Healing the Forest Ranger

by Leigh Bale

  He frowned, taking in the horses’ shaggy condition and boney rib cages. “They’re coming out of winter, but they should be okay now that the grass is growing again.”

  Lyn shook her head. “No grass is growing here. There’s water, but nothing to eat. This meadow should be filled with needle and thread grass and three-awns.”

  Cade knew the names of the vegetation well. “The horses must be eating something.”

  He pointed at a herd grazing along the stream. From this distance the mustangs didn’t seem agitated, but they lifted their heads, ears pricked forward as they peered at the human intruders. Gus stood at attention, but he didn’t move. And he wouldn’t, not unless Cade gave him a command.

  “They’re here for the water, not food,” Lyn observed.

  “They’ll find grass elsewhere.” They always did. But even Cade knew they wouldn’t eat the dried cheatgrass and patches of mule’s ear blotting the landscape below.

  “Not in this meadow, nor the hills surrounding us,” she said. “These horses need Great Basin wild rye and western wheatgrass. With all this cheatgrass, we’ll be fighting wildfire up here by July. There won’t be any palatable feed late in the year for wild animals to bring their young up to eat. Adult animals need healthy grass in order to produce milk for their young. And there won’t be any.”

  “They’ll find it on the other side of the mountain,” Cade insisted, trying to be positive. Trying to ignore the sinking feeling that settled in his stomach.

  Lyn tilted her head back for several moments as if accepting the inevitable. Then she looked at him, her gold eyes drilling into his. “There’s no water over there, Cade. It’s a long journey back and forth. They’ll burn off any calories they take in. That’ll be awfully hard on their young.”

  He stared at her, unable to answer. For centuries, the mustangs had roamed these lands, brought here by the Spaniards. They’d always been here. Of course, he couldn’t remember their herds being so numerous in the past. He couldn’t remember ever seeing so many wild horses before.

  “These horses will starve to death, beginning with the young foals.” A raw sadness filled Lyn’s voice.

  Cade didn’t like her prediction. His expression must have told her so.

  “Sorry, but I can’t sugarcoat it, Cade. We have to do something. Wildlife populations like deer and antelope are controlled through hunting and natural predators. Cows are controlled by the limits outlined in the grazing permits we issue to ranchers. But horses were introduced here by mankind. We don’t hunt them, and they have few natural enemies. Federal law prohibits people from capturing or harassing them. So their herds keep growing. Starvation will thin out the herds, but it’s a cruel way to die. I don’t want to ignore the situation and lose our desert bighorn sheep and other wildlife, too.”

  He agreed, but surely something could be done to help these horses survive without moving them.

  “Look at that!” He pointed toward an isolated place upstream where three bighorn sheep stood waiting.

  Lyn gazed at the animals for several moments. “They want water, but they can’t drink here.”

  Cade didn’t understand. Of course they could drink. The creek was here for the taking. “Why do you say that?”

  She nodded toward the bands of horses languishing around the creek beds. “Most wild animals come in and drink, then leave. But not horses. They mill around and stay forever. It’s in their nature. But it damages the creek and keeps other smaller animals like deer and elk from being able to drink. In the process of waiting, the bighorn sheep lose precious feeding time.”

  She nudged her horse forward down the gentle incline and he followed, taking her lead. Gus padded after them, his paws raising puffs of dust into the air.

  As they reached the bottom of the hill, one band of mustangs began to amble away from the stream, not liking the nearness of the man and woman. The bighorn sheep followed right behind the wild horses, finally able to dip their heads toward the water for a long drink.

  Lyn pulled up her Appaloosa, sitting quietly and watching. “The bighorn must be desperate for water to stay and drink even with us so nearby. The only reason they’re surviving here is because the stream is long enough that they can find places to slip into that aren’t monopolized by the horses.”

