Buy a Cowboy (11 page)

As they came to the back of the valley Baya had Bonnie and Hope turn to face the animals milling around restlessly, as the untamed horses kept the human intruders in sight.

The stallion was making the rounds of the small herd again. His neck was arched and he trotted with extended finesse.

“He's beautiful,” Bonnie breathed as she watched him moving in the floating extended trot that dressage riders try to emulate.

Baya glanced at the dark bay animal. A smile pulled at the edges of his mustache. “Yeah, but he's too short.” His rough voice couldn't disguise the laughter. Sobering, he continued. “He's a blooded Morgan, there's a mix of quarter horse-Morgan in most of the mares.”

They watched as the milling slowed and the animals faced them warily.

“I want you to keep Hope out of danger.” He looked up at her, suddenly serious. “That Shetland couldn't get out of the way of a stampede. You'll have to grab her off him if they come this way. If they run toward you, just charge them with your mare and scream bloody murder.” He ignored the
widening of her eyes. “Faith and Daniel are on range horses, quarter horse stock that know what to do if they come at them. That racehorse of yours is fast but not agile. Should any of them come after you, grab Hope and run. If we're blessed, they'll move easily down the valley with the help of the stallion. I believe the other two and I can keep them bunched. You just bring up the rear and chase stragglers. OK?”

She stared down at him. “I'm sorry I said your horse was too small.”

He smiled. “She's short but she has a twister in her tail. Once she starts moving cattle, she can't be stopped. The little lady's a working fool.”

Daniel's pony had stood quietly, her ears pricked forward, watching the horses in the herd. Now she began shifting and sniffing up wind. She sidled and nickered.

The stallion stopped pacing and threw up his head to look downwind.

“Aw, no!” Baya came off his mare and pulled a blue jar out of his saddlebags. He moved toward the pinto and wiped cream in her nose. The mare just about exploded. She hopped around as much as the grip on her bit allowed her.

Daniel shifted about in the western saddle and hung onto the horn.

As suddenly as she blew up, she settled back down, only snorting now and then.

“What was that?”

“She's coming into season. That's all we need. Let's hope that's a friendly stallion and that we can keep him downwind or our son is going to get a lesson he'll never forget.” He turned to the boy. “You keep a rein on that mare and keep her mind on her job. Got it?”

Daniel nodded.

Baya mounted up and together they moved to the opposite end of the valley from Faith. As they rode away from Bonnie, the boy turned to look at her with solemn eyes.

The smile she gave him was a little more than a tightening of her lower lip. Worry shone from her like a beacon.

Baya noted the byplay between mother and son, and hoped his little group of inexperienced ranch hands would be able to herd these animals down with no problems.

7

From where Bonnie sat on a rise off the valley floor she could see the lanky colt shifting uneasily under her daughter.

Faith leaned forward and patted the sorrel shoulder, crooning to the tense horse.

Bonnie had heard such words before, when Faith soothed Gadfly before a show.

Across the valley Daniel sat on the little pinto mare.

Bonnie rowned. The mare looked like a crouched mountain lion ready to pounce, coiled muscles about to spring into action.

Baya began a circle of the horses in the valley. The stallion came out to greet him. The stiff walk and bobbing neck reflected power in the square bay horse. The two of them stopped within twenty feet of each other.

She could feel the tension in the waiting silence.

The pony at her side sighed and shifted his weight as his head nodded sleepily.

Hope was staring in awed wonder at Baya.

A sudden whistle jerked them upright. Baya had his fingers in his mouth and the piercing whistle came again. The stallion reared up and whirled, kicking out with his hind hooves. The red mare sprang into action rounding one side of the herd, while the stallion began snaking among the horses nipping and kicking, forcing them to run toward the trail down the mountain.

A yell to the left turned Bonnie's head.

The pinto was running toward the herd. Daniel hung onto the saddle horn, screaming at the top of his lungs.

From the right, Faith turned the young colt toward the bunched herd, preparing to work on the gather.

