Vision Board by DianaLUV

Vision Board by LeadMare

NOTE: If you submitted a vision board and don’t see it here, it’s because your image was not uploaded correctly. Please use the email link at the bottom of the page to inquire about resending.

More to read...

• Challenge One: Vision Board
• Realizing Your Horse Dreams: How to Get Started
• Blogfest #2: Realizing Horse Dreams

SUBMISSIONS ARE CLOSED for Challenge One. Click here to see the vision boards »

For your first Summer of Horse Dreams challenge, you will be designing a poster/vision board that features the following:

1. A horse. Looking through local newspaper ads or online resources, find a horse that is currently for sale or up for adoption. Print out/scan/draw that horse and place it on the center of your board along with the price (and any other captions you want).
2. Everything you need for your horse. Again, by either searching magazines and newspapers or browsing online, locate a local boarding stable, tack, equipment, etc. Cut out or draw on these items with their prices as well and place them on your board however you like.

The idea is to make this as realistic as possible. The horse and its necessities are all real. Technically, if you had the ability and the money to afford them, you would be able to go purchase them tomorrow. By giving your dream of horse ownership a certain degree of tangibility, hopefully you will be motivated to set small goals towards one day achieving it.

However, we also want you to be as creative as you can! Using your artistic skills (or a computer if you’re like me and can’t draw to save your life), try to give your board an aesthetic quality. It can be as plain or as intricate as you’d like, but I challenge you to think outside the box!

Once you’ve finished your poster board, take a picture or scan it in where they will be featured in the gallery for everyone to see your dream horse that isn’t so far from reach after all!

There you have it! Will you opt for a fancy show horse or a green broke pony? Will your horse sport a neon green barrel saddle or a classic dressage saddle? How much does it all cost and how close are you to someday making your vision a reality?

We will find out soon. You have a week from today! Good luck!

Cheers!

SUBMISSIONS ARE CLOSED for Challenge One. Click here to see the vision boards »

More to read...

• Are You Up for a Challenge?
• Blogfest #2: Realizing Horse Dreams
• Dream Horse Challenge

Hey Girls Horse Club! How’s your Summer of Horse Dreams been so far?

Mine has had its ups and downs — but most of all it is filled with a lot of horses. I wish I could give some of my incredibly good fortune to all of you so everyone could ride and work with the animals we all love so much, but unfortunately I can’t do that. I would love for each and every one of you, especially those of you who rarely have horses in their lives, to delve a little deeper into the equestrienne world in an effort to realize your dreams.

In order to help with this, Madelaina and I (with assistance from the lovely LeadMare) will be hosting the first ever Girls Horse Club Weekly Challenges.

Beginning shortly, we will be posting blogs detailing a challenge for the week. We believe these challenges are easily attainable (with creativity and work on your part!), but also give a realistic view of the horse world. They will encourage you to become more knowledgeable, give you a little insight into horse ownership and riding, and will hopefully encourage you to set goals and strive towards your dreams in the long run. For those of you who have the privilege of horses in your life, these challenges should still be, well, a bit challenging and will hopefully inspire you to reach higher and learn more.

Submissions will remain closed aside from the challenges and an occasional blog from Madelaina, LeadMare, or myself — so if you’re inspired this summer, write your heart out in a journal and save it for when/if submissions do open!

I can’t say too much more without giving away the first challenge, but here’s a hint: If you enjoy scrapbooking, you will probably enjoy this one.

Feel free to ask any questions in comments as well as suggest your own challenge ideas! Feedback is always welcome.

Cheers!

Your humble editor,

Julia

More to read...

• Julia: An Inspiration to Us All
• Dream!
• Blogfest #2: Realizing Horse Dreams

Tap-tap. Testing one, two, three. Is this thing on?

Oh, hello GHCers! I hope you’re having a bright, beautiful spring in your little corner of the world. Here in Northern California, the rain persisted through most of the season. While that wasn’t ideal for getting out on the trails, it did keep the grass growing and the wildflowers blooming, and that made the horses happy.

Now here we are on the cusp of summer, and some of you have emailed or posted on the GHC Facebook asking about plans and events. I truly appreciate the continued interest from loyal contributors who keep coming back to share their talent and connect with other girls who are passionate about horses. So I want to let you know what’s unfolding, and what that means for GHC…

Like you, I need to feel inspired and motivated to contribute to GHC, and lately my muse has been nudging me in a different direction—one that gets me out from behind the computer and connected to horses and horse girls in the real world. So, I’ve decided to make it a priority to volunteer at a local therapeutic riding center this summer, and to look for new adventures with horses (and the people who love them).

What does this mean for GHC? It definitely means I won’t be hosting any big events like last year’s fiction competition. Instead, I’d love to hear your horsey plans for the summer, and maybe if enough of us are committed to horse events in the real world, there’s an opportunity to share stories about what we’re doing. If you don’t have any plans but dream of hanging out with horses, maybe now is the time to start making your dreams a reality.

What are your horsey plans and dreams for the summer?

More to read...

• Living Out Your Dreams Without A Horse
• Blogfest #2: Realizing Horse Dreams
• 10 Ways to Keep Horse Dreams Alive

THANK YOU to everyone who came out to March for Wild Horses. We read dozens of inspired contributions to our blog, and the gallery artwork was stunning. Your collective, creative voice made a powerful statement: We have an unwavering passion for wild horses, and we’re determined to assure they’re protected and preserved for horse girls and boys of the future.

I addition to all the great GHC creations shared throughout the month, we were very lucky to learn about and interact with TJ Holmes, who introduced us to the amazing mustangs of Spring Creek Basin. Thanks to Rochlia for connecting us to TJ, and thanks to TJ for giving us a glimpse into the family of horses she calls her own (yet does not own). I was riveted by the tales of her experience observing and photographing them, but this really hit me…

“What inspires me most about mustangs is at once simple … and amazingly complex – just like the horses themselves. They are hardy. They are fragile. They are wonderfully complex in their social systems and bonds. They are refreshingly simple in their actions and reactions. They are adaptable. They are graceful. They are innocent. They carry the weight of their ancestors’ long history. They are curious and brave and easily frightened. They are bold and fearless and defensive of their families. They live in the harshest environments – to which man has committed them – and they thrive. They are independent. They are dependent (we have fenced them into these herd management areas and it is incumbent upon us that their basic needs of water and forage are met). In a perfect world, they could manage just fine without us (witness those few horses returned to the continent … the millions repopulating the continent … the devastation wrought upon them by generations of “mustangers” …). In many, many instances where they’ve been adopted, their adopters become so enamored of them as to say “I’ll never have but another mustang.” They are stunning. They are so much more.”

~~TJ Holmes

As always, thanks to our behind-the-scenes barn mice. Julia and Madelaina are always here to support the rest of the herd with editing, moderating, and encouragement. Without them, we couldn’t have an event like this. And let’s not forget our technology jockey, Sky, who keeps this virtual barn on a solid foundation and assures the doors are open to welcome old and new friends.

During March for Wild Horses, we saw that Wild Horse Annie’s spirit lives on through today’s horse girls—at GHC and beyond—all committed to mustangs in their own way through writing, activism, film, photography, and so much more. Although the event has come to a halt, it doesn’t end.

Keep hoping, keep taking action, and keep Wild Horse Annie’s legacy marching forward.

Sincerely,

More to read...

• Simplest Joys
• INTERACTIVE VIEW: TJ Holmes

Written and Illustrated by Madelaina, age 14

The quiet
was almost as deafening as
the rage of hooves that spoke for unheard terror.
Even the mere dust, sleeping,
moaned with its lifeless tints
of the nightmares,
chaotic.

They lay where they had settled
when mustangs and air became one
to glow together in the sun.
But then, even the heavenly gold
clouds of winged earth
were black and white,
deaf and blind.

The wild horses, they were being chased away
to the last thoughts which would cross our mind when
we are happy, safe, loved –
when we’re home
with friends and family
and confusion never existed.

I can say I’ve seen them gallop
on these lands,
but saying that would be a lie;
because now they are only a memory.

