Moon Shadow (2 page)

She opened a window of their rickety old farmhouse and fanned the curtains to help the cloying smell escape. Billie would be here any minute, and the smell always made her best friend feel a bit nauseated. Callie didn't care for the odor much herself, but she was so used to it she hardly noticed it any more.

Celah, the family's Percheron draft horse, lifted her head and snorted. Callie leaned out the window and spoke to the large black mare that stood in the paddock nearby. “Hey, I know you don't like the scent any more than I do, but there's more fresh air out there to dissipate it.”

Callie frowned as she ducked back through the window. There she went again, using a two-dollar word when a fifty-cent one would do.
Dissipate.
She could imagine Luke Thompson, a boy from school who lived a mile down the road, heckling her now.

Hey, Miss Smarty-pants, I bet you don't even know what that big word means!

Callie ran a hand through her tangled hair and blew an exasperated breath through her bangs. She couldn't help it that she was smart—or for that matter, that Luke was so dumb.

She grinned to herself. If her mother knew she was thinking such mean thoughts, she would give Callie an extra load of chores to do.

If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all
, her mother always said.

Callie stared at her scratched-up, callused hands, remembering the five wheelbarrow loads of weeds she'd had to pull from the organic vegetable garden the last time she'd made a rude comment about somebody.

She snipped a piece of aloe plant and smeared it across her scratches. She would just have to learn to keep her thoughts to herself when her mother was around. Especially comments about Luke. Her mother liked to keep things friendly with the neighbors.

Callie wished that Billie lived next door, but her friend's parents owned a large house at the edge of the nearest big town, almost ten miles away. She'd met her when they'd both been placed in an advanced English class, and their love of horses had drawn them together. Billie had desperately wanted a horse, but her family didn't have a place to keep one. Not long after Callie's parents had offered the Simmonses a chance to board on their property, however, Billie had become the proud new owner of a beautiful red chestnut mare she named Star.

During the school year, Billie was only allowed to come out on Saturdays. But now that it was summer break, Callie hoped her friend would be able to visit several times a week.

A horn blasted and Callie leaned back out the window to see Billie step from her father's new truck. Callie figured Mr. Simmons probably paid more for that pickup than her parents made in a whole year.

“I'll be out in a minute!” Callie hollered. “Star's in the barn. I put your saddle on the rack next to the tack room.”

Billie nodded and hurried toward the barn. “Don't be long,” she called over her shoulder. “I might leave without you!” She laughed as she disappeared into the old wooden structure.

Callie grabbed her boots from the corner, hopping on one foot, then the other, as she struggled to get them on. She ran out the front door and headed toward the barn, waving to Billie's father as he pulled out of the driveway.

Callie dearly loved her parents, but sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have parents like Billie's—people with
normal
jobs. Her own mother and father weren't exactly nine-to-five business folks. They didn't want to be bothered by the constraints of punching a time clock, so they grew their own food, raised their own meat, and took odd jobs here and there when their organic vegetable business was slow.

Callie sighed. Both of her parents had college degrees. Why did they have to choose organic farming? Other jobs paid better and were steady. Their small, ancient farmhouse and the old tractor parts that littered their yard were a constant source of embarrassment for her. All the other ranches around here were large spreads with well-to-do owners. Their little patch of ground was like a thorn among the roses.

That was part of why she liked Billie so much. Her friend didn't care that their house sometimes looked like the local junkyard, or that her parents didn't have a lot of money.

Callie admired Billie, too. Her friend was tall and willowy, with shoulder-length blonde hair and a face that made all the boys smile. She was easy-going and quick to make friends. But since they had met at the beginning of the year, Billie had been spending more and more time with Callie and less time with her popular friends. It was the horses, Callie supposed. But whatever the reason, she was glad that Billie had chosen to be her best friend.

She ran her faded bandana under the cool water of the faucet near the barn and tied it around her neck. It was time to quit thinking about school and bothersome stuff like that. It was the second week of June in Antelope Springs, and her vacation had started! Already the sun was blazing its way to a hot summer.

