Lucky Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  “Oh, no. Look.” Lisa pointed at the roof above their heads, where a rosy sliver of light was peeking through. “Guess who else had a leak in the roof of their stalls?”

  “Arrggghhhh,” Stevie cried as she rolled up in a dry blanket and closed her eyes, desperate to at least get twenty minutes of sleep before the next long day began.

  “DAD! ARE YOU okay?” Carole could barely make out her father’s form.

  “Yes, I just slipped and fell.” Her father turned and squinted at her through the driving rain. “Could you give me a hand?”

  “Sure.” She hurried over to where he lay, her feet slurping through the slick mud. She held out her right hand and then, when he grabbed it, pulled back. He rose to his feet slowly, still carefully holding the telescope on his shoulder.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked again, raising her voice to be heard over the pounding rain.

  “For somebody carrying a big metal telescope across the top of a mountain in an electrical storm, I’m doing as well as can be expected,” he said with a small laugh.

  Carole felt better immediately. As long as her father was still cracking jokes, everything was okay.

  “Let’s see if we can find our trail again,” he called, shielding his eyes against the rain. “I think it’s over that way.”

  “Okay, but let’s go more slowly so nobody will fall,” Carole called back.

  Her father signaled another thumbs-up and began to pick his way carefully across the muddy mountaintop. Carole followed a few feet behind him. The rain was not falling as hard now, or as fast. Nor was the lightning so close. A strike of light and three seconds of silence before the rumble of thunder suggested that the storm was moving on. If they could just find their trail through the woods, they would be out of it altogether.

  Suddenly she saw her father raise one arm and motion her forward. He’s found the path, she thought. She walked as quickly as she dared behind him. A second later she could see the tall shapes of trees all around them. They had made it! They had escaped Mount Stringfellow!

  “Let’s hurry on to camp now,” her father called. “The wind’s blowing the storm away, but the lightning will probably hang around for a while. Just follow me!”

  “Okay,” Carole replied.

  She watched as her father scrambled down the path they’d climbed up so many hours before. His dark leather jacket blended in with the trees, but the white telescope bouncing on his shoulder acted like an arrow, pointing the way back to camp. She followed him past some familiar logs, then past a huge pine tree, then over a rocky place in the trail. She saw the telescope bob around the edge of a small clearing; then she stopped.

  Suddenly she felt funny. Her heart began to beat faster. A strange, high-pitched whine hummed through the air, and she felt as if someone were trying to pull her into the sky by her hair.

  “Dad!” she started to cry, but her throat seemed to close up around her words. An eerie blue light lit the clearing and her cheeks began to sting as if someone had slapped her. Her whole body started shaking, and she closed her eyes. A noise like a jet engine slammed into the ground behind her, shuddering the earth beneath her feet. Her brain seemed to spin. What’s going on? she wanted to cry. A plane crash? An earthquake? She felt weak all over, but she managed to open her eyes. To her horror, her father had disappeared again.

  “Dad?” It took all her strength to speak, and her voice sounded funny and far away. She shook her head, then tried to hurry on through the clearing, her legs tingling all the way down to her toes.

  “Carole!” she heard a faint voice calling. “Carole!

  Are you all right?”

  “I’m here, Dad.” She tried to see into the darkness. “Where are you?”

  “Over here!”

  She squinted. There, beneath a large oak tree, she saw the skinny white shape of the telescope. She hurried over. Her father lay on the ground beside it, his face etched with pain.

  “What happened?” she gasped, gratefully sliding down in the mud beside him.

  “Lightning struck right behind you! I turned around to run back to help you and tripped over that root.” Colonel Hanson winced. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” she said, her words still coming out slowly. “How about you?”

  “I think I’ve sprained my ankle.”

  She looked at his ankle. It was lying at an odd angle to the rest of his leg, looking far worse than sprained. “Oh, Dad,” she cried. “I think it might be broken.”

