© 2009 by Jenny Oldfield
Cover and internal design © 2009 Sourcebooks, Inc.
Cover photo © Jupiter Images
Internal illustrations © Paul Hunt
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410
(630) 961-3900
Fax: (630) 961-2168
www.sourcebooks.com
Originally published in Great Britain in 1999 by Hodder Children’s Books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Oldfield, Jenny.
Midnight Lady / Jenny Oldfield.
p. cm.—(Horses of Half Moon Ranch ; bk. 5)
Summary: Thirteen-year-old Kirstie gets into trouble when she tries to help a mistreated horse escape from a neighboring ranch.
[1. Horses—Fiction. 2. Ranch life—Colorado—Fiction. 3. Animals—Treatment—Fiction. 4. Colorado—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.O4537Mi 2009
[Fic]—dc22
2008039732
Printed and bound in the United States of America.
VP 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
The Horses of Half Moon Ranch Series
Wild Horses
Rodeo Rocky
Crazy Horse
Johnny Mohawk
Third-Time Lucky
About the Author
1
“… Copper Bottom and Steel Dust; that’s where it all began,” Hadley Crane said as he backed the trailer out of the parking lot at San Luis Sale Barn.
“Yeah, like, I know exactly what you’re talking about!” Lisa Goodman raised her eyebrows at Kirstie Scott. The reversing trailer raised a cloud of dust, which blew grit into the girls’ eyes. It was late afternoon and the baking sun was sinking low in a clear blue sky.
“Two sires,” Hadley went on. The head wrangler at Half Moon Ranch positioned the trailer to wait in line at the wide exit onto Route 27. “Copper Bottom and Steel Dust started a specialist breed of horse way back in the 1930s.”
“What was special about them?” Kirstie could hear the three young horses they’d just bought stamping impatiently inside the metal trailer. She fanned her face with the sale program, then pulled down the peak of her baseball cap to shade her eyes.
“Easy to keep. Good feet. Small. Fast.” Tersely, Hadley listed the strong points of the breed of horse used by the ranchers in the West. “Mighty fast, as a matter of fact. You put a postage-stamp-sized saddle on one of those guys, set him on a sprint track around the outside of a rodeo arena, and he’d blast out of that starting gate like a bullet out of a gun.”
Kirstie grinned at Lisa. Get Hadley talking about his favorite subject, and there was no stopping him. The normally silent old ranch hand could ramble on for ages. “Isn’t that why they’re called quarter horses?” she asked, as their tall vehicle eased out onto the road.
“Sure.” He signaled left and followed the sign that read: Minesville 8 miles, Renegade 3 miles. “Those races were no more than a quarter of a mile long. The horse never drew breath the whole time he was sprinting. He slowed up over the finish line and realized he might be kinda short of breath out there. But there was nothing to beat him for a short burst of speed. Short horse, or quarter horse. And it’s all because of Copper Bottom and Steel Dust.”
“Hmm.” Lisa was impressed. She settled back in the passenger seat for the drive down the narrow, straight road to Renegade. “So the three horses we bought for Donna Rose back there, Skeeter, Moonpie, and Midnight Lady, they’re all quarter horses?”
Skeeter, the three-year-old black-and-white paint. Strangely named Moonpie, the flea-bitten gray with a rash of brownish markings. Long-limbed, dapple gray Midnight Lady. Kirstie held a picture of them in her mind, their nervousness in the sale barn arena, heads up, ears flicking this way and that in reaction to the unaccustomed noise and bustle.
She recalled the paint’s high-pitched whinny as Hadley led him up the ramp into the trailer, Moonpie following reluctantly where his more spirited leader had already gone. And the trouble they’d had loading Midnight Lady, who’d objected to the dark steel box and the echo of her hooves as they struck the metal ramp. She’d pulled and strained at the halter rope, until Hadley had switched tactics and offered her a handful of sweet alfalfa hay to tempt the hungry horse inside.
“I guess the paint and the flea-bitten gray are your typical quarter horse,” Hadley agreed. “I knew Donna would want to use those two the minute I set eyes on them. Stout hindquarters, deep chests; good ranch horses the both of them.”