More to read...

• Memories of Horses We Love
• Horses, Outsoar
• Running Through the Dark

Prologue

A lone figure in the dark stood on top of a gentle slope, its eyes cast far over the horizon. The sadness came again with a pang of loneliness. Ah, how simple life was so long ago when he was a foal! The figure sighed and looked at the sky. It was a dark shade of pink and orange, the last fading lights began to turn from orange to purple and soon the world would be dark.

The figure slowly lowered its head and walked towards the distant herd of horses, sore from head to hoof from a long day of running and a hard fight with his father. He had been kicked out his herd a week ago and ever since he had been following them, being the only bachelor stallion left. All others had been rounded up. He was alone, an outcast. He had many fights with his father and all ended in the colt running away with a new injury. But he wouldn’t give up. He wanted a family and he’d do anything for it, even beg his father.

His heart was as heavy as his hooves as they slowly lifted from the ground. The pain in his stiff, injured shoulder, reminded him of the cruel blow his father dealt him just hours before, and the words that were snarled in anger. “Get lost! We don’t need you around here anymore!” Still the colt wouldn’t give up. He missed being wanted and needed with a deep passion and since there was nothing else to do, he followed his family with the loyalty of a lost pup when it finally finds its master.

The figure slowly made its way towards the herd, although it knew it would never be accepted. When it got closer the leader charged, shouting angry words and curses and names. The figure dodged a few attacks. “I only want to be in a family again! I am no threat!” it begged.

“Get lost! You are no longer needed!” the stallion screamed, kicking the figure. “Jazz, grow up and go away!” The stallion threw a kick at Jazz’s nose. The figure, called Jazz, squealed in pain.

“Please father! I won’t do any harm!” he begged. He was only answered by a sharp bite to his ear. Finally he gave up and fled, his father at his heels.

“You are banished form this herd FOREVER!” his father screamed in fury.

The figure soon put a great distance between him and his family. He felt grief. This was not what he thought life was supposed to be. He didn’t want to be alone! Why did he have to be by himself? He sighed and curled up to sleep, trying to comfort himself with happy thoughts. But how could life be happy when he was an outcast, unwanted and unloved and unneeded anywhere or by anyone? He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. Maybe tomorrow would be brighter. No matter how much it took, Jazz was determined to succeed in rejoining the herd. After all, those mares were his family, and the leader was his father, his own flesh and blood. Could he really turn his son away forever?

Chapter 1

Jazz grunted as he rolled in the dirt. How good it felt to scratch his back! When he rolled back to his feet he looked to his left to be sure his family was still there. Sure enough, just across the huge river, his father glared at him as the mares grazed and the foals nursed. It was a peaceful scene, one Jazz longed to be part of. He nickered questioningly, but his father only snorted and shook his head in reply. Jazz sighed. He began to despair. He’d never be allowed back in the herd.

Turning his head he looked over his shoulder, glancing at the beautiful blue sky. He loved to just look at how big it was. It reminded him he was free. He had seen too many round ups to take that for granted. Too many horses were taken. He once found the place they were taken to and spied on it. He saw the terror, smelled the fear, and heard the sounds of angry and confused horses as they were loaded into metallic boxes. He was sure there was no sky inside those boxes that moved.

Looking back at the herd he watched his father prance a circle around the mares. He licked his lips and moved towards the river. His father’s head shot up and he snorted a warning. “Just getting a drink!” Jazz snapped. His father watched wearily as Jazz walked towards the river. Suddenly a smug filly just a bit younger than Jazz trotted towards the water and began to drink, her eyes taunting Jazz. Jazz continued moving for his drink, but his father was protective of the filly.

With a scream of anger Jazz’s father charged at the river, crossing it with fury. Jazz squealed and dodged away from the oncoming stallion. Pulling himself onto the bank, his father chased him away until he was confident that Jazz could do no harm. The filly lifted her head and laughed at Jazz, then turned around and trotted back towards the herd. The stallion looked at Jazz with an angry snort. “Grow up and get lost!”

He narrowed his eyes then crossed the river again, gathered the mares, and moved them out. The lead mare took over, leaving Jazz’s father to stand there. He waited and waited, watching Jazz until he was sure the family was far enough away that his son wouldn’t be able to find them. He knew where they were going of course, but he hoped Jazz wouldn’t. Turning without another word the stallion fled. Jazz watched him go and blinked sadly. What good was freedom with no one to share it with? He thought glumly. Moving forward to get his drink, he hoped he’d be able to find the herd again.

* * * * * * * * * *

The sky split into a white flash as lightning struck again. Thunder boomed and the clouds threatened to spill rain any moment. Jazz searched the ground for his family’s scent, eyes scanning for hoof prints. He needed to catch their trail BEFORE the rain. Suddenly a droplet hit his ear. Then another hit his flanks. Then another until it began to rain so hard Jazz could hardly see. Stumbling towards a dark shadow, the colt sought out cover to wait out the storm, but he saw nothing.

Lightning snaked through the sky again, sending a wave of fear through Jazz’s body. He threw up his head and screamed, running around wildly in fear. With each clap of thunder or streak of lightning Jazz became more afraid. He became so confused he didn’t know up from down and finally he just collapsed on the ground and allowed the rain to pour onto him, pelting him with sharp pain. Blinking rapidly, Jazz rested his head on the ground, waiting for the storm to pass.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Jazz moaned softly and allowed his eyes to open. Lifting his head from the ground, he heard a watery sound and realized his head was resting in a puddle. Standing up, he splashed water as he walked. The whole ground was a soggy mess and any trace of his family would be long gone now. Feeling lonelier than ever, he squinted at the sky in disbelief. The peaceful clouds decorated an otherwise breathtaking blue sky with shapes and wisps of white. There was no hint to the terror the sky had thrust into his heart just a few hours before. It amazed Jazz how quickly the sky could change.

He watched in silence as a flock of birds flew past, causing him a moment of grief as he realized he was a bird with no flock to fly with. On his own, he had to survive best he could. He finally realized chasing his herd was foolish. It would do him no good and only injure him more as he took beatings from his brutal father. So the next question racing through his mind was ‘what do I do now’?

Chapter 2

Head low, spirits down, Jazz slowly gave in to the steady rhythm of his hooves gently pounding the ground. His ears were tilted ahead, his eyes low in sadness. He felt like giving up and dying. Pulling his aching body along was just too much. But he kept going, comforted at least by the gentle swaying of his body.

His thoughts drifted back to his mother, her warm nose, her gentle eyes, her loving attention. The way she protected him from any and all danger, or played with him when he was excited, or encouraged him to dream. That was all gone now, and Jazz didn’t know why. He wasn’t doing the family any harm. One day his father just took him aside and said ‘this is my herd, get lost’ and before Jazz knew what was going on he was chased away from the only family, the only herd, the only home he had ever known. Determined to stay with them, he begged to come back. When his father finally fought him to get the message across he remembered about bachelor herds. He tried to find them, but after a week of watching herd after herd being rounded up he decided they must all be gone already. So he had turned back to following his herd. A lot of good that did him!

Lifting his head, flattening his ears, his eyes burned in anger. He didn’t deserve this! And he wouldn’t let his father win! Right now he was only two years old, not nearly old enough to challenge an eight year old stallion who was as strong as his father. But one day when he was strong and his father was old and weak, he’d claim the family as his own and he’d be their leader. The thoughts filled him with a new burning fire, a desire to live!

For the first time he noticed the green grass at his feet, long and luxurious. It enticed him. He sniffed at it and it gently tickled his nose, dancing at his feet in the wind. The scent was overpowering and Jazz gave in to his hunger. His weary muscles were ignored and he ate the delicious grass before him, refreshing him in spirit and strength. Rearing up he challenged the sky to throw storms, fire, or even helicopters at him! He would defy it all to be free! To live!

Jazz galloped away from the half flooded meadow and decided to move to higher ground where it would be dryer. Slipping on the mud, kicking up large gobs of water and dirt, he realized for once that if he had been in a herd the mares would have complained at being splashed. Perhaps being an outcast had its advantages?

