in their efforts to free themselves from the dangling ropes, Cadillac and Lucky ignored Kirstie’s call. The mist swirled around them as they struggled. It disguised the sheer drop into the canyon, swallowed first Cadillac’s pale, bucking shape, then Lucky’s.
Rooted to the spot, Kirstie and Lisa heard a shower of loose stones rattle over the edge of the cliff. The sound of metal shoes on granite rang out.
Then Lucky whinnied, and the sound seemed to unlock Kirstie from her frozen position midway between tent and trees. She jerked into action, sprinting for the cliff, praying she and Lisa would be able to guide Lucky and Cadillac away from the lethal edge.
6
“It’s OK, Kirstie, I’ve got Lucky!” Lisa was there before her. She’d seized the palomino’s halter rope and held tight, as Kirstie ran through the wet mist.
Kirstie saw a dim outline. Lucky tossed his head and reared, only a few yards from the cliff. When he came down, he ducked, then kicked out with his hind legs, narrowly missing Cadillac behind him. The white horse skewed sideways, away from the edge.
“Easy, Lucky, easy!” Lisa got things under control. She steadied the frightened horse, leaned into him, and pushed him out of danger while Kirstie changed direction and went after Cadillac, disappearing once more into the mist.
“Steady.” She found the big horse standing by one of the mossed-over mounds of waste from the old mine and approached carefully, speaking in a low voice. “The bobcat’s gone. Nothing to be scared about anymore.” Privately, Kirstie wasn’t so sure. She wondered what had upset the cat in the first place and sent him scooting from the canyon.
“Have you got him?” Lisa called anxiously.
Cadillac had come to a halt at a distance of four or five yards. He eyed Kirstie warily, nostrils flared, one hoof pawing the ground. “Good boy.” Realizing that the horse might bolt again at the slightest thing, she, too, stopped.
“Kirstie?” Lisa called again.
“Give me a couple of minutes.” She waited until Cadillac had stopped striking his foot against the ground and had lowered his head; a signal that he was ready to be approached. Then she went slowly, smoothly, toward him, softly clicking her tongue and offering him the back of her hand to sniff at. Only when he’d leaned forward to nudge at her hand with his soft gray muzzle did she reach out to take hold of the dangling halter rope.
“OK, got him!” she called to Lisa, breathing a sigh of relief.
Cadillac snorted. Through the mist Lucky whinnied back. Then both horses agreed to be led to the spot where the tent was pitched. Soon they were safely tethered once more.
“Lousy start to the day,” Lisa murmured, as Kirstie got busy with Lucky’s tack.
Kirstie nodded. “I wish I knew what spooked that bobcat.” Taking a saddle from the low branch of a nearby tree where they’d kept it overnight, she slung it over the palomino’s broad back. Smoothly she brought the cinch strap under his belly and buckled it in place.
“I’ll pack the tent.” More eager than ever to be out of there, Lisa slid the flexible rods out of their casings and collapsed the dome. Quickly she rolled up the lightweight fabric, only stopping to shake off the worst of the water drops. “It’s not that I let Matt’s stuff about ghosts get to me,” she insisted. “This place would’ve given me the creeps in any case. I mean, look at the horses; even they hate being here.”
“Looks that way.” Kirstie worked on, lost in thought, listening carefully to the sounds of streams full to the brim and rushing between rocks, over ledges. Water gushed and drowned out the other noises she might have heard: of the stealthy bobcat still circling the area, or maybe fox or coyote creeping through the undergrowth.
“So?” Lisa asked, when, a few minutes later, they were packed and mounted.
Kirstie took a deep breath, glancing up at the gray sky and round at the shadowy shapes of trees
Rooted to the spot, Kirstie and Lisa heard a shower of loose stones rattle over the edge of the cliff. The sound of metal shoes on granite rang out.
Then Lucky whinnied, and the sound seemed to unlock Kirstie from her frozen position midway between tent and trees. She jerked into action, sprinting for the cliff, praying she and Lisa would be able to guide Lucky and Cadillac away from the lethal edge.
6
“It’s OK, Kirstie, I’ve got Lucky!” Lisa was there before her. She’d seized the palomino’s halter rope and held tight, as Kirstie ran through the wet mist.
Kirstie saw a dim outline. Lucky tossed his head and reared, only a few yards from the cliff. When he came down, he ducked, then kicked out with his hind legs, narrowly missing Cadillac behind him. The white horse skewed sideways, away from the edge.
“Easy, Lucky, easy!” Lisa got things under control. She steadied the frightened horse, leaned into him, and pushed him out of danger while Kirstie changed direction and went after Cadillac, disappearing once more into the mist.
“Steady.” She found the big horse standing by one of the mossed-over mounds of waste from the old mine and approached carefully, speaking in a low voice. “The bobcat’s gone. Nothing to be scared about anymore.” Privately, Kirstie wasn’t so sure. She wondered what had upset the cat in the first place and sent him scooting from the canyon.
“Have you got him?” Lisa called anxiously.
Cadillac had come to a halt at a distance of four or five yards. He eyed Kirstie warily, nostrils flared, one hoof pawing the ground. “Good boy.” Realizing that the horse might bolt again at the slightest thing, she, too, stopped.
“Kirstie?” Lisa called again.
“Give me a couple of minutes.” She waited until Cadillac had stopped striking his foot against the ground and had lowered his head; a signal that he was ready to be approached. Then she went slowly, smoothly, toward him, softly clicking her tongue and offering him the back of her hand to sniff at. Only when he’d leaned forward to nudge at her hand with his soft gray muzzle did she reach out to take hold of the dangling halter rope.
“OK, got him!” she called to Lisa, breathing a sigh of relief.
Cadillac snorted. Through the mist Lucky whinnied back. Then both horses agreed to be led to the spot where the tent was pitched. Soon they were safely tethered once more.
“Lousy start to the day,” Lisa murmured, as Kirstie got busy with Lucky’s tack.
Kirstie nodded. “I wish I knew what spooked that bobcat.” Taking a saddle from the low branch of a nearby tree where they’d kept it overnight, she slung it over the palomino’s broad back. Smoothly she brought the cinch strap under his belly and buckled it in place.
“I’ll pack the tent.” More eager than ever to be out of there, Lisa slid the flexible rods out of their casings and collapsed the dome. Quickly she rolled up the lightweight fabric, only stopping to shake off the worst of the water drops. “It’s not that I let Matt’s stuff about ghosts get to me,” she insisted. “This place would’ve given me the creeps in any case. I mean, look at the horses; even they hate being here.”
“Looks that way.” Kirstie worked on, lost in thought, listening carefully to the sounds of streams full to the brim and rushing between rocks, over ledges. Water gushed and drowned out the other noises she might have heard: of the stealthy bobcat still circling the area, or maybe fox or coyote creeping through the undergrowth.
“So?” Lisa asked, when, a few minutes later, they were packed and mounted.
Kirstie took a deep breath, glancing up at the gray sky and round at the shadowy shapes of trees
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