“What about Midnight Lady?” To Kirstie’s eye the dappled gray horse seemed different. Not so stocky—taller, more slender. A lady, in fact.
Hadley took a right, heading off the main road out across a flat plain, away from the Meltwater range of mountains, where he helped Kirstie’s mother, Sandy Scott, cope with the hundreds of guest riders who visited Half Moon Ranch each year. At the end of the straight, narrow track lay Donna Rose’s working cattle ranch, the Circle R. “The gray is a grade horse, which means she’s been upgraded. She’s a mustang crossed with a quarter horse. She’s got breeding, but no papers to prove it, if you catch my drift.”
“She’s wonderful!” Kirstie breathed. Long legs, long arched neck, a haughty tilt to her head.
“You would say that!” Lisa joked about her friend’s well-known love of every single horse on the planet. “But let’s hope Donna thinks so, too.” She reminded them of the problem they’d had getting the third horse into the trailer.
Way down the track, the isolated ranch house came into view. It was surrounded by a green sea of prairie grass whispering and shimmering in the wind, making the house itself look like a becalmed wooden boat. Close up, they saw the red tiled roof, the log walls, the overhanging porch—and Donna Rose standing in the doorway ready to greet them.
“Howdy, y’all!” Donna’s smile was broad and sparkling white. Her hair was streaked blonde, her turquoise earrings dangled down almost to the wide shoulders of her crisp denim jacket. She wore a white shirt and a big silver buckle on her broad tan leather belt.
“Howdy, ma’am.” Hadley stepped from the cab, hitching his leather gloves into the waistband of his worn jeans. He strode to the back of the trailer, ready to unbolt the door and let down the ramp.
“Hey!” Kirstie said to the ranch owner with a shy, awkward smile, while Lisa scrambled past her to follow Hadley.
“You bought me some neat horses?” the glamorous, middle-aged owner of Circle R inquired, stepping down from the porch in her fancy, tooled brown and cream heeled boots.
“We sure hope so!” Lisa’s smile matched Donna’s in the dazzling department. “Hadley paid a mean price leastways.”
“That’s why I asked him to do me the favor,” Donna went on, smooth as silk, sweet as sugar. She stood to one side, hands on hips, ignoring the dust and the tumbleweed that rolled across the yard in front of the ranch house. Be
hind her, swinging from the porch was a giant bundle of chili peppers, hung out in the sun to dry. A gnarled pair of stag’s antlers were propped to one side of the doorway; probably a hunting trophy from many seasons ago. “Me and Hadley, we go way back. I know he drives a hard bargain!”
The old ranch hand ducked his head. Beneath his wide-brimmed dark Stetson hat and his all-year-round weather-beaten tan, Kirstie could have sworn he was blushing. To hide his embarrassment, he kept busy unloading the horses while Donna talked.
And boy, did she talk.
“When I say way back, I mean we were in high school together,” she explained to a still grinning Lisa.
Kirstie frowned and did a double take. Donna Rose was smooth-skinned and young looking, where Hadley was lined and worn. Surely she was years younger! But then, maybe it was the carefully styled hair and glossy pink lipstick that did it.
“Hadley’s much older than me, naturally!” Donna continued, as if reading Kirstie’s thoughts. Her voice held a teasing lightness. “And if he was the gentleman I believed he was, he’d have been the one to jump right in there and tell you that!”
Schkk …schkk! The heavy bolts slid back and Hadley let down the ramp. Inside the trailer, the three horses stamped and barged.
“He was in tenth grade at San Luis High when I got there. I was Donna Ward back then. All we innocent young gals adored him, he was so tall and handsome!”
“Wow!” Lisa giggled at Kirstie. Hadley handsome?
Ignoring them all, Hadley stomped up the metal ramp into the trailer, unhitched the first horse, and led him out. “Easy, boy, easy!”
Kirstie watched Skeeter clatter down the ramp. The black-and-white horse emerged into the low sunlight head high and staring. His nostrils flared wide, his jaw was tense; sure signs that the journey had disagreed with him.
