Spirit Horses

by Alan S Evans

About ten minutes went by, and there was still no sign of the truck’s owner. The bunch was now passing around a second flask and seemed to have nothing better to do than to wait around for the driver. Shane was beginning to guess it was some guy they knew, and when he came out they would get together and have a good ole time. That’s when he noticed a young woman walking out of the drugstore just down the street. She was carrying a small box and was moving toward the truck.

  Surely this isn’t who the boys are waiting to harass! As the girl moved out of the shadows, it all began to make sense. She was an attractive young Indian woman. He watched as she shook her head slightly and rolled her eyes when she realized what was going on at her truck. Showing no fear, she walked up to the motley group. The girl looked one of the boys straight in the eye as she approached the passenger-side door and sternly requested, “Please get out of my way.”

  The fella stepped aside, then bent down into an exaggerated bow while she opened the door to put her box inside.

  She took a deep breath and rolled her eyes once more before angrily walking around to the driver’s side, but the boy standing there wouldn’t move so she could get in. Instead, he swept a disrespectful gaze up and down her body as he menacingly said, “You’re a damn fine looking squaw. If you’d come and party with us, we’ll give you a day you’ll never forget!”

  If the young woman was scared, she didn’t show it. Shane smiled after hearing her sharp response, “In your dreams, you creep, now get out of my way!”

  The boys laughed then quickly surrounded her. The Nethers boy, who seemed to be the leader of the fiasco, grabbed her arms and pushed his body up against hers, pinning the girl to the driver’s side door. “I’ll tell you what, you little bitch, you give me a nice, long kiss, then maybe I’ll let you go on your way.”

  The woman, still showing no fear, spit in the boy’s face as she struggled to turn her head away and get free. Nethers quickly retaliated to her justifiable defense by reaching up with his right hand and grabbing her by the throat.

  “Let me go!” she hollered while still fighting to break his hold.

  This was about as much as Shane could take. He had to do something before the girl got hurt. He stood as he mentally prepared himself for the worst, and then headed across the street.

  “All right, guys, you’ve had your fun, now, why don’t you let her go!” One of the men from the unruly bunch stepped in front of Shane, cutting him off from getting any closer to the truck.

  “I don’t know who the hell you are, mister,” the man leaned into Shane’s face. “This is none of your freakin’ business, and I’m only going to tell you once to stay out of it.”

  Shane looked him square in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere until you let her go.”

  The cocky young man wasted no time in throwing the first punch. Shane was expecting it and easily avoided the clumsy inaccurate swing.

  Although the punch had missed its mark, Shane knew the talking was over and countered with a pounding right blow to the man’s temple. The guy, being half drunk, lost his balance, fell to his knees, and crumbled to the ground.

  As he watched the man fall, Shane felt a hard, unexpected punch below his left ear. He turned to defend himself only to realize he was now dealing with two men, both throwing punches at him at the same time. These two were a bit smaller than the first. Shane threw a quick, but well-aimed, uppercut that knocked one of them out cold. The one still standing was a better fighter, but his punches had no real power and did little damage. Shane saw an opportunity and took advantage by kicking the remaining attacker in the groin as hard as he could. The man doubled over groaning in pain and held up his hand. He’d had enough.

  Shane thought he had everything under control, but suddenly felt a stinging crack to the back of his head. Someone had taken a rake handle out of the truck’s bed and broken it across his skull. This time it was Shane dropping to his knees. His bell had been rung good, but somehow he was able to keep himself from blacking out.

  While he was struggling to maintain consciousness, he heard the girl’s truck engine start. With the guys focused on the fight, the girl had been able to slip into her driver’s seat.

  Shane looked up to see the men scatter as she drove her truck right through the middle of the drunken mob blowing her horn. With tires squealing, she raced up beside Shane who was still on his knees. The old truck came to a sliding halt as the passenger-side door swung open.

