yard this morning. Like when you went by in the corridor at break. Like now, for instance!”

Kirstie reached the front of the line. “Look, I’m sorry, OK? I’ve got a lot of stress.”

“Right! Which is why you need me!” Lisa’s green eyes flashed angrily at the boy behind Kirstie, who shoved them aside so he could get on the bus. “That’s what friends are for!”

Kirstie sighed. She knew Lisa was right.

“Are you girls getting on this bus or not?” the driver called, ready to press the button and close the door.

“Yes!” Like it or not, Kirstie had to leave the tricky situation with Lisa and get home fast. She wanted to be there when Matt and her mother got back with Cadillac.

“No need.” Lisa had spotted Charlie’s car cruising down Main Street. He’d waved and hollered to offer them a ride.

So the bus pulled away, and the young wrangler’s car took its place at the curb. “And before you ask, no news from Matt so far,” he told Kirstie as she climbed in. “You coming, Lisa?”

Lisa stooped to peer in at Kirstie. “Am I?”

“Yeah, I need to talk. And jeez, Lisa, I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk.”

“That’s OK.” Relieved, she settled into the back seat beside Kirstie. “So, tell me!”

Charlie drove as Kirstie talked. She described the magic moment when Crazy Horse came back, the surprise call from Sheriff Francini, the way her mom had cut her out, sent her to school, and how much that had hurt.

“But you know how she is about Matt and college,” Lisa reminded her. “It’s the same with you and school. You gotta be there.”

“I guess.” Kirstie frowned. She still hadn’t confessed what was really on her mind. “You know what? Matt was so happy this morning. The news about the sale barn came through, and you should’ve seen him. He could hardly wait to get out of the house.”

“So?” Lisa indicated that it was understandable. “How would you be? You just found out where your favorite horse in the whole world is. You’re gonna be ‘up’!”

“But I’ve had time to think since then,” Kirstie went on, noticing Charlie look at her in his rearview mirror. “Maybe we reacted too quick. We hear about a white horse for sale in the Falls, we jump right in there. But what if this horse isn’t Cadillac?”

Charlie heard and swerved slightly in the road. Lisa groaned. “Oh, my!”

“Right.” Kirstie waited for the doubt to sink in. “How’s Matt gonna feel if he drives 200 miles just to find out it’s a false lead?”

Kirstie got the strong feeling that Crazy Horse agreed with her. He was at the white fence when Charlie’s car pulled into the yard, trotting up and down to attract their attention, limping slightly on his sore foot. When Kirstie, Lisa, and Charlie got out of the car, the sturdy tan horse threw back his heavy head, curled his lip, and whinnied loudly.

“If only he could talk,” Charlie said quietly. He stood, thumbs hooked into the back pockets of his jeans, staring at Crazy Horse. “He could sure tell us everything we need to know!”

Charlie had echoed Kirstie’s feeling from earlier that day. It made her drift thoughtfully across the bridge toward Red Fox Meadow. “Maybe he can talk…kinda.”

“Talk…how?” Lisa climbed and sat astride the fence, turning her collar up against the stiff, cold wind blowing down from the mountains. “Like, he’s gonna tell us what happened Sunday night?”

“Horses talk,” Kirstie insisted. “Leastways, they communicate. They use body language.”

Lisa studied Crazy Horse. “He
is
kinda jumpy. Restless. Look at his ears!”

The horse carried his head high and flicked his ears. There was tension running through his body, making him swish his tail and stamp his feet as he trotted and turned.

“I’d say he’s trying to tell us something, no doubt about it,” Kirstie insisted. “But he knows we’re stupid, so he’s having to wait for us to figure it out.”

“It’s about Cadillac.” Lisa grew convinced. She retraced recent events to try to understand Crazy Horse’s impatience. “He’s taken prisoner by a bunch of rustlers. They treat him and Cadillac rough. He escapes. Then what does he do? He heads for home. He wants to tell us about Cadillac, his buddy—where he is, what these guys are planning to do to him. Only we take no notice. We stick him in a field and leave him. No wonder he’s upset!”

That was it; Lisa’s clear version of the story made Kirstie come to a decision. She swung her leg over the fence and jumped into the field, took hold of Crazy Horse’s head collar, and led him toward the gate. “Find Charlie!” she called. “Ask him to bring two saddles to the corral.”

“Who for?” Lisa held the gate steady as the wind caught it. Her eyes were lit up, her movements quick and excited.

“For Lucky and Crazy Horse.” Kirstie’s mind was made up. “We can’t hang around doing nothing. We gotta follow Crazy Horse. So long as we trust him, he’ll tell us everything we need to know!”

Charlie had argued the sensible case: wait until your mom and Matt get home, until the bad weather passes over, until Crazy Horse’s lame foot clears up.

But Kirstie and Lisa had got it into their heads; it must be now, there could be no delay. “We waited long enough to start listening to Crazy Horse,” Kirstie told the young wrangler. “He’s been wearing himself out in that meadow trying to make us listen to him.”

“We’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Lisa promised. “We’re carrying a radio to call you if we hit trouble.”

“And you call us if Mom and Matt get back,” Kirstie reminded him. Crazy Horse was saddled and tacked up, straining at the reins to head out toward Miners’ Ridge.

“You take care,” Charlie warned. “Stick to the trail—remember, Crazy Horse has been through a tough time already.”

They set off with his cautious words in their ears, across the creek to pick up Meltwater Trail out of the valley. Crazy Horse trotted ahead of Lisa and Lucky, testing his sore foot and soon breaking into a lope. He ducked his head and settled into a steady stride, his pale mane streaming back, hooves thundering over the frozen earth.

“His foot doesn’t seem to bother him so much when he’s loping!” Kirstie called back to Lisa. She dodged sideways to miss the sticking-out branch of a lodgepole pine, regained her balance, and let her horse lope on.