by C. S. Adler
“Yeah, well, there's a history to that,” Sally said.
“So what's the history?”
Sally considered. “I guess there's no reason not to tell you. See, Jeb was head wrangler here a few years back when I first came, and he got thrown hard trying to ride a horse that wasn't properly broke yet. Hurt himself bad enough to get laid up in the hospital. Someone had to fill in for him. And me being the senior wrangler, age wise anyway, they asked me to do it. So then when Jeb got back, it ticked him off that I went and did his job good enough for the manager to notice. Mr. Davis told Jeb he should take lessons from me on handling people and horses. That kind of set Jeb against me for a while.”
“You mean he's scared to ride Cheyenne himself?” Mel asked. She was thinking of the times Jeb had teased her about being afraid to ride.
Sally chewed his lip considering. “Not so scared he couldn't be shamed into doing it. Why? You'd rather have him ride your horse than me?”
“Of course not. I would never trust anybody else but you on Cheyenne,” she said so fervently that Sally laughed.
“I'm glad you've got such faith in me,” he said.
* * * *
Twice before Sally was to put on his performance, Mel awakened in the middle of the night and slipped out to talk over what was going to happen soon with Cheyenne. He had become sensitive to the lightest pressure of her hands and pull on his mane. She could turn him easily any way she wanted and lead him around the small corral as if they were walking companions, and he acted as if he enjoyed her company.
“You're not going to give old Sally a bit of trouble, are you, Cheyenne?” Mel asked him before she left him on Friday night. She could just imagine the chagrin on Jeb's face when Sally managed the “wild” horse with ease. She stood and scratched behind Cheyenne's ears while he muttered his pleasure into her neck, tickling her with his warm breath.
The hum, click, and whirr of the insect chorus and the wind playing zither with the trees entertained Mel. She stared up at the stars until they started swimming through the sky. Then she closed her eyes enjoying the warmth of her horse's body against her own. It came to her that Sue might be the right wrangler to lead trail rides with Cheyenne next spring. Sue was gentle with horses, a really nice girl. Yes, Sue would be Mel's first choice.
“But Cheyenne,” Mel said. “Even if I have to let some other wrangler ride you, you'll still be mine, won't you?”
He sneezed. “I take that as a yes,” she said, and with a final pat, she left him so that she could make it back to bed before midnight.
* * * *
On Saturday, the cook set out a lunch of salads and cold meats for the staff. Then a baker's dozen of them walked over to the small arena. Cheyenne stood at alert watching the herd of humans arrive and settle, some in the stands and some leaning on the fence.
“I'll tack him up,” Mel said.
“Sally can do it,” Jeb said.
“No. I know the best saddle for him,” Mel said. Without waiting for Jeb's okay, she ran across the stream to the small barn.
Sally was in the corral talking to Cheyenne when Mel came back, lugging saddle and bridle and blanket. The horse looked wary. His eyes were opened wide, and he leaned away from Sally as if he meant to cut and run at Sally's first move toward him. But when Mel threw the blanket over his back, Cheyenne stayed still, and he cooperated nicely as she fitted the bridle over his head. He even took the snaffle bit in his teeth for her with ease.
“Looks like you already got him tamed,” Jeb said. And he asked suspiciously, “You try riding him yet?”
Mel shook her head and went about tightening the cinch.
Sally put his hand on Cheyenne's neck, still soothing him with his low, mellow voice. The horse danced sideways away from him, but he tolerated the man's hand as Sally followed him. Someone whose boom box was shredding the air with country western music shut it off. Everyone watching grew so quiet the crickets and katydids took over. They were briefly accompanied by a jet whining over the mountains.
Then Sally said, “Okay, here goes.” He put his foot in the stirrup and was mounted in a second. It took another second for Cheyenne to react. The mustang exploded. He jumped so all four feet were in the air and his back was arched. When he landed with Sally still on his back, he bucked and bucked again. Next he shook himself, and when he still hadn't gotten rid of Sally, he took off at a gallop and ran, just as he had with Grant Hogue, straight at the fence.
“Sally!” Mel screamed in horror, seeing calamity rushing her way again.