  “No, it’s not broken,” Colonel Hanson said, out of breath. “Let’s just sit here a minute and think about how we can get out of this mess. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Carole said woozily. “I feel strange.” Her heart was still beating rapidly, and her palms were clammy. So that’s what almost being struck by lightning is like, she thought. Wow. I must be really lucky. She sat still for a long moment, letting the now gentle rain cool her hot face. After she’d taken a few deep breaths, her head seemed to clear and she felt more like her old self. Okay, she thought. We’re in trouble and I’ve got to help out. How? She stuffed her cold hands in her jacket pockets. Then she smiled as her fingers touched Starlight’s leg wrap. If she could bandage her father’s ankle with it, he might be able to hobble back to camp.

  “Okay, Dad,” she said, turning to him. “Let’s see what that ankle really looks like. Hold the flashlight.”

  Colonel Hanson held the flashlight while Carole unlaced his boot. She pulled it off as gently as she could, but he grimaced with every move she made.

  “Ouch!” he yelped as she pulled off his sock.

  His ankle was badly swollen. “It’s a good thing you took that boot off when you did,” he said. “Otherwise we’d have had to cut it off, and I’d be out one good camping boot.” He looked at her. “What are you going to do now, Dr. Hanson?”

  “Well, I’m going to use Starlight’s leg wrap like an Ace bandage,” Carole said, gently lifting the stretchy cotton around her dad’s foot and crisscrossing it over his ankle. “We learned how to do this in health class last year.”

  “And?”

  Carole smiled. “And then I’m hoping you’ll be able to walk back to camp, using me as a crutch.”

  She tied the leg wrap as snugly as she could for support, then helped her father to his feet. The rain and lightning had stopped completely, and once again the stars shone brightly above Mount Stringfellow. “Want to try a few steps?” she said, positioning herself under his left shoulder.

  “Okay,” he groaned. He hopped forward on one foot, but Carole was not tall enough to support him. “I don’t think this is going to work,” he whispered painfully, and she helped him sit back down.

  “Okay,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “Got any ideas for Plan B? Your old dad seems to be coming up dry.”

  “I could go back down to the car and call the park ranger from the cell phone,” Carole said.

  “That might be the best idea, honey,” Colonel Hanson said. “They’re trained to do these sorts of rescues. But are you sure you’re up for a long hike at night, all by yourself? It’s over a mile back to the car. Won’t you be afraid?”

  Carole shook her head. “Not nearly as afraid now that I’ve nearly been struck by lightning,” she said with a laugh.

  “I guess lightning does sort of put things in perspective,” her father said, chuckling. “Are you sure you know the way back?”

  “I’ll just stay on this trail,” she said. “Now that the stars are back out, it’s actually pretty easy to see.” She leaned over and gave her father a hug. “You stay still. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  “Yes ma’am, Dr. Hanson.” Her father gave her a sitting salute. “You be careful yourself.”

  “Don’t worry.” Carole smiled, turned, picked up the telescope, and hurried away into the night.

  Fortunately, the camp was not too far away. Carole walked quickly along the trail, her boots squish
ing through the wet grass. Raindrops still dripped from the leaves of the trees, and every now and then she would hear a strange chirp or whistle in the forest. I could get real scared if I let myself, she thought. Right now I’ll just concentrate on getting back to the car safely.

  She kept walking, confidently putting one foot in front of the other until finally, glowing dully through the trees, she saw the big orange mushroom that was their tent. She let out a deep breath. As goofy as that tent looked in the daytime, it sure looked good right then.

  She hurried back to the orange lump. Their old fire was a soggy circle of ashes, but the tent and all their supplies were in good shape. She went inside, placed the telescope in a corner, and turned on the solar lantern. Its warm glow made their sleeping bags seem as inviting as their own beds at home.

  “Maybe some of this solar stuff isn’t such a bad idea,” she whispered. She dried her face and began searching for her dad’s car keys. He usually kept them in his toiletry kit, but they weren’t there. She did find the electronic barometer, which still indicated clear skies and low pressure. Carole shook her head ruefully. Obviously it was broken. She tossed it aside and continued searching for the keys. She was just beginning to search through the pockets of his jeans when she heard a familiar sound.

