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“This is a great looking bunch of horses,” said Etta. “Every single one of them looks like you could enter the show pen and walk out with a ribbon.”
“Thanks,” said Harper. “I’m trying to figure out who should ride who. Mattie is my horse. She’s pretty sensible but can be sensitive. Tank is easy to ride but has a huge motor. Maverick is the easiest of the lot. Rebel is good once he knows you’re boss.”
Morgan piped up, “Sounds like Rebel and I will do just fine.”
“I’ll take Tank. He sounds like Ronin’s horse, Dax,” said Devon, running her hand down his sleek, spotted hindquarters. “I love these big peacock spots.”
Etta walked up beside Maverick, a flashy bay with a huge blanket and black spots. “Sounds like it’s you and me, Mav. Can I call you Mav?” The big bay nuzzled her.
“As long as you call him for food and snuggles, you can call him absolutely anything you like,” said Harper.
Once they were all saddled, Morgan’s gaze swept around the group. “I must say, ladies, for a bunch of horse thieves, we certainly do look good.” They all laughed.
Each of them placed a foot in the stirrup and stepped up onto their horses.
“If anyone wants to opt out, I’ll understand.”
Morgan snorted. “She just wants all the fun for herself.”
“Yeah,” said Etta agreeably, “that ain’t happening.”
Harper grinned at them. “As they say ladies, daylight’s burning.” She swung Mattie around and led them away from the trailer and towards the mustangs. “Dulcie would have loved this.”
“Then I hereby declare this the Dulcie Simpson First Annual Memorial Mustang Relocation,” laughed Devon. “Oh, wait, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be joking about your sister.”
Harper smiled. “Oh, no, don’t feel that way. Dulcie wouldn’t want that. I think this is an excellent way to honor her memory. Trust me, if she was still alive, she’d have come from anywhere she was to join us. Take your batteries out of your phones. I don’t know how long that’ll delay Spence, but we need every single minute we can buy. Once he realizes I’ve flown the coop, he’ll head for these mustangs.”
“Why?” asked Morgan.
Harper smiled, “Because the first time he ever saw me, I was illegally moving mustangs into Yellowstone.”
Etta laughed. “That’s all right. The first time I met Brody, Timer had been stolen, I’d been shot, and I was on foot in the middle of nowhere. I tried to just get him to move along, but that didn’t work so well. In fact, that’s the first time he took me over his knee. Of course, I did punch him first …”
They all laughed. “Oh, that’s nothing,” said Devon. “The first time I actually ever had a conversation with Ronin, I kneed him in the nuts. I’m so thankful that I didn’t do any permanent damage. I would have missed out on a lot.”
“I tried that once with Nate but missed. It did not go over well.”
Harper turned Mattie towards the deserted stockyard. “There might be a guard at the main entrance, but he’s probably snoozing. We’ll slip in through the back and try to get them out of there as quickly as possible. I figure we can move them at a trot, but if all hell breaks loose, our goal is that gap over there to the west in the foothills.”
“Where are we going?”
Harper smiled. “Yellowstone. The fringe areas. There are several herds that use that open grazing land. A couple of the herds are big enough to have lieutenant stallions. And there’s a small group of bachelors. These girls should have their pick. I don’t think the BLM or any other federal agency has had a chance to identify any of these horses as they never planned to do anything but kill them. Spence thinks they’d turn them loose, but I don’t believe that.”
They turned their horses toward the mustangs and took off at an easy lope. As they got to the stockyard, they left Devon and Tank to safeguard their escape route and the other three trotted quietly to where the mustangs were being held. Approaching the mares who were all bunched together in a corral too small for them, Harper recognized the lead mare she’d used successfully to get the small herd to Yellowstone last year. Given her position within the band, Harper was pretty sure she had established herself as being in charge once again.
Harper got off Mattie, handing the reins to Etta. She took the bolt cutters from behind her saddle and cut through the chain before slipping through the gate and entering the herd. The mustangs made room for her, none of them seeming concerned that she was in their midst.
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” said Morgan. “It’s like they know her.”
Etta shook her head. “Me, either. I’ve been moving mustangs for years and I usually do pretty well with them, but nothing like that. I thought her idea of putting a halter on the lead mare to help us get them out couldn’t be right, but I think this might just work.”
Harper walked toward the palomino mare. She stood her ground and started to lay her ears back, the first sign of aggression. Harper talked quietly and soothingly to the mare. Remembering that this human had not done her harm in the past, she relaxed her ears. Harper walked up to within a few feet of her, stopped and stretched out her hand, palm up, to the mare. Quietly, the mare walked forward, putting her muzzle in Harper’s hand.
“Okay, is it just me or are you hearing the strains of theTwilight Zonetheme playing in the background?” Etta said.
“I know. I’d never be able to do that with the island ponies, and they see me all the time.”
The women watched with fascination as Harper put the rope halter on the mare and led her to the gate. Etta moved off to the side with Mattie and waited for them to approach her. “That was the most amazing thing I think I’ve ever seen. Remind me to get you next time I go to move mustangs.”
