Blue was about to respond when, from the corner of her eye, she saw the man. He was standing behind a tree, staring directly at her. Blue bolted, hooves flying up mud and great handfuls of earth behind her as she swept toward Doe and toward the water trail and her family and the protection of her father until her flight was arrested by a small, plaintive sound that somehow cut through the storm’s furious noise and the panic that filled her mind: Shadow’s cry. Throwing up her head, Blue stopped. She looked back and realized that Doe was nowhere near. She’d managed to drag the great stone that tethered her leg partway up the trail but she could not run like her sister. And she, too, had abandoned her struggle to heed Shadow’s cry.
Frozen, the sisters watched the man approach the foal. He called out, and another man emerged from the damp shadows of the trees. Blue snorted and pawed at the ground. The second man joined the first a few yards away from Shadow. In their hands they carried what looked to Blue to be long coils of vines. As they moved toward Shadow, the foal called again to her sisters—and Blue charged.
The men scattered at her furious approach, mud flying from her hooves, clouds of steam billowing from her nostrils. She could hear Doe behind her, fighting to keep up. Blue stopped between Shadow and the men, and the men stopped, too. They faced each other for several moments. Blue didn’t know what to do, or even what sort of threat this was. She had only seen men in the distance; she didn’t know what they did, how they struck. Her father had always run from them, driving the herd before him, and every nerve in Blue’s body told her to run, run away as fast as she could. But what would happen to Shadow?
There was no time to think and barely time to react: The first man threw out his vine and Blue heard it whistle past her head. She bolted, springing like a cat to her left, then quickly putting her body once again in front of the foal. The rope sang out again and again and Blue leaped and pirouetted away from it while trying to stay close to Shadow. Several times she almost lost her footing in the mud and she came close to stepping on the frightened filly, but she didn’t give up. Whatever this strange fight was, she would win it.
Then Doe went down. Blue didn’t see it happen. She just turned and there was her sister, stretched out in the mud with a rope encircling her neck. She heard the cries of the men, though she couldn’t understand them.
I caught that purty one! I got her!
Tie ’er down and help me with this hellion, then.
Whaddya wanna do with the foal?
Might as well let her go. She looks half dead anyways. We can’t mess with no sick pony. Now get yer butt over here!
And then Blue felt the rope fall down, almost gently, over her withers.
She fought. Blue fought so hard that it took the weight of both men to bring her to her knees. She felt a prick, a sting in her neck, and gradually her wild thrashing slowed. She was so tired. Too tired to struggle as they forced her up the ramp into the truck. She could hear Doe’s terrified whinnies, and then Doe was there beside her. Blue tried to raise her head to touch her sister’s muzzle but it was such an effort. The strange world, the strange, dangerous world swam before her eyes. She could see the second man crouched over Shadow, worrying at the thing that had hurt Shadow’s leg. The rain seemed to wash her vision out. And just as her eyes clouded over to sleep, Blue saw her father, running over the hill toward her. She lifted her head once, and then the world went black.
CHAPTER 4
The ground shook with the rolling thunder of the storm. Was it ever going to stop storming? She had to rise, to join the herd. How strange that she’d fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable position—slumped against this rock, her legs bunched awkwardly beneath her. And the smell … another animal had been here. Something with a harsh, unfamiliar odor. She had to leave this place, to find her father. He had been running toward her, hadn’t he? Would he find her?
As her eyes came into focus, Blue made out dirty walls hemming in closely around her. She wouldn’t find her father here, not in this rocking, smelly, narrow place. She was half lying on a plank that had been thrust into the trailer, the rope around her neck twisted under her body. Blue wanted to rise, but the motion of the ground below frightened her. She felt as if the floor were threatening to split open, dragging her back into darkness. It had been so dark after the rope fell, after she stopped being able to fight. Blue had never had darkness come upon her like that before.
