by Chris Platt
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.”
Callie smiled. Riding Celah was like riding an elephant. She felt like they could go through anything. But as big as the mare was, sh
e had surprisingly smooth gaits—a good thing since Callie didn’t ride with a saddle.
She wondered what it would be like to ride a horse like Cloud Dancer, or her palomino mare, Moonbeam. How would it feel to glide over the ground at the speed of the wind instead of the slow, steady canter of the draft mare?
They pulled the horses back to a walk as they topped the next rise. Celah was blowing hard from the exertion of hauling her large body up the incline. Callie patted the mare and jumped from her back.
“We better tie the horses up here,” Callie said, pointing to a heavy clump of sage. “We’ve got to crawl to the edge of the rocks. If any mustangs down below see us, they’ll bolt.” Callie tied Celah off, then got down on her hands and knees and clambered onto the outcrop, reminding herself not to wreck another one of her mom’s handmade shirts.
Billie edged up beside Callie on the flat rock outcropping. “Are they there?” she asked. “What about Moonbeam? You’ve told me so much, I can’t wait to see her. I bet she’s beautiful.”
Callie brought a finger to her lips to silence her friend, then pointed to the band of wild horses below. There were eight mares of varying colors. Cloud Dancer seemed to prefer lighter colored mares, like Moonbeam, but there was at least one black in the herd, and one bay. Several of the mares had last season’s yearlings tagging along, while a couple of the younger mares nursed new foals.
Callie pointed a finger at the palomino. “That’s her,” she said. “I call her Moonbeam because she’s such a pale shade of yellow. Look how big her belly is. I bet she doesn’t have too much longer to wait before she foals.”
“She is beautiful.” Billie’s voice held a note of awe.
“I wish she were mine,” Callie said wistfully.
A loud snort from Cloud Dancer jolted the silence. Callie wondered if the stallion had sensed they were there. But a moment later, a loud human shout sounded from the bottom of the valley about a half-mile away.
Cloud Dancer urged the herd into a run. He wanted to get his new foals and pregnant mare away from the danger. After the herd was safely on its way, the stallion turned to face the intruder, assessing the danger. Experience had taught him that it was better to avoid the challenge of a screaming human on horseback. The stallion spun on his heels and galloped after his harem.
“Wh…what’s going on?” Billie sputtered as the rider galloped across the valley below. “Isn’t that Luke Thompson? What’s he doing out here?”
Callie stared in disbelief as she shaded her eyes and watched her young neighbor give chase to the mustang herd. She stood and planted clenched fists on her hips. “Darn his ignorant hide! What does he think he’s doing?”
The boy spotted them standing on the hill and pulled his blue-roan quarter horse to a sliding stop, forcing the gelding into a practiced rear. He tipped his hat in the girls’ direction before he cantered up the hill toward them.
Billie dusted off her jeans and frowned at the approaching rider. “How’d he know we were here?”
Callie shrugged. “I had a feeling someone was following us, ever since we left the house. It must have been him.”
Luke stopped his horse beside the two mares. He swept his hat from his head and mock-bowed low over his gelding’s withers. “Mustanger Luke at your service, ladies.”
“Of all the stupid things…” Callie picked up a handful of pebbles, intending to bounce a few off the boy’s thick skull, but she thought better of it. She didn’t want to have to haul the fool back to her house if she hurt him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded angrily.
Luke opened his mouth to speak, but his answer was lost on the wind as a loud chop, chop, chop echoed through the hills. A second later, a small black-and-white helicopter broke over the rise, raising dust and creating a racket.
Luke’s gelding jumped out from under him, tossing the arrogant boy into the brush. Callie would have laughed if she hadn’t been so busy trying to get hold of Celah. Billie ran to get Star, but the two mares broke their tie ropes at the same time. They turned and cantered toward home with their manes and tails flying on the wind.
The helicopter passed out of range. Luke groaned as he untangled his long legs and rose from the spiky bush, dusting off his pants. The girls watched all three horses disappear over the hill.
“What do we do now?” Billie said in dismay, looking to Callie.
“I guess we have no choice.” Callie glared at Luke. “Unless Mr. Mustanger here has his cell phone so he can call his dad to come pick us up in his four-wheel drive, it looks like we’re going to be walking home.” She brushed past Luke and started down the trail. It was going to be a hot, dusty two miles back to her house.
Three
“That was awesome!” Luke said, pulling the hat off his sweaty brow.
Callie ignored him and continued to march homeward. Her boots were pinching her feet and she could feel a blister forming on her heel with each step she took.
