Crazy Horse (2 page)

“Sure they could! Crazy Horse was having a good time out there, that’s all!” One more criticism, and she and Lisa would be in deep trouble. Kirstie had to bite her tongue and set off for the barbecue. She was irritated to find that she was being followed. “Cadillac might not like playing Hide the Flag, but Crazy Horse sure does!”

“You got one thing right,” Lisa said, beginning to veer off across the grass toward the yard. She’d spotted her mother’s pickup truck pulling up outside the ranch house, ready to collect her and drive her into town.

“Yeah, what was that?”
Don’t tell me!
Kirstie said to herself.
I don’t wanna know!

“That day at the sale barn, your mom figured the second horse didn’t need the looks…”

“Yeah?”

Lisa gave a short, empty laugh. “Like I say, you got that right!”

That was it! Kirstie’s temper flared. She strode in front of her departing friend. “So you’re saying, not only is Crazy Horse nutty, but there’s also a problem with the way he looks?”

“You said it, not me!” Lisa walked on into the cold, dark yard. Across the creek, the horses of Half Moon Ranch had gathered by the white fence of Red Fox Meadow. Shadowy shapes, they stood motionless and watchful.

“No!” Kirstie countered. “You’re twisting things. It’s you who’s got a thing against the horse. If you’ve got something to say, come right out and say it!”

“OK.” Lisa stopped and turned. “The way I see it, your mom was new to the dude-ranch business at the time, and she made a whole heap of mistakes the day she bought those two horses. Number one, Cadillac looks good but he won’t do a thing you tell him. Number two, Crazy Horse is just that: crazy!”

“And?” Kirstie invited her to spill everything. She might never talk to Lisa again, but at least she would know exactly what she thought.

Lisa drew herself up and took a deep breath.

“And three, think about it, look at him next time you get a chance. His head’s too big, his legs are too short. Honestly, Kirstie, Crazy Horse has to be the ugliest animal around!”

The mood around the fire was relaxed and friendly. Sandy Scott chatted with June Halverson about the history of the quarter horse, a specialist breed begun in the 1930s specifically to work the Rocky Mountain ranches of Colorado, Wyoming, and Montana. Hadley Crane, chief wrangler on the ranch, was playing the mouth organ for June’s two young children, Robert and Alice, while Matt and Charlie sat back from the fire’s bright glow and continued their earnest conversation.

For a while, Kirstie found it impossible to join in. An argument with Lisa was rare. The two girls had been friends since Kirstie’s first day at San Luis Middle School, and they had exchanged friendship bracelets every spring since then. Yet they were as different as night and day, Kirstie realized. With her red hair and bubbly, outgoing personality, Lisa was a town girl who dreamed of moving to the city. Kirstie was fair-haired and quiet. Always dressed in shirt and jeans, she loved the outdoors life and didn’t give a darn about her appearance, whereas Lisa, she noticed, had begun to wear makeup and to look in mirrors.

And yet, they did have one vital thing in common. Lisa’s dad had left home, too.

And she likes horses
, Kirstie reminded herself as she sat on the bench beside Hadley.
Or I thought she did, until today.

“Hey, honey!” Sandy said quietly as she passed by. Her hair, a few shades of blonde darker than Kirstie’s, was tucked into the collar of her warm corduroy jacket, her hand wrapped around a mug of hot coffee.

The group was breaking up after the cookout. June took her kids off to bed, ready for the journey home the next day. Pat Baker and his wife shook Hadley’s hand and thanked him for organizing a week of excellent trail-riding. The head wrangler nodded briefly and slipped his harmonica into his shirt pocket.

“Charlie!” Hadley called across to his junior wrangler. “Quit fooling around. I got a whole heap of things for you to do!”

Charlie swung his leg over the fence where he was perched and jumped down. He strode over, still in his leather chaps and dusty boots. “Who’s fooling around?” he protested with a wink at Kirstie. “I’ve just been talking to Matt here.”

“Yeah, yeah. Young guys like you can talk and talk. It don’t get no chores done.”

Charlie tipped his hat back on his head. “I’ve done the chores, Hadley. Tack’s all cleaned, horse blankets brushed, yard raked, feeding stalls hosed down…”

The old man raised a hand. “Then I’d get me some sleep if I was you, Charlie. You gotta be up early tomorrow.”

