Free Ranch Hands by Bonnie Bryant Page A

Stevian inspiration. And one came to her.
    She slipped a kerchief around her neck and over her face so she looked like a bank robber. She stepped into the campers’ bunk room and turned on the light.
    “Okay, you rustlers, it’s time to get up and steal the herd before the owner catches us. If we do this right, we’ll have all them horses miles and miles away before anybody knows they’re gone!”
    “Huh?”
    “Rustlers?” Linc asked, sitting up in bed. He was such a troublemaker that the idea of doing something—or even pretending to do something—that was against the law sounded like a really good idea to him.
    “Yup, rustlers,” Carole confirmed. “There’s a herd of horses, about twenty head, in a field about a mile from here. We’re going to have to sneak up on them on foot—and the sneaking part shouldn’t be too hard because most of them are probably asleep. We’ll each carry a bridle with us, and then we’ll bring them on home. All by the light of the stars and the moon. Are you guys good enough for this?”
    That was exactly the right question to ask. There was nothing like a challenge to get the kids up and going. Even the boy with the cold was willing to go along. Carole said it was okay as long as he wasn’t coughing (he wasn’t) and if he wrapped up warmly. He promised to wear a sweater and a scarf.
    The four “rustlers” were ready to leave in five minutes. They stopped off at the barn to pick up the tack and began their trek across the field.
    They had to go in the dark. Flashlights might have awakened neighbors or upset the herd of horses. The horses were going to be hard enough to bring home without having them upset. Carole led the way. It wasn’t easy going. The ground wasn’t all that smooth and was dotted with clumps of grass that were just perfect for tripping unsuspecting “rustlers.” Every time Carole stumbled, she found another route and made the campers take it. She wouldn’t have minded twisting her own ankle, but she hated the idea of twisting anybody else’s, even Linc’s.
    It was turning out that Linc was perfect for this deed. He took to it like a fish to water. He got real pleasure out of being sneaky, and got right into the part of rustler.
    Soon enough they approached the herd. Most of the horses were standing quietly, sleeping as they stood. A few munched on grass. One or two looked up when the “rustlers” drew near, but none of them seemed interested in going anywhere.
    The first thing Carole had to do was to find Arthur. It wasn’t easy locating a bay with a straight blaze. Most of the horses were bays. Plenty of them had blazes. However, she spotted one bay with a blaze who was completely surrounded by other horses. That,Carole decided, was charisma—the trait of a natural leader. It just had to be Arthur!
    She moved the adoring fans away from around the horse and slipped a bridle onto him. It wasn’t hard to do, and he didn’t protest. It seemed that Arthur’s only undesirable quality was his tendency to lead other horses astray. Other than that, he was a fine, obedient horse. Carole hoped so, anyway, since she was going to have to ride him bareback.
    Once she had his bridle on, she gathered her “rustlers” and told them what they were to do. First of all, each of them was to pick a pony to ride, put the bridle on it, and then mount up. Carole would help them.
    Linc found a dappled gray. Ellis located a sorrel, and Jack found a bay for himself. Quietly, but surely, each put the bridle on his chosen horse. Linc’s horse gave him a hard time, and Carole insisted that he choose another horse. She couldn’t afford to have the young riders on horses that gave them any trouble at all. Eventually, Linc decided on a horse that was so gray he was almost totally white. Linc seemed to think that meant he was sleek. Carole knew better. What it really meant was that he was old and in this case old seemed to mean gentle. Carole approved.
    With a boost from