But Hadley held him firmly on the end of a short rope. He spoke soft words of encouragement. “C’mon, Skeeter, there’s a good guy. Ain’t nothing here to worry you none.”
“What do you think?” Kirstie asked eagerly, the moment Donna Rose stopped talking and switched her attention from the wrangler to the beautiful horse. In the background, she noticed a young man come out of the barn across the yard and head slowly in their direction.
“Pretty!” The lady ranch owner murmured her appreciation. “I like paints. They’re my favorite.”
“Are you gonna use him as a cutting or a roping horse?” Kirstie wanted to know.
“What’s the difference?” Lisa snuck into the pause while Donna contemplated her answer.
“You use a cutting horse in the spring and fall for cutting out from the herd those cows you want to brand and doctor,” Kirstie explained quietly. “He’s trained to work off a loose rein and respond to your voice. That kind of horse needs a lot of natural savvy.”
“And I guess a roping horse is the one you use to chase and lasso the cows with,” Lisa put in. “Gee, I’m learning so much!” Up went the dark, ironic eyebrows and the corners of her full mouth.
“You did ask!” Kirstie retaliated. By now the stranger from the barn had joined their small group. He was tall and lean, with a narrow, cleanshaven face and a noticeably big, bony nose. His shirt was bright red, with silver buttons and plenty of fancy over-stitching, and he wore expensive, brand new leather chaps over his tight jeans. Instead of saying hi and joining in the conversation, however, he stood slightly apart, managing to avoid eye contact by concentrating entirely on the three new horses.
“Cutting or roping?” Donna turned to the young newcomer for advice.
The young man studied Skeeter, then shrugged. “Roping, I guess. He’s got plenty of muscle in his hindquarters to brace himself and take the weight of a twelve-hundred-pound cow on the end of a rope.”
“And how about Moonpie?” Lisa urged as Hadley returned to the trailer and led the more timid gelding down the ramp. He was good as gold, looking out for Skeeter and going meekly where Hadley led him.
“Cutting,” came the short reply.
“That means TJ can ride the paint and we give Moonpie to Jesse,” Donna decided with a nod of satisfaction. “Which leaves the third bronc for you to train up and ride yourself, Leon!”
They waited eagerly as Hadley tethered Moonpie next to Skeeter inside a rough stockade formed from thick, upright pine poles, then returned to the trailer for the last horse. Eagerly, that is, except for Leon, the moody young man, who scowled behind Donna’s back.
“She’s my favorite of the three!” Kirstie told Donna. “Hadley picked her out because she’s a grade horse, which means she’s part mustang, part quarter horse …” Trotting out Hadley’s earlier description, she caught a glimpse of Lisa’s rolling eyes and exaggerated, bored yawn. Kirstie got her revenge back by giving her friend a quick, sly dig in the ribs.
“Sounds like she has quite a temper.” Donna’s dazzling smile faded slightly as the trailer thundered, rattled, and rocked. Hadley was having a tough time getting Midnight Lady down the ramp.
“I told you to let me drive into San Luis and buy my own horse,” the man called Leon grumbled.
“You may be manager here, Leon, but I’d trust Hadley to make the right choice every time.” Donna put him in his place, then smiled once more in her old friend’s direction. Now all eyes were on the back of the trailer and tension was mounting. “Ever since my husband, Don, passed on three winters back, Hadley’s been an absolute angel to me!”
Hadley, an angel? Kirstie noticed that this time Lisa’s eyes rolled almost out of sight. She noticed, too, that Leon’s scowl had deepened after Donna’s latest tactless remark. But there was no time to dwell on it, as the drama of getting the reluctant bronc out of the trailer developed.
“Kirstie, see if you can grab a bunch of hay and stand where she can see it!” Hadley yelled from inside.
Thinking fast, she pointed to the barn, and when Donna nodded back at her, she sped off to get the hay. Grabbing a bunch from a net hanging in the doorway, she returned as fast as she could and positioned herself with outstretched arms at the base of the ramp.
