Free Hoofbeats of Danger by Holly Hughes

realized.
    Peering ahead to find a gap in the thorns, she saw Magpie shudder in agony as a spasm went through her. Coldness gripped Annie’s heart.
    Magpie was trapped in the brambles. She couldn’t move.
    Then how was she going to work the poison out of her body?

C HAPTER 9
    T RAPPED !

    Annie tore her skirt free and then stepped downward hard, trampling the brambles under her thick soles. Though the thorns dug into her ankles and stung her legs, she waded across the briar patch to Magpie. Nearing the horse’s side, Annie held out her hand. But just then, another spasm took hold. Magpie flattened her ears and jerked her head around, trying to bite at her belly. Annie drew back, frightened. Her own stomach doubled up as she watched the pains rack Magpie’s gut.
    Billy halted at the edge of the briar patch. “Look at the way her stomach’s heaving—like something’s eating her up inside,” Annie groaned. ‘And her breathing is so harsh. That’s a sure sign she’s sick, not crazy.” Billy nodded grimly.
    â€œWe can’t leave her lying still like this,” Annie pressed on anxiously. “Have you got your knife with you?”
    â€œAlways,” Billy replied. From his belt he pulled his long hunting knife with the mother-of-pearl handle. Annie knew it was one of his few prized possessions. He’d told her it had been a gift from the great Indian scout Kit Carson, though she suspected that was just another of his tall tales.
    Billy leaned over and began to saw at the thickest bramble branches, hewing a path toward the trapped horse. His silver blade flashed as he cut, and Magpie, eyeing him, snorted nervously. “Hush now, girl,” Annie crooned as she began to yank aside snarled branches at her end. The mare quivered but lay still.
    Annie and Billy worked swiftly, urgently, both aware of the desperate need to free Magpie so she could move again. Feeling thorns slashing her palms, Annie dug her hands into her skirt and doubled up the rough wool to protect herself as she worked.
    Finally Annie ripped away the last brambles snaring Magpie’s neck and shoulders. Without waiting for them to clear any more away, Magpie heaved herself forward, scrambling to her feet and through the narrow clearing Billy had hacked open. Her hindquarters were scored with bloody scratches.
    Annie hurried after her, whistling for the mare to wait. Magpie pricked her ears and jerked to a stop. Billy scooped up the rope he’d brought and tossed it to Annie to slip around Magpie’s neck. As Annie leaned toward her, Magpie shuddered with a fresh convulsion of pain and staggered a few steps away. “It’ll be all right, girl. It’ll be all right,” Annie said, trying to calm the anguished horse. She sidled carefully toward her and got the rope around her neck.
    Billy approached cautiously as Annie knotted the rope. He thrust out an arm and pointed at Magpie’s flank, his face creased with concern. “There it is! Look on her rump, Annie.”
    Annie peered carefully. Amid the fresh scratches from the thorns she saw a deeper cut about three inches long, its blood already dried, in the middle of the white patch on Magpie’s hindquarters. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice tightening.
    â€œYour pa told me he saw it early this morning—I guess Magpie was dozing, and he was able to sneak up and look her over. He said he’d found an arrow wound on her flank.”
    â€œAn arrow wound?” Annie wondered. “How can that be? There wasn’t a single mark on her coat when I groomed her yesterday afternoon. I’d’ve noticed.”
    Billy nodded. “Your pa figured she got it yesterday, when those Blackfeet attacked me.”
    Annie’s shoulders sagged. “You mean … he thought the Indians made Magpie sick? Tipped their arrows with poison or something?”
    Billy sighed. “Something along those