When Jazz finally made it out of the meadow he was as muddy as he could be. He tilted his head at the sky, wondering where he wanted to go. With no herd to follow he was on his own and he had to make his own choice of what was best suited to his needs. Throwing his head at his shoulder he bit at the itchy skin beneath the layer of mud and realized he’d really like to get clean. Fine. He knew the way to the deepest, calmest, most peaceful river.

He looked towards the mountain and shook his head, racing towards the forest instead. His body seemed to itch all the more as he thought about gliding through the lovely ripples of the water. He tilted his ears towards the forest, listening for the gentle trickle of the blessed liquid that would clean his coat and quench his thirst. Fixing his eyes on the green trees, he fell into a trance-like state. All he heard was his heart beat keeping time with his hooves, all he saw was sunlight reflecting off of incredibly green leaves, all he smelled was the fresh air, and all he felt was his hooves rising and falling against the mushy ground.

Closer and closer he began to pant, not from weariness, but from anxiousness. He wanted that river more than anything! Just as he was about to enter the woods a strange sound broke his rhythm. Jazz slowed into a trot and looked around. Suddenly his heart stopped. Five wolves were rushing out of the forest, mouths open and eyes hungry. A deer was running away from them, the scent of fear from the animal filling the air.

Jazz backed away as the deer brushed past him in a hurry. Looking over at the wolves he felt his heart sinking. But he would not flee like a terrified deer. He stood his ground, tail lashing in anger. The wolves stopped a few feet away from him, eying him, sizing him up for attack. They blocked his way. Jazz knew he mustn’t be intimidated by them. “Show no fear,” he advised himself under his breath.

The leader, a tall black wolf, drew back his lips in a fierce snarl. “I only want to get to the lake,” Jazz said calmly.

The wolves only narrowed their eyes in concentration and aggression.

“Your dinner is getting away.” Jazz added, stomping a hoof. The wolves exchanged amused glances at the foolish young colt.

“The way we see it, our dinner is right here,” one of them snarled. Jazz allowed himself a confident laugh but inside his stomach ached in nervousness. He tried not to show fear. Instead he walked towards them, almost haughty.

“You think you can take down a horse? Move aside or face the consequences,” he said, flattening his ears. The leader grinned.

“You ARE a foolish one aren’t you?” he asked. Jazz knew he couldn’t let them think for a moment he was weak. He MUST prove a threat and he couldn’t give them time to attack either. His body on fire with nervousness and a danger sense, he charged the leader, his hooves stomping its tail against the ground.

The wolves scattered to avoid being crushed when their leader let out a series of pained yelps and whimpers. Jazz wheeled around and reared, shaking his mane. The wolves backed away slowly but kept their eyes on him. He knew they wouldn’t give up without a fight. He charged again, veering to kick one. The wolf dodged most of the blow but Jazz felt his hoof scrape against a shoulder. Jazz landed with a thump and realized in terror that he had placed himself in the middle of the path, and the wolves were starting to surround him.

He lifted his head, trying to look big and confident. “Really. You are foolish. You’d sacrifice your dinner to try and prove to me you are scary? Let me pass to the river. You’ll regret it if you don’t,” he growled, his stomach doing a series of somersaults and flips inside.

“Your arrogance is aggravating, foolish foal!” one of the wolves spat. Fear turned to anger. Jazz wheeled to face the one that spoke. A muscular grey with scars on his muzzle and shoulders, it looked ready for battle.

“I am not a foal, and my arrogance isn’t without cause. I can rip you all to shreds without a thought. Or would you care to call my bluff?” he taunted. He knew they would hesitate to take down a horse even without a bluff. Even at his age he could still injure them, even if they were almost certain to kill him. It would be dangerous enough for them, but with his threats it made him seem like a seasoned warrior rather than what he was - a scared, lonely, colt.

“Maybe we WILL call your bluff. I doubt you could even draw blood.” The leader flicked his tail and at once the wolves began to move in closer, crouching low and snarling. Alarm rose in Jazz’s throat but he forced himself to stand still, unmoving. He fixed his eyes on the leader.

“You’d lead your pack, your family, into a fight they cannot win?” he asked, flashing his teeth. The leader’s eyes scanned the wolves and they looked back at him, hesitant. He stood up taller and fixed his eyes on Jazz.

“What makes you think we can’t win?” he asked, the fur on the back of his neck rising in anger. Jazz tilted his head, almost welcoming.

“You are welcome to try,” he said in what he hoped was a confident voice. He knew that if he betrayed himself and showed even a slight hint of fear they would attack and kill him. He waited in silence, trying to breathe normally. He wished his heart would stop pounding so hard against his chest, for wolves had good hearing and they were sure to realize he was bluffing after all….

Chapter 3

With a howl of anger one of the wolves launched himself at Jazz’s flanks. Thankfully Jazz reacted quickly, kicking out with his back hooves, catching the wolf’s chest and sending it flying against a tree with massive force. The wolf yelped then went silent, unconscious. The young colt forced himself to look calmly back at the leader, who was eying the wolf with disapproval. “Well? Care to try again?” he asked. The leader growled.

“I did not order an attack! Anyone who would act without my say is no longer part of the family. Move out,” he ordered, sweeping his tail. The rest of the pack looked back at their den mate, but obeyed their leader and followed him after the deer. Jazz wouldn’t let himself breathe a sigh of relief until they were long gone.

Jazz turned towards the river and trotted carefully through the woods until finally he plunged into the cool, calm water. Sighing in contentment he felt layers of mud and dust lift from his coat and he was once again a palomino color. Kicking his legs slowly, he enjoyed the weightless feeling of swimming and looked down, smiling as he saw the sky, and a few treetops, reflecting back at him. This was paradise! He wouldn’t give it up for the world!

When Jazz was done with his swim he pulled himself to shore and shook until he was dry. He looked up at the sky and realized it was close to noon. He headed back towards the meadow to graze, hoping the sun would have dried it up by the time he got there. Jazz settled down in the meadow to graze and it was a long time before he lifted his head. When he did he saw a band of mustangs rushing towards him, being chased by a helicopter. He stood his ground as they raced towards him. “NO! DON’T LET IT HERD YOU! DON’T RUN AWAY FROM IT!” he screamed over the pounding of hooves and screaming of the flying beast. Most of the horses ignored him, pushing past him. But one mare, a small blue filly at her side, looked up at him for help. “This way!” He raced towards the woods, away from the helicopter.

The mare nodded and nudged her foal, then galloped away from her band. Jazz wheeled and led her deep into the woods, hiding her and her foal in the shadows until he felt safe. “It’s alright. You are safe now,” he promised them.

The foal was whimpering softly.

“You don’t have to be afraid. Just don’t you ever run away from those monsters. Run towards them if you can. They are trying to herd you to a bad place. They can’t hurt you, but if they get you to the bad place humans hurt you,” he told her.

The mare shook her head. “She isn’t afraid. She hurt her foot running so long. We come from the other side of the mountain.”

Jazz gasped. “That is miles and miles and miles!” he protested. The mare shrugged, sniffing her foal.

“I’m worried about her,” she confessed. Jazz narrowed his eyes and noticed the foot was dangling just off of the ground.

“It looks bad,” he agreed, a pain deep in his chest. He felt the agony that the foal must be feeling. “We’ll find a way to take care of it. I promise!” But inside he was wondering if the foal would die. Or how he’d make it better. There was no way!

“Then you’ll protect us?” the mare asked. Jazz felt a heavy weight on his shoulders.

“I’m not old enough to defend you,” he said slowly. The mare looked at her foal then back at Jazz.

“I can’t do it alone. She’ll die if someone doesn’t help me look out for her. Please! I know you are young, but can’t you at least come with us? If not to defend then to at least look out for danger?” she begged. Jazz felt a tug at his heart, a longing to be close to this family. He nodded slowly.

