The Island Horse

by Susan Hughes

  The roundup was in two days.

  Ellie stared at him, his long mane, his thick chocolatey-brown coat like velvet. Orchid tugged at the tough grass. The muscles in his powerful neck flexed. He chewed, his jaw sliding from side to side. He was a Sable Island horse, tough as the marram grass but as beautiful as the orchids she and her father had received on their first day here.

  She whispered it to him. “You are as beautiful as orchids.”

  The horse’s lashes lifted, and he gazed at Ellie.

  She stared back into his eyes. Again, a moment of wonder, fragile and delicate.

  Ellie heard a neigh in the distance. Instantly, the horse’s head turned, and his ears flicked forward, searching.

  She turned and saw them, across the dunes. Finally! Orchid’s herd. Her heart caught in her mouth. Five horses. Five oh-so-beautiful horses. The same ones she had seen on her very first day here.

  One was the smallish yearling with a chestnut coat, likely born the previous spring. It sprang about on strong legs, nipping at its mother’s flank, wanting to play, or maybe just dance.

  The two mares were also the color of chestnuts, their coats a glossy tangle. Some of their long winter coats remained, and were dropping.

  The two foals tripped along behind them. They were tiny. So tiny! marveled Ellie. But sturdy. Their tails were short little whisks that flicked, flicked, flicked. The foals were chocolatey-brown, the color a mirror of their father’s coat. And they had his markings, too. The white patch on his forehead, the thin white stripe down his nose, his dark mane and tail. They are his little ones all right, Ellie thought with a grin. This is his herd.

  The foals waited. Flick, flick. The mares waited, too, and the yearling. Patient. Bending their heads down to snatch a mouthful of grass. They would wait forever if they had to. They were his herd.

  The stallion tossed his head. He snorted. Whuff. And he cantered over to join them.

  Ellie smiled again and wrapped her arms around her knees. She settled in to watch Orchid and his family. She would happily watch forever, if she could.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Later, back at the station, Ellie’s happiness was chased away by worries about the roundup. Ellie couldn’t think of anything else. At dinner, she saw horses being pursued and corralled. As she tried to sleep that night, she saw horses being roped and lifted. The horses shrieking, kicking. The horses leaving the island forever.

  Ellie knew she had to do something to prevent Orchid from being captured, hoisted onto a boat and shipped to the mainland. Maybe his mares were at risk, too. Maybe the yearling, the foals even. Ellie had to help. But how? What could she do?

  On Friday morning, she looked at her father as he sipped his tea. He was leaving for patrol duty soon. Perhaps he could help, somehow.

  But what if I tell Pa and he won’t believe me? Won’t believe I have a secret friendship with a wild island horse? she worried. Or what if he doesn’t want to help? Can’t help? What if he has to join in the roundup and help capture Orchid? What if it’s part of his job?

  And there was something else preventing her from telling. There was something fragile between her and the horse, something impossible. Ross had said, “You can’t get too close. They’re just too wild.” Yet fear had not come between Orchid and her, the fear a wild horse might feel for a human. Orchid had come to trust her, and she him. Whatever it was connecting them seemed reliable. Safe. But if Ellie told, the telling might change that. The fragile something might break. And she would lose him.

  So Ellie let her father go out on patrol and didn’t say a word about the horse.

  She wondered if Sarah would come that day. Sarah had offered help. “If you ever need me,” she had said, “fly a white flag.” Maybe Sarah would come and Ellie could find a way to talk to her about Orchid. Even though Ellie wasn’t certain about Sarah yet, time was running out. The roundup was tomorrow.

  But the day passed, and Sarah did not come.

  Then it was Friday night. Ellie went to bed and closed her eyes, and she saw it all again: Orchid being chased and corralled. Being roped and lifted, shrieking and kicking. Leaving forever. Leaving her, leaving his home, his herd.

  “Pa?”