  “Come on, get in—NOW!” she begged. Shane staggered up and crawled into the truck cab as the woman floored the gas pedal. In the rearview mirror, she could see the men were shaking their fists, giving them the finger, and throwing rocks at her accelerating truck, but she was already out of range.

  Though badly outnumbered Shane had held his own, but he was sure glad the girl had gotten him out of there when she did.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, as she sped out of town.

  “Yeah, I’ll live.”

  The woman then shook her head. “Mister, you should have stayed out of it. They weren’t going to hurt me. I’m not afraid of those idiots.”

  “Yeah, well maybe you should be,” Shane said, as he wiped the blood from the back of his head and grimaced.

  She handed him a handkerchief and said again, “You shouldn’t have gotten involved. I could have handled it.”

  “Ma’am,” Shane replied angrily, “I watched the whole thing from a distance before I came over, and I didn’t throw the first punch either! Those guys were pretty drunk. There’s no telling what they might have done to you. You know, where I come from, people tend to say thank you when someone helps them.”

  The woman remained quiet for a few moments. “I have to get home so tell me where to drop you off.”

  Shane thought for a minute. “My truck is at the motel in town, but I don’t think we want to go there now. Can you take me to a friend’s house a few miles east of town?” He felt sure Mr. Jensen would take him to get his truck later on.

  “Okay, but I have to get home. My grandfather needs the prescription I just picked up.” The girl knew the area well and took a shortcut. Soon they were pulling into the Jensen’s driveway.

  Shane slowly got out of the truck, dealing with one hell of a headache. As soon as his feet hit the ground, the dizziness overwhelmed him. The woman quickly jumped out of the truck and ran around to help.

  “Hang on and I’ll get you to the house.”

  Shane slowly, with the pain pounding in his head, gave a slight nod. The paddock fence where Tory and Sloppy were staying was only about thirty feet away. As the woman helped Shane get his bearings, the two trotted over.

  “Those horses seem to know you,” she said as she helped him find his balance.

  “Yes ma’am, they’re mine. I’m boarding them here for a few days. Hey lady,” Shane said, as the horses followed them up the fence, “what kind of Indian are you?”

  She shook her head and gave him a hard look.

  “You obviously aren’t from around here.”

  “No, ma’am,” he replied a bit defensively. “You sure have a chip on your shoulder, don’t you?”

  The girl looked at Shane out of the corner of her eyes. “Sorry, I guess I still have my guard up. You know most of the folks in town are good people, but that bunch of guys we just dealt with seem to enjoy causing trouble for anyone who is Shoshone.”

  Shane stopped and pointed at the Mustang. “Do you know that brand on her hip?” He could sense the girl’s anger, as she looked over.

  “That’s a stolen horse,” she blurted out. “Where did you get her?”

  “I’ve had her for a few years. I got her in Tennessee. That’s where I’m from, and I’m not a horse thief.”

  “Well that horse is a Shoshone mustang and belongs on our reservation!” the girl exclaimed angrily as she helped Shane onto the porch and watched him sit in a rocking chair.

  “Ma’am, my name is Shane Carson, what’s yours?”

  “I’m Tara. Loo
k, I don’t have time to ask any more questions about the horse right now. I need to get that medicine to my grandfather. I’ll come back tomorrow around noon with my brothers to talk to you about the mare?”

  “I’ll be here,” he replied.

  Tara stepped down off the porch, turned back, and quietly said, “Thanks for your help, Shane Carson. I won’t forget it, but I still think you should have stayed out of it.”

  Shane forced a grin and slowly shook his aching head as he reached up and felt a growing lump from the rake handle.

  This was the first time he’d really taken a good look at her. He had noticed right off the bat that she was tough and independent, but she also possessed some class. She appeared to be in her late twenties, and, listening to her command of English, Shane couldn’t help but think she must be well educated. All of this was a bit overshadowed by the hard shell she hid behind.

