Free Katie and the Mustang, Book 2 by Kathleen Duey

to four or five of them at once. Maybe he had just talked to Annie about them. The idea made me uneasy. I wasn’t sure why, but it did. I looked at the stars a long time before my eyes finally closed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

    I have learned to doze, to keep myself from pacing,
but it becomes harder. Too many sounds, too many scents,
all tangled until the air is thick. I often face the wind to
breathe air that smells more of grass and sky.
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    A storm rolled in during the night, and we all woke to the flash and boom of lightning. The menfolk were up instantly, their suspenders half buttoned, running to try to keep their stock from bolting.
    I pulled my dress over my head and sat up, blinking as the sky flickered, long veins of lightning arcing across the darkness. For an instant, the earth was washed in that odd blue light that only comes in a thunderstorm. In that second, I saw everything.
    Men were running in every direction. The mares were standing with their heads up, their eyes rimmed in circles of white, poised to run. The oxen, tethered on a line strung between two scrubby trees, were shifting, uneasy.
    The Mustang was rearing. The next flash of blue-white light caught him striking at the sky with his ears flattened against his neck, his teeth bared.
    I jumped to the ground behind the wagon, then froze. Without the lightning, the night was ink black, and I could only hear the Mustang snorting, his hooves pounding against the earth.
    â€œKatie!”
    It was Hiram’s voice.
    â€œI’m here,” I shouted back to him. There was no rain yet, but a wind was rising.
    â€œStay away from the horses!” Hiram shouted at me.
    The sky lit a second time, the blue-white flash showing me the Mustang back on all fours. The broken lead rope was dangling from his halter. Then everything went dark for a few seconds.
    The next cracking sound overhead was louder than any I had ever heard, and I felt my hair prickling. An eye blink later, there was a crashing roar that shook my whole body. I felt a tremor go through the ground beneath my feet. I clapped my hands over my ears and slumped against the wagon, my heart beating so fast I could barely draw a breath.
    The Mustang squealed, and I heard what seemed like dim, distant screams. Hiram was suddenly beside me, his hands on my shoulders, shouting into my face.
    â€œDon’t touch that horse. You leave him alone until I get back, do you hear me? If he runs, let him go!”
    A lesser bolt of lightning lit up his face for a moment, and I saw a fear in his eyes that scared me worse than I already was.
    â€œIt struck somewhere,” he was shouting. “Close by—maybe one of the Kylers’ wagons!” His grip on my shoulders was painful, and he shook me once, hard. “You stay away from the horse, you hear me? Leave the stock be. I’ll be back as soon as I check on Annie.”
    Then he was gone.
    I stood there in the dark, stunned by the storm, by Hiram’s shouting at me, but more than anything by his leaving me alone. Trembling, I balled my hands into fists, furious with him for leaving instead of helping me with the Mustang.
    The sky flickered with light, and I bit at my lip. The Mustang needed me. Hiram had no right to order me to do anything . He was not my father, and I was not bound to obey him by law or by family ties.
    The sky flickered again, and I saw the Mustang, trotting in a circle, bucking, then rearing to strike at the sky with his hooves again. His neck was arched, his thick mane streaming in the wind.
    The light winked out with a rumble of thunder. Trembling, I made my way around the front of the wagon, my hands guiding me in the darkness. I stepped over the long hickory-wood wagon tongue, then, guiding myself by touching the singletree, tracing the iron rings where the harness straps fastened, then reaching out to find the wheel hub, I straightened up.
    I heard the Mustang