two horses. The cold seemed to press in on them. There was still no sign of the black mare.
Up ahead, Frank suddenly reined in his bay. “We’re coming to a split in the trail,” he announced. “We’ve got to make a decision.”
Beside him John shook his head. “I just don’t understand it,” he said. “I was sure my dad would be right.”
“So did I, John,” Frank answered.
“Why would the mare run away if not to go back home—where she came from?” John mused aloud. “And yet we’ve ridden north, northeast, and northwest without seeing a single hoofprint.”
“It sure beats me how any horse …”
Carole half listened to the conversation.
If only I knew where you were!
she thought. Beneath her, Stewball shifted uneasily. The pinto seemed impatient to turn around. He had been trying to go in the opposite direction for a couple of hours at least. “There’s nothing over there, boy,” Carole murmured. “Nothing but desert and wide-open stretches and a handful of wild horses. You’re not going to find—” Midthought, Carole stopped. A lightbulb turned on in her brain. She clapped a hand to her mouth.
“I just thought of something!” she exclaimed, bursting into Frank and John’s discussion. “The wild horses! That’s it! I’ll bet the black mare went to join the wild herd!”
John’s eyes lit up. “Carole, I think you’ve got it!”
As everyone at the Bar None knew, herds of wild horses ran free on the federal property that surrounded the ranch, and sometimes on the ranch itself. Kate’s horse, Moonglow, had come from one of those herds. Kate had adopted the mare as part of a government program that kept the herds small enough so that they could survive. Most of thetime the horses were left alone to graze and forage on the range. It was easy to forget they even existed.
Frank frowned. “You could be right. But why would a tame horse go wild?”
Carole opened her mouth to reply. Then she shut it just as fast. There was no way of explaining it. How could she say, “I just know she’s there. I know it the way I know two plus two is four,” and expect anyone to believe her? She felt John’s eyes on her.
“It’s—It’s just a thought,” she said. “But Stewball seems to want to head in that direction. That is, if the horses still stick to the area around the base of the mountain.”
John spoke up. “They do, Carole. I saw them there last month.”
“Could we at least check?” Carole asked, her fingers crossed. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Frank looked off into the distance. “That’s a long trek through the snow,” he said doubtfully. He sighed. “I like the looks of that mare, and I’d hate to lose her right after we bought her, but three people are a lot more important than one horse.”
Carole knew Frank was right, and that he had to take responsibility for them. But if it were up to her, she’d risk anything to get the mare back …
“I think we ought to give it a shot, boss,” said John. “We’re not starving out here—or freezing.” He chuckled. “At least, not yet, we’re not. I, for one, can put up with a little more discomfort if it means bringing the marehome.” Something in the way he spoke made Carole feel that John understood she was going on intuition, and that he trusted her intuition.
Frank squinted up at the sky. He checked the sandwich supply in his saddlebag. He studied John’s and Carole’s faces. Finally he said, “We’ll give it three more hours total, including the hour it’s going to take us to get home. If we wrap around the mountain from here, we may catch the herd on the way back. If we don’t, the black mare is going to have to come in out of the cold of her own accord.”
Carole shivered again, and this time not from the cold. As they started off in the opposite direction, she caught John Brightstar’s eye. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“No problem,” he mouthed back, giving her a thumbs-up.
Stewball
Up ahead, Frank suddenly reined in his bay. “We’re coming to a split in the trail,” he announced. “We’ve got to make a decision.”
Beside him John shook his head. “I just don’t understand it,” he said. “I was sure my dad would be right.”
“So did I, John,” Frank answered.
“Why would the mare run away if not to go back home—where she came from?” John mused aloud. “And yet we’ve ridden north, northeast, and northwest without seeing a single hoofprint.”
“It sure beats me how any horse …”
Carole half listened to the conversation.
If only I knew where you were!
she thought. Beneath her, Stewball shifted uneasily. The pinto seemed impatient to turn around. He had been trying to go in the opposite direction for a couple of hours at least. “There’s nothing over there, boy,” Carole murmured. “Nothing but desert and wide-open stretches and a handful of wild horses. You’re not going to find—” Midthought, Carole stopped. A lightbulb turned on in her brain. She clapped a hand to her mouth.
“I just thought of something!” she exclaimed, bursting into Frank and John’s discussion. “The wild horses! That’s it! I’ll bet the black mare went to join the wild herd!”
John’s eyes lit up. “Carole, I think you’ve got it!”
As everyone at the Bar None knew, herds of wild horses ran free on the federal property that surrounded the ranch, and sometimes on the ranch itself. Kate’s horse, Moonglow, had come from one of those herds. Kate had adopted the mare as part of a government program that kept the herds small enough so that they could survive. Most of thetime the horses were left alone to graze and forage on the range. It was easy to forget they even existed.
Frank frowned. “You could be right. But why would a tame horse go wild?”
Carole opened her mouth to reply. Then she shut it just as fast. There was no way of explaining it. How could she say, “I just know she’s there. I know it the way I know two plus two is four,” and expect anyone to believe her? She felt John’s eyes on her.
“It’s—It’s just a thought,” she said. “But Stewball seems to want to head in that direction. That is, if the horses still stick to the area around the base of the mountain.”
John spoke up. “They do, Carole. I saw them there last month.”
“Could we at least check?” Carole asked, her fingers crossed. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
Frank looked off into the distance. “That’s a long trek through the snow,” he said doubtfully. He sighed. “I like the looks of that mare, and I’d hate to lose her right after we bought her, but three people are a lot more important than one horse.”
Carole knew Frank was right, and that he had to take responsibility for them. But if it were up to her, she’d risk anything to get the mare back …
“I think we ought to give it a shot, boss,” said John. “We’re not starving out here—or freezing.” He chuckled. “At least, not yet, we’re not. I, for one, can put up with a little more discomfort if it means bringing the marehome.” Something in the way he spoke made Carole feel that John understood she was going on intuition, and that he trusted her intuition.
Frank squinted up at the sky. He checked the sandwich supply in his saddlebag. He studied John’s and Carole’s faces. Finally he said, “We’ll give it three more hours total, including the hour it’s going to take us to get home. If we wrap around the mountain from here, we may catch the herd on the way back. If we don’t, the black mare is going to have to come in out of the cold of her own accord.”
Carole shivered again, and this time not from the cold. As they started off in the opposite direction, she caught John Brightstar’s eye. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
“No problem,” he mouthed back, giving her a thumbs-up.
Stewball
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