  In spite of his aching head, Shane found himself drawn to her natural beauty. It was not the flashy kind that jumps out at you from a distance, but the kind that slowly overcomes a man, the closer he gets to such a woman. Her coal black hair was just short of waist length, and had come somewhat unraveled from her ponytail. She wore no makeup. The truth be told, she didn’t need it. Her natural high cheek bones and smooth, caramel skin were obviously Indian traits, but her sky blue eyes made Shane doubt that she was a full-blooded Shoshone. The only jewelry she had on was a beaded necklace, with a light blue turquoise stone. She stood about five eight with a body any woman would envy. Even with all this, she appeared unpretentious and seemingly unaware of her appeal. Shane figured she must have a man in her life. He wondered if there would be any retaliation on her behalf over what happened in town.

  As Tara drove off, Mrs. Jensen came out to the porch. She was startled by all the blood on Shane’s hand and the back of his head.

  “Oh my goodness, what happened? You need to get in the house right now and let me tend to that mess!”

  “I’m okay, ma’am, I just bumped my head.”

  “Bullshit,” the old man said, as he followed his wife out. “You’ve got a black eye coming up along with that big bloody knot on your noggin. It looks to me like you came out on the short end of a fight!”

  “It’s a long story,” Shane answered. “I’ll tell you about it later, but for now, could I take you up on that offer to stay here for a few nights?”

  “You know you’re welcome,” Mrs. Jensen said.

  “I could also use a ride to the motel, so I can get my clothes and truck.”

  “No problem,” answered Mr. Jensen. “You let me know when you’re ready. Right now, you need to let the wife do a little cleanup and repair.”

  “Thanks, I owe you folks.”

  After Shane was doctored and had showered, Mr. Jensen took him to town. To say the least, it had been an eventful day. In spite of this, during the drive Shane’s thoughts began to drift to his family. The early evening was the hardest for him. It was this time each day that he always looked forward to being with them. That’s when he had the time to play and laugh with his kids and visit with Jen while she was fixing dinner.

  The ride to town was quiet. Mr. Jensen could tell Shane didn’t feel like talking, so he left him alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t the kind of man who would pry.

  He dropped Shane off at the motel. Then he parked in the next block waiting to make sure Shane got his stuff safely into his truck before he headed home.

  By the time Shane arrived at the farm, Mrs. Jensen had dinner waiting. After eating, she showed him to their small guest room where he unpacked and turned in early.

  Shane woke after a restless night, with the lump on the back of his head still aching, but decided to ride the horses anyway. They needed to stay legged up for what could be a long, hard trip into some rough country during his upcoming search for the wild herd.

  After exercising both horses, Shane took them for a trail ride to cool them down. He rode Tory and ponied Sloppy alongside. Shane felt driven to locate the mustangs as soon as possible, accomplish his objective, and go home with Tory. He was anxious to meet with Tara and her brothers at noon, hoping they would give him information that could help him find the wild horses. Perhaps he could hire one of Tara’s brothers as a guide. He had high hopes this meeting would be helpful.

  As he rode, he was again overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of this magnificent country, especially viewing it from horseback. Returning to the Jensen’s, he noticed the Indians had arrived early. Tara sat on the paddock fence while two men leaned against the bed of the same old pickup she was driving yesterday. “I wonder why they brought a horse trailer,” he mumbled to the horses. “I hope they don’t think they’re taking you,” he remarked under his breath glancing over at Sloppy. Cautious of the situation, he rode toward them at a slow walk while leading the mustang beside him. Tara smiled and nodded hello, Shane did the same.

  He couldn’t help but notice that the two guys with her were good sized, tough-looking characters. Neither of them greeted him. Their lack of response bothered Shane, but he felt it was probably just their way. One of the men walked up to Sloppy and inspected the brand. Then he looked at his brother and frowned, “She’s one of ours, all right!”

  The other reached up to grab Sloppy’s lead from Shane’s hand. Shane immediately reined Tory back. The two well-trained horses responded accordingly and moved out of the man’s range.

  “Mister, we’ve come to get our horse. She has the broken arrow brand on her. That’s proof enough she was stolen from our herd.”