But Sally saw what was coming and pushed himself off the horse sideways into the ring. He landed on his shoulder and hip and rolled. The horse thundered past him. Mel ran to her friend.
“I'm all right,” Sally said. She gave him her hand, and he took it and got to his feet.
“That horse is gonna take some time to train,” he said.
“That horse is still wild,” Jeb said, his face taut with fear. “No way he can be used for trail riding. You better see if Jeffries will trade him in for another, Mel.”
“There isn't a better horse than Cheyenne,” Mel said.
“He's dangerous, and he don't belong on a guest ranch,” Jeb said. “You saw the trouble we had with that fella that broke his arm. And if Sally can't ride him—”
“Cheyenne can be ridden,” she said. “Watch.” And she ran to the far side of the corral where the mustang had stopped as far from people as he could get. Without a backward glance, she threw herself up over the saddle, then sat straight up and slid her feet into the stirrups.
“Mel!” she heard her mother screech. And again, “Mel, don't,” echoed by Denise who had just appeared outside the rail.
“Come on, Cheyenne,” Mel said. “Show them how good you are.” She touched him with her heels, and he started walking, hesitantly at first, and then more smoothly.
With her heart racing like a fierce warrior riding into battle, she leaned forward and loosened the reins slightly. Cheyenne began to jog. She touched him with her heels, and he moved into a canter. She could see them all as she circled the inside of the ring past them. They were standing up in their seats or leaning into the rails, their faces registering fear and shock and wonder. Her mother was gripping her own cheeks with both hands as if she were cutting off another scream. Denise was crying and jumping up and down so her bush of black hair bounced with her. Sally stood frozen in place with his hand up and out as if to catch her.
Mel brought Cheyenne back into a walk and turned him around and rode him across the ring the other way. She stopped him and made him back up. Then she turned him and turned him again and kicked him directly into a full gallop and stopped him short in the center of the corral and turned around to face them all.
“See,” she said. “He's a great horse.”
A spontaneous clapping began in the stands and was taken up by everyone on the staff.
“Way to go, Mel!” Denise yelled.
Amidst the whistles and cheers, Mel's cheeks widened into a self-conscious grin, and she waved like a rodeo queen at her audience. When the ovation had ended and the staff began drifting away to enjoy the rest of their time off, Mel slipped from Cheyenne's back. She kissed his nose to thank him and told him what a fine fellow he was.
Sally put his arms around her shoulders and hugged her, “I'm so proud of you,” he said. “You rode him, Mel. You rode him like a champion. You're some rider.”
“No, I'm not,” Mel said, remembering what Lisa had screamed at her. “Denise,” she asked, as her friend threw her arms around her and hugged her hard. “Did I look okay?”
“You looked great,” Denise assured her. “But I was so scared I nearly died.”
Strange, Mel thought. She hadn't been scared really, thrilled, but not scared that anything bad might happen. She shook her head at herself. Then she looked over at Jeb.
He was studying her as if she had surprised him.
Her mother hugged her next. “That was crazy,” Dawn
said. “Why did you try that, Mel? You could have been killed.”
“He's a good horse, Mom,” Mel said.
“For you, he is,” Denise said.
“But he's trouble for anyone else. He don't belong here,” Jeb insisted. “I don't dare even put him in with the other horses, wild like he is. He's likely to kill one of them.”
“He's not dangerous,” Mel said.
“I'm sorry, Mel,” Jeb said. “But you better talk to Jeffries. Maybe he'll let you keep the horse down there. Anyway, he can't stay on this ranch.” He turned on his heel and walked off.
“Sally!” Mel cried. “What am I going to do?”
“I don't know, honey girl,” he said. “I just don't know.”
And from her high of triumph, Mel fell straight into a pit of dismay.
Chapter Eighteen
During Sally's last days on the ranch, Mel tagged after him, helping him with whatever chore he was doing, sometimes just standing and staring at him.
“Stop looking at me like that. You're gonna make me cry,” Sally said.
Tears immediately brimmed in Mel's eyes.
“Oh, for Pete's sake,” he said. “You'll be fine, girl. It's going to work out right.”
“Not without you,” she said.
“You pay attention to your schoolwork and do what you've been doing around the ranch, and you'll be too busy to miss me.”
