“Morning,” says Hanks, swinging open his door.
Coulter says, “Hello, Miles. I’m afraid we were just leaving.”
“I can appreciate that. I don’t want to interrupt. But we’ve had a little mishap at one of our holding pens. Wondered if you’d seen these horses?” He holds up his cell phone to show Coulter, like Coulter’s gonna look at his phone.
“I keep pretty busy watching the mustangs I have,” says Coulter.
Kaya steps out of the crowd of kids. “Hey, Officer Hanks. Sorry, we really have to get going. The horses get anxious.” She turns. “We’re all ready, Mr. Coulter.”
Officer Hanks steps right next to her. “You haven’t seen them then, Kaya?”
Kaya glances at his phone and then folds her arms across her chest. “I thought the BLM was done rounding horses up for now. You have your quota.”
“Just a few ranchers complaining about some troublemakers. We had to pick up a few extras,” Officer Hanks says. “But they weren’t there this morning. I don’t want this to get out of hand.”
“Good idea. All right, kids, let’s go,” says Coulter.
Officer Hanks says, “So I take that as a no. You haven’t seen them?”
Coulter climbs on his big dun horse and looks down at Officer Hanks. “If I see anything on our ride, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Coulter puts his reins in his teeth and tightens up the knot on the lariat hanging off his saddle.
Kaya waves good-bye and walks back into the crowd.
* * *
We all get in line. Banner swings in front of me. Justin stands right behind me. Banner turns and asks, “Is Justin teaching you to stay in the saddle?”
I feel the heat in my face. “He’s just watching me to make sure I don’t fall off.”
“That’s not all he’s watching,” says Banner.
“Hey, Banner,” says Justin. “You’re holding up the line.”
Coulter leads us on a narrow path that cuts behind the ranch. The ground is still wet, but it’s so sunny the grass twinkles. Soon we hit a steep hill, and I keep right on pace with the other riders. I’m getting the hang of this. Once we are on the plateau we cross a sea of sagebrush. I can’t get used to how much open sky there is. Giant clouds sleep in the upper valley. We let the horses drop their heads so they can pick their way through the brush. I had no idea anything could be so much fun.
Justin trots up close. “You look better. I mean, on Smokey.”
Banner turns around and raises her eyebrows. “Isn’t she a peach?”
“I think we all look amazing today,” says Charlie, coming up right next to Banner. Charlie’s wearing a sombrero with a red sash. I don’t get how his wardrobe fits in his tent, but he does look grand.
Banner bursts out laughing and walks ahead.
“Can I talk to you?” Charlie asks me, popping into Banner’s spot.
“What’s up?”
“What’s your opinion on summer romances? I mean, are they inherently doomed?” He’s asking all this over his shoulder.
The heat is back in my face. Have I been that obvious? I feel like I’m riding my horse naked. I cough into my hand. “They never work out. That’s what I think. You both just go back to your real life when you’re done.”
Charlie turns. “Yeah. I mean, maybe. But it doesn’t have to be like that, does it? I mean, if you’re really into each other.”
I can’t believe Charlie is outing me right here in the horse line. It’s time for defensive action. “Why are you asking? Do you have a crush on someone, Charlie?”
He turns and nods. He looks surprisingly serious for a guy in a red sash. “Devri.”
“Devri? Like, really?”
Luckily, Coulter yells for the trot, so we all stop talking. “We’re going to extend out here. Get up in your stirrups and balance.”
The other riders charge ahead, including doomed Charlie. Smokey’s trot is just not as speedy as the other horses. Justin jogs his buckskin slowly behind me. Because that’s inconspicuous. I nudge Smokey a little harder.
When we get to the base of the next big incline we cross a good-size stream. Two horses, including Scotty’s, buck as they cross, but nobody goes off. I’m not going to lie. When I see those horses buck it scares me, but not like it used to. And after we’re across I notice the air is warm and breezy. Aspen and pine dot the low hills. We trot past a field of giant limestone boulders covered with bright green and orange lichen. The sun flickers on my face as we ride under a small grove of aspens.
I look from hill to hill.
I turn to Justin. “Is it true mustangs used to fill this area?”
“That’s what I hear,” says Justin.
“And people killed them for dog food until they made that law to stop it. And now people are saying they want to go back to killing them.”
Justin jogs his buckskin up to me. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because I need somebody to explain what’s really going on around here. I mean, we put people in jail for cockfights and neglecting their pets. So how is slaughtering horses for dog food okay? Or sticking them in horse jail for that matter. How is that right?”
“It isn’t. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen,” says Justin. He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t. Or maybe he just thinks I’m a sheltered city kid who talks too much.
He says, “We’re getting farther behind the other horses. Let’s see you lope.”
I look at Smokey. “You want me to lope right now? I’ve never done that outside the arena. What if he takes off on me?”
“Stop worrying, Cass. You’re a good rider now. Or haven’t you noticed?”
