Dawn Runner (12 page)

M
ustangs rarely drank at the lake at War Drum Flats unless it was dawn or dusk. Although the summer sun wouldn't drop below the horizon for at least two more hours, clouds had crowded in front of the sun, dropping the late afternoon temperature, bringing a wild herd down from the foothills.

The girls had been riding along, talking about the Chinese language class Pam would be taking in school. Her mom had urged her to sign up for it because of a research trip Dr. Mora had planned, to study stories of China's spotted Heavenly Horses.

Pam and Popcorn got along fine until they followed Sam and Ace downhill from the highway. Popcorn snorted, pulled to the right, and resisted
Pam's clucking encouragement as they headed toward the shallow lake.

“Sam, what should I do?”

“He'll be okay,” Sam said, but then she looked away from Popcorn to the territory ahead and saw what the albino gelding did.

The Phantom's herd drank in the shallows of the lake, and the big honey-colored mare had spotted them.

Sam didn't take her eyes from the wild horses, even when Pam gasped behind her.

“If we stay really still, maybe they won't see us,” Pam said, halting her horse. She leaned low on Popcorn's neck as if she could hide.

“Too late,” Sam said. “The lead mare already sees us.”

“The big gold one?” Pam asked. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” Sam said.

Even though the lead mare's head was down and she still appeared to be drinking, the mare looked tense. She could bolt and alarm the rest of the herd at any second.

Ace felt himself being watched. He took a step backward. Popcorn did the same. They both recognized the mare's authority.

“I thought the stallion was the boss,” Pam said quietly.

“He's the protector,” Sam whispered, “but the lead mare decides where they eat and drink, and she disciplines the colts so that they know how to act.”

Pam's breath caught as another horse jostled the lead mare.

“That's Ryan's horse, right? She looks just like her baby.”

“That's Hotspot,” Sam agreed, “and she'd better quit crowding the lead mare.”

The honey-colored mare flattened her ears into her flaxen mane and swung her head toward Hotspot.

The Appaloosa ignored the warning and lowered her cocoa-brown muzzle right where the lead mare's had been. At once, the lead mare's lips tightened, showing her teeth, and she lunged.

Hotspot splashed back a step, shaking her mane.

“Is she going to bite her?” Pam asked.

“She will if she doesn't back off,” Sam said. “See how the others are keeping their distance from the lead mare? At least a couple yards? I guess Hotspot never learned herd manners.”

“But she was trying to be friends,” Pam protested.

“I know, but the mare's on guard. It's sort of like…” Sam searched her mind for an example. “I don't know, like, if your teacher was grading papers and you ran up and gave her a hug.”

The lead mare's ears stayed flat and her eyes narrowed, but Hotspot didn't move off. With a dripping muzzle, she watched Sam and Pam.

She just didn't have wild instincts, Sam thought. Instead of being wary or at least paying attention to the lead mare's tension, Hotspot radiated curiosity as
she flicked her ears toward the riders. Raising her head for a better view, she bumped the lead mare and didn't seem to notice when the gold horse turned away and raised one of her hind legs.

“She's going to get kicked,” Sam said, but just then Hotspot spotted the lead mare's lashing flaxen tail. “She's still not taking the hint.”

Instead of showing her respect by getting out of the lead mare's space, Hotspot snorted and her own ears flicked flat.

“Uh-oh,” Pam gasped as the lead mare struck out, kicking the Appaloosa.

Hotspot lunged with teeth exposed, but the lead mare didn't let her bite. Instead, she used both hind hooves to kick out at the younger mare.

Hotspot squealed, swapped ends, and launched a double-hooved kick at the lead mare. It struck with a meaty thump.

“No,” Sam moaned. “Wild horses don't just attack each other. Mostly they just warn and threaten. They know a real fight could hurt a herd member and she could fall behind and get eaten. Even stallions don't—”

Shocked by Hotspot's violence, the lead mare waited a few disbelieving seconds before returning the kick, and Hotspot was able to sidestep it. But the lead mare kept backing, threshing hooves turning the water white. Hotspot bolted for the shore.