  Cade’s mouth tightened as he thought this over. He’d promised to be open-minded, but he hadn’t expected her to point these things out with such clarity. Seeing how the bands of mustangs hoarded the creek surprised him. The meadow seemed so desolate now.

  Dead.

  “Notice there are very few sage grouse here also. They’re endangered now,” she said.

  “Because of the mustangs?” Impossible.

  She nodded. “The horses wipe out the vegetation along the streams. The sage grouse eat seeds, young sprouts and insects along the waterways. No vegetation means no bugs and nothing for the sage grouse to eat. The little birds just can’t compete with the big horses.”

  He didn’t like this explanation, but couldn’t help remembering a time when his grandfather brought him here to this exact meadow to hunt sage grouse. Now the bird was in danger of extinction. That made his heart ache. “I never really thought about the impact larger animals have on vegetation and that it filters down to the food source for birds.”

  She nodded. “And fish. It really requires balance within the entire watershed. And right now, this ecosystem is seriously out of balance.”

  The afternoon sun beat down on them, and Cade wiped a bead of moisture from his brow. Lyn dismounted and he joined her, reaching into his saddlebags for their lunch. For almost an hour, they sat against the hill and surveyed the happenings below. They spoke in muted tones as they ate the thick roast-beef sandwiches and fresh fruit he’d prepared. Lyn tossed pieces of meat to Gus, and Cade popped the lid on a bottle of water and poured it into a bowl for the dog.

  “Thanks for lunch. This is delicious,” Lyn said with a smile.

  A smidgeon of mayonnaise blotted the corner of her mouth. Cade reached up and wiped it away with his finger. Touching her soft skin sent a current of electricity through him as she drew back in surprise. Looking away, he ignored the flush of embarrassment heating his face. He felt too comfortable around this woman. She was too easy to talk to. He mustn’t forget who she was, or his resolve to save the mustangs.

  “Thanks.” She gave a low laugh and wiped her mouth with a kerchief.

  “Have you named all these stallions?” He nodded toward the horses, reminding himself this outing was all about business.

  “Yes, and some of the bachelor stallions, too.”

  “What do you call that stud over there?” He pointed at a piebald with a black mane. Very pretty.

  “Ira.”

  “That’s an odd name for a horse,” he said.

  “Yeah, it comes from the Bible and means watchful. Notice he’s always standing at attention? He’s the watchdog of the group. He drinks last, after his mares and foals have had their fill. A very attentive father.”

  Cade grunted. He hadn’t expected this woman to be so observant of the horses’ traits, or versed in the Bible, either. His entire family had demonized forest rangers. He’d never considered that they might love the Lord like he did. “You read the Bible often?”

  She shook her head and scowled. “Not lately.”

  He didn’t push the subject. It wasn’t his business. But he sensed something in her tone. A twinge of bitterness he figured must have something to do with losing her husband. Instead, he jutted his chin toward a honey-colored palomino. “And that one?”

  “Beeswax. He’s always agitated and in everyone else’s business. Notice how he never stands still? And see that ugly scar on his rump? It’s old, but I’ll bet he had a run-in with a mountain lion when he was a colt.”

  Cade fully agreed wi
th her assessment.

  “And what about that one over there?” He pointed at a powerfully built blue roan. All the other horses moved away when he came near. Next to Buck, he was easily the largest stallion in the valley.

  “That’s Brutus.”

  A laugh burst from Cade’s throat. “You put a lot of thought into your names.”

  She laughed, too, the sound high and sweet. “Just calling it like I see it.”

  And with a lot of accuracy. Cade was surprised to discover he enjoyed being near this woman. She was smart and had a fun sense of humor. She made him laugh, something he hadn’t done much of in a long time.

  “I used to think about starting up an outfitters business in the area,” he confided. “I thought I could serve as a guide for people who want to ride and take pack horses deep into the mountains to view the wilderness areas.”

  “Why haven’t you done it?”

  He threw the last piece of his sandwich to Gus, who caught it midair. “I figured it would take me away from my medical office too much.”