  Shane didn’t know what to say. In that instant the man once more reached for the mare’s lead. Shane was beginning to get irritated with the guy now and swiftly sent Tory forward, pushing the horse into the Indian, knocking him against the fence. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Shane shouted.

  “Mister, we came to get our horse. We’ll take her by force if we have to!”

  Shane quickly bumped Tory into a canter and loped the two horses into the small pen next to the barn. He jumped out of his saddle, slipped the bridle off the gelding, and moved to close the gate. The two men were now standing near the truck, looking like they were serious about the by-force threat.

  “You shouldn’t be doing this!” Tara hollered at her brothers as she jumped off the fence with a bewildered expression.

  Shane picked up a short two-by-four that was leaning against the barn, and headed toward the truck. He was still hurting from the events of yesterday, but if a fight is what they wanted, he was pissed and ready. He wasn’t about to allow these strangers to take off with Sloppy.

  Outnumbered once again, he angrily marched toward them, with the board in hand. Yesterday had been bad enough, but with the two-by-four, he felt better prepared to take care of himself.

  As he approached them, one of the brothers grabbed a crowbar out of the pickup’s bed. “Bring it on!” he hollered, as he aggressively started toward Shane to meet him halfway.

  Tara quickly moved in front of him. “We came here just to talk to him. Damn it! You should have never brought that trailer.” She stood between her brothers and Shane with her arms stretched out, yelling. “Don’t do this. This isn’t why we came.”

  Just then, a shotgun blast rang out from the porch. Mr. Jensen was standing there, with his gun in hand. He shouted, “I got no problem with you Indians, and I don’t want any. Now you just slide into your truck and get off my land.”

  Tara was nearly in tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen.” She jumped into the driver’s seat and called sternly for her brothers. Shane was glad they listened to her. He stood there holding the board watching as they drove away.

  Mr. Jensen stepped off his porch and looked at him with a concerned frown, “Son, trouble seems to follow you around like a shadow.”

  Shane paused a second, then clearly said, “Sir, before I came to Wyoming, I hadn’t been in a fight in over twenty years, but I can’t seem to stay out of one around here.
” He knew he owed Mr. Jensen an explanation. So he told him what happened yesterday and why the Indians came to see him.

  “So, that’s why you couldn’t stay in town?”

  “Yes, sir,” Shane replied. “I thought I’d stay out of trouble if I moved out here.” Both men laughed as Mr. Jensen shook his head.

  He rubbed his brow and looked at Shane. “What do you plan to do now?”

  “I don’t know, but if I have to, I’ll pack into that backcountry on my own. I won’t let those Indians or anyone else get in the way of what I came here to do.”

  “Why is setting that mare free so important for you?”

  Shane looked down at the ground. “Mr. Jensen, maybe one day I’ll explain it to you. But right now, you’ll just have to accept that I have my reasons.” Mr. Jensen nodded his head, then walked back toward the house.

  Shane unsaddled Tory, then sat down in the barn to think things over. He’d been sitting there for quite some time when Mr. Jensen came back out.

  “You figured your next move?”

  “No, sir, I was sure hoping the Shoshones would help me, but I don’t see that happening now.”

  “Well, at least it doesn’t look as though the girl hates your guts. If you explained to her what you are trying to do, she might introduce you to a guide you can hire.”

  “I’ve considered that and, although it seems like the best option, my intuition tells me going out to the reservation might be hazardous to my health.” Both men smiled.

  “You sure have been making enemies around here. I told you that mustang would stir up trouble for you.”

  “Yes, sir, you sure did.” Shane hesitated before continuing, “Well, looking at my lack of options, I really don’t have a choice. I guess I’ll have to chance it and go out there tomorrow to see if I can find Tara. It might be a good idea to lock your gate after I leave, just in case her two brothers come back after the mare.” Shane sighed, “I’m really sorry for all the trouble.”

  “Trouble, hell, I’m not scared of those guys! Besides, this is the most excitement we’ve had around here in years.” He gave Shane a friendly pat on the shoulder as they walked toward the house for supper.