Once she had her on the run, the honey-colored
mare made sure Hotspot understood the lesson. She lunged after her, gave her a quick slashing bite on the rump, and chased her. When Hotspot tried to stop, the mare lowered her head in a herding motion and Hotspot kept moving. When she'd chased her half the distance to the girls, the lead mare stopped, circled back to the other mares, and herded them from the water.

“She's taking everybody home,” Sam said.

Banking like a flock of birds, the wild horses swooped around the riders, but when Hotspot tried to follow, the lead mare charged her, driving her back.

“She's not allowed to go with them?” Pam asked.

“That's what it looks like,” Sam said as the lead mare galloped after the others.

Alone, Hotspot circled at an uneasy trot. She was afraid to follow, but after a few seconds, she decided to chance it anyway, and swerved in the direction they'd gone.

The lead mare skidded to a stop.

“She must have eyes in the back of her head!” Pam said.

The mare swung her honey-brown head in a swirl of mane. She glared back over her shoulder. Hotspot halted and the herd moved on without her.

“Is she just, like, in ‘time out' for misbehaving?” Pam asked.

Sam sighed as the Appaloosa wandered to the shoreline, sniffing the ground, and then, every few
steps, raised her head to look after the others.

“I don't know, but if Ryan was here right now—” Sam stopped.

Was it the perfect time to recapture the mare, while she was feeling downcast and beaten? Or would she feel vulnerable without the herd and respond to any approach as danger?

“Let's catch her for him!” Pam crowed. “You've got a rope, right? Let's go!”

Pam's enthusiasm was contagious. Popcorn caught it before Sam did, and when he whirled toward the Appaloosa, Pam lost her balance. Her foot slipped from her left stirrup and her weight shifted. She was falling.

Ace bolted forward to block Popcorn. The albino squealed in surprise when Pam clung to the reins as if they were her lifeline. She dragged Popcorn's head down for a few seconds before throwing her weight back toward the saddle. She grabbed onto the saddle horn.

“Ease up on the reins,” Sam said. She tried to sound calm, since Pam looked pretty scared.

“I almost fell.” Pam panted, then seemed to hear herself and stopped. Finally, Sam's instructions sunk in and she loosened the reins. “Did I hurt him?”

“He's okay,” Sam said, “but he was pretty surprised.”

“That makes two of us,” Pam said, and when Sam turned Ace toward Lost Canyon and the O'Malleys'
camp, Pam only spared one glance back at the deserted lake.

 

“Mom, you won't believe what we saw!” Pam's eyes flashed excitement, worry, and disbelief. “These two mares—right? Mares?” Pam waited for Sam's nod. “Anyway, one's the lead mare and the other is Ryan's tame horse, you remember Ryan? Except she sure wasn't acting tame, and they fought.”

“Are you both all right?” Dr. Mora asked as Pam dismounted carefully, then held Popcorn's reins in a tight fist.

“Sure,” Pam said, meeting Sam's eyes. “It was just an adventure. A real Western adventure.”

“That sounds exciting, and I'm glad you got to see it,” Dr. Mora said. Then, as if the account reminded her of something else, she looked up at Sam, who was still astride Ace. “Do you want to get down for a minute, Sam? I'd like to talk with you about something.”

“I need to get back, but I've got to put a lead line on Popcorn, and that'll take a minute,” Sam said, dismounting and taking down the rope she'd brought for ponying Popcorn home. “So, uh, what did you need to talk about?”

If by some chance Dr. Mora had been watching the lake with binoculars, it was pretty obvious who she'd blame for Pam's slip.

“Nothing bad,” Dr. Mora said as if Sam sounded like she had a guilty conscience, but then she asked,
“Do you think your Phantom Stallion fits the Dawn Runner legend?”

Sam had just clipped the rope to the halter Popcorn wore under his bridle. Her hands went still at the question and her mind glowed with an imagined Phantom, haloed with morning's first light.

“I don't know,” Sam said, stroking Popcorn's neck as she thought about the question. “He's real, and sometimes he still acts like my horse, but lately he's been wilder than ever.” Sam paused and Dr. Mora gave an encouraging nod. “When he comes and goes in the shadows, especially by moonlight, he seems magical, and my dad says he comes from a line of fast, light-colored horses that have lived on this range for a long time. So…” Sam shrugged. “I don't know. He could be part of the legend. Still, I've seen him more often at night.”