Billie kept pace with Callie. “Who do you think that chopper belonged to?” she asked. “I don’t remember ever seeing anyone out here when we were riding.”
“I don’t know.” Callie kept her voice low so as not to invite a three-way conversation, but Luke pushed between them. Callie glared at him. “I was too busy trying to catch Celah to get much of a look at the copter, but it looked like the ones the Bureau of Land Management uses. Their logo isn’t very big, so it’s hard to tell.”
Luke grabbed a lock of Callie’s unruly hair and gave it a teasing tug. “Oh, come on, why would the BLM be out here?” He reached down to pluck a long stem of wild grass and stuck it between his teeth. “There’s nothing here to manage but sagebrush and jackrabbits.”
Callie ignored him and directed her answer to Billie. “They’re probably looking over the mustang herds, getting ready to do a roundup. Harvey said he heard them talking in the office back at the adoption center. He’s not too keen on helicopter roundups. It’s really hard on the horses.”
As they tromped across the sand, a hollow pit opened in the bottom of Callie’s stomach. What if they round up Cloud Dancer’s herd? she thought. It really bothered her that Moonbeam could be gathered in the pens and put up for adoption. Callie knew that she’d saved almost enough from her allowance to cover the $125 adoption fee, but Moonbeam would have her foal soon, and her parents wouldn’t be able to pay for the everyday upkeep of two horses.
She took a deep breath and told herself not to worry. Cloud Dancer had been grazing these valleys with his mares for years and he’d always kept his herd safe. He had produced a legacy of beautiful wild foals that would roam the hills for many more years to come.
“I’ll call Harvey when we get home and see if he knows anything more,” Callie said. “Hopefully, they’re just doing a head count.”
Luke gave Billie a toothy grin. “They haven’t done any roundups out here for a long time,” he said, trying to show off his knowledge of horses. “They’re not allowed to use the chopper in the spring because it’s foaling season. After June, they can use the helicopter to round up the horses and drive them over long distances.”
“But your mustang is still in foal,” Billie said to Callie. “What will happen to Moonbeam if they do a roundup?”
Seeing the warning look on Callie’s face, Luke threw an arm over each girl’s shoulder, dragging them to a slower pace. “Callie’s mustang?” he asked as he looked from one to the other. “Ha! Callie doesn’t own a mustang mare. The only thing she’s got is that big tank she passes off as a horse. She ought to get herself a real horse, like one of our registered quarter horses.”
Callie shrugged out of his grasp. “Okay, that’s it!” she said with a stomp of her foot that she knew probably seemed childish. “You’re not fit company for a vulture, Luke. This is where we part ways.”
“I agree,” Billie said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Luke put up a hand. “Hey, two against one isn’t fair.” When he saw that his protest didn’t faze the
girls, he gave up. “All right, I’m leaving. Don’t go gettin’ yourselves so riled up. I was only joking.”
Callie fought the urge to yell out something mean as Luke stumbled down the side of the hill and picked up the trail that led to his father’s ranch. How dare he insult Celah! Callie thought. She’s a great mare. So what if she’s not tiny and sleek like the Thompsons’ fancy quarter horses?
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Billie said. “He just likes to get a rise out of you.”
Callie took a deep, stuttering breath and sighed in exasperation. “Well, it worked. What a brat! Why can’t he just leave me alone? He always picks on me.”
Billie hooked her arm through Callie’s and steered her back up the trail. “My little brother’s the same way,” she said. “He just wants attention, and he doesn’t care what he has to do to get it. Look at all the trouble Luke gets into at school. Besides…” Billie said hesitantly. “This is going to sound crazy, but I think maybe he likes you.”
Callie rolled her eyes. Who in their right mind would want a boyfriend like that? “Well, somebody better tell him he’s got an odd way of showing it. He always makes fun of what I do or say, or the clothes I wear.” She plucked at a ribbon her mother had sewn onto her shirt. “It’s not my fault my mother makes weird clothes and expects me to wear them.”
They walked in silence for a few steps. “What about that great warm wheat bread and fresh blackberry jam your mom makes?” Billie said. “I’m kind of jealous. My mother never makes anything by hand.”
Callie felt a little bit better. Who really cared what Luke Thompson thought anyway?
“All the girls at school think he’s cute,” Billie said. “I could name a dozen of them who’d love to have Luke ask them to a dance or something.”
“Yuck!” Callie said. “They obviously don’t know him like we do. Luke reminds me of that big old roping horse his dad has.”
“How’s that?” Billie asked with a curious lift of her brow.
“Well, he’s one of the most beautiful horses on the place,” Callie said. “But he’s so ornery that nobody can stand to be around him.”