  She found him in the kitchen. The fire had almost died down. He looked up at her and smiled, stretching his arms. “Just about to turn in,” he said. “Everything all right?”

  “Pa, there’s a horse, a wild horse …” she began.

  Ellie’s father wrapped her special quilt around her, and settled her in a chair. He stirred up the fire. The wood blazed, then steadied. He pulled up a seat next to Ellie and listened.

  She told him about the island horse, and what he meant to her. She described seeing him for the first time. About how she had visited him several times. She reminded him of what Ross had told them, about the roundup.

  Ellie talked, and her father listened closely.

  Finally she dipped her head, and her hands were dashed with tears. “I’m afraid. The stallion is in danger, Pa. And maybe his herd as well.”

  Her father was careful and calm, and he didn’t hesitate. He said quietly, “I’ll help you, Ellie. I’m not sure yet what I can do, but of course I’ll help you.” He pulled his chair even closer to hers. He tucked the quilt around her snugly. “Now, let’s just get comfortable here. I’ll need to think for a while.”

  Ellie lifted her face to him at once. Her eyes, full of hope, searched his. She saw he would do anything for her. Then she rested her head on his arm, and they sat together. Ellie watched the fire dance. She watched as the fire burned low.

  Then Ellie, half-waking, felt her father lifting her, carrying her to bed.

  In the morning, Ellie started awake. It’s Saturday! she thought in alarm. She ran to her father’s bedroom, saw the empty bed and hurried to the kitchen. A lantern was lit. The sun was just rising.

  Ellie’s father was standing at the table, drinking a cup of tea. “Ellie,” he said, upon seeing her, as if there had been no sleep, no night in between their last shared words. “I’ve only been able to come up with a simple plan. I’ve thought long and hard, and this is all I have come up with.” He shook his head. “I don’t think we can appeal to the other men. I don’t think that would work.”

  Ellie nodded. She knew he was right.

  “So here it is. I agree your horse is in danger — likely not the yearling or the foals, but possibly the mares, because they could be broken to ride or to pull a wagon.” He paused. “Do you think you could drive the stallion, gently, or somehow lead him? Take a rope, maybe, and lead him, and perhaps the herd might follow?” Her father was looking at her hopefully. “Ellie, could you try? Because it’s all I can think of. If you could head east with the horse, you could go to the sand hills.” He took her slate from the table and quickly drew another map of the island.

  “Here we are, here.” He pointed. “And here, past the end of Lake Wallace, eastward along the south shore, are the sand hills. They’re isolated. Just off the beach. Out of the way. I think if you tried to go there with the horse, you might be able to hide him and the rest of the herd among these big dunes.”

  He made a semicircle with his fingertip around the area. “The roundup doesn’t begin until midday. I’ll head over to join the men now. Eat lunch with them at Main Station. And then I’ll try to steer them away from those hills, move them to the west, north or east of there,” he promised. “I don’t know how I’ll do it. They’ll expect me to follow along, it being my first time. I’ll have to think of something. Fall off Cora. Play the fool.” He smiled and shrugged. “Pretend to know things I don’t.”

  Ellie listened intently as her father spoke. Her heart filled. He would do this for her!

  “It’s all I can think of,” he apologized, but it was everything to Ellie.

  Her father finished his te
a, and then, as he rose, the sun’s first rays slanted across the sea. He buttered some bread, took it in his hand and hurried to the door. “Good-bye, Ellie. Good luck,” he cried. “Be careful no one sees you along the way!”

  “All right, Pa,” she agreed. “Thank you!”

  He gave a wave. She watched by the window as he saddled up Cora, and she watched as he galloped away to join the roundup riders. Ellie wanted to hug him. With all her heart, she wished she had hugged him. But he was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ellie quickly went and got dressed. She wasn’t hungry, but she knew she would be out all day. She cut two slices of bread and buttered them. She slipped the buttered bread into her pocket, for later, along with several slices of cheese, an apple and a jar of cold tea. Then she put on her boots and her sweater, and she hurried outside. Quickly she milked the cow and fed the chickens. The other chores could wait.