She listened for a while to the sounds that filled the unnatural cavity in which she’d woken. There was a regular shush shush shush and a confusing cacophony of creaks and rumbles. Sometimes the shhhushhh would grow louder, almost as if a wave of water were rushing past her cavern. And she could hear the wind—the one familiar voice. Light seeped in through a thin crevice in the wall above her. If she could get to her feet, perhaps she could see more clearly where she was.
Cautiously, Blue shifted her weight to the right, forcing her forelegs out from beneath her. The space in which she tried to maneuver was so small that her hooves scraped the wall in front of her. Her body didn’t want to obey her: She felt weak, drained of energy, fearful. Like Shadow trying to rise. The memory of her brave, forlorn sister woke Blue up—Where was Shadow? Where was Doe?—and, summoning the unexpected strength of the small, pale filly, Blue braced her trembling legs and forced herself to her feet with a groan. And as soon as the sound left her, it was met by an eager whinny in reply!
Blue thrust her muzzle to the vent high in the wall to her right and breathed in Doe’s warm, beloved scent, and she could feel her sister’s breath just grazing her whiskers in return. Suddenly, her prison was bearable, for it was where her sister was. Her spirits braced with each breath she drew, Blue propped her hooves sturdily apart and stood straight, trying to avoid the slick spots of waste and water that pooled at her feet. Her legs shook with the effort to stay upright, but she did. Anything to draw Doe’s comforting presence nearer.
But Blue did not forget to look across at the other opening in the wall that had first caught her eye. Whickering softly to Doe to tell her she was still close, Blue stuck her muzzle to the slats of the left-hand vent to sniff the outside air. It smelled of rain, but also of men—the smell of the Chevy, an acrid, bitter fume. Blue snorted with distaste and returned to her sister.
Shadow? she called.
No, Doe whinnied. Only us.
A great sorrow filled Blue’s heart as she thought of her fallen sister and wondered what had happened to her. The men had apparently left her … but was she still trapped? Would their father be able to rescue her? Blue’s mind swam wearily and she leaned against the partition between her and Doe, trying again to draw as near to her as possible.
She had no sense of how much time had passed since the rope had fallen around her neck and everything had gone so dark. Now that she was on her feet, reassured of Doe, and managing to stay upright despite her weakness and the treacherous rocking of the ground, Blue realized she was very, very thirsty. And this was the most perplexing thing of all: Never had she been physically unable to try to fill a need. She had never been not free. As this feeling swept through her, as strong and hot as her raging thirst, a terrible ache filled Blue’s chest, a pain that had no physical source, and that left her so tired that she succumbed again to sleep.
* * *
What you boys got back there?
Two of them cayuse you told us about. Trapped ’em up near the old loggin’ road.
Can’t have.
Why’s that, old-timer?
Well, for the one thing, they ain’t yours to take. For the t’other, those wild creatures wouldn’t be caught, that’s all.
Well, they was.
Lemme see ’em.
A pause, then suddenly: daylight, flooding in behind Blue, making her turn her head so sharply that she rapped her muzzle on the partition dividing her from Doe. She swiveled her eyes and ears backward and could make out three shadowy figures lined against the glare that hurt her dark-accustomed eyes. Men. She could smell them,
too. The smoky, sooty smell. With as much force as she could muster, Blue lashed out a hind leg once, twice, the echoing crash of her hoof against the metal trailer gate frightening her, frightening Doe, who let out a squeal as she, too, kicked back at the unreachable enemy just outside.
Now you b’lieve me?
You had no business takin’ those horses. They ain’t yours nor nobody else’s for the takin’.
Well, what good are they, runnin’ around them mountains? They’d prob’ly just starve. They’re all runty.
T’ain’t runty. It’s the way they’re built—small and tough. Those horses been up in those hills since anyone round here can remember and they ain’t starved yet. You better fetch ’em back where you took ’em from. I’d never have mentioned ’em if I’d thought you boys—
Just pump the gas, mister.
What’dja do, dope ’em? They got any water in there?
Mister, I’m tellin’ you …
And I’m tellin’ you fools that if you don’t take those horses back, I’ll call the law on you.