Inside the trailer, Midnight Lady was still kicking up a mighty fuss. She was snorting and stamping, eyeing the ramp as if it was a treacherous trap ready to collapse the moment she set foot on it. Hadley was the main enemy, trying to snare her; Kirstie was laying temptation in her way; and the sky itself looked like it might fall on her if she so much as ventured outside.
“Easy!” Hadley cooed and cajoled with his deep, growling voice. “Easy, girl. Ain’t no one gonna harm you!” He’d deliberately eased off the tension on the lead rope and waited patiently for the mare to calm down. “You take your time, come out when you want to. Kirstie down there’s got a mighty tasty bunch of alfalfa for you to chew on soon as you’re good and ready.”
Kirstie smiled and nodded. “Sure. This here’s a great ranch: your new home. Ain’t nothing bad gonna happen out here.”
Midnight Lady stopped snorting and kicking and started to listen. Her pricked ears picked up the sound of the wind rustling through long grass, the miles of silence.
“Easy,” Kirstie murmured. She saw the young mare give one last shake of her head and a final swish of her silky white tail. Her nostrils caught the scent of the sweet alfalfa. Dipping her head and stretching out her neck, she inched forward.
Kirstie held her hand steady. One step at a time, Midnight Lady eased out of the trailer, her hooves clomping slowly down the ramp, Hadley at her side. Low shafts of golden sunlight hit her dappled coat as she emerged, emphasizing her sleek flanks and rounded rump, her fine, athletic form.
Then, at last, she was nibbling hay from Kirstie’s hand, her soft mouth nipping at the golden strands, her teeth chomping and grinding quietly. Kirstie backed slowly away, enticing the horse clear of the trailer. She gave a sideways glance at Donna, Lisa, and Leon and a short smile. See! Everything’s gonna be fine. All you need is a little patience.
“Pretty!” Donna stepped forward to inspect her latest
buy. “That’s a classy little mare you picked out, Hadley!”
But before she had a chance to examine Midnight Lady in detail, Leon, her scowling manager, cut in. “Jesse, TJ, get out here quick!” he yelled toward the barn. “Bring tarps and extra ropes!”
The harsh sound of his voice made the gray mare raise her head and tug at the halter rope.
Two men came running. One was medium height and build with slicked back fair hair. The other was chubby-faced and unshaven. His black hair was cut short. Both were around twenty years old, carrying coils of rope and small squares of heavy canvas cloth.
Alarmed at the sudden change of mood, Kirstie shot a question at Hadley, who was having to hang on for all he was worth to a spooked Midnight Lady. “What are the tarpaulins for?”
“Later!” Hadley said through gritted teeth. “I got my hands full right now!”
Midnight Lady skittered sideways, away from the new men, pulling Hadley after her. Her eyes rolled as she barged against the nearby fence, then she shot forward.
“Watch out, this one’s a snorter!” Leon yelled. “A real jug-head!”
“Now hold on just a second!” Hadley protested, as Midnight Lady reared up on him. Her hooves flashed down dangerously close to his head. Still he held on tight to the lead rope.
Leon ignored him. “TJ, throw another rope around her neck!” he ordered the round-faced ranch hand.
Roughly TJ obeyed, waiting for the horse to barge herself into a corner before he succeeded in slipping a noose over her head and jerking the rope hard to tighten it.
Midnight Lady squealed and tried to rear.
“There’s no need for that!” Kirstie appealed to Donna Rose. “We’d already gotten her to cooperate!”
But it was too late now. The mare was kicking out in panic while TJ pulled on the rope with all his weight.
“Get her into the stockade with the other two!” Leon cried. He strode to the gate, ordering Jesse to flap the square of tarpaulin against the horse’s hindquarters. The second ranch hand brought the tarp down on Midnight Lady’s back, making her plunge forward in fright. Hadley lost his grip on the lead rope and watched grim faced as the two young hands took over the job of getting the horse into the stockade. Slowly, with much kicking and squealing, they succeeded in steering her through the gate.
Midnight Lady Page 1