  She was about to head to the sand dunes, to Orchid, when she saw the flagstaff there, tall. Silent.

  She heard Sarah’s words again: “Ellie, if you ever need me, fly a white flag on your flagstaff, and I’ll come.”

  Oh, I need her now. I need her very much, Ellie knew.

  She raced back into the house to her bedroom. She grabbed her special white quilt, and was rushing through the kitchen when she saw the orchids on the table. Pink and magenta.

  Ellie was holding the quilt her mother had made for her, and there were the orchids that her mother would never see, and she was remembering the magenta that was her mother’s favorite color. She had lost her mother and her home. Was she going to lose her island horse as well?

  She was underwater, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t speak. Ellie pressed her face into the quilt and missed her mother, for always.

  But then, as she stood in the kitchen, and it seemed to her that the waves were crashing over her and she was sure she was drowning, suddenly she heard the wind blowing again, and she felt the sun shining. She went to the window and watched the waves washing against the sands of the island, and she knew the wild horse was on the dunes. His head held high, his mane waving in the wind. He was waiting.

  Her father was out there, too, trying to help. And Sarah … Maybe Sarah would come!

  She felt herself floating to the surface, and she gulped in air, big breaths, because now she could breathe, and maybe she was all right. Maybe everything would be all right.

  She needed to help the island horse. She needed to hurry. Ellie flung open the door and raced to the flagstaff with her quilt.

  There was a rope on the flagstaff with loops and toggles. Quickly, she attached the quilt, tying the ends through the loops, struggling to tighten them, working as fast as she could. She pulled hard on the ends so that she was certain it would not fly away, into the wild, wild wind. The quilt was secure.

  And then she pulled on the rope. Hoisting her special flag, the white squares with the beautiful colored edges. She pulled and pulled, and up, up it went, to the very top of the pole.

  Ellie tied off the rope, stepped back and looked.

  The quilt unfurled. The wind caught at it. Pulled on it, opened it out. It flapped in the wild wind, signaling for help.

  “I love you, Ma!” Ellie shouted the words into the wind, seeing the quilt flying. “I’ll love you for always, wherever I am!”

  Ellie turned and ran along the beach, pleading fiercely, “Sarah, please see the flag. Please come.”

  She needed to get to Orchid. She needed to find him. Her feet dug into the sand. The wind blew against her. The waves pounded in her ears, and so did her heartbeat. She panted as she ran, and ran, and ran.

  Ellie reached the dunes and collapsed, gasping. She waited and hoped. Would the island horse come to her this morning? He had to. He had to! She didn’t dare to think that he might not.

  Ellie waited, and time passed, slowly, slowly. The wind continued to blow, and the sun began to rise higher in the sky. She knew that at midday the riders could come, hooves pounding, cries ringing out, to chase Orchid and his herd, to corral them.

  The horse did not come.

  And still, the horse did not come.

  But then Ellie heard a sound behind her, the sound of hooves, galloping. Her heart leaping, she turned.

  It wasn’t Orchid, but it was Sarah!

  “Ellie, Ellie! I saw your signal!” Sarah called, slowing her horse. Shannon tossed her head, pranced. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  Ellie sprang up and ran to Shannon’s side. “Sarah, it’s roundup day!”

  “I know,” said Sarah.

  “Sarah, the horse … my island horse … You saw me with him, that first time you came to visit, and then that second time, before the fog …” Ellie’s voice faltered.

  Sarah laughed. “The day I was spying on you?” she teased. Then, more seriously, she went on, “No, Ellie, I didn’t see a horse. What horse do you mean?”

  Ellie blushed. So Sarah hadn’t been spying, hadn’t seen Orchid, and she’d accused her …

  “Ellie, quickly, you must tell me. What island horse? One of the wild ones?” Sarah asked urgently.