“I’ll protect you, her, with my life!” he promised, his eyes filling with a fierce will to not only survive, but keep alive the mother and foal. The mare smiled her thanks then lowered herself to the ground by her foal to rest. Jazz stood between them and any danger that might come, rigid, ready to defend them with his very life.

As darkness fell on the forest and what little light that got past the tree tops fell on the foal and mother, Jazz blinked sleepily. The gentle breeze made the hot night somewhat pleasant. If it wasn’t for the constant snoring of the foal to remind him he had to defend his new found family, Jazz would have fallen asleep. He stood tall and proud, unfazed by the distant howl of wolves. The hooting of an owl close by drew a snort from Jazz. Not even a bird would threaten the poor foal and lost mother. He was determined to protect them at all costs.

After a while the mare got up and gently nuzzled his shoulder. “Sleep a while. I’ll keep watch.”

Jazz’s protest was cut off by a giant yawn and he nodded, nestling close to the foal to keep her warm. The mare fixed her eyes on the distance. “What is your name?” she asked without looking back at him.

“Jazz,” Jazz muttered, closing his eyes.

“I’m Strawberry Dreamer,” the mare said gently. Jazz nodded. Her strawberry roan coat made him think as much. “My daughter is called Little Rose,” she added. Jazz smiled as he drifted into a peaceful dream.

“Little Rose….” he whispered.

* * * * * * * * * * *

Jazz felt a sharp kick to his stomach. His head flew up and he snorted in surprise as well as pain. Looking around he realized Little Rose had kicked him in her sleep. What was a foal doing here? His eyes met Strawberry Dreamer’s, who had looked back when he snorted, and it came flooding back to him. The way he defied the wolves, the way he saved the mother and foal, and suddenly he realized he was a hero. Still, he felt responsibility for the family like a crushing weight on his shoulders and as he stood and noticed the sun was already high in the sky he licked his lips.

“Strawberry Dreamer….” he began.

“Call me Berry. It is shorter.” The mare smiled. Jazz nodded.

“Berry, get Rose up. We have to move. We’ve stayed in one place too long,” he said, stretching. Berry began to awake her foal, looking worried.

“That is a bad thing?” she asked. Jazz nodded.

“We have wolves on this side of the mountain,” he said. The mare gasped and began to shake the foal even harder. Rose muttered a protest but her mother nudged her to her feet.

“Rose, we have to move baby,” she said gently.

“My hoof hurts!” the foal cried out when she put weight on her foot.

“I know sweetie! I know!” Berry said soothingly. Jazz felt a sense of danger prickling at his body. They had to get out of the woods.

“Hurry!” he hissed. Berry stared at him. “We have to get going!” he added.

She nodded but before she could urge the foal to move the sound of hoof beats brought an unknown dread to Jazz’s heart. He turned around and saw a human mounted on a horse coming towards him. The human gasped in surprise then quickly noticed the filly’s mangled looking leg. He threw a rope at the filly. Jazz was about to flee but at the filly struggling and falling he knew he had to defend her.

“My baby!” Berry cried.

Jazz snapped at the rope but the man was moving closer.

“Easy!” he said but Jazz didn’t understand. The man took a gun from his pocket and fired into the air. Jazz and Berry, startled, jumped away from the foal and watched in anger as the man began taking something out of a saddle bag and working on the foal’s foot.

“Help!” Rose cried in fear, struggling but the man wouldn’t let her go.

Finally he backed up and she stood. “It feels somewhat better ma.” Rose blinked. Berry looked at Jazz.

“Humans are bad aren’t they?” she asked in confusion. Jazz looked at the man and his danger sense went away. This man looked kind.

“I dunno…..most make me feel like I am in danger. This one…..he helped Rose.” The man slowly lifted the young foal into the air and placed her across his saddle. “NO!” Jazz gasped. He would NOT lose his new family to a human!

Chapter 4

The man nudged his horse to trot. Jazz and Berry followed, snorting and squealing in anger. “My baby!” Berry kept screaming. Jazz was shouting at the horse who the man rode, calling him traitor.

“Don’t worry mama, I’m only going to help the foal,” the man said soothingly but Berry and Jazz didn’t understand and the human voice only made them more angry.

They followed the man for miles until they came to a small cottage in the woods with a large barn beside it and a fenced in paddock. The man dismounted. Jazz refused to enter the yard and Berry watched in dismay as the man vanished inside the barn, Rose crying for her mother.

Jazz flared his nostrils in anger when he saw the man leave the barn without the foal. Where was Rose? The man noticed them and waves, a movement that caused Berry to bolt to the left and Jazz to flinch. The man noticed their uneasiness and shrugged, heading for the house.

Cautiously, Jazz moved towards the barn, keeping as far away from the house and the man as possible. Slowly kicking at the door until it swung towards him he winced as the door gently bumped his shoulder. Despite his fear as the smells of human and strange things raced towards him, he entered the barn, feeling on edge as if something dangerous hung over his head, threatening to do him harm. He eyed every corner, every nook and cranny of the barn until he found nothing that offered him immediate harm. Moving with confidence he peered over a few stall doors until he saw Rose, nestled among straw with her leg firmly bandaged.

“Rose! Are you alright?” he said gently. Rose looked up at him in a drowsy way.

“I feel funny.” She blinked, swaying to and for.

“What did they do to you?” Alarm shot through Jazz’s body. The foal sighed softly.

“He poked me and stuff. I feel really tired Jazz. I don’t think I can get up,” she moaned wearily. Jazz sniffed the air and smelt some sharp scent. Some human thing for sure! Jazz stood still, unsure what to do.

Suddenly the door swung open wider behind him and he turned his head to see the human entering the barn with something in his hand. Flattening his ears, Jazz warned the man away. Slowly the man approached but Jazz hunched his shoulders and stared at him, shaking his mane. “No way pal! I’m defending this helpless foal!” He flashed his teeth but the human ignored him. Jazz hoped he wasn’t in over his head. He tried one last time to seem big and tough but the human shrugged him off with little concern.

Humans were too dumb to communicate with. They were like squirrels. Mindless beings. But usually squirrels ran when a horse threatened them with body language. This human was either brave or foolish. Finally Jazz backed down and trotted out of the barn, growling at the human as he passed him.

Berry waited for Jazz at the edge of the yard. “Where is my foal?” she demanded. Jazz cocked his head back towards the barn.

“I tried Berry. I couldn’t. But I won’t leave her here! I’m going to get her! I won’t let a human hurt her. She’ll be alright I promise you we are NOT abandoning her! We’ll get her. But she’s…..they made her tired. She can hardly hold up her head.” Jazz glanced back at Berry.

Berry and Jazz ran from the human and stopped just a few miles away from the barn, taking shelter by a few large rocks on top of each other. There was grass and the rocks offered shelter from any cold wind. Jazz hardly ate but Berry grazed all day. Jazz was trying to figure out a plan. He had to save the foal! It wasn’t fair! She was in a place where the sky was dark and strange. The scents were of humans and metal and things that didn’t make sense. Nothing seemed natural except for the straw in the bedding.

Jazz shuddered to think of being cut off from the sky, the wind, the air, the things that grew and lived and thrived in the sunlight and rain. It was all what it was meant to be – no strange things that never enjoyed being outside and enjoying freedom. Humans were just stranger than snakes!

As night fell Jazz continued to worry about the foal being alone with the human. What if something happened to her? Was it his fault? He shouldn’t have slept so long! He shouldn’t have let Berry talk him into sleeping! He paced back and forth while Berry began to whisper a song to herself. Jazz knew it was hard for her. Loosing her family, loosing her home, loosing her foal! What had she left?

Jazz looked at her. “I lost my family too. I was kicked out of my herd and there aren’t any bachelor bands left for a colt like me to join. I’m alone. I was alone,” he said gently.

“THAT’S supposed to make me feel better?” she snapped. Jazz blinked.

“No,” he said slowly. “I just……I understand.” He sighed. Berry began to cry and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Oh Jazz! How am I supposed to cope? If it wasn’t for those helicopters….” she trailed off, bristling in anger. Jazz felt her rage towards the humans and he realized he shared that rage. Humans should mind their own business and leave mustangs alone! He narrowed his eyes in anger.

