Lucky nearly lost her balance when Spirit pushed her again. “He’s acting so weird,” Abigail said.
Pru put her hands on her hips. “I think he wants to show you something.” Spirit neighed again. Chica Linda and Boomerang also neighed, as if in agreement.
A familiar feeling took over Lucky’s body. Instinct. She’d had this sensation once before, when Pru and Abigail had ridden into the canyon, unaware that the railroad workers were going to dynamite so they could lay new tracks. Without knowing what would happen, Lucky had climbed onto Spirit’s back and asked for his help. She’d put her trust in him then, but now he was asking for her help. She grabbed his mane and pulled herself onto his back.
Abigail gasped. “Lucky?” She turned to Pru. “Do you see what… Uh-oh. I know that look on your face. Pru, you’re going to get into so much trouble!” Pru was already reaching for her saddle.
“I’d rather get into trouble than let that foal die,” Pru said. “Chica Linda is strong. She can help us.”
“Well, if you’re going, then I’m going!” Abigail announced.
Lucky wanted to hug her friends, but there was no time to spare. “Abigail, would you stay here? If we all disappear, our parents will get worried. But if you stay…”
“You want me to lie?” Abigail scrunched up her face, as if a live bug had flown into her mouth.
“No, we’re not asking you to lie,” Lucky replied. “I just think we can buy some time if you stay. Maybe it will take everyone longer to realize Pru and I are gone if you’re still here.”
“Fine,” Abigail said, though she didn’t sound too happy about it. She ran to the cupboard. “Don’t forget these.” She handed the cookie-filled bag to Lucky. Lucky tucked the bag under her coat, then clutched Spirit’s mane with both hands. “Be careful!” Abigail called as Lucky and Pru rode away.
“We need to keep our eyes on those clouds,” Pru hollered as they rode. “If they start to move this way, we have to turn right around.”
“Agreed!”
No new snow had fallen, thus the sleigh’s tracks from yesterday were still visible and made an easier path for the horses to traverse. The dark clouds, ominous on the horizon, seemed content to stay where they were. When the girls reached the pile of hay, Lucky tugged on Spirit’s mane and called, “Whoa!” Both he and Chica Linda halted. Lucky looked down. “They didn’t eat anything,” she said, her voice heavy with disappointment.
“It’s frozen solid,” Pru noted. “They can’t eat it now.”
Spirit didn’t want to stop moving. He pushed forward, without waiting for Lucky’s command. They continued to head east, toward Pitchfork Canyon. As they rode, Lucky tried not to think about how angry their parents would be when they found out about this ride. If they found out. Abigail would do her best to cover for them, but would she be able to? Lucky wasn’t sure. Hopefully she and Pru would get back to the barn before anyone noticed they were gone. But if they did get caught, Lucky would accept whatever punishment was doled out. Better to have months of chores, knowing that they’d tried to help the foal.
Miradero disappeared from view, and a few minutes later, Lucky and Pru reached the canyon. Spirit led them around an outcropping of rock. As they turned the corner, Lucky took a sharp, surprised breath. The herd stood right in front of her! She’d never seen them this close. They were so beautiful! Two of the mustangs were solid black; others were mixtures of chocolates and tans and some had white splotches, but they were all as shaggy as Spirit.
At the sound of Spirit’s arrival, the mustangs lifted their heads. Eyes widened when they spied Lucky on his back. A moment later, Chica Linda and Pru appeared. Agitation rolled over the mustangs, like a wave across sand. Their bodies stiffened, ears flicked. They began to turn, readying themselves to run. But Spirit neighed at them. They listened, and calm returned. Spirit snorted at Chica Linda, who came to a full stop. It appeared he wanted her to wait. “We’ll stay here,” Pru whispered.
With Lucky still on his back, Spirit began to walk through the herd. The mustangs stepped aside, making room for him. She could have reached out and touched them as she passed by, but she didn’t. They were allowing her into their world. She wanted to be respectful, but her hands twitched, almost as if they had a mind of their own. Oh, how she wanted to pet all of them.
