Wild Horses (10 page)

The two women had been surprised that the girls wanted to ride out so early, but they’d shrugged, seen them off on Lucky and Cadillac, and settled down to an early morning cup of coffee over the ranch house kitchen table.

“Better to be crazy than mean,” Kirstie said now, thinking all the time of how they must beat the drifter and his plan to sell the stallion.

“Huh.” Lisa piled on the groans. “Just don’t tell anyone I did this, OK?”

Her good-tempered complaints passed the time until Miners’ Ridge came into view against a clear morning sky.

“Sun’s gonna be hot today,” Kirstie predicted. “It’s gonna melt the snow off the peaks and send a whole lot more water down.”

As if to prove her point, Horseshoe Creek seemed even deeper and faster than it had the night before. Lucky went down the bank and stepped sturdily in, swaying slightly as the water rose round his flanks and soaked Kirstie’s jeans. She urged him on and he surged through, then they turned to wait for a reluctant Cadillac.

“C-c-cold!” Lisa gasped, as she too felt the water dash against her legs.

But by the time the girls made it to the ridge, the first rays of sun had dried off their jeans and they were both feeling good about the plan to take another look at the stallion.

“Even if his leg’s not good enough to come out of the clearing with us, we’ll try to get near and talk to him,” Kirstie said as she dismounted and tied Lucky up. “The more he gets to know us, the easier it’s gonna be in the long run.”

“We can always come back later today and try again if need be.” Lisa had been the first off her horse and was ready to take the track down into the canyon.

“Or stay out here the whole day and keep watch,” Kirstie said. She was on the lookout for the herd, expecting to see the gray mare at their head. The fact that they weren’t here on the ridge surprised her slightly.

“You can’t be serious!” Lisa retorted, thinking of her stomach as usual. “Stay here the whole day without a sack lunch?”

She went on ahead, grumbling and kidding, but Kirstie stayed on the ridge, still looking out for the wild horses. She thought she heard the faint sound of hooves drumming down the hillside toward her, and then she caught sight of the young sorrel, quickly followed by a piebald. They galloped through the trees, kicking up dirt, swerving past boulders. “Hey!” she said softly. These horses weren’t playing a game of chase. Their flattened ears and reckless speed told her they were fleeing from an unseen pursuer.

Two young foals came next, skidding down the slope, their stick-like legs folding under them as they crashed down. They jerked back up onto their feet and ran on. Then more fully grown horses came hard on their heels. Kirstie saw the fear running through their bodies, making them toss their heads and rear up. What was it? Who was chasing them?

“Say, what’s happening?” Lisa had heard the noise and climbed back onto the ridge. She stopped and stared.

Kirstie took a step forward, then another. Here came the gray mare at the back of the herd, half-hidden by a cloud of dust. The horse ran more slowly, hindered by something that she couldn’t quite make out.

“What’s that around her neck?” Lisa cried. “See—she’s dragging a length of rope!”

Kirstie broke into a run. She saw it now; the rough slipknot, the trailing rope that caught in the bushes as the horse ran.

The other wild horses had reached the ridge and galloped along its length. But the gray mare was winded. She saw the girls, slowed, and wheeled away. Up on her hind legs, front hooves flailing, she whirled back the way she’d come.

But her path was blocked. There was a man scrambling down the mountain toward her; a dark figure in a black hat, the brim pulled well down. He spread his arms wide to threaten the mare, paused to unhitch another rope from his shoulder, then raised it over his head to launch a second lasso.

“Don’t do that!” Kirstie yelled the first words that came into her head. She ran faster, straight at the gray horse.

Caught between them, the mare reared up.

The second rope snaked through the air. Kirstie leaped forward, jumped, and caught it. The man’s harsh voice swore. He jerked at the rope and heaved Kirstie off her feet.

“Let go of the damn rope!” he cried.

She hung on. Her arms felt as if they were being pulled out of their sockets as the stranger dragged her over the rough ground.

“Get out of my way!” he yelled again. “I plan to rope that mare in, and no fool kid’s gonna stop me!”

“Kirstie, let go of the rope!” Lisa begged.

Kirstie was cut and bruised, covered in dirt. But she’d hung on long enough to give the gray horse a chance to get away. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the mare turn on the spot and race along the ridge after the other wild horses. Her white mane and tail streamed in the wind. OK;
now
Kirstie would loosen her grip!

“Damn fool kid!” the man shouted, falling back as the tension on the rope suddenly slackened. He jerked it and began to coil it toward him.

Quickly Lisa helped Kirstie to her feet. She pointed at the scratches on her arms. “You’re bleeding!”

“I’m OK.” Breathing hard, her shoulders and hands hurting, she brushed herself down. “No way was I gonna stand by and watch that!”

“But listen!” Lisa was pulling her urgently away from the angry man. “You know who that is? It’s Bob Tyson!”

Kirstie sniffed then breathed out rapidly, as if she’d been punched in the stomach. “You sure?”

Lisa nodded. “I’ve seen him in the diner.”

Glancing across, Kirstie took in the frowning features under the wide brim of the black hat. The man was unshaven and thickset, wearing a dark gray shirt and old jeans. The large silver buckle of his belt glinted in the light as he finished coiling his lasso and strode toward them.