  “Maybe you should think about it again,” she suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe I should.” But he wouldn’t. Though he loved traveling into the high mountains, doing it all the time, for a living, didn’t seem to fit with what the Lord wanted him to do. Instead, he felt as though God wanted him to stay near town where he could serve others with his medical degree.

  Once the bighorn sheep had taken their fill of water, they moved up the canyon on the other side of the creek and disappeared from view. Seeming agitated by the scent of people so close to their location, the herds of horses gradually left, until only Buck’s band remained.

  “I still haven’t seen the black filly.” Even Cade was starting to worry about the foal and her dam.

  “Let’s go down and take a look, shall we?” Lyn stood and brushed off her pants before gathering up the remnants of their meal and stowing the trash inside her saddlebags.

  She stepped up on her horse. Cade joined her, admiring her fluid grace. He didn’t know many women who rode as well as Lyn, even more surprising since she didn’t own a horse and refused to let Kristen ride.

  Down beside the stream, she shook her head in disgust. “The sedges and willows are almost gone. Nothing but mud here. Notice all the horse tracks around?”

  He nodded, wishing the horses hadn’t done this damage. But he’d seen it with his own eyes and couldn’t deny it. “What plants should be growing here?”

  “Sedges and Great Basin wild rye are key to a healthy meadow. They’re also more fire resistant because they stay green longer than cheatgrass. Without willows, there’s no overhang along the creek to protect the fish and their spawning beds. The water gets too warm for eggs to hatch, so the fish die off.”

  “You got any cattle feeding up here?” He wanted to make sure cows weren’t helping cause this problem.

  “Nope. We haven’t allowed grazing permittees in this area for six years. This is all wild horse–caused damage, and it needs to be repaired soon.”

  His gaze combed the torn-up slopes of the banks where the horses had decimated every bit of plant life and were now destroying the creek.

  “Can we do something about it without removing any of the mustangs?” he asked.

  “We can definitely seed the area with healthy plants, but the horses would eat it down before it could gain any growth. We can either remove some of the mustangs or fence off the area. And I don’t have the budget for building a fence. It’s cheaper to call in the BLM to remove some of the horses than it is to build a fence that the horses can break through.”

  His heart plunged. “Surely the taxpayers can contribute to keeping the wild horses free. The mustangs are a symbol of our national heritage.”

  Lyn paused as though choosing her words carefully. “All of these animals are part of our national heritage. Not just the horses. The public does pay taxes, but the funds only go so far. For some people, this problem becomes an emotional issue, not a rational, ecological issue. I have to remain impartial and do what is right, even if I think a wild horse with a cute little foal is more appealing than a brown Angus cow. Our nation needs them both, Cade. We can’t let the horses destroy things any more than we can let the cows and sheep overgraze the land. Something must be done to mediate this problem.”

  His shoulders tensed. He’d received a harsh lesson today. He’d been so certain the horses couldn’t be doing any harm. Learning he was wrong was a difficult pill to swallow. Lyn had shown him things he’d never noticed before. Educating him in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to accept.

  “The horses used to run free across this nation. There wasn’t any problem then. What changed?” he asked.

  Lyn loosened her grip on the reins, speaking in a soothing voice. “Man is here. We now have towns, cities and highways all across the land. Are you going to tell thousands of people they can’t live in our towns because their houses and businesses are in the way of the mustangs?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “That’s right. So in the meantime, we have to manage the resources we still have available. And that includes the wild horses. Why should they be treated any differently just because they’re prettier than a cow or an elk? We eat cows and hunt elk, but no one hunts horses. No matter what we do, some of the mustangs will need to be moved off this range.”

  No! Not another roundup. Not if he could stop it.

  Her words hung in the air like frost. He didn’t respond. Not when he couldn’t argue with her reasoning. But his stomach tightened when he thought of rounding up the mares and new foals. Young and weak horses sometimes died during roundups. The mustangs got separated from their family herds. He couldn’t stand for that to happen.