  “Oh, please!” she cried, dropping everything and hurrying to the tent flap. She peeked out. There, just as it had the night before, stood the roan Appaloosa.

  “Oh, Rambler!” she cried, giving him her own private name. “Am I glad to see you!”

  The horse whinnied and pricked his ears. Carole hurried back outside to find the twine she’d used the night before. It was on top of the solar refrigerator, just where she’d left it.

  “Rambler, how would you like to go on a rescue mission?” she asked excitedly, tying the twine to his halter again. This time she looped it around his neck like reins.

  Rambler didn’t seem to mind, so she grabbed a handful of his mane and hopped up on his back.

  “Okay, boy,” she said, guiding him with her knees and the makeshift reins. “We’re going halfway up Mount Stringfellow.”

  Rambler responded to her commands eagerly, and soon they were picking their way along the wet forest trail. Even though Carole could barely see through the thick trees, she knew Rambler could find the best path easily. Rain still dripped on them, and once they slipped in some mud, but together they made much faster progress than she would have alone.

  In a few minutes a dim figure appeared underneath some trees to her left.

  “Dad?” she called.

  “Carole, I’m so glad you came back,” he replied. “I just found my car keys.”

  “I ran into a little help,” she said with a giggle, pulling Rambler to a stop in front of her father. She slid off and patted his neck. “Dad, meet Rambler, the horse from next door.”

  Colonel Hanson’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “Is this the one who visited you last night?”

  “He’s the one,” Carole said. “I told him he was going on a rescue mission tonight, and he seemed okay with it.”

  Colonel Hanson frowned. “How about his owners?”

  “Well, let’s just say what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

  Carole helped her father struggle to his feet and supported him while he hobbled to Rambler’s side.

  “How am I going to get on with a sprained ankle?” Colonel Hanson wondered aloud.

  “Just bend your left leg and I’ll give you an alleyoop. Push off my hand with your knee and your ankle won’t be involved at all.”

  “You horsepeople,” Colonel Hanson said, chuckling. “You’ve got a remedy for everything.”

  He grabbed Rambler’s mane and bent his left leg as Carole had told him. On the count of three she boosted him up, and a second later he was sitting easily on Rambler’s bare back.

  “Okay,” said Carole, leading Rambler by the rope. “Just hang on and we’ll be home in no time.”

  She led the horse slowly back down the trail. He seemed to sense the vulnerability of his rider and softened the jigging gait he’d used with Carole to a smooth, ground-covering walk. In just a little while, the orange tent again beckoned through the trees.

  “Wow,” said Colonel Hanson. “That tent sure looks good.”

  “I left the solar light on to welcome us home,” said Carole. She led Rambler as close to the tent as she could, then told her dad to keep his left leg bent when he slid off the horse.

  “There,” said Colonel Hanson as he hit the ground with a soft thud. He hopped on one foot and gave Rambler a good scratch behind the ears. “Thanks, boy,” he said. “We’re lucky you came visiting again.”

  “Let’s get you in bed,” said Carole. She helped her father hop into the tent and into his sleeping bag. She filled an ice pack from the refrigerator and put it on his ankle.

  “I think that’s all we can do tonight,” she said, looking at the swollen mass of her father’s foot.

  “I think that’s all we can do until we go home,” said Colonel Hanson. “If it’s broken they won’t set it till the swelling goes down. And if it’s not broken, just keeping it iced is the best thing we can do right now.” He leaned back in his sleeping bag and smiled at Carole.

  “Thanks, honey. I’m so proud of you. We were in a real jam up there, and you never lost your head.”

  “Well, I almost did when the lightning struck,” Carole laughed.

  “You know what I mean.” Her father grinned. “You’re a real trouper.” He held his hand up. “Semper fi.”

  “Semper fi, Dad,” she said, giving him a soft high five. “Right now I think I’d better see that Rambler gets back to his own corral.”

  “I wish I could help you,” Colonel Hanson said.