She grabbed Celah's oversized red halter off the post and whistled for the eighteen-hand, two-thousand pound draft mare. The ground practically shook when the big black horse came trotting up to the fence. Callie stood on the top board and slid the halter over Celah's head, then climbed down to open the gate. The gentle mare nuzzled her shirt for a treat while she waited for Callie to undo the gate latch.

“Sorry, girl. No carrots this morning,” Callie said as she walked Celah through an opening that was almost too small for the big draft horse to fit through. “I've got some apples in the barn you can have while we're getting you ready.” She patted the mare on the neck, marveling at how gentle she was. Most draft horses had a very calm nature.
It's a good thing
, Callie thought as she looked up at the tall horse. A bad-tempered animal the size of a small car would be a danger to everyone.

Billie was just placing her silver-edged saddle onto Star's back when Callie entered the barn with Celah in tow. The little chestnut mare nickered to the big black, and Celah returned the greeting, practically shaking the rafters with her loud whinny.

Billie stepped back as Callie tied Celah to the hitching post. “Star looks like a Shetland pony compared to this big monster,” she said, laughing. “If you ever fall off out in the desert, we'll never be able to get you back up on her again.”

Callie smiled. “Believe me when I tell you that I don't plan to fall off anywhere. I don't want to spend the rest of my summer in traction.”

There were times when Callie wished she had a smaller horse, one that she could take care of and ride any time she wanted to, but her parents needed the draft mare to pull the garden plow any time the tractor broke down. And besides, she kind of liked being up high enough to see over the tall scrub when she rode out on the desert.

Billie pulled a piece of carrot from her pocket and held it flat-handed under Celah's nose. Star gave a nicker of protest. “You've got to learn to share with your friends,” Billie admonished her horse as she watched the carrot instantly disappear into Celah's mouth.

“Guess what?” Callie said excitedly as she pulled the round metal currycomb with the wooden handle from the brush box. She stood on a bucket so she could reach her horse's back. “I saw Cloud Dancer's herd in the desert this morning, and Moonbeam was with him. She's going to have a foal!”

“A baby mustang?” Billie stopped brushing Star and slapped Callie a high-five. “I can't wait! Maybe we'll get to see it right after it's born.”

Callie moved the bucket to the other side of the horse and curried up under Celah's mane. “It's going to be the most beautiful foal ever,” she said dreamily. “I want to ride back over there and see if we can find the herd.”

“Sounds good to me,” Billie said. She slipped the bit between her horse's teeth and waited for Callie to finish.

Callie ran the soft brush over Celah's shining ebony coat, then placed the bareback pad onto the mare's broad back. Her family didn't own a saddle, but she was saving her allowance to buy one. She hoped to earn enough doing chores for the neighbors to buy a nice used saddle by the end of the summer.

“Come on, slowpoke,” Billie said as she handed Celah's bridle to Callie and helped her get the bit between the mare's teeth.

Callie pulled the bridle over Celah's large head and made sure her mane was straight under the brow band. “Come on, old girl,” she said, stepping down from the bucket.

She led the horse out the door and coaxed her over to a stack of hay. The draft mare was almost six feet tall at the withers. There was no way Callie could get on her without standing on something. She climbed onto the hay pile and nimbly vaulted onto the mare's broad back, then smiled at her friend. “It's just like riding an overstuffed couch.”

Billie chuckled. “Yeah, except if you fall off a couch, the floor's only a foot away. Falling off Celah would be more like jumping out of the loft of your barn.”

“True,” Callie said as they turned their mounts onto the sand trail that would lead them over the mountain to the wild mustangs' summer grazing area.

She asked Celah for an easy trot. As they traveled the sandy trails, Callie looked out across the valley. A lot of people thought the Nevada high desert was ugly, but she loved this place. The beauty was there if you just took the time to look. Spring brought colorful, tiny desert wildflowers, and she'd seen sunsets so magnificent that Van Gogh would have been jealous.