She noticed that, aside from a few spindly trees, the area was lacking in vegetation. The ground appeared frozen solid and icicles hung from crevices in the rocks. There was nothing to eat here. A black stallion stepped forward. He and Spirit greeted each other. Then the stallion sniffed Lucky’s leg. She held very still. He was a wild creature, after all, and fear could cause him to bite her. He sniffed her boot, then shook his head as if he didn’t like what he’d smelled. Who could blame him for not trusting people? He’d probably watched the mesteñeros when they’d captured Spirit. But then his nose found the bag under Lucky’s coat.
The cookies.
This was the perfect opportunity to feed the herd. Lucky unbuttoned her coat and pulled out the bag. Heads immediately turned as oat and apple scents filled the air. She didn’t want to risk losing a finger, so she dropped a cookie at the black stallion’s feet. He ate it without hesitation. As Spirit resumed walking, Lucky dropped the cookies, one by one, onto the ground. They were gobbled up so quickly, it looked as if they’d been inhaled. Lucky smiled. Abigail would be so happy to hear that the mustangs loved her treats.
“Do you see the foal?” Pru called, keeping her voice as quiet as possible.
Lucky looked over her shoulder and shook her head. Where was the sick foal? Her stomach tightened. Had it already perished? She dropped a few more cookies, and then Spirit stopped walking. A brown-and-white horse stepped aside, revealing an entrance to a cave. The opening was plenty large for horses. Another horse stepped out of the cave: a buckskin mare with a white splotch on her nose that matched Spirit’s. Was she his sister? Spirit and the mare nuzzled, and then she moved aside, allowing Spirit to carry Lucky into the cave. Lucky ducked, so as not to hit her head on the opening. It was dark in there. Spirit stopped moving. Lucky heard the foal before she saw it.
It was breathing as if every breath hurt.
27
Lucky slid off Spirit’s back and stumbled forward, her eyes still adjusting to the dim light. A shape lay in front of her. It was the foal, lying on its side. At the sound of Lucky’s boots, it raised its head. “Don’t be afraid,” Lucky said softly. “I won’t hurt you.” She took a few steps forward.
Alarmed by Lucky’s presence, the foal tried to get to its feet, but it was clearly a struggle. It groaned, unable to muster the strength to escape. Spirit moved in front of Lucky and pressed his nose against the foal’s cheek. The foal calmed and stopped struggling. Then Spirit stepped aside. Even though the mare was watching intently, she also stepped aside. It seemed to Lucky that the horses had given her permission to approach. She continued to speak in hushed tones. “I just want to look at you,” she said as she knelt beside it. I wish Mrs. Granger were here, she thought. And Pru, too. Lucky wasn’t really sure what she was searching for. Signs of injury? Her eyes had fully adjusted now and her gaze traveled over the foal’s body. No signs of blood, no cuts or gashes. But something did look different. Its belly seemed bloated. And that’s when Lucky noticed that the foal was a filly.
“Hello, sweet thing,” she said. She reached into the bag and offered an oatmeal cookie. The filly sniffed it, then turned away. Her eyelids seemed heavy, as if she were having trouble staying awake. “Poor girl,” Lucky whispered, but she didn’t reach out to touch her because she didn’t want to upset the filly’s mother.
Lucky got to her feet and hurried outside. The herd parted as she ran toward Pru and Chica Linda. Pru dismounted. “What happened?”
“It’s a filly,” Lucky explained. “She’s still alive but she’s very sick. Her belly is swollen and she seems really tired, like she has no energy. She couldn’t even get to her feet. And she wouldn’t eat the cook
ie.”
Pru frowned. “When a horse won’t eat, that’s a very bad sign.”
Lucky began to pace in a frantic way. Chica Linda and Pru didn’t take their eyes off her, as if watching a tennis match. “Spirit came to get me because he needs our help. I’m sure of it. Otherwise he would never have brought us to his herd. I thought maybe the foal just needed food. But I was wrong.” There was only one thing to do. Lucky came to a dead stop. “We need your mom.”
“You’re right. Let’s ride back and tell her what we’ve found.” Pru stuck her foot into the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle. Then she reached a hand out to Lucky. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Lucky hesitated. She looked back at the cave. “I’m staying here,” she said.