Time and time again Jazz tried to get Rose but each time he failed. Finally Berry gave up and went inside the barn. Jazz watched in sorrow. Only a week he had a herd again and now the humans took that away. Berry told him she couldn’t stand it without her foal and she would go in that barn and not leave. She was determined to be with her foal. Now Jazz watched as he was once again an outcast. He refused to give up his freedom to the humans, and this was a painful decision because it meant he lost his family…..again!

Chapter 5

Jazz watched in horror as his father’s band was being rounded up. He made no attempt to save them. Why bother? The humans never gave up. He wouldn’t mind it if his father vanished but the mares in that herd were friends, family. He didn’t blame them for what had happened to him. His heart ached when he saw his mother, terror in her eyes, running away from the humans that threatened her freedom. Jazz caught his father’s eye, his proud gaze. He felt electricity shoot through his body. His father was begging for help from a son who he had cast away, beaten, dragged through the mud. From a colt he had hurt physically and emotionally now stood above him, watching him be driven from his home and he was asking for help.

Jazz reared and nickered. Then he turned his back on his father. It pained him to hear the herd’s terrified squeals but he didn’t stop it. He could have, but he felt hardly living as he walked away. Nothing mattered anymore. Everything he cared about was ripped away. Maybe if the humans hadn’t taken so many horses there would have been a bachelor band for him to join, to learn to be a stallion, so some day he could have a herd of his own. But things change when humans interfere and now he was left without anything to care about.

Jazz blinked. He stood underneath a tree, just standing. Nothing was left to care about so why bother? Buzzards circled over head, and whether it was because they sensed Jazz giving up or they smelt something already dead, Jazz didn’t know, nor did he care. The sun no longer seemed to welcome him as its friend with its comforting heat. It seemed to mock him, telling him it didn’t even have its warmth left. The clouds half covered the sun, chilling the world below. The breeze blew but instead of being calming and comforting it seemed to go right through him with fury and spite. The fresh air only made Jazz’s heart ache when he thought of Rose and Berry trapped where there was no fresh air. He felt defeated so he let himself collapsed in the grass and watch the world go by without interest.

A day passed and a strange herd grazed close by. The stallion watched him and a few foals trotted over and kicked him and asked if he was dead. He answered with a snort of anger. Leave me alone! The unspoken command was enough to send them fleeing. The stallion seemed to realize he wasn’t going to hurt the herd and he soon let down his guard, not even bothering to look at Jazz.

Another day passed and Jazz didn’t even realize how hungry he was. He just stayed still, waiting to die. When the next day came Jazz began to realize if he was going to die he wanted to say good bye to Berry and Rose. He owed them that much. Getting to his feet he realized how hollow and empty his stomach felt and how dizzy and weary he felt. Deciding to eat before he left he gathered enough strength to make the journey to the barn.

When he got there the man was leading Berry on a rope outside. Jazz was curious, but he hung back in the shadows, unseen by the man and Berry. Rose suddenly trotted up, her leg uninjured anymore. She seemed healthy and happy again. Berry suddenly nickered, sensing Jazz’s presence. The man took the rope off, slapped Berry’s flanks, and released her. Jazz couldn’t believe his eyes. He was freeing Berry and Rose? As the two joined him they reared and bumped noses and nickered in joy.

“Rose is all better! The human treated us kindly! And now we can be a herd again!” Berry said quickly. Jazz grinned.

“THANK GOODNESS!” he exclaimed, giving the man a respectful nod. Surprisingly, the man nodded back. They had an understanding, a friendship almost. Without another word Jazz led his small herd away.

* * * * * * * * * *

A week later Jazz noticed about half of the mares from his father’s herd wandering by themselves. He asked them where his father was and they explained that he had been kept and only they had been released. Jazz was asked to be their leader and, despite his youth, he accepted.

Due to the round ups there weren’t any stallions that tried to challenge him until he was old enough to handle it. All in all Jazz came out stronger than ever and his will to survive kept the whole herd safe through floods and fires and attempted round ups. To this day Jazz is no longer an outcast or a lone figure watching his herd from afar. He is in the middle of the herd, welcomed and accepted with joy and love and that is how he likes it.

THE END

More to read...

• The Wild Mustang – Chapter 2
• The Wild Mustang – Chapter 9
• The Wild Mustang – Chapter 10

by HorseFeathers, age 17

Run, keep running my young one
Or the great sky bird will catch you

Follow me
And I will keep you from harm’s way

I know you are tired, as am I
But we must keep going or face death

No… no you mustn’t stop!
Get up my child danger is behind the herd

You must try
Very well, you may rest

I will stand over you
No beast can separate us

Do not worry
I am here

* * *

Image: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Safety
• The Mustang
• Running Free

We are swift and strong
Free and majestic
Our manes and tails blow in the wind
Our hearts are wild
We roam in herds
Our lead stallion protects us from danger
We fight for grazing lands
People want to take us away from our homes
To lock us in cages
We live in the rolling hills of the Old West
We frolic and gallop on the open range
We our free from cages
Free from fences and barns
We leap with the antelope
And soar with the eagle
We are the Mustang

Image: BLM Photo Library

More to read...

• Freedom
• Safety
• Rounded Up Mustang

Chapter 1

When I was younger, I remembered sitting on the green-tan Nevada hills, listening to my dad dictate the beauty of the landscape with his admiring voice and that adventurous glint in his eyes that nothing else can lure out. The highlight of these quiet moments, when we locked ourselves away from the world, was the sight of a mustang band in the distance.

We’d listen to the creek giggling not too far away from us — the halfway point between our world and theirs, the mustangs’. It was almost a symbol of mutual understanding; we’ll admire them afar, they’ll keep their freedom.

What makes me angry is that these wild horses are being taken away. Back home I would imagine myself hearing the horrible racket of helicopters, bullying the mustangs away to somewhere terrifying. I was sorry to know inside that these thoughts were real.

I’d never seen a round-up. Most of them, I gathered, were in the middle of nowhere so people couldn’t see the terrors, the whites in every eye, the snorting… Outside my window, I’d see some lonely dust settling at a distance just before the disappearing horizon. I reasoned that they were upset by a helicopter, low-flying to prepare for the gathering of the herds on the Great Basin.

As the fluttering dust were slowly returned to the earth by gravity, or whisked away by the silent yet mourning breezes, I thought about how the captured horses were dragged back to the ground, forced away by humans to an undecided fate — a fate I longed to change.

I felt invincible before, as I sat with my dad and watched the sunset melt gold and scarlet into the sky. Now I wondered what had become of that fearlessness. It was probably washed away to some mysterious place I can’t ever find again, along with those many souls of mustangs.

I feel so alone, you know? Having nothing there for me to turn to for some stability in life; even my dad’s working extra hours at the county gas station and general store to battle with the costs these days. But I guess I’m not alone in the sense that there might be many other girls who loved the mustangs, but one day found them all gone. When you lose the only thing that gave you courage, where can you find the strength to pick yourself up again?

“Dad,” I’d say when he wasn’t busy or resting from his long day, “I don’t know where the mustangs are anymore. How am I supposed to ‘look for the wild horses’ like you said whenever I asked you for help?”

He’d only look at me, the smirking tug at his mouth speaking a phrase that was worn with usage: “Look for the wild horses.” I soon discovered he could no longer help me, either, for he never told me anything else.

When the day quieted at dusk, I’d creep out of the house against my mother’s will. With Dad always tired, she had two sons, one husband, and an entire farm to tend to — and only me for much needed help. I would gaze at the scenery, but it was bland, my eyes only registering monotones. There was no colour as far as the eye could see, no horses as far as the eye could see.

Upon my return home, mum would scowl until I thought she would wrinkle permanently, and my brothers would jeer at me for ‘leaving my dirty chores to them, lazy sis’. I’d only get a break from this displeasure when I reached my dad, who would either be silenced by fatigue…or roaring with it. My brothers would snicker like immature idiots when he snored, but I could only remember how great the thunderous sound was when the wild horses were galloping outside my window.