“But what about Cheyenne?”
“See if Jeffries will let you over-winter him with the other mustangs down there. You asked him yet?”
“No. And even if he lets me, how do I get to see Cheyenne down there?”
“You'll figure something out, Mel,” Sally said. He looked embarrassed, as if he were ashamed not to be more helpful. “Meanwhile, you wormed that horse yet?”
“Not yet.”
“I got some paste ready here. You want to mix it with a little molasses so he don't spit it out. He'll take on some weight and be healthier if you worm him. My guess is he's gotten so used to carrying around a bellyful of worms he don't even notice he's got them.”
Dutifully, she prepared the worming paste and squirted it into the top corner of Cheyenne's mouth. He put his ears back and shook his head in surprise as he backed away from her. “What did you do that for?” his expression said.
“For your own good,” she told him. “Because Sally says you need it.” She put her cheek against his neck as she stroked him. His thick winter coat was coming in early, a good thing, too, because when the snow came down heavy and temperatures slid below freezing, he'd need it. Even if Mr. Jeffries let Cheyenne stay in his pasture and didn't charge her much for his winter feed, the horse was going to miss her. Getting five miles down a mountain road and back without transportation after school and before dark in deep snow would be hard, maybe impossible. By spring Cheyenne probably wouldn't even recognize her. He'd be a wild horse again, unused to human companionship.
Mel couldn't stop brooding. Sally was leaving and as if that wasn't bad enough, she was in danger of losing Cheyenne. Besides, another school year had started, another year of struggling to learn material so she could spew it back on tests and avoid embarrassing herself by outright failure. Denise was there for her at lunch, but not in any of her classes as it turned out. They didn't even ride the same school bus. The bus Mel took to the regional district schools was packed with chattering elementary school kids. Her homeroom teacher ran a strictly quiet, business-only first fifteen minutes of the day. Mel had tried smiling at a couple of her less intimidating female classmates, but so far, no one had done more than smile back briefly. She told herself it was just as well, that she wasn't in the mood for socializing. She needed to figure out what she could do about Cheyenne. Denise had offered to let Mel keep Cheyenne in her small paddock, but Ty had pointed out that the paddock was barely big enough for one horse, and if Cheyenne chose to, he was powerful enough to kill Lily.
Dawn had an afternoon off and wanted to take Mel to the mall, thirty miles away, to buy her some new school clothes.
“I don't need any,” Mel said. “I just wear jeans and a sweatshirt anyway, and the ones I've got are good enough.” They were standing in the lobby of the dining hall by the registration desk. Now that the season was about over, the stuffed deer heads on the walls looked down on a deserted room that loomed too large.
“Looking like a homeless kid in worn-out clothes isn't going to help you make friends in school,” her mom argued.
“New clothes aren't going to make kids here like me any better,” Mel said.
“Maybe not, but you're getting some even if I have to buy them without you trying them on.”
“You'll be wasting your money, Mom,” Mel said.
“Can't think of anyone I'd rather waste it on,” Dawn told her cheerfully. “I'll see you at dinner. I'm going to the mall.”
“You buy anything pink or baby blue and I won't wear it,” Mel warned.
“Expect I know that much about you,” Dawn said and walked outside.
The growl of the car engine started Mel thinking. Jeb and Sally kept telling her to talk to Mr. Jeffries about Cheyenne. Mr. Jeffries was rich. Would he care if she couldn't afford to pay Cheyenne's board and feed bills? Maybe she could impress him with how she'd tamed his wild mustang. If he saw what a good horse Cheyenne really was—
On impulse that afternoon, Mel went to the barn, picked out a light-weight saddle, a blanket, and a bridle and carried them to the small corral. She was going to do it. She was going to ride Cheyenne on the road down the mountain. “It'll be all right,” she told herself out loud. “Cheyenne knows me. He trusts me, and I trust him. I rode him in the ring and nothing happened. Why should walking him five miles down the road to Jeffries' ranch be a problem?”
Of course she could lead Cheyenne on foot the five miles down to Jeffries' ranch. She could do that, but what was she proving then about how well trained he was? Jeffries had to see that Cheyenne behaved himself, at least with her he did. Risk. Sally said you had to take risks. Okay. She'd take one more.