What I notice is he just called me Cass, all nice and slow. And that we’re way behind the other riders. I cluck to Smokey and I feel him shift, looking at the horses ahead. I tap on him with my foot, and he bounds forward. He wants to get to his herd. In two steps, we’re galloping, but it’s not scary at all because it’s faster but easier to sit than the trot. I tilt forward and watch the world go by. Justin’s buckskin canters close behind. When we finally catch up to the other kids I have to keep my mouth shut to keep all the happiness from whooping out.
“Ride ’em, cowgirl,” says Banner as I pull in line behind her.
We ride past giant-size boulders that have come out of the mountain, then meander up a rocky draw that finally opens up on wide plateau. Below, the world is a gray granite tub filled with aspen treetops. Everything else is sky.
Far ahead Coulter stands up in his stirrups. He points at the trail that crosses the ridge. “Short canter to that big rock. Nice and easy. Everyone ready?”
Darius and Kaya jog to the edges of the plateau. I guess it’d be pretty bad if one of their riders cantered off the edge of the mountain instead of going to the rock. I make a mental note not to be that stupid. Justin leans over to me. “Nice and easy.”
Banner turns her head and whistles at Justin. “I’ll babysit her, Justin. Let’s canter up to that rock together, Cassidy.”
I back away from Banner. Smokey is still prancing around he’s so wired up. Other kids are cantering their horses. With the waving grass it looks like the earth is moving instead of the horses. Banner moves up between me and Justin and whacks Smokey right on the butt with her hand.
My brain cracks loose. What is her problem? She didn’t have to hit Smokey.
Smokey must be mad, too, because when I barely touch his side with my boot his bony old body lunges forward. The only reason in the world I stay on is because I’m so ticked I’m already clamped on to him like a fist.
And then we cover ground. We leave Banner’s mare like she’s glued to the dirt. We pass the horses that are already galloping. My hat flies off and whips behind on my chinstrap. Smokey’s feet grab the ground and throw it behind us.
Behind me I hear Coulter’s vo
ice. “Whoa! Whoa! Stop that horse!”
But I don’t whoa. This is amazing. But then we’re almost at the rock and we’re past the rock and I’m running out of mountain. I ask Smokey with everything I’ve got in my legs and hands to whoa the heck whoa. I vise-grip the horn with both hands to keep from flying off into the rocks.
And when Coulter and Justin and Banner and everyone else catch up and start to yell at me, I barely hear them. Because that was the best thing ever.
Coulter asks, “How the hell did you stay on?”
I don’t answer. Because I don’t know. I just did.
After the wild ride everyone looks at me funny. Maybe because I can’t stop smiling. There isn’t much talking. Alice asks me if I’m okay. Coulter spits a lot. Banner doesn’t say a word. We divide up into groups so we can be more carefully supervised. Coulter doesn’t put me in a group with Banner.
Justin doesn’t look at me when he rides past, but I still hear him. “Ride ’em, cowgirl.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
THERE ARE GOOD mornings and there are great mornings. A morning when I get to make buttermilk muffins with Mrs. Sanchez is a spanking-great morning. Plus, I may be a little hopped up on horses and Justin. We are well into our fourth dozen when Justin comes riding right up to the kitchen on his buckskin.
“I need some help with the mustangs.” He’s back to being sour-faced.
Mrs. Sanchez says, “She’s busy.”
“It will only take a minute, Mrs. Sanchez. Por favor. Es importante.” His accent is worse than mine.
“Biscuits are important,” says Mrs. Sanchez.
Justin employs the face of sadness.
“What’s up?” I ask.
He holds his arm down to me. “Do you think you could ride double if we just walk? We’re only going up the hill.”
His buckskin seems safe, but you never know. “Where do I sit?”
“On the back.” He holds his arm down farther and kicks his foot out of the stirrup so I can put mine in. “I don’t have all day.”
Mrs. Sanchez rolls her eyes. “Ten cuidado. I like this one.”
I have to put my arms around Justin to stay on. I know Justin can keep the horse calm. I just don’t know if I can stay on. I feel like a five-year-old. His shirt smells like hay. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is you. You don’t learn about mustangs in a book,” he says, all the ornery gone from his voice. “I’ll show you something way better than a book.”
“I like books.” My words bounce out of my mouth and fall behind me. “Are we going far away? I really was helping Mrs. Sanchez.”
“Trust me. Mrs. Sanchez doesn’t need any help. And you’ll like this better.”
Having him say that, about trusting him, makes me feel immediately worried. I realize that if I’m sitting on this horse with him, I must trust him in some way. At least when it comes to horses. I’m just not sure how it happened or if it’s a good idea. We ride up the hill like we’re going to bring the mustangs in from pasture, but then we keep going. He asks, “You okay?”
I am still holding on tight. My skin itches. “Is this going to get me in trouble?”
“Not if you don’t tell anybody.”
Justin clucks his buckskin to a trot.
“Seriously?” I say, bouncing. He keeps trotting. I squeeze tighter.
“I need to breathe once in a while,” he says.
I say, “And I need to stay on.”
* * *
About a mile from the mustang pasture I see them. Popped out, on top of the hill. And they don’t evaporate into dust when we get closer, either. A sorrel horse stands off from three smaller horses, snorting and stamping. The sorrel’s head is cocked and jutting forward. The other three pace around a white, round-bellied horse. They watch us approach. These are mustangs that are still wild. Justin is right. This is way better than a book.