The mare under Bonnie's trembling hands shifted and began moving forward, the Shetland at her side following close as a shadow.

With fear crowding her heart, Bonnie realized Daniel was in trouble.

His head was pushed back and his feet stuck straight out along the neck of the little mare. Phoebe was racing after straggling horses like a demon on a mission. Every time a horse broke free of the group, the pinto hunkered into the ground and spun, tearing after the renegade.

Daniel's reins were forgotten. Every time the mare whirled, the boy's body was flung outward. Only his grip on the saddle horn anchored him. His heels dug into the stirrups in desperation as the pony whirled and twirled keeping the herd in line.

Baya's red quarter horse started toward the pony. Half way to where the boy and pony were, Baya pulled his squat powerhouse of a mare to a standstill and watched the pinto.

Bonnie cantered up to him.

“Help him! He's going to get hurt. What is wrong with that crazy horse?” She was breathless with fear.

“He'll be fine if he can hang on. There's not a thing wrong with that horse. She knows more about rounding up strays than all of us put together. That's the best fifteen dollars I ever spent!” Baya laughed.

“How can you laugh? He's going to get hurt.” Slapping him with her reins, she turned Gadfly toward the pinto.

Baya caught the lines and stopped the horse. “He's going to be fine, Bonnie. Let it go. If we interfere, that pony will explode and he could get hurt. She knows what she's doing and is doing it as smoothly as herding can be done. He's too afraid to come off. He'll even learn something from this. He's followed under his sister's care too long.” Baya turned to face the anger in her gaze. “He's growing up, Bonnie. That mare will suit him to a tee. He hasn't shown respect for anything, after today he will. He'll also be doing his first real day's work. Let him grow, Bonnie.”

She felt tears start and the fear build to an overpowering crescendo. It was too frightening to watch her son's body slipping in the saddle as he clutched the horn. Yet her heart knew Baya was right and the only way for Daniel to learn was to ride it out.

The mare changed direction mid-stride to run after one of the dark horses that had paused for a mouthful of grass.

Daniel had quit screaming and was huddled in the saddle with a death grip on the pommel.

The pinto bared her teeth as she ran at the stalled horse. Keeping one eye on the painted pony the horse raised its head and raced for the safety of the herd. The little pinto paused, hung her head momentarily, and shook herself all over like a huge dog. Her bit rattled.

Faith rode up on the young colt. She leaned over and said something to her brother.

Daniel drew the reins in and lifted the painted head.

Together they rode after the herd.

“Dang.” Baya's voice was soft.

“Quit using that word,” Bonnie said sharply, her fear and anger still running in shock waves under the surface.

He just looked at her, amazement written across his face.

“What? What is it now?” She asked her voice more petulant than sharp.

“If I don't miss my guess Skip will be trained free. That is the best fifteen dollars I've ever spent.” He kneed his horse to follow the remuda at a purposeful canter.

Bonnie trotted slowly behind, so the Shetland could keep pace. As they reached the rocks at the bend of the path, a noise made her pause. She stopped and squinted into the shadows searching for the cause.

Beside her, Socks shaggy head came up. The Shetland pony nickered softly and took several steps toward the rocks.

Gadfly's nose was lifted, the nostrils flaring as she shifted uneasily away. The sound came again and the pony trotted toward it.

Bonnie leaned over the thoroughbred's long neck, trying to see what interested the pony.

A soft shuffling came from the rocks and a spindly foal came from behind the jumbled limestone.

Socks whinnied again and the little sorrel colt ambled slowly toward the shaggy pony.

They stood with their heads together, sniffing each other and snorting softly.

Hope turned to look at her mother.

Bonnie didn't know what to do. She moved Gadfly in a large circle around the pony and colt in imitation of Baya's watchfulness.

The foal looked terrible. Its mane was full of burrs and the thin legs splayed out in all directions.

Bonnie circled the rocks but couldn't find anything behind them or any reason for the foal to have hidden there.

She moved toward her daughter. “Honey, we need to make Socks follow the rest of the horses down the hill. Can you do that?”