  He was quiet as they rode back in the opposite direction from which they’d come. Neither one spoke much, both lost in their own thoughts. And that’s when he saw the ravens, flying in a cluster over a deep gully ahead of them. Flash’s ears pricked forward. Gus paused, then issued a series of staccato barks. Lyn’s mare jigged to the side, head up and nostrils flared. All the animals sensed something wrong.

  “What do you think it is?” Lyn asked.

  “Carrion. Those ravens are getting ready for dinner.”

  Lyn released a deep sigh of apprehension. “Let’s go take a look, but be cautious. I don’t carry a gun.”

  “I do.”

  She jerked her head around to look at him, obviously surprised by his admission.

  “Don’t worry. It’s legal,” he said. “I only carry it for protection. You can’t be too careful out here in the wilderness. Lots of bears and mountain lions.”

  She seemed to accept his explanation. He admired her courage, working in these mountains without a way to protect herself. Against his resolve not to, he liked her more and more.

  As they galloped across the expanse of sagebrush, he realized he’d enjoyed this outing even if he didn’t like the outcome. He’d learned that Lyndsy Warner was an intelligent, compassionate woman.

  Surely they could come up with a better resolution than moving the mustangs. The Toyakoi Tribe wasn’t prepared to tolerate a wild-horse roundup without trying to thwart it.

  And that meant going up against Lyn. Something Cade now dreaded.

  Chapter Five

  A hoarse squeal echoed through the canyon, filled with pain and fear. Startled by the horrible sound, Lyn jerked on the reins. Apple jittered among the loose gravel on the incline, resisting Lyn’s command to walk forward. Cade’s horse acted much the same, tugging on the reins as the flock of ravens darted through the air, almost directly overhead.

  Only Gus acted eager to see what was in the gully. He plowed ahead, picking his way over the sharp rocks, his tail high. Though she dreaded what they might find, Lyn stepped off Apple and tied the horse securely
to the skeletal remains of a juniper tree. Cade did likewise, neither one of them speaking as they walked the rest of the way down the ravine.

  “Gus, stay.” Cade pointed at the dog, who immediately sat, gazing at the scene with intelligent eyes.

  On the floor of the gulch, a chestnut mare lay on her side on the sunbaked earth. Her coat gleamed with sweat and blood. White saliva frothed at her mouth, her duress palpable in her wheezing breaths. She squealed in agony, a deep, wrenching sound that nearly broke Lyn’s heart.

  The cause was easy to discern. The mare’s right front leg had received a compound fracture. The horse couldn’t rise and walk no matter how hard she tried. Without intervention, she would die a long, cruel death.

  The black foal with the white tail and mane stood close beside her dam. The filly’s tiny squeals indicated her alarm as she nuzzled her mother’s face.

  “What must have happened?” Lyn breathed the words, taking in the situation with one glance. No wonder she hadn’t seen the foal and her mother among the other horses in the valley.

  “The mare probably stepped in a hole and broke her leg,” Cade murmured, his voice tight with empathy. “Possibly evading a predator, or simply galloping across this bumpy ground. One misstep can mean life or death out here.”

  Together, they approached the downed horse. The animal thrashed about, trying valiantly to rise but falling back to the ground in an exhausted heap. She nickered to her baby, her breath coming in shallow puffs.

  “There, momma,” Lyn soothed. “We only want to help.”

  The filly skittered away, but soon returned. Too young to fully understand the potential danger. Desperate for the protection of her mother.

  While Cade knelt beside the injured horse, Lyn easily caught and looped her arms around the neck of the foal. The baby immediately quieted, her breath rushing through her lungs in an anxious exhale. Too immature to know Lyn was human and that she should fight for her freedom. Without help, the baby would die.

  “Is there anything you can do?” Lyn spoke softly to Cade, trying not to upset the mustangs any more than they already were.