Chapter 2

Today, I found a wild horse.

Sturdy and attentive to his surroundings, he merely stared at me when I found him at the creek quite late in the afternoon. His slightly shaggy summer coat had battled many cold, gusty nights, and with his strong feet and heavy shoulder blades I easily defined him as a mustang typical of these parts of Nevada.

He was also very fit and healthy, the sorrel of his coat glowing a vibrant sheen. I didn’t get a chance to look at his eyes for fear of him thinking me a threat to him.

“Hi there, I’m Sharlett,” I said calmly, trying to be friends. “Let’s give you a name, for the sake of making communication easier for us both.” He shook his head, whipping his chestnut mane into the air and rippling his impressive muscles humbled by a thick layer of red hair. I completely forgot the fact that he couldn’t understand English, and that he wasn’t likely to respond to his name even if he had one.

“I could call you Red after your chestnut coat, but wouldn’t that be original?” I joked, slowly lowering myself into a sitting position. I laughed to myself, but “Red” decided he didn’t like the strange noise and shivering that was coming out of me. I could feel him tensing, so I started telling a story in a soft voice to calm him down and hopefully keep him around for a while longer. My words faded into the wind for no one else but him to hear:

“My dad loves mustangs, ones like you. I remember, when I was young, we’d watch the horses settling down at the far side of the creek, and dad would always look at something, point at it and say, ‘Look at that beautiful sanuye, Sharlett.’ I didn’t know what he was going on about.”

Red looked at me, as if we achieved some understanding between us. I continued, “Then I noticed he always pointed at one of those clouds that look like floating lava in the sky at sunset. I figured out that ‘sanuye’ is Native American, meaning ‘red cloud at sundown’.”

The Native American word seemed to sound familiar to the mustang since he never took those remembering eyes off of me. I suppose it wasn’t that surprising, considering his ancestors probably heard the same word.

“Hmm…now, I think Sanuye fits you,” I declared, giving him a smile. “It’s much better than Red anyway.” I waited for his response, but he only flicked his ears, eyes big and staring.

I think I choked on my own spit when he slowly shifted the weight from his front hooves and came walking towards me. My mind clouded over as if it was in a dream as I recounted every second in my brain, trying to absorb every detail of this experience. I offered an upturned hand. Soon he was so close that his warm breath graced my palm, the whiskers on his muzzle greeting me gently. I reached for his neck. He came closer. For the first time, I stroked that unruly chestnut coat that earned him his name. It was almost like touching the dreams I’ve only ever seen when asleep, or re-uniting with the strength that wild horses have given me.

His eyes I saw for the first time. They were a strange concoction of colours — black in some places and golden brown in others. They reminded me of the comfort I used to find in my mum’s eyes. Now the pressure of keeping the family going had drowned out that loving gaze.

I reached out my hand to Sanuye, scratching him on the withers to mimic a horse nuzzling. He would flick his ears towards me in surprise, and I think confusion too, but he didn’t protest so I assumed he understood a little bit of what I was trying to do.

Almost too soon, he snorted, stamping a hoof and turning his head to the horizon as if he heard a call to him. Chances are he probably did, for horses have better hearing than people could ever have. I was excited at the fact that there were other mustangs out there, so you can say I wasn’t that disappointed when he started walking off, soaring through the creek and galloping to his calling.

Something had re-lit inside me, and I gazed after him until the red clouds disappeared from the darkening sky.

Chapter 3

“Is it too much to ask for your help, Sharlett?”

“No, mum,” I sighed out.

“I wish you can feel some responsibility,” she continued. “When will you stop running off and exploring like you’re still the five year old you were nine years ago?”

Maybe because then everything wouldn’t be so different, I thought. But I remembered Sanuye, and how more unhappy I would be now without having met him. I decided to keep my mouth shut and go to the county like my mum asked to buy my dad lunch and give him a break from homemade sandwiches. I was requested to get him some meat pie for protein and strength.

The corner shop was modest, nothing all that interesting inside or out. Mrs. Finch, the manager mum had so approvingly chatted about, was in her early fifties, the auburn of her hair losing its flair and rapidly on the way to becoming grey wires. When I asked her about pies, she gripped my shoulders from behind and hurried me over to the counter, behind which was a series of racks stocked with hot food.

“I recommend this new pie that’s just arrived,” she spoke excitedly. “It’s made with ingredients from around these areas, and we’re the only shop that’s got it.” She lifted a pie from the heated racks, holding it as if it was made of diamonds.

I admit it looked alright, healthily steaming with a tempting glaze of gold all over. The price was surprisingly cheap too, and I was about to buy it before I realised why.

“Horse meat?!” I cried out, my stomach suddenly hollow and somersaulting. “This pie is made from HORSE MEAT?” A numb coldness reached into my blood, freezing my whole body.

The horrible woman mistook my detest for enthusiasm. “Wonderful, isn’t it? But these are just samples, with beef fillings. They haven’t gotten a chance to kill any horses yet.”

My respect for mum’s taste in people vanished completely. “NO!” I choked out, “I-it is NOT wonderful. W-w-where did you get this pie?”

“My husband’s a great man, going out there and rounding up the mustangs that destroy the Great Basin. Most of them are going to slaughter for better use to people,” she explained. How I wanted to slap some sense into her. “He suggested selling those pies at our shop, even though most of it is going to be shipped overseas. Would you like to pre-order a pie? I heard the horses at the holding facility a couple miles from here are going to be towed away a week from now or so. It won’t be too long until you can get your or—”

“Get your husband to stop it, NOW!” I interrupted. I had no intention of being polite anymore.

Mrs. Finch frowned. “You’re not one of those horse lovers are you? I say those mustangs are better off in our stom—”

“Where is the holding facility?” I jumped in before the words could stain my ears. Then I realised she’ll never tell me if I was so rude and against her beliefs. “I, I just wanted to go see Mr. Finch and congratulate him on his efforts. That’s why I was so eager — to catch him before he goes.” I never lie, and you can’t really say I was. I understood it as bending the truth. I would congratulate him alright, in my not-so-nice ways.

Then I gulped, ‘bending the truth’ an extra mile and forcing out the next words for the sake of being convincing. “I hate…horses.” I decided that once out of her sight, I needed to teach myself a lesson.

She seemed pleased, the wrinkles of her face twisting into joy once again. “Ah, what an angel you are. If you follow the road just outside down left, just walk until you reach a small lake and turn right at that corner. Then all you need to do is keep going and you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you so much,” I replied, twisting my face into a smile. Before she could ask if I still wanted to buy a pie, I sprinted out the door, turning left.

Mrs. Finch’s smile faded, a smirk replacing her happy curves. “Like I’m stupid…kids these days. Good thing I gave her wrong directions.” She rolled her eyes, then disappeared to the back of the shop.

I smirked as well from my crouched position, looking through the corner of the viewing window. “Actually,” I said to myself, “you aren’t all that smart.” Little did she know, she had given me the exact directions to my house.

I headed off down the road to the right, knowing she had lied about the directions as much as possible to get me far from the holding facility. Mrs. Finch needed to learn about reverse psychology in children.

Chapter 4

I was always pretty strong, toughened by the wrestles with my brothers and the criticism of my mum. But when I arrived at the holding facility, I did everything to keep the tears coming.

If you had ever seen those trapped mustangs, you would miss the sight of a happily grazing horse like you would miss food after a month of hunger. It was like someone had turned the tables, so that horses were now the pitiful weaklings and humans had power and control. It was a sight that empowered me with passion, but even I, who believed in the strengths of passion, knew it wouldn’t be enough to return to these mustangs the freedom they had. I thought about this, asked myself questions, looked for answers — but I found none. These horses were trapped, and in their eyes I could see they’d do anything to get out.