  “Yes, a wild stallion, Orchid. I’ve named him Orchid,” she confided. “Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry I said you were spying. I’m so scared for Orchid and his herd.” It all came out in a rush. “Sarah, I have to save them.” The wind blew Ellie’s skirt about her legs. She paused, then asked, “Will you help me?”

  Sarah answered at once. “Yes, of course. Of course! What do you want me to do?”

  Ellie swallowed. “I’m not sure,” she said. “My father has gone to join the roundup riders. Somehow he’s going to try to lead them away from the sand hills near the south shore, at the eastern end of the island. I’m hoping Orchid and his herd show up here this morning, soon. Then,” she paused, almost not believing it herself, “I’m going to try to take them there, to hide among the sand hills.”

  Sarah’s face was serious. She chewed on her lip as she listened. “All right. That sounds like a good plan, Ellie.” She nodded.

  Ellie’s heart beat quickly. Sarah thinks this might work! She thinks we might be able to save Orchid and his family!

  “So, maybe I should do something like your father, try to keep the roundup riders away from that section of beach.” She was asking Ellie, but Ellie saw that she was also deciding to do it as she spoke. Sarah was already urging her horse away, grinning over her shoulder. “Shannon and I will come up with some good ways to distract them. Don’t worry, Ellie. I think we’ll be good at this!”

  “Thank you, Sarah! Thank you,” cried Ellie.

  And Sarah was on her way, with a wave of her hand, a twirl of her wrist. Shannon was cantering, digging up the sand with her hooves that were ringed in flowered bracelets.

  Ellie took a deep breath, feeling fear and excitement, and also, now, a tiny stirring of hope.

  Things seemed better. Sarah had come to help, even though Ellie had not been very friendly to her so far, and Ellie wondered if maybe Sarah understood something about what it was like to be adrift. Maybe, like the wild horse, Sarah could see to the heart of things, see into Ellie’s heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Ellie sat down again on the dunes and waited for the horse. She waited and waited. She tried to be patient. She tried to be calm. It was all she could do.

  She looked up. A tern darted across the sky, wings bent. Another followed. The sleek birds were white, their heads capped with black. Wings folded, one plunged into the ocean. Ellie saw the bird rise and dart away, a fish in its bill.

  She breathed slowly, trying to remain patient.

  “Where are you?” she whispered into the wind. “Why don’t you come?” As soon as Orchid came, they would need to leave. The trek to the sand hills would take some time. It would be best to be there, hidden, b
efore the roundup started. If they were found on their way …

  “Where are you?” she whispered again.

  Ellie closed her eyes. She counted to one hundred.

  She opened her eyes. Still no horse.

  She closed her eyes again. She counted to two hundred.

  “Please be here. Please be here.”

  She opened her eyes.

  And there he was.

  The island horse was moving over the crest of the dune. She saw that he was looking for her. His head lifted up high, and he found her.

  His herd was not with him, but Orchid was here! Tears of relief came to Ellie’s eyes. Like a sunshower, she was smiling and weeping.

  But the roundup riders could come whooping over the hill at any moment.

  She had to take him, move him. She knew that she couldn’t put a rope on him, couldn’t ride or guide him with a halter. He was a wild horse. He would always be wild. But there had to be a way.

  Ellie turned and looked toward the east. She would try to lead him along the coast, and then cut overland past Lake Wallace to the south beach, then eastward again to the sand hills. She looked back at Orchid and realized he was watching her.

  Ellie took a few steps toward the east. Then she took a few more steps, slowly. As if the wind would always blow, and the waves would always wash against the sand, and all the time was now.

  Would the horse follow? Would he come, because it was her, because he would want to be near her?

  Orchid bent his head and grazed. He bobbed his head, seeing her go. He snatched more grass, and chewed.

  Pausing, Ellie held her breath.

  The horse looked up at her again. He took a few steps, and then a few more, toward her.

  Ellie’s heart raced.

  She waited a moment, and then she walked a few more steps along the dunes. Then she took a few more steps.