“How come? Tomorrow’s Sunday.”

Until now, Kirstie had only half-listened to the old wrangler’s grumbling. She’d been looking at Matt, who’d stayed where he was on the fence, staring up at the stars. But now she tuned in to the plans for next day.

“Yep, but I need you to be up at five, bringing horses in from the remuda and saddling them up, ready for a day out at Lazy B.”

“What for?” Charlie was puzzled at the unusual order to work on his day off.

“I promised Jim Mullins we’d be over to help on the roundup.” Hadley was already walking away, heading for the bunkhouse where he and Charlie had quarters.

“Roundup?” Forgetting about her quarrel with Lisa, Kirstie jumped up to follow him. A day of riding out on Lazy B’s 20,000 acres to bring in the red Hereford cattle for the winter appealed to her sense of adventure. “Can I come?”

“Sure.” Hadley nodded and walked on.

“Hey, Matt, you coming on the roundup?” Charlie called.

“No, he’s not.” Sandy Scott stepped in smartly as she covered the embers of the dying fire with dirt. “Matt has exams next week. He has to stay home and study.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Matt jumped down from the fence. “Like I’m ten years old, Mom!”

Satisfied that the fire was dead, Sandy pulled up her coat collar and shrugged. “Sorry.”

“I already studied.”

“When?”

“Every night last week. I figure I know enough to get by.” In front of Charlie, Matt wanted his own way. “Honest, Mom, the best plan is to clear my head with a day out at Lazy B. That way, I’ll be rid of all the stress, ready for the tests when I get to Denver tomorrow night.”

Face to face with her son, looking up at his six feet two inches, Sandy Scott gave in. “OK, you know best.” She turned to confirm with Hadley that both Kirstie and Matt would be joining them on the roundup. “But count me out,” she told him with a touch of weariness. “I have to drive the minibus to the airport, drop some people off.”

“Sure.” Hadley took his orders and disappeared.

Soon, Charlie followed him. Matt stayed by the creek for a few moments, watching Sandy walk slowly toward the ranch across the empty yard. The door of the log-built house swung open, and a light went on in the kitchen. “Will you leave Lucky behind tomorrow and ride Crazy Horse for me?” he asked Kirstie. “He needs to work off some excess energy.”

“Sure.” She nodded. “Will you take Cadillac?”

It was a question that didn’t need an answer. Cadillac and Crazy Horse. Matt’s two horses. Beauty and the Beast. Sometimes, Kirstie thought they were all he cared about: his gray pedigree and his ugly, light brown quarter horse.

There was new snow next morning on Eagle’s Peak. Kirstie got out of bed, drew back the drapes, and saw the granite mountain glinting white against the pink dawn sky.

Eagle’s Peak, Miners’ Ridge, Bear Hunt Rock; they all overlooked the valley where Half Moon Ranch nestled in one of the small pastures that ran like green jewels strung along the silver necklace of Five Mile Creek.

But there was no time to stay at the window and admire the view, Kirstie realized. Charlie was already hard at work in the corral, saddling his own horse, Rodeo Rocky, and brushing down Moose, the sturdy, gray quarter horse who was to be Hadley’s mount for the day. Beyond the corral was the creek, and beyond that the frost-covered meadow where Matt was cutting out Cadillac and Crazy Horse from the rest of the herd.

Quickly, Kirstie climbed into her jeans and shirt, pulling on a thick blue sweatshirt and two layers of socks. By the time she glanced out of the window once more, her brother was already leading the ill-matched horses across the wooden footbridge into the corral.

“Breakfast!” Sandy Scott reminded her as she shot downstairs and into the kitchen.

Kirstie grabbed her boots from under the table where she’d kicked them off the previous night. “No time!”

“Sure you have time,” her mom insisted. She pushed a stack of waffles covered in a thick layer of maple syrup in her direction. “And eggs!” Crossing to the stove, she got to work on a cooked meal that would see Kirstie through the hard day at Lazy B.

“Not hungry,” Kirstie protested, stuffing waffle into her mouth.

“Where did I hear that before?” Sandy smiled as she delivered the plate of eggs to the table and eyed the vanishing waffles. “Could it be from Matt, by any chance?”