  “Just stay there and rest.” Carole smiled. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  When she came through the tent flaps, Rambler hadn’t moved.

  “Hey, boy,” she said softly, grabbing his makeshift reins and leading him to their cooking supplies. “Let’s see if there’s anything in here you might like. I think you’ve earned a reward.”

  She opened the refrigerator and found some apples in the crisper. She took one and fed it to the horse. He chewed noisily and shook his head up and down. Like most horses, apples seemed to be among his favorite treats.

  “Thanks for helping me get my dad down from the mountain, boy.” She rubbed his soft neck. “You’re a champ of a horse. I wish I could keep you, but I’ve got to take you home.”

  She hoisted herself onto his back and pointed him in the direction of his campsite. He had no problem navigating through the dark woods, and in just a few minutes he was back in his paddock, nuzzling with his leopard Appaloosa friend. Carole untied the rope from his halter and again secured the loose paddock rope to the tree. “Your owners may be great riders, but they’re not such hot paddock makers,” Carole whispered, casting a glance at the dark green tent. Obviously the Loftins had tied their tent flaps down against the rain and had slept through the monstrous thunderstorm. Well, she wasn’t going to wake them up now to tell them some wild tale about her horse rescuing her father from the mountain. She gave Rambler and his friend a final rub. “You guys be good, now. And stay inside the paddock!”

  She turned on her flashlight and hurried back up the trail. They were great horses. She had a feeling they might be wasted on their owners.

  By the time she got back to the tent, her father was dozing. His ankle was still elevated on the ice pack, and he seemed to be resting comfortably. That’s great, she thought as she took her wet jacket off and climbed into her sleeping bag. A good night’s rest will do us both a world of good. She stayed awake long enough to turn off the solar lamp. A moment later she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

  “UGGHHH,” LISA GROANED as she smoothed a saddle blanket on Calypso’s back. “I can’t believe all these people are here to ride this morning. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  “Me
neither,” said Stevie, who was brushing Patch in the next stall. “And all these riders look so bright-eyed and cheerful.”

  “Right,” agreed Lisa. “They act like they’ve had a whole night’s sleep! How’s Patch this morning?”

  “Steady as ever,” Stevie reported. “You’d never know there’d been a storm by looking at him. No after-rock band distress, either.”

  “That’s good.” Lisa ran Calypso’s stirrups up. “At least he won’t be jittery when he gets ridden today.”She frowned suddenly. “Stevie, I’ve been thinking about that storm.”

  “And?”

  “And I think whatever weather system came here would’ve come through the mountains first. Carole must have been out in the middle of all that thunder and lightning last night.”

  “Gosh,” said Stevie, her hazel eyes clouding with concern. “I hadn’t thought of that. But she’s with her dad. He’s a colonel in the Marine Corps, for Pete’s sake.”

  “I know. But you never know what might happen. Let’s take extra-special care of Starlight today, just for Carole.”

  “Okay,” said Stevie, fighting back another yawn. “That way we’ll keep ourselves busy and not worry so much, plus we’ll be doing exactly what we promised Carole we’d do!”

  “RUN, DAD, RUN!” Carole cried. “We need water! We’re going to die of thirst!”

  “Carole!” Colonel Hanson’s voice rang out. “Carole!”

  “Huh?” Carole opened her eyes and blinked. She was surrounded on all sides by brilliant orange light. She sat up in her sleeping bag, perspiration dripping from her forehead.

  Colonel Hanson laughed. “Wake up, honey. You were having a dream.”

  Carole looked over at her father. “I dreamed we were in the desert, dying of thirst,” she said sheepishly.

  “Well, it’s hot enough in this tent to feel like the desert.” Colonel Hanson sat up and checked his watch. “Good grief! No wonder it’s hot. It’s almost noon!”

  “Wow.” Carole rubbed her eyes. “I guess we really slept in.” She looked over at her father’s leg. He’d slept with it propped up on two pillows, but the ice pack had fallen off in the night. “How does your ankle feel?”