by Cleo Kelly
~*~
When Baya led his plump mare out of the barn, Faith was helping Daniel saddle the pinto.
The miserable little horse turned, trying to bite him.
Daniel jumped back.
Faith’s elbow caught the mare on the end of her nose. The mare was still twitching her bruised face when Bonnie walked up the hill to them.
“What’s wrong with that horse’s nose?”
Daniel opened his mouth but Baya squeezed his shoulder. “Allergies.” He didn’t feel he was lying. The pony was allergic to Faith’s elbow in a big way. He felt the giggle Daniel was holding back, and squeezed the shoulder harder.
Bonnie walked over to the pinto and scratched her ears.
Phoebe flattened them back. The pony turned her head, teeth bared, but Faith moved between the horse and her mother. The pony made eye contact with the girl as if to let her know the battle wasn’t over.
“She seems like a nice little thing.” The long tan fingers scratched down the cheek and under the chin.
All fight went out of the pony; eyes half closed as the one place she couldn’t reach got a good scratching.
Daniel tore out of Baya’s hand and ran into the barn.
Faith’s gaze met his momentarily before dropping so Bonnie couldn’t see the telltale laughter lurking there.
Baya cleared his throat. “She’s put together real nice,” he agreed. “Reckon she has quarter horse in her somewhere.”
“Nice shoulders.” Bonnie’s hand rubbed over the shoulders and up the withers to the saddle.
Baya paused in tightening his saddle and looked at her. “I didn’t know you knew your way around horses.”
“My grandfather had horses all my life. Part of the reason the kids learned to ride, too. I thought I’d ride out with you today and help round up the stock you wanted to bring down from the hills.” A telltale blush reddened her cheeks as she stared fixedly between the pony’s ears.
He raised his gaze to the “hills.” The mountains shoved massive granite shoulders toward the sky.
“How well do you ride?” He watched her with skepticism.
“She rides good.” Faith looked up at him with a glare. “She knows more about horses than anyone I know.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise.
“I ride English. I’ve never been to a round-up though.”
“I only have these.” He nodded to the horses saddled. “We have the Shetland and a four year old racing quarter horse I broke this spring. He’s green as grass, but gentle.” He looked at Faith. “Put your mother on Gadfly. I need to see how she rides.”
Bonnie stiffened. She moved to the tall thoroughbred and swung on. Glaring down at him, she gathered her reins and moved the horse down the lane. As she passed the house, she kicked the animal into a canter and continued past the bunkhouse, nudging the horse along with each motion of the lope. Turning at the corner, she trotted sedately back, posting exactly the way any well brought up academy trained rider should.
Baya groaned.
Faith looked at him with a frown. “I told you she could ride.”
“I don’t need another trot-around-the-park rider, Faith. I need a hand.”
Faith frowned at him with all her old animosity. Her eyebrows about met themselves in the middle of her forehead. “I am not a trot-around-the-park rider! My mother isn’t, either.”
Before she flounced away Baya caught her shoulder. Feeling the fragile bones under his fingers he sighed. “Faith, you’re one of the best riders I have ever seen. You are a natural. Your seat is secure and you move with the horse as though you were part of it. You’ll be a great help with rounding up strays. Your mom does not have the same abilities and she’s mad at me.” He looked at the approaching horse. “Let’s hope she gets over being mad before the day is done. Go get Skip.”
The gray eyes stared at him angrily, torn between his praise and her loyalty toward her mother. “My mom’s the reason I ride so well,” she said stubbornly before she left to get the colt.
The colt did not like being saddled unceremoniously. He sidled and snorted away from the man as the leather and fuzzy pad settled on his back.
Baya tightened the cinches and left him standing tied to the fence rail to get used to the small English saddle. He checked the cinches on each of the animals and called Daniel from the inside of the barn.
The boy returned with a smile still playing around his mouth. “Do I get to ride the ‘nice little thing’?”
“Watch it, buckaroo.” Baya smiled down at the boy. He looked across to Faith. “Faith, I want you to keep an eye on Phoebe. If she gets to be too much for Daniel let me know, and we’ll trade out horses.” He looked down to see a rebellion growing on Daniel’s face. He smiled, knowing that Daniel would ride the mare no matter what. No sister was going to put him back on a lead line.
“Will Hope ride Socks?” Faith questioned.
“I guess so,” he said slowly. “If she gets tired we’ll take turns carrying her.”
“Will not.” Hope’s flashed him a look of sheer stubbornness as she stomped into the barn.
Faith ran after her, just as Bonnie slid off Gadfly.
“Have I created a problem?” she asked.
“No. I’m afraid for the little one. It can be a long day in the saddle.”
“When she’s tired, she’ll let us know.” Bonnie retightened the saddle girth. She looked so right standing next to the chestnut flank of the bay mare. Her slender figure did things to the faded blue jeans.
She turned too quickly for him to wipe the appreciation from this face. Her chin came up in haughtiness. “I’ll help them with the pony.” She marched into the barn.
Baya turned toward the colt again, muttering under his breath.
“What’d you say?” Daniel looked up at him with laughter still written all over his grubby face.
“Nothing you need to hear,” the Baya growled at him.
“She looks like she’s sleeping.” Daniel nodded to the mare.
Baya paused as he pulled the cinch on the green-broke colt and gave the pony a long look. “Yup.”
“Do…” The boy paused. “Is…? Uh, what if she runs away?” The normally enthusiastic voice almost whispered.