“What? Are you crazy? I can’t leave you out here alone. Come on. We’ll talk to my mom. She’ll know what to do.”
Lucky looked up at Pru. Surely she’d understand. “Spirit trusts me. He came to get me. I need to stay here. The filly is too weak to walk to the river, so I’m going to try to melt some snow and get her to drink. Your mom said that dehydration was one of the biggest dangers the herd would face in the winter.”
Pru shook her head. “I don’t like this, Lucky. If I leave you out here, it’s not right. What if the blizzard comes?”
“It won’t.” Lucky looked to the mountains. The clouds had not moved closer, nor had the wind picked up. “Listen to me, Pru. If I ride back with you, and we tell your parents what we discovered, there’s no way they’ll let us come back. Your dad is too worried about the weather. And he’ll say that we should just let nature take its course with the filly. But if I stay out here, then they’ll have to ride this way, because they’ll have to come and get me.”
“That’s brilliant,” Pru said. “But they won’t be happy. And we’ll get into a ton of trouble.”
“I know we will. But we accepted that fate when we rode out here.” She waited for a decision. Pru, the adventurer, the risk taker, the true friend. Pru wouldn’t fail her.
Pru grabbed the reins. “Stay safe. I’ll be right back!” With an energetic neigh, Chica Linda took off toward Miradero.
Lucky didn’t waste any time. Somehow she needed to get water to the filly. But it was too far to walk to the river. What could she do? Then she remembered how Abigail had held water in her hands for Boomerang to drink. That would work. But she’d first have to melt snow. How? What could she use as a container? Did she have anything that could hold water? She checked her pockets, thought about her hat for a moment, then gazed down at her boots. They were waterproof.
With gloves on, she scooped an armful of snow and carried it into the cave. The herd watched warily, but they seemed to have accepted her presence, for they allowed her to walk between them. She dumped the snow onto the cave floor, then went outside for another armful, repeating the process until she had a good-size pile. Then, back inside, she took off her right boot and began to pack it with snow. Under normal circumstances, drinking boot water wouldn’t be anyone’s first choice, but this was an emergency. And didn’t horses drink from all sorts of places, including mud puddles?
Spirit watched Lucky, his ears pinned forward with curiosity. He sniffed her bare sock and looked at her as if to say, What in the world are you doing? The mare stood by his side, her brown eyes still following Lucky’s every move. Poor mama, Lucky thought. How worried she must be.
Lucky looked into the boot. “How am I going to melt this?” she asked out loud. Spirit snorted, his warm breath blowing across Lucky’s face. Of course! She’d been around horses long enough to know that they exuded warmth. So she took her boot and tucked it into the filly’s front leg resting it against her chest. The filly was too weak to protest. Her head fell back to the ground. Melt, Lucky thought. Hurry up and melt!
It seemed to take forever, but eventually the snow level began to recede. The herd packed tightly together, which helped block some of the chilly winter wind. Lucky shook the boot. Water sloshed at the bottom. She took off her gloves and tucked them into her pocket. Then she scooted close to the filly’s head. She took off her coat and wadded it into a ball, then tucked it under the filly’s cheek, trying to raise her head off the ground as much as possible. “It’s okay, girl,” she kept cooing. Then, with her left hand cupped, she poured the water from her boot until it filled her palm. “I know you’d rather drink out of a river or a nice, fresh lake, but this boot will have to do.” She pressed her palm against the filly’s mouth. She didn’t respond. Lucky tilted her hand so some water dripped onto the filly’s lips. She opened her mouth. Yes! She lapped at the water. Another handful, then another, again and again until the boot was empty.
Lucky was about to scoop more snow into her boot and start the process again when the cave suddenly went dark. She ran to the entrance. The wind had picked up, howling between the rocks. Snow swirled as if the world outside the cave had been shaken like a snow globe. Trying to flee the bitter wind, the mustangs pushed past Lucky and squeezed into the cave. Even they knew something bad was brewing. For the first time since Pru had left, fear gripped Lucky’s entire body.
The blizzard had arrived.