“I could have roped that horse in if you hadn’t gotten in the way!” he snarled at Kirstie. “You know how long I’d been on her tail? Since sunup. I had her real tired and cut off from the herd. And you had to mess it up!”

Kirstie drew herself up, tall as she could. Her gray eyes flashed as she spoke. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.” Lisa stood alongside. Together they could defy the horse rustler.

“No way does that mare belong in a sale barn!” Kirstie went on angrily. “Her place is here on the mountain. This is where she belongs.”

“Along with the stallion,” Lisa added. She glared at Tyson to let him know they knew what he was up to.

But the man’s face switched at the mention of another horse. His eyes narrowed, he became suspicious. “Stallion?” he repeated.

“Quit pretending you don’t know what I’m saying,” Lisa raced on. “One black stallion in one hidden clearing!”

Kirstie watched Tyson’s frown deepen. His eyes flicked shrewdly from Lisa to herself and back again.

“Oh,
that
black stallion,” he sneered.

“The one you’re gonna take to the sale barn when his leg’s good!” Lisa challenged. “Only you’d better know, we’re not gonna let you!”

“Shh!” Kirstie snatched at her friend’s arm and began to pull her away. “Let’s get out of here!”

“I’m gonna take a stallion to the sale barn when his leg’s good?” Tyson echoed. He glanced thoughtfully up and down the hillside, then along Miners’ Ridge. His gaze rested on the cliff edge and the steep drop into Dead Man’s Canyon. “A stallion in a hidden clearing?”

“Let’s go!” Kirstie insisted.

“Quit pulling me!” Lisa protested. But she gave in when she saw the look of panic on Kirstie’s face. She glanced again at Tyson’s sneering features with a dawning realization of what she’d done.

They left the drifter standing on the ridge, grinning after them. Running for their horses, they mounted and rode away. Away from the old mine entrance and the grassy mounds, away from the stream swollen by meltwater from Eagle’s Peak. Away from Dead Man’s Canyon and the horse in the hidden clearing.

“He didn’t know!” Kirstie gasped at Lisa as they found the trail and pushed Lucky and Cadillac on in any direction as long as it was away from the horse rustler. “I was watching his face all the time you stood up to him, and it hit me right between the eyes. That was the first Tyson ever heard of the black stallion!”

And now Lisa and Kirstie had to pray that the drifter didn’t know the mountain well enough to discover the clearing behind the waterfall.

“After all, even the Forest Guard doesn’t know about it,” Kirstie reminded her friend as they reached level ground and carried on along Five Mile Creek Trail. They tried to convince themselves that Tyson had no chance of finding the stallion. “And no more does Charlie, and he’s been riding these trails with the intermediates since winter.”

“Whereas this guy’s a loner, a drifter. He moves on before he gets to know a place real well.” Lisa nodded hard. “He shoots a few deer, catches a few fish …”

“Builds up a whole pile of debts …” Kirstie added.

“Sells a few horses that don’t belong to him …”

“Until the sheriff rides him out of town.” She wished she felt as confident as they both sounded. She wished her heart would stop thumping and jumping with fear every time she pictured Tyson. Most of all, she wished she could think of a plan to deal with the new emergency.

“I don’t reckon he’ll ever find the way into the clearing!” Lisa insisted. “My guess is, he’ll forget what we told him about the stallion and keep on after the gray mare.”

“I guess.” Kirstie sighed. “But you gotta admit, we’ve been wrong about a whole lot of things …” She tailed off, realizing that they’d jumped to too many conclusions since yesterday, when they’d seized on the idea that it was a drifter up to no good who’d hidden the injured stallion in the clearing.

“You’re right.” Lisa’s face fell. “We can’t rely on Tyson not finding the stallion.”

They were silent for a while, as they rounded a bend in the creek and the scattered, single story log buildings of Half Moon Ranch appeared in the distance.

“What we have to do is beat Tyson at his own game,” Kirstie decided. “Now that he knows about the horse, he’s gonna find him for sure. Sooner or later.”

“Let’s hope it’s later.” Lisa gave Cadillac his head and let him trot for home.

Lucky too gained speed. “So what we do is go back and get the horse out of there before Tyson shows up!” Kirstie insisted. “Only this time, we get your grandpa to come along with his earth-moving machine.”

“Which he plans to do in any case.” Lisa told her that he’d mentioned it again on the drive to Half Moon Ranch that morning. “He knows he’s still gotta move that heap of rocks and clear the entrance to the canyon,” she confirmed.

Encouraged, Kirstie went on. “He bulldozes a way through the landslide while we fetch the horse from the clearing. Sure, the stallion can’t climb up the cliff because of his bad leg, but walking right out of there on a level track once your grandpa’s finished work; that’s different. I reckon he could do that easy.”

Lisa nodded. “It sounds like a pretty good plan… if Grandpa agrees. And your mom too.”

If…if. If they beat Tyson to it. If the bulldozer could be brought across to Dead Man’s Canyon in time. Urging their horses into a lope along the final stretch of flat ground, Kirstie and Lisa raced for the ranch.