The tall cowboy leaned against the colt and tilted his hat back on his head. “You can get hurt on any horse. They’re not overgrown dogs like everyone wants to make ‘em out to be. They are to be worked. You have to learn the movement, the sway, of each horse.
“They differ from each other. That thoroughbred of your sister’s has a longer stride and more bounce to her trot. My quarter horse is quick and often choppy. I can’t tell you what that mare of yours will be like. Just hang on and don’t ever let her get her head down, where she can buck. That’s one ornery animal. They said she’s been used in round up before. She’ll know what is going on. Just hang on!”
Daniel nodded as the girls led the pony out of the barn.
They started toward the mountains ten minutes later.
Bonnie held the lead line on the Shetland as she rode the thoroughbred.
Baya had put Faith on his short mare and he rode the colt. The colt stuck close to the mare. When they got to the mountain meadow, he would put Faith on the colt. Until then, he would ride the kinks out of the gangly young horse and remind him what his job was.
Daniel’s pinto settled down to follow the rest of the animals and, although she showed a tendency to want to kick anything that got close, traveled well with the group.
They followed the creek as they wound their way up the mountain.
Baya noted that Bonnie looked curiously around as they left the valley floor and started toward the horse pasture.
The aspens were shimmering, showing gildings of silver from the underside of their leaves. The stream whispered in places; roared in others. The green leaves slowly gave way to rockier terrain. As they reached the first plateau, he could feel the difference in pressure and the heady scent of pines began
to waft down the slopes with each breeze.
They’d been riding about twenty minutes straight out of the valley.
Baya was being cautious of the children. He rode the young horse around them in a wide circle checking for problems. He gave instruction to Daniel about his riding and talked to Faith as if she were an equal. He refrained from speaking to Bonnie, but kept a close watch on the pony and Hope.
They crossed the stream where it widened into shallows. The horses perked up, seeming to enjoy the water that splashed on their bellies.
“Get Socks!” Faith turned the little quarter horse mare to come back to her mother and Hope.
The pony was trying to lie down.
“Kick him, Hope! Kick him!” Bonnie pulled on the slackened lead rope, and then stopped.
Hope kicked the pony hard in the ribs and began yelling at him.
Socks began buckling his knees again and the chubby little legs kicked him hard as she hit him with her reins. With a sudden rush, the pony moved forward. By the time he had reached the other bank, he cantered up it.
Bonnie followed.
When they came out of the stream, Baya dismounted and unclipped the pony’s lead line. He looked up at Bonnie. “Reckon she’ll do.” He grinned.
Behind him, Faith was hovering over the pony and her sister but she looked up laughing. The cheerful sound ricocheted against the mountains and faded into echoes.
Daniel’s mare chose that moment to try to take a bite out of the green broke colt.
As the sorrel skittered away from the bared teeth, Baya caught the reins, but it was several more minutes before he could calm the horse and mount up.
They headed toward a jumble of rocks marking the entrance to the horse meadow. They’d kept to a steady walk, moving ever higher toward the granite mountains behind the ranch. Riding up the steep rock strewn trail, they finally crested to where a tributary emptied into the creek. A wide meadow stretched before them. Around the rock and tree rubble, was a small mountain valley surrounded by gently sloping sides.
Baya stopped beside Bonnie and called the children around. He pointed to where the little herd of a dozen or so horses grazed.
Below them, one of the animals raised a head and stiffened. The rest of the herd shifted and became instantly alert watching the intruders.
“That’s the stallion.” Baya pointed to a dark stocky animal that stood off to the side. “He’s an old one and knows how to get the animals down to the lower valley. All we have to do is get them moving. They won’t want to leave this grass. I want to give it two or three weeks to grow and ripen, and then mow it for hay. We may need it in the winter.” He turned to Faith. “Now those horses are going to scatter like the wind if we don’t get cooperation from that old stud. I’m going down there to do a preliminary gather and talk to the old boy. This is where we trade horses.”
Faith nodded
“This here is a young, green broke horse, Faith. Stay out of his mouth. Keep your hand light and talk to him with your legs. You got you mama’s nice long legs. He’ll hear you.”
Once again the girl nodded.
Daniel nudged his horse up next to Baya, as they began making the switch.
Baya held the reins close to the bit as the girl swung on the back of the colt. The difference in weight had the horse turning to sniff the girl’s boot while Baya adjusted the stirrups.
“What ya want me to do?” Daniel’s voice piped up.
“You’ll—” Both adults began at once.
Baya squinted at Bonnie.
Her brow crinkled distrustfully, but she settled back in the saddle silently.
“You’ll ride down the valley on that side. I’ll show you where to stay. That little mare is a terror but she’s been to round-ups before. She’ll stay put, as long as you make her mind.” He patted the pinto’s shoulder and her ears flattened against her head.
“Faith you take the opposite side. Skip’s a quarter horse cross. He’ll be agile enough to move them along OK and might even remember how to wrangle some of them. Bonnie, you and Hope are going to take the drag. That means you ride behind and make noise, but not until I tell you to. I’m hoping that stallion and this mare will do all the work.” He patted the chubby little mare’s shoulder.
“Does she have a name?” Bonnie asked curiously
“Lady.”
“She’s too small for you.”
A snorting scream came up the valley and interrupted their conversation. The stallion begin circling the other horses.
Baya mounted his mare and motioned them to follow him. He circled along the edge of the valley. Baya left Faith on the far side with specific instructions.
Bonnie kept looking back over her shoulder when they moved away from her daughter and the gangly colt.
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.