Cheyenne raised his head at her approach and whinnied as if he were asking what she was up to now.
“No more medicine. Don't worry. Today, we're going on a long ride,” she told him as she went about saddling him. “Remember how we walked on the road? And cars went by and you didn't get upset or anything? Well, today I'm going to ride you the same way, but further. All the way to Jeffries' ranch.” Her heartbeat was registering her fear, and she fought to keep it from ruling her judgment. Just once, she told herself. Just once she would ride Cheyenne five miles down the mountain to show Mr. Jeffries how good a horse he was. She only had to do it once.
If anything, Cheyenne seemed eager to leave the arena. She could feel his muscles tensing with enthusiasm as she tacked him up. His ears poked forward. He kept his head high and faced the gate expectantly. She hoped he couldn't sense how shaky her legs were, how her muscles had turned to jelly. She chattered to him, as much to calm herself as to keep him interested in what they were doing.
“You must get awfully bored alone all day in this little corral, huh, Cheyenne? You miss your buddies? Feel like a little horsey companionship now and then? You might like spending the winter with your friends, especially while I'm in school all day. There's kids here in this school that care about horses, some of them have their own horse. I can talk about you, and they listen like they're interested. Well, of course, anyone would find you interesting.”
Mel opened the gate. She led Cheyenne outside and closed the gate behind them. For a minute, she waited to see how Cheyenne was going to react to the car trailing a scarf of dust from the dirt road as it rattled toward them. Cheyenne barely turned his head to watch it pass. “Good boy,” she said, and with one deep breath, she swung up into the saddle and started walking Cheyenne along the shoulder of the road.
No one was there to watch them pass by the ranch except the kitchen helper who was mowing the lawn, probably for the last time this fall before
the first snow fell. He waved, and Mel waved back. Cheyenne bent his neck to grab some long grass edging the road, and Mel pulled his head up.
“No, sorry.” She would have liked to allow him to nibble, but they needed to concentrate on getting to Mr. Jeffries' pasture without delay. The sooner this experiment was over with, the happier she'd be. Cheyenne ducked his head disobediently to nip at more grass heads. “No, Cheyenne,” she said more firmly. “Cut it out.”
He tossed his head then and proceeded for a while, contentedly munching on the bits of weed he'd managed to snag. She was glad the sun shone strong in the azure sky because the temperature had already dropped to where she could have used a jacket over her short-sleeved T-shirt. Cheyenne stepped along smartly, obviously glad to be going somewhere, anywhere, on such a crisp afternoon. Nothing about his behavior alarmed her.
Still she rode stiffly, scarecrow in the saddle again, aware of her heart beating too fast and her fingers cramped on the reins. “Don't let anything happen. Don't let anything happen,” she muttered like a mantra.
Finally, they turned off the dirt road from the mountain onto the more level stretch of asphalt main road in the valley, and Cheyenne quickened his pace without her urging. Sitting his smooth jog was so easy that Mel told herself riding him really was fun, if only she could stop worrying that something might go wrong. A few minutes more and they'd reach Jeffries's ranch.
Then from behind her she heard a loud rumbling. Mel looked back over her shoulder. A huge, gray dirt truck was speeding toward her churning up loose rocks with its enormous wheels. It seemed to be taking up more than its share of the road, too, like a hulking monster that had nothing to fear from anyone. Surely the driver must see her! But the truck came lunging on toward Cheyenne as if it had no intention of slowing down for the sake of a horse and rider.
The awful noise increased to a roar. “Steady, Cheyenne,” Mel yelled as she pulled him off the shoulder of the road toward the line of pine trees where the woods began. That was all she had time to say before the massive iron vehicle was upon them. Cheyenne was walking as the truck roared past. But that wasn't enough. He jerked his head around to see what was going on, and that would have been that if the truck hadn't hit a bump. A huge clod of dirt came flying out of the open back straight for them. Mel ducked, but she felt the impact of the clod as it hit Cheyenne's rump. He screamed and reared. Suddenly Mel was flying through the air. Before she blanked out, her head banged hard against something.