The tousled blonde head nodded. She gathered up the nylon reins in chubby little hands and pulled the pony toward the trail.

The pony moved along at his normal shambling gait.

The colt sidled away, then neighed and ran in circles.

The pony nickered but kept going.

After a weaving, nervous hesitation, the colt followed on stilted wary legs.

Bonnie brought up the rear, careful not to make any noise that would startle the colt.

~*~

Bonnie took the elevated descent slow, keeping an eye on Hope and the foal.

The other horses were gathered at the stream. Some had stopped long enough to guzzle a little water but most were settling down to a trot-walk rhythm that would take them directly to the ranch.

Baya circling the group, slowly looking over the stock. He was continually twisting to keep Faith and Daniel in view. His mare and the pinto had a tendency to reel and take after any stragglers that tried to leave and return to the valley.

One old mare kept trying to go back. The brand on her hip was so ancient it was almost unreadable. Her hairy jaw and sway back made her look like a mule. Under the graying hide her bones stuck out starkly.

Bonnie shied away from her scrutiny of Baya and honed in on the faded, aged mare. As if she read his mind, she knew Baya would think the old mare was past her usefulness.

He was checking out Faith and Daniel and counting heads. He didn't see her or the pony and spun his mare back up the slope, before stopping sharply when they came into sight.

In front of her, the Shetland was moving down the rocky trail.

The scrawny foal followed behind, his nose hovering close to the little pony's tail.

Bonnie's tension was easing when she met the relieved expression settling Baya back in the saddle.

“Where'd he come from?” Faith asked as they neared. The green-broke colt under her stroking hand was docile.

By comparison, the pinto moved restlessly stepping toward the strange cavalcade.

Daniel was grimly gripping the saddle horn, his small face determined to stay on the horse.

Behind them, a welcoming nicker caused everyone to look over their shoulders. The old swayback mare jogged toward the three stragglers, her grass gut swaying from side to side.

The colt left the Shetland to run toward his mother.

Immediately, the lead mare turned on him, her teeth bared and blood in her eye.

Baya intercepted and chased her back to the herd. His piercing whistle startled the stallion drinking at the creek. He snorted and began driving the group further down the mountain.

As if on signal, Baya's mare and the pinto tore after them.

With a moments hesitation, Faith glanced back to Gadfly and the Shetland trotting down the hill. Flashing a smile at her mother, she kneed the gelding to follow the herd.

Bonnie stopped at the stream to let the thoroughbred drink.

Socks walked into the water and proceeded to lie down.

Hope began to cry. The crying was more fretful than scared.

Bonnie rode the tall mare over and bent down. “Can you crawl up here with me?”

The little girl nodded and grabbed her mother's hand. By scrambling up the saddle and stirrups, she crawled into her mother's lap.

“You've done well, honey,” Her mother comforted. “We'll be home soon.”

The pony stood up and shook itself like a dog, and Bonnie frowned at him while quoting Baya. “You worthless piece of hide.” She nudged the thoroughbred forward, and they rode down the green hills, heading for the ranch. Bonnie moved Hope to straddle the horse and she began whimpering.

“Hurts, Mommy.” Hope blubbered.

Bonnie thought about the long stretch to the ranch with dread. Tomorrow she'd hurt worse than she did now. The strange burning sensation in her lungs had increased. Her daughter shifted and whimpered, putting pressure on her already aching arms. It had been ages since she'd ridden and the miles they had put in today were already being felt in areas that didn't heal readily. There were blisters and she knew that at least one of them had burst. As much as she longed for a hot bath she was dreading the actual pain of getting into the tub.

Baya came riding into view.

A sigh of relief eased from her throat as he rode up to her. “Can you hand her down?” He asked calmly.

She nodded and let the child slip into his waiting arms.

Hope settled against his chest. He lifted her away from the saddle and cradled her tenderly. His gaze met hers over the fussy child. “She may not be an infant but she's not far from one, either.”

“She did well today, didn't she?” Bonnie asked in a tired voice.