I allowed myself to be free with wreaking havoc here and do whatever it takes to free the mustangs, but there was the law to consider, so I couldn’t have total liberty. Yet there were so many opportunities, even though none of them felt right. For some peace in scheming, I looked for a nearby hiding spot clear of sage brushes (I was in no mood to get a rash).

I laid down on the other side of a small hill near a Mountain-mahogany grove, my spying head camouflaged into the grass. And then, I heard some hoofbeats. No, not some — many.

Before I knew it, around ten horses erupted at a gallop from the grove almost right next to me. All of them looked like they had draft blood in them and resembled Sanuye in grace and movement. Their heads were up in disapproval, showing they were chased by something frightening. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins as I realised they were wild mustangs — mustangs being rounded up.

Looking more carefully into the trees, I saw a familiar chestnut figure approaching. “Sanuye!” I gasped, not able to believe I saw him again. He perked up his ears and picked up his pace, the longer strides carrying him quickly out of the grove. In open, broad daylight, he was even more magnificent than in the afternoon, with his pelt emitting a fine glow and golden threads of sunlight playing through his tail.

I stroked him on the neck as he watched the mustangs being galloped by two riders into a tight corral. I swore there was a fire flaring dangerously behind that steady gaze. “That’s your band, isn’t it?” I asked, already knowing the answer and feeling relieved that he wasn’t caught.

I realised then that Sanuye wasn’t staring at the horses as much as he was focused inquisitively on the two men riding. I wasn’t sure what he made of this strange sight, this unlikely hierarchy of control. He flicked his closest ear at me, asking me if I would someday take charge of his will like those riders had with their horses.

I always had a continuous desire to ride a wild horse, but this time I thought differently. I replied confidently to reassure him, “No, Sanuye, I won’t ever take your freedom away from you.” I never lie, only sometimes bending the truth, but this time I didn’t even do that. The choice was in my hands, not the BLM’s, and I preferred it to be the one where the mustang remained free.

Chapter 5

As Sanuye and I watched, one of the men on horseback spoke to the other, “We got all of them this time, except for that lead stallion.” I shifted my eyes to Sanuye, knowing that they were talking about him.

“I don’t think you can keep him in even if you caught him again, Timmy,” the other replied bluntly. “You wouldn’t have known what a bulldozer is until you saw him barge through that gate with half the herd.”

“Yeah well, we got that half back just then anyway.”

“Hey, would you mind popping up to the county gas station and general store to check if they’ve got our order scheduled?”

A gasp caught in my throat, threatening to escape into the quiet air and expose my spying. My dad worked at the gas station and general store!

“Don’t be so worried, Finch,” retorted Timmy, “we could always stop at some other gas station on the way to the knackers and get supplies there if the order messes up.”

“No, I don’t want any questions being asked. Do you know how many people are against the mustang gathers these days?” said Finch.

Oh you’re right about that, I thought angrily.

He continued, “Getting so worried as to order food is the price to pay for being in a small county where they ain’t got enough food to last ten men a long road trip.”

“Wow, these men aren’t very bright, or would you call that being overly paranoid?” I remarked, “It shouldn’t be too hard to outsmart them.”

Timmy climbed into a small truck and the engine revved energetically. I slipped quietly through the trees with Sanuye, heading along the shortcut through cross country.

Many times when I stumbled I returned to the thought of riding Sanuye, but I kept to my promise, encouraged by his nickers of concern whenever I tripped.

The gas station was located on one of the county’s main roads with its general store set further back behind it. While Timmy parked the truck and strolled inside, my brain had already started working on a plan. I had to delay those men on their journey, through the only way I could — Dad.

Chapter 6

“Run, Sanuye, hide away,” I whispered to my chestnut companion. He nudged me playfully, but when I kept still he got the message and trotted away towards the back of the store.

I jogged over to look through the right hand side window, feeling like a sneaky thief plotting for chaos. There was a counter, with Dad on its right and Timmy on its left. Listening intently, I could make out Timmy’s voice saying something along the lines of “Just wanted to check on my order, it’s all to be ordered and delivered as soon as it arrives?”

Dad was nodding and saying, “No problem there.” He smiled warmly, and I wondered what that kind face would look like if he knew who the man was.

They talked some more about adult nonsense as far as I could hear. I was nearly bored to sleep, but then as Timmy left, I rushed speedily around the corner to hide. When the coast was clear, I raced like a torrent through the store door.

“Dad!”

“Sharlett! What are you doing here?”

“Er, nothing. Just wanted to see you,” I answered, my brain stranding together words as I went.

Dad smiled, but it didn’t make me feel better at all. The lines on his face were etched with exhaustion and yearning for rest. It reminded me how much the family needed my help, and all I could do was ‘run around with the horses’, according to my mum.

I sighed. “Go get some rest, Dad, I’ll take over the counter now.”

“Ah,” he uttered, “I might just take you up on that offer. Thanks, honey.” With that he sauntered drearily to the staff lounge at the back.

I kept my smile as long as it could hold, but dismay gurgled vigorously inside me. “If only I was worth thanking.” Dad would definitely not be happy if one of his customers weren’t satisfied with his service. The family couldn’t afford any losses of income. Not that it ever lost any before, but now, I’d change all of that with my plan to save the mustangs.

Often I helped Dad with his paperwork when his brain was too weary to make out the figures. I knew exactly where he kept all his order forms, and sure enough, when I looked a large purchase was to be ordered for tomorrow under the name of Andrew Finch.

Grinning evilly, I discovered the date for the order to be made was the 21st. Selecting a fine, black gel pen from the counter’s drawers, I proceeded to change the 1 into a 4, mimicking the font as flawlessly as possible so it would look like it was meant to be the 24th. I dedicated every ounce of concentration to those touches of ink, knowing a little slip up would completely spoil everything. But if everything worked perfectly, I’d gain valuable time to free the gathered horses.

“Sharlett?” My dad.

My head jerked up and a bone cracked at the back of my neck, sending a pulse of pain that turned to worry. My rapidly beating heart seemed to have migrated to my ears, drowning out all clear thoughts. But looking around, I found that dad was only calling from the back. I sighed, relaxing, my heart rate normalising.

But when I heard his approaching footsteps, it quickened again. Finding myself dangerously close to hot water, I dashed over to delay him. “Dad, wait!” I shouted desperately. He stared at me with confusion, legs halted in mid-step. Oh great, now what do I do? “Umm, look at…” Just then, I saw Sanuye through the window in the back door, fogging it up with his breath as he spied on what was happening inside. “…look at that monster, Dad!” I screamed, pointing to where Sanuye was behind a thin layer of fog, safely covered from view, “RUN!”

I was actually secretly saying it to Sanuye, not wanting my dad to find him. When I heard swiftly departing hoofbeats, all of my muscles loosened along with a sigh of relief. Dad followed it all beautifully; being puzzled by the strange ‘monster’ and warning me to stay put while he grabbed a broom and ventured outside.

While he was being brave, I hurried back to the counter, fixed everything up and ordered the paperwork as they had been before. When dad returned, saying how it was probably some rowdy boys, he didn’t suspect a thing and proceeded to beckon me home to help mum with dinner while he checked over the deliveries and orders he’ll have to make.

All seemed to be working in my favour as I walked outside with my dad delving headfirst into the paperwork. Sanuye trotted up to me from his little hiding spot, having enjoyed the excitement.

“Let’s hope all goes well, boy,” I said quietly, wondering if he understood what I was doing for him. “We’ll get you your herd back. Now we just need to free those mustangs.”

Chapter 7

I escaped from the traps of sleep long before the day of the 25th dawned, my dreams tainted with worry. So far, none of my plans had come close to being realistic. Deciding sleep wouldn’t be of much help, I got up, dressed, and ambled downstairs.

On the couch, lying limp and tired, was my dad, awake and staring into space. He was wearing ruffled work clothes, having presumably just returned from another long day trying to scrape up as much money as he could. He turned his head towards me as I descended the stairs. “Sharlett, you’re up early.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping, Dad? Today’s your break day,” I asked him quietly.

He replied simply, “I’ve been thinking.” There was silence as I expected him to say more. “Let’s go for a walk, honey.”