28
Spirit followed Lucky out of the cave. The sky had turned dark. Wind howled, whipping around trees and between canyon walls. Snow fell from the sky and rose from the ground, swirling in a wall of whiteness. Spirit pressed up against Lucky, to let her know that he was there. He nudged her, trying to coax her back into the cave with his herd.
A branch cracked. With a lunge, Spirit pushed Lucky aside just in time. The tree limb landed in the snow where she’d been standing. She regained her balance, then threw her arms around his neck. Another gust of wind screamed. Lucky let go and they both darted into the cave.
The herd settled, some lying down, others standing, closing their eyes. Spirit knew they would sleep well tonight, for their stomachs did not ache, thanks to the treats Lucky had brought.
“She needs more water,” Lucky said. She sat beside the filly and offered water from her hands. But, despite Lucky’s efforts, the filly was not getting better. Spirit nudged her again and again. Drink more. Drink more.
Lucky was shivering. He ran his nose over her hands. They were cold, like ice. He sniffed her foot. It was wet without the boot. Lucky’s lips were blue, her jaw trembling. He needed to keep her warm.
The storm raged outside, as if the wind were angry. But inside the cave, the air warmed with the heat and breath of Spirit’s herd. Spirit lay down. Lucky tucked up next to him. And soon, his girl stopped shivering.
29
Something was licking her face.
“Stop it,” Lucky grumbled, her eyes closed. She wiped her face, then rolled onto her side. Her pillow felt different. Furry. From very far away, someone called her name. Lucky! Lucky! But there were no dream images to go along with the voice. Something licked her face again. She sat up, eyes flying open. A huge pair of brown eyes stared at her. “Spirit?” Then she remembered. She was in a cave. Night had passed. Was it morning already? She turned, fearful of what she’d find. But then she sighed with relief. The filly was still there and she was still breathing. The mare lay beside her. But where was the rest of the herd?
Lucky grabbed her boot and pulled it onto her foot. Then she scrambled to her feet. Her legs were cramped, so she stumbled as she made her way to the cave’s opening. Her palms felt raw, almost as if they’d been burned. But that didn’t matter. The filly was still alive, so there was a chance she could be saved.
Calm had settled over the canyon, accompanied by the soft light of dawn. With no wind, the air felt warmer than it had in weeks. The herd had already left to look for food and water, their hoofprints visible in the snow that the blizzard had dumped overnight.
“Lucky!”
“Dad!”
Jim threw himself off his horse and ran toward Lucky, his arms outstretched. Then he clasped her to his chest and squeezed so hard she couldn’t breathe. “Lucky,” he said,
his voice cracking. Was he choking back tears? “Lucky,” he repeated. “I couldn’t get to you. I tried. Believe me, I tried!”
“Dad, I’m okay.”
He held her at arm’s length, his eyes wild with fear. “Are you certain you’re okay? Are you certain?”
“Yes,” she said. He sighed with relief, and for a brief moment, he seemed as calm as the morning itself. But then the look in his eyes changed, igniting like a firecracker. “How could you do this? Staying out here by yourself? Do you know how worried we’ve been? Your aunt is beside herself! We couldn’t get to you! Do you—” Then he hugged her again. “I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost you,” he said. This time, he didn’t try to hold back the tears. Nor did she. It nearly broke her heart knowing that she’d made her father cry.
“Dad, I’m okay. Really, I am. I’m sorry that I upset you and Aunt Cora.”
“You upset everyone!” Al Granger said as he pulled Hercules to a stop. Fanny sat beside him in the sleigh. Pru and Abigail were on Chica Linda and Boomerang. And three of the ranch hands had joined them as well, riding on Granger horses. Pru and Abigail dismounted and ran to Lucky’s side. There were hugs all around. Even Al Granger hugged her. “We’re all relieved to find you, Lucky. That was quite the night. We thought we were going to lose your dad, too.”
Lucky looked at Jim. “What’s he talking about?”
“I tried to find you,” Jim explained. “I couldn’t stand just waiting. I had to look for you. But it was impossible to see through the blizzard. I got lost almost immediately. Al found me and led me back.”
“Lucky, why are your hands so red?” Abigail asked.
Spirit Riding Free--Lucky and the Mustangs of Miradero Page 12