What law we breakin’ by takin’ varmint horses that don’t b’long to nobody?
I’ll think a one.
Outta my way, old man.
To Blue and Doe, the words had about as much meaning as the growls and snaps of a coyote pack, but they could hear the anger building in the men’s voices, and now they heard the sounds of a scuffle and loud curses, and they could smell fear and sweat. One man went down, and with a shout, his attacker slammed shut the trailer doors and all was dark again. Blue heard footsteps, the Chevy belched into life, and then the world’s rocking began again, accompanied by the shush shush of the rainy asphalt outside.
* * *
When light came again, Blue’s thirst had reached a fever pitch. A sour, rough coating papered her tongue, and she licked at the walls, hoping to find some stray drop of rain. She could hear Doe’s labored breathing beside her and knew her sister was as thirsty as she was.
This time the lights that flooded through their cavern were not daylight but flashing, lightninglike blue and red bolts. Blue was torn between fear and thirst, anger and thirst, the need to run and thirst. She stood trembling, though the floor was still. A tall man, larger than any of the others, approached the trailer and shone another light inside, a light that danced around Blue’s head like an enormous firefly.
… follow you back to old man Ryder’s place and call the Bureau from there. Don’t think of tryin’ anything.
With the creak of hinges and a metallic clang, the doors shut and the dark and thirst returned.
* * *
The third time the doors opened, they stayed open. Night had fallen and the only light that reached the trailer was the yellow glare of the lamps illuminating the small parking lot of the gas station. Blue could hear crickets and the rumble of trucks from the distant highway. This time she didn’t lash out when the doors opened. She waited to see what would happen next, and she kept her nose by Doe’s.
The man from the Bureau won’t get here till tomorrow. You got a place to put these animals?
Pen out back should hold ’em fine. I put out water and feed.
If you say so, Ezra. You boys back this trailer up to the pen. God almighty, you’re lucky we don’t hang horse thieves no more.
Who we stole ’em from, I’d like to know?
Just back the durn trailer up.
The doors stayed open, so Blue could partially see the strange things the trailer passed as it made its way slowly toward the small corral tucked behind the shotgun house that Ezra Penahwenonmi Ryder called home. The house abutted his gas station, off a highway service road, and it backed up against a scrub forest much like those that dotted the lower regions of Blue and Doe’s range. Blue could smell the pine and the fresh night air and she whinnied plaintively to the half-familiar land.
Two men approached the trailer, and Blue pinned her ears back, recognizing the smell of the ones who had caught her. She breathed deeply, memorizing the enemy’s odor. She would never forget. But as she inhaled, another scent pushed through the men’s, the scent of something she’d been craving for so long that she almost feared it was an illusion: water! Suddenly, the lower half of the doors swung open, and Blue could feel the night breeze tickling her hocks. Behind her, surely, was freedom. But so were the men!
The rope around her neck tightened, startling her. The men were trying to pull her backward, and from Doe’s shrill whinny, she, too, was being attacked. Blue threw her body forward, slamming her head against the wall in front of her. If the men wanted her out, she would stay in!
That ain’t the way to do it. I toldja to just let ’em smell the water and they’ll come out on their own. I got a pot a coffee on in the station—let’s leave ’em alone and see how they do.
As the footsteps crunched away in the gravel, the men’s smell lessened and the painfully sweet smell of the water grew stronger. Still, Blue waited, ears swiveling to catch the least noise from the darkness behind her, her sensitive nostrils distended. Pine and water and rock. The Chevy smell. Doe’s smell. The lingering animal smell of the trailer … the smell of men. It was still there. But so was the water! Beside her, Doe was stirring restlessly, obviously as undecided and wary as her sister. Blue heard the thud of her hooves as Doe stamped and tried a tentative backward step. Still, Blue waited. She waited so long that she almost wore out the men’s patience. But just before the coffeepot was drained and the sheriff and Mr. Ryder and the two grumpy cowboys eased out of their chairs, Blue’s thirst won out over her caution. Slipping a little, she stepped back into the unknown—one, two, three hesitant steps—and then she lost her footing and slid the rest of the way down the ramp. Bounding up as her hooves hit dirt, Blue bolted away from the hated trailer, calling to her sister to join her, and seconds later, the mustangs had buried their muzzles in the cool, clear trough of water that the old man had filled in anticipation of his guests.