Dr. Mora nodded. “You know, I've read that horses'—real horses'—eyesight is no different in darkness than it is in light. Something about the flexibility of their retina, I think. Their night vision is so perfect, they just carry on their normal lives—courting, mating, fighting, and eating.”

“I believe that,” Sam said, and a sudden sense of peace flowed through her as she remembered the dark hours she'd spent in the Phantom's secret valley. All through the night she'd heard the grinding of teeth, the gentle whinny of mares whose foals wandered out of reach, and the swish of water in a horse's belly as it walked away from the stream.

“I had my talk with MacArthur Ely today,” Dr. Mora began.

“That's Jake's grandfather!” Sam said.

“He had lots of nice things to say about you,” Dr. Mora admitted, but she was eager to discuss the legend. “It seems the Dawn Runner appears as a sign of good fortune. Capturing the Dawn Runner isn't the point at all. It's not an initiation like winning over a wild horse in manhood rituals and so on.” Dr. Mora paused and pushed her glasses up her nose. “So, she'll probably only be a footnote in my paper. At least
this
paper.”

Pam had remained quiet while her mother talked to Sam, but now she crossed her arms and said, “You're not getting ready to say it's time to go.”

“Well yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” Dr. Mora said with an understanding smile. “Since I have the information I came for and you girls have had your visit—”

“Mom, no. I can't go yet. I have to see what happens with Ryan and his horse,” Pam insisted.

“But she's had enough of me,” Sam joked.

“Sam!” Pam moaned. “I wish you could come home with me!”

“Next time,” Sam promised, and something told her it really might happen. She hadn't forced this friendship to bloom again, but it had.

“Mom,” Pam begged, “please.”

“Tomorrow's Friday, and I could stay until…” Dr. Mora sucked in a breath and half closed her eyes,
thinking. “Saturday afternoon. Yes, I could drive into Reno or Carson City and see what kind of horse artifacts they might have in the museums. But no longer.”

“I guess that will do,” Pam said, dragging her feet in mock misery as she handed Popcorn's lead rope up to Sam.

“I guess it will
have
to do,” Dr. Mora replied in a tone that said she'd already been too lenient.

“See you at school tomorrow!” Pam yelled as Sam rode away. “And don't have any adventures without me!”

 

Because Popcorn was still skittish and unwilling to follow the shoreline of the desert lake, Sam took the long way home. She rode north over the foothills, following one of the trails that had given Mrs. Allen's property its original name of Deerpath Ranch.

“If anyone complains about me being late for dinner,” Sam told Popcorn, “I'll just say it took less time than it would have if you had pulled loose and I'd had to chase all over the range trying to catch you.”

When she finally came to a place where she could ride downhill safely, it meant threading through a maze of wind-twisted pinion pine that snagged at her bare arms.

“It's only like this for a few minutes,” Sam told the horses.

There was a scuttling sound, probably quail, but the horses gave inquisitive snorts, because they couldn't see beyond the branches.

Sam heard the soft babble of water running over rocks. They weren't far from a small stream that forked off the La Charla River and ran behind the Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary. The waters' whisper reminded her of something.

Sam concentrated, wondering what memory seemed important and just out of reach.

“Do you speak river?” Sam joked as she patted Ace's neck, but the gelding wasn't amused. His muscles gathered and he pulled at the bit as branches rustled nearby. “We're not running home,” she scolded. Then she looked toward the sounds. “It's only the wind.”

That would have made perfect sense, Sam thought, except that the evening was still. There wasn't a breath of wind, and something was moving closer.

“Let's go,” Sam said.

She tightened her legs against the saddle, but when Ace stepped out, the lead rope snapped tight between her hand and Popcorn's halter.

“You can't both spook,” Sam told the horses.

A twig broke with a pop so loud, it seemed to reverberate through her left elbow and Sam twisted to look.

Don't have any adventures without me
, Pam had told her, and she'd planned to do as her friend had asked.