I whisper, “Why aren’t they running away?”
Justin points three fingers to a nearby ledge. We get off behind a big rock and climb up the side of the steep ridge. Rocks sputter under our feet, and I have to bear-crawl with my hands to keep my balance. He nods to me like a question. A smile creeps onto his face. I nod and keep moving.
When we reach the outcropping of rock we stop and peer over at the small herd. The stallion is running fast in a circle around the other horses, raising dust. Three other horses braid into one another around a white mare.
They look like the mustangs at the ranch, but they move more quickly with lighter steps. Standing on the ridge with the sky behind them they look chiseled out of the ground in all its different colors, except the white mare who looks like she is made of porcelain. She’s so beautiful, I almost miss the tiny brown ears poking up through the patchy grass. The mare is standing in front of a foal, no bigger than a lamb.
“A baby,” I say, louder than I mean to.
The foal lifts its head up one more time and then drops down. Its small legs are tucked under its belly. It can’t be much more than a few hours old.
Justin spits and says pretty much every cuss word I’ve ever heard times two. I turn just as he digs his boot into the ground. I have no idea what’s going on. “Let’s go,” he hisses. “This isn’t what I brought you out here for.”
“What’s going on?”
“The BLM is what’s going on. They have no business chasing mares like that. They run ’em up and down with trucks and ATV’s and even helicopters if they can get ’em. They run ’em until they drop their foals. It’s murder.”
“You mean she had the foal early because Officer Hanks was chasing her?” It’s one thing to read about this kind of thing, but it’s something very different to be standing here. I turn back to the horses. I hold still. The foal stays down. “It’s okay. It’s resting.”
Justin grimaces. “It’s not resting.”
After a few minutes the sorrel stallion circles the herd, snorts, and then charges down the hill behind him. Two horses follow. Eventually the third peels off and leaves the mare standing alone. She cocks her head to the wind. I don’t think she has taken a step since we got here. The foal still doesn’t move.
Justin’s shoulders bend toward me. “Let’s go.”
“No,” I say. “I want to stay. I want to see what happens.”
The sorrel rushes back up the hill with his ragged mane flaring along his neck. He rushes the mare, nipping at her, pitching, and whinnying. The white mare turns her head and teeth to the stallion, but she doesn’t move her legs. “What’s he doing? Does the stallion want to hurt the foal?”
“He’s trying to get her to come with him.”
“But she can’t leave . . . Its head was just up.”
The stallion bites at the mare. She swings her head into his. Their skulls clap together. She rears up but quickly comes back to position. He kicks his hind legs at her flanks, just missing.
“We have to stop him.”
“He’s trying to protect her. We have to go.”
“We have to do something.”
“The colt’s dead, Cass.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I’m sorry. But we have to go now.” Justin takes hold of my hand. I shake it off. He reaches for my hand again, and I push it away. “You’re acting like a baby.”
“You’re acting like a bully.”
“I’m trying to take care of you,” he says.
“Well, don’t,” I say. I didn’t ask to come out here. I’m not listening to him. I turn to the white mare and start walking.
He puts his hand on my shoulder. “They’d stomp you to pieces if you went down there.”
The stallion kicks at the mare again, and this time he connects. The mare stumbles and nearly falls on the colt. When she turns I can see open skin on her hip. A red line runs down her leg. The stallion spi
ns and runs into the brush. In seconds he returns and kicks at the mare with his front hoof. She steps back and misses the full force of his leg but drops to the ground.
“Stop it!” I yell.
Both horses look to me and then each other. The mare staggers. The stallion waves his head, snorting. The mare drops her nose down into the brown lump in the grass. At last the stallion runs to the bush, drops off the hill, and doesn’t come back.
I wipe my face. “She’s bleeding. Let’s take them back with us. Maybe . . .”
Justin is right behind me. He shakes his head and talks to himself. “There’s nothing we can do now. They might as well shoot ’em. I hate those government bastards.”
I say, “You’re the one, aren’t you? The one Officer Hanks is looking for. Letting the horses go.”
Justin looks at me sharply. “No, I’m not. Get on the horse.”
“You are.” It’s like a punch in the stomach. “It’s against the law, Justin. You could go to jail.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve done six months before. But it’s not me. We have to go now.”
Neither horse is moving. “What will happen to them?”
“At least it didn’t die in some warehouse. Or worse yet, live in one.”
“But what about her?”
He stands by the buckskin, waiting for me to get on first.
I look behind me as we ride away, holding on to Justin, but not really. I see the mare standing over her silent colt, a square white object getting smaller and smaller the farther we go toward home, until we turn into the trees and she’s gone.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I DON’T GO out to feed Goliath for a few nights. Instead I visit him before it gets dark with my portion of fruit from dinner. He still whinnies in the middle of the night, but I stay in my bag. One night I sleep under my pillow. The next night I stay up late talking to Alice until Banner tells us to shut up and go to sleep.
Thief of Happy Endings Page 15