“Did he have breakfast already?”

“No, he skipped it.” Kirstie’s mom’s smile faded, and she sighed.

“No big deal, Mom. It’s only breakfast. I figure he’ll survive.” Gulping down the eggs, Kirstie showed she was ready to leave.

“Only breakfast,” Sandy echoed with a shake of her head. “If only…”

Heading for the porch, Kirstie hesitated. “You worried about Matt for some reason?”

“A little, I guess. He’s moody.”

So what was new? Kirstie’s brother often went into sulks over his lack of social life, the traveling to and from Denver, or some small problem with his girlfriend, Lachelle. “That’s Matt.”

“But yesterday, before the trail ride, something happened, and he went crazy over it.” Sandy had followed Kirstie to the door and stood looking thoughtfully at her son as he saddled Cadillac in the corral. “It was just a phone call from Wes Logan at Ponderosa Pines. You know, the well heeled guy from California who bought the ranch a couple of years back? He’s looking for a horse for his wife, Nancy, and thought we might like to sell Cadillac.”

Kirstie swung around. “No way!” was her immediate response.

“That’s what I told Mr. Logan. The horse isn’t for sale. I softened it a bit—said Cadillac was a little hard to handle. His wife would probably prefer a more docile mount. But when I got off the phone, Matt wouldn’t let it drop. He said my ‘no’ had sounded like ‘maybe,’ that I wasn’t tough enough, and never in a million years would he agree to part with the horse.”

Taking her baseball cap from the hook on the porch, Kirstie jammed it firmly onto her head. “Matt overreacted, that’s all. Blame it on exam nerves.”

“Yeah.” Sandy sighed again, then gave a small smile. “I guess I just worry about your older brother.”

“Well, don’t!” Kirstie leaned across to give Sandy a kiss on the cheek. Outside in the corral, she saw Hadley mount Moose, ready to set off for Lazy B. “Matt’s a big boy. He can take care of himself!”

Sunday was a good day to ride the trails; and the last Sunday in October, when the year’s final visitors to Half Moon Ranch were heading for home was the best of all, according to Kirstie.

Meltwater Trail—which took them along the sides of rushing creeks to Miners’ Ridge through Dead Man’s Canyon—was deserted, just the way she liked it. A red-tailed hawk soared up from a treetop as they passed by a stand of lodgepole pines. A bull elk stood in a clearing of long, dry grass, raised his head, and gave his bugling call, sending two racoons and a family of red foxes scuttling across the trail.

Crazy Horse saw the foxes out of the corner of his eye and skittered sideways. Kirstie reined him to the left, back on course, chiding him for being chicken. “Tiny, tiny foxes!” she told him. “And you, a great big, hulking thing with iron shoes!”

The light brown horse snorted and blew. Up ahead, Hadley reached the end of Miners’ Ridge and brought Moose to a halt.

“I fixed on meeting up with Jim Mullins in the next valley,” he told Charlie, Kirstie, and Matt. “Four cows holed themselves up there the day before yesterday. We’ll round ’em up and head them back to Lazy B by midday.”

As the others nodded their agreement, Hadley set Moose off down the slippery descent toward Horseshoe Creek: a thirty-minute trek through more pines and aspens. Reaching the bottom, the four riders let their horses wade into the creek to drink and were greeted by the stocky figure of Jim Mullins astride Monty, his blue roan gelding. Monty’s bridle clinked and Jim’s polished leather saddle creaked as the rancher approached.

“Any sign of them four runaways?” he asked, turning straight to business. Only a nod in their direction before he cast his gaze up the hillside, the way they’d come.

“Nope.” Hadley was like Jim; he never used two words where one would do.

“OK, we spread out and sweep the hill. Don’t go too high. It gets kind of vertical up there.”

Kirstie glanced up at the ravines littered with fallen trees, at the thick forests and the tiny green clearings. Then she grinned at Charlie. “Kind of like a needle in a haystack!”

“Only the haystack covers 30,000 acres!” he agreed before he and Rodeo Rocky split off and made their way downstream.

She watched Matt rein Cadillac to the left, taking off in the opposite direction of Charlie. Hadley and Moose were retracing their steps the way they’d just come.