Northern Nevada was not the land of tall grass and massive forests. It was an area of frugal beauty and harsh environments that could see temperatures of over 100 degrees during the daytime and temperatures below freezing at night. This land could make or break both man and beast.

Sparse tufts of green grass sprouted here and there among the peach blossom, bitterbrush, and sage. A few scraggly pinion pines dotted the outer edges of the flatlands and the sides of the hills and mountains. It wasn't what most folks would call good grazing land, but it was all the mustangs had. And they had to share this small bit of forage with the cattle and sheep the big ranches turned out on the federal grazing lands.

Unlike other states, 85 percent of Nevada was owned by the United States government. The Bureau of Land Management, or BLM, was responsible for watching over these precious lands and keeping everything in balance.

Callie frowned. It was a never-ending battle. The ranchers claimed that the mustangs had overpopulated the area and were eating up all the grass that should be going to fatten their livestock. Animal rights organizations like WHOA and Wild Horse Spirit argued that the mustangs were American's natural heritage and needed to be protected.

Billie pulled Star alongside the big draft mare. “Hey, what are you thinking about?” she said. “School's out, remember? We don't have to think any brilliant thoughts for the rest of summer.”

Callie grinned sheepishly. “Want to hear about the stallion fight I saw this morning?” she said.

“A fight?”

“Yes, and a pretty bad one, too.”

Billie took off her straw hat and fanned herself. “You're so lucky,” she said. “I can't believe you actually got to see a fight! How'd you get that close?”

Callie scanned the horizon, searching for any movement that might indicate a wild bunch. “There's a place I found with a great view into the valley where the horses like to graze. It's got a lot of sagebrush and big boulders to hide behind. As long as you keep quiet, the herd goes about its daily—” She stopped in mid-sentence and glanced over her shoulder, sure that she had seen something moving.

“Anyway,” she went on, turning her attention back to Billie, “I saw the mustangs early this morning. One of the young bachelor stallions thought he was tough enough to challenge Cloud Dancer.”

Billie let out a low whistle. “Big mistake.”

Callie nodded. “Yeah. As far as I can figure, that bay is about four or five years old, not really a colt anymore.” Old Harvey had told her that a male horse was called a colt until the end of his fourth year. After that, he could be called a stallion. “But he has more courage than brains, I think.”

“Cloud Dancer's built like a tank and he's tough as Luke Thompson's head,” Billie said. “Did the bay live through it?”

Callie glanced behind her again. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. She turned back to her friend. “Yeah, but he was pretty banged up.”

Billie sighed. “I wish I could have been there. I never get to see anything like that.”

Callie squeezed her legs against Celah's sides, urging her to walk up beside Billie's mare. The draft mare was a little on the lazy side and tended to lag behind if Callie wasn't paying attention. “Stallion fights are not a pretty sight,” she said. “The bay that fought this morning was badly hurt, and I think his spirit was broken. It'll probably be a long time before he challenges the buckskin again.”

“What happens if a stallion is never strong enough to gather a herd of his own?” Billie asked.

Callie shrugged. “Sometimes a lesser stallion will come upon a young filly that's been kicked out of her herd, or maybe an old mare that nobody wants. Then he'll have his own herd for a while, until a stronger stallion steals her away. But usually, only the strongest males can gather and protect a herd long enough to sire a new crop of foals.”

The sensation of being spied upon ran up Callie's spine again. She looked around, but still saw nothing that would cause her alarm. “The mustang territory is just over this hill,” she said. “Let's canter.”

Callie clucked to Celah and grabbed a large handful of mane as she prepared for the mare's takeoff. Everything Celah did was big. The Percheron jolted to a start and followed behind Billie's sleek mare.

Billie laughed as they followed a deer trail through the sagebrush. “I can't believe how much noise Celah makes when her feet hit the ground.”