* * *
Morning broke with a clear, pale blue sky over the hills beyond the corral. The two young mustangs stood in the shadows of the white pine trees at the farthest end of the enclosure. Neither had touched the hay piled by the gate—after drinking their fill the night before, Blue and Doe had fled for the semi-shelter of the end of the corral closest to the forest, farthest from the men. There they had waited—for what, Blue didn’t know. She didn’t know any of the rules of this new world, so she stood on alert, tense and stiff from the hours in the trailer, trying to make sense of her new surroundings.
The men who had caught them had left in the night, and the smell of the Chevy and the animal-waste smell of the trailer were now gone. Blue could still smell men, and fire, and some sort of smoke from the buildings, and she waited, on guard in case they came back. She couldn’t even relax to groom with Doe, who stood miserably pressed by the back fence, dried blood caking her fetlock, which was still encircled by the metal snare. The sisters drew comfort from each other’s presence and warmth and smell, but their fear also kept them apart.
Both mustangs spooked when the screen door at the back of the house creaked open and Ezra Penahwenonmi Ryder, himself a bit creaky, eased down the cement-block steps to fetch the water hose.
Mornin’, ladies. See you ain’t touched your feed.
The sound was strange, of course, but the tone wasn’t threatening, not like the men in the truck. And then more odd noises came from the lean, crooked figure, now ambling over to refill the water trough. Blue cocked her head and backed farther into the corner of the irregular corral, away from the man’s voice. Mr. Ryder would have been the first to admit that his singing wasn’t tuneful, but he hadn’t intended to frighten the fillies. The sound continued, and the man came no farther than the trough, so Blue and Doe stayed put and did not bolt again. Eventually the man retreated back into his house, and the fillies began a cautious exploration of their new surroundings.
But the small, scrubby enclosure was not to be their home for much longer. After a while,
another trailer pulled into the gas station’s parking lot, and the voices of two new men came filtering over the warm morning air, along with the slamming of doors and rustling noises from unseen animals within. Blue caught the scent of horses and she froze, fixing her attention at the gate, though she and Doe remained in their shady corner. Soon three men approached the gate and leaned against it, looking right back at her. Blue bolted, racing down the far end of the corral, wheeling in the dust, and racing back to Doe. There was nowhere to run to.
Where in the world did two wild Appaloosa mustangs come from around here? There ain’t a Bureau of Land Management herd anywhere this far north in Idaho. That’s a fact. There’s the herd in Challis and the one in Owyhee, but they ain’t got no Appaloosas.
I told you, two cowboys picked ’em up, and I think they was plannin’ on sellin’ ’em to the slaughterhouse. If they had a plan, which I sorta doubt.
But where’d they find the fillies, Mr. Ryder? That’s my question.
Silence. Blue shifted closer to Doe and nuzzled her sister’s flank. The men continued to stare at them, but they hadn’t moved yet, nor did they have ropes.
I guess I don’t know.
The sheriff said y’all had a band of Appaloosa mustangs up in those hills. A local legend, he said.
You’d have to ask Bud about that, then. I just want these girls to have a good home … if they can’t … get back to where they came from. You can make sure they get adopted?
Certainly try. They’re interesting looking, that’s for sure. Small, but those coats! Yep, they should go quick.
Wish I could keep ’em, but this place ain’t set up for horses and I’m too old to mess with it.
Sure you don’t want to tell us where they came from, Mr. Ryder? Bureau needs to know if there are wild horses on public or private land. There are laws about herd regulation and management, protectin’ ranchers …
Wild Blue - The Story of a Mustang Appaloosa Page 3
