Free Wild Horses by Jenny Oldfield Page B

admired that horse. Her first view of him in the canyon, proud and suspicious, neck arched, nostrils flared as he protected his herd, had done it. Then there was his courage. She remembered how he’d struggled through his bewilderment and pain to get to his feet after the landslide. And the stallion had trusted her. Hers was the first human hand ever to touch him as she buckled the halter onto help him. And he’d believed in her as she strapped the bandage around his leg to stop the bleeding.
    Fiercely Kirstie raked the ground. The horse had permitted her touch, had allowed her to help him. And now a second human being, a man whose name might be Bob Tyson, or Art Fischer, or Baxter Black, had deceived him. The mystery man had found him trapped in Dead Man’s Canyon, had offered false help in order to make money out of him. The drifter had betrayed the horse’s precious trust for the sake of a few dollars in a San Luis sale barn.
    Unless…unless…Kirstie stopped work and held the rake frozen in mid-air. “How dumb am I?”
    “You say something?” Charlie poked his head around the tack-room door. It was his afternoon to clean the tack while the others took rides along the trails. With his shirt sleeves rolled up, the low sun made him look extra-tanned.
    “Yeah…Nope!” Quickly she worked over the last corner of the arena and flung the rake into one corner of the barn. Then she made sure Lucky was still hitched to his post in the corral before she went running into the tack-room to fetch his saddle.
    Charlie stood to one side and watched. “Looks like you changed your mind about riding this afternoon.”
    “Yep.” She’d been so dumb. Sure, her mom had said to stay away from the backwoods men. And that made sense, if they were as tough as Sandy said they were. Kirstie had agreed that she wouldn’t go riding up the mountain looking for their beaten-up old trailers, trying to convince them not to sell her beautiful wild stallion to some ruthless rodeo organizer.
    That had been the exact promise: “OK, I’ll stay clear of Bob Tyson.”
    “And Art Fischer, and Baxter Black, and any other drifter who happens to be passing through.” Sandy Scott had made the situation absolutely plain.
    And, though it had felt as bad as teeth being pulled, Kirstie had promised.
    But she
hadn’t
promised her mom not to go back to Dead Man’s Canyon.
    “Can’t say I blame you.” Unsuspecting, Charlie looked up at the blue sky and offered to help her saddle Lucky. “I’d take a ride myself if I didn’t have this exhibition tonight.”
    “Tell Mom I’ll be back before sundown.” Her fingers felt clumsy as she rushed to fasten the cinch and pull down the stirrups. She mounted quickly and took the reins.
    “Sure thing.” Charlie stood and watched her set off, then called after her. “Hey, your mom’s gonna ask me where you went!”
    Kirstie reined Lucky back. “Tell her Meltwater Trail,” she yelled, turning again and riding off into the sun without looking back.
    Meltwater Trail and Dead Man’s Canyon. That was how dumb she’d been! It had taken her since lunch to realize that her promise to her mom didn’t cover riding back to the hidden clearing, finding the stallion, and setting him free.
    Now it was all she could think about as she urged Lucky into a trot and then a smooth lope up the hill.
    Again and again she went over each step of the new plan, almost forgetting to duck the branches of the pine trees and guide the palomino over fallen trunks as they sped on. The black stallion would still be there in his clearing behind the waterfall. Perhaps the rest of the herd would be gathered nearby. Kirstie would dismount and leave Lucky on the ridge. She would take a head collar and rope with her, and climb down into the canyon. Then she would crawl along the ledge into the meadow. Then …
    Kirstie lurched forward as Lucky came to a sudden stop. They’d covered more ground than she’d realized and reached