I suggested he get some rest, but he was determined to go.

We strolled to our hill, a sight familiar to our eyes yet strange with neglect. Dad made a comment about that, I only kept quiet so I wouldn’t accidentally say something about my meeting with Sanuye.

Once settled comfortably, he spoke with more solemnity than fatigue had ever triggered, “Sharlett, there are men nearby from the BLM. They’re leaving with the Basin’s mustangs for the slaughter house.”

I stiffened with recognition, not knowing what to say.

“A man came up to me yesterday when I was working to ask why his delivery wasn’t made. They said they were initially going to leave the county that day, after they got their supplies for the trip from me.” He paused, trying to believe what had happened. “But there was a mistake in the paperwork. I was supposed to deliver it on the 24th, not order it.”

I grimaced; he needed to know the truth. “Dad…” I choked out.

But he was lost in his own miserable thoughts. “He was very unhappy when he left,” he continued, “I thought everything was going to be alright once I had delivered it next week. But Mr. Finch called later, saying horrible things about how the BLM wouldn’t tolerate service from them like mine. He mentioned something about leaving for the knackers tomorrow after lunch…I, I knew what was going on immediately.”

“Tomorrow after lunch?” I widened my eyes in alarm. “Which means t-today?”

“Yes, honey, at noon. And I…I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”

“Oh yes, there is,” I whispered firmly, glaring into the distance, but knowing perfectly well I had nothing up my sleeve that could back my determination. “Dad,” I said more decisively, “don’t worry.” Staring at the rising sun, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to put it all right. No mustang gatherer’s going to get what they want.”

Chapter 8

The day was just beginning to brighten when I arrived at the holding facility. I expected it to be quiet with slumber, but the sight that greeted me was one where men were running around frantically, preparing for the day’s journey.

I saw that two horse trucks were parked near the corrals. Neither of them had any windows save for some slits at the top of the holding compartment. I could only imagine the dark and dirty conditions inside. And then I had the most wonderful idea I could think of at the time.

I sprinted to the corrals with the horses in them. Immediately the mustangs dashed as far away from me as possible. I hesitated as I took in the fright and the ongoing panic, but then regained my sense and proceeded to unlock the gates.

As soon as there was a little gap, the horses inside galloped through, snorting and ears perked forward as they marveled at the feeling of being free again. It sent a buzz of delight through me as well, and turning around for the other horses I was eager to feel the bliss again…only to slam headfirst into a towering man.

“Do you know you’re trespassing, miss?” he asked in a dangerously calm fashion. “And that you’ve just released half of our hard work and money from the knackers?!” Timmy joined in, positioning himself on the other side of me.

“Well, if you haven’t realised…” spoke another voice, this one loud and set at a low, sinister tone — Finch. But what rumbled a louder note was a black pistol, poised and aimed at my head, gripped tightly in his hands.

“Ah, hi Mr. Finch,” I replied chirpily, sounding like an idiot, “I remember now, I was going to congratulate you.” Bending the truth, Sharlett, I thought. Bending the truth.

“Oh?” He imitated surprise, but he and I both knew he could care less. “What would that be?”

I was vaguely aware of a fast-approaching orange-red spot in the background, and I hoped like I had never hoped before for it to be who I thought it might be. “Just congratulations, you know,” I started, “on being a…” I looked over his shoulder, then turned back to him. “A complete idiot who cares nothing about the welfare of horses and who deserves what he’s about to get.”

He looked smug as he readied his finger on the gun’s trigger. “And what—” He paused, the blood in his neck running cold as the skin was grazed over by a warm breath. The tension in the air felt like an active volcano, ready to erupt.

Before he could react anymore, the chestnut mustang landed a hoof on his back. Timmy and the other man immediately sprinted away, but Sanuye started chasing them around until he eventually knocked the both of them down, to my amusement.

I was starting to enjoy the excitement until one man, brandishing a thick whip, came ushering Sanuye away and kept an eye on him. The others quickly hurried over and restrained me.

“Don’t think anybody here is up for a fight with a mustang,” one of them said, looking at Sanuye grabbing the whip in his teeth and giving chase after the man.

“I say we call the police, and throw this little trouble maker into jail!”

“Go ahead,” I snapped, “call the police!”

Timmy fished out a cell phone and did just that. Once connected, he started accusing me of a list of crimes, half of which weren’t true. All the men seemed to enjoy taunting me, and talked about the trouble I was in. I only rolled my eyes and waited patiently until they were finished. Then I released the bombshell, “Wouldn’t they like to know you’re acting against the Wild Free-Roaming Horse and Burro Act? The part where you’re not allowed to slaughter wild horses?”

I laughed to myself, feeling smart, as their mouths opened and Finch glared accusingly at Timmy. “You idiot!” he screamed, “why did you call the police?!”

“Oh, who cares? Just run!”

They were about to high-tail it out of there, until the sound of a siren froze their legs. I smirked and laid on the retorts, “Getting caught by the law is the price to pay for being in a small county where the police station is right down the road.” The triumph of seeing Finch stare at me in horror made my day. Sanuye gave a snort as if he was jeering at them, and I couldn’t say I blamed him.

The police arrived; so did my family. I knew I had a lot of explaining to do, but for the time being I just hugged Sanuye and whispered, “We did it.”

Chapter 9

The chief policeman was talking to my parents and two brothers. “I heard the family hasn’t been doing well, with mum working at home, dad scraping up money, and this little horse-lover saving mustangs.” He chucked wholeheartedly. “What a hardworking bunch. I’m not allowed to do anything, but I’d be happy to find you some sponsors for your help in keeping the mustangs safe.”

I was far away with Sanuye, but I didn’t have to see my parents’ faces to know how ecstatic they were. My brothers were hissing “yesss!” and high-fiving all over the place like the annoying boys they were.

Sanuye and I stood at the creek, watching twilight fill the skies. “Thanks for putting my life right, Sanuye,” I murmured to him, savouring the feeling of speaking to this wild mustang, “and for teaching me to look for the wild horses, when there didn’t seem to be any left; teaching me to look for hope when I thought there was none.”

I swallowed hard. “You’ve given me my family back… I should do the same for you.” I reached for him and he allowed me to embrace him, blessing my neck with his comforting breath. I cried freely then, but he didn’t mind the teardrops on him.

I would never forget the amber, mangled coat that was silken to me, or the bottomless eyes so loyal and trusting. He carried his own grace, one defined by a draft-like, strong build. His spirit was like his chestnut mane and tail – both were braided from the wild and tangled beyond human understanding.

I stepped away from him then. He nickered at me, and my heart somersaulted in pure glee despite the pain it was in. “Run, boy!” I told him, and like the wonderful mustang he was, he picked up his hooves and soared away.

I followed his form with my eyes until I could follow no more, whispering after him, “Run, Sanuye, run.”

The tears eventually stopped as I gazed contentedly at the red clouds in the sky. “Hey Dad, look at that beautiful Sanuye.”

Epilogue

They sailed upon the ground, bleaching it with the purest grace and power. Gliding collectively, they were like a darkened cloud that never tired, but instead of rain, they brought sunlight and with it — hope. Perhaps it was some magic that pried out this ability, or maybe it was because they are the epitome of true freedom.

They are the wild mustangs.

As part of March for Wild Horses, young authors were invited to submit a story about an American Mustang “character” who represents the story of many horses taken off public land and held until they’re adopted, or worse. Authors were encouraged to research the history of wild horses in the US along with what’s happening today, then create a fictional character based on fact.

The original intent was for GHC to “adopt” one of these characters into our stables. After careful thought, LeadMare has decided there’s no reason to contain and domesticate the healthy, free-hearted mustangs in these stories when there’s more than enough public land to sustain them.

These characters are fictional, but in the spirit of March for Wild Horses they will remain free as a symbol of our hope for the Mustangs.

More to read...

• Int*l Horse: The Lady of Shilot
• Wild Mustangs: The Words in Their Eyes
• Rejoice in Freedom