Spirit Horses (11 page)

Just then, a shotgun blast rang out from the porch.
Mr. Jensen was standing there, with his gun in hand. He shouted, “I got no
problem with you Indians, and I don’t want any. Now you just slide into your
truck and get off my land.”

Tara was nearly in tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean
for this to happen.” She jumped into the driver’s seat and called sternly for
her brothers. Shane was glad they listened to her. He stood there holding the
board watching as they drove away.

Mr. Jensen stepped off his porch and looked at him
with a concerned frown, “Son, trouble seems to follow you around like a
shadow.”

Shane paused a second, then clearly said, “Sir,
before I came to Wyoming, I hadn’t been in a fight in over twenty years, but I
can’t seem to stay out of one around here.” He knew he owed Mr. Jensen an
explanation. So he told him what happened yesterday and why the Indians came to
see him.

“So, that’s why you couldn’t stay in town?”

“Yes, sir,” Shane replied. “I thought I’d stay out
of trouble if I moved out here.” Both men laughed as Mr. Jensen shook his head.

He rubbed his brow and looked at Shane. “What do you
plan to do now?”

“I don’t know, but if I have to, I’ll pack into that
backcountry on my own. I won’t let those Indians or anyone else get in the way
of what I came here to do.”

“Why is setting that mare free so important for
you?”

Shane looked down at the ground. “Mr. Jensen, maybe
one day I’ll explain it to you. But right now, you’ll just have to accept that
I have my reasons.” Mr. Jensen nodded his head, then walked back toward the
house.

Shane unsaddled Tory, then sat down in the barn to
think things over. He’d been sitting there for quite some time when Mr. Jensen
came back out.

“You figured your next move?”

“No, sir, I was sure hoping the Shoshones would help
me, but I don’t see that happening now.”

“Well, at least it doesn’t look as though the girl
hates your guts. If you explained to her what you are trying to do, she might
introduce you to a guide you can hire.”

“I’ve considered that and, although it seems like
the best option, my intuition tells me going out to the reservation might be
hazardous to my health.” Both men smiled.

“You sure have been making enemies around here. I
told you that mustang would stir up trouble for you.”

“Yes, sir, you sure did.” Shane hesitated before
continuing, “Well, looking at my lack of options, I really don’t have a choice.
I guess I’ll have to chance it and go out there tomorrow to see if I can find
Tara. It might be a good idea to lock your gate after I leave, just in case her
two brothers come back after the mare.” Shane sighed, “I’m really sorry for all
the trouble.”

“Trouble, hell, I’m not scared of those guys!
Besides, this is the most excitement we’ve had around here in years.” He gave
Shane
a friendly pat on the shoulder as they walked toward the house for supper.

Chapter 8

After a cup of coffee and taking care of the morning feeding, Shane
struck out for the reservation.

The Indians lived deep inside the reservation borders
a good distance from its entrance. Mrs. Jensen had mentioned that a town called
Fort Washakie was the site for the Shoshone Affairs Office. Since the
population was only three to four thousand, hopefully someone there would know
Tara and how to contact her.

The office was easy to find. He parked, took a deep
breath, then headed for the door. As he opened it, he quickly realized he was
the only white person in the large room. This made him feel a little as if he
had stepped through a magical threshold and had been transported to an exotic,
foreign country.
That’s kind of an
ironic idea
, he mused to himself.
After all, these are true Native
Americans who have lived on this continent longer than any white people
. There
were at least ten Shoshone working in the office, and most of them were busy
shuffling papers at their desks. Almost everyone had a friendly look on their
face, but for a second he became the center of attention with all eyes glancing
in his direction. A young Indian woman, sitting at the counter, smiled and
asked if she could help.

“I’m looking for a girl named Tara.”

“Tara who?” she asked.

“I don’t know her last name, but she is tall, slim
built, has blue eyes, and is probably in her late twenties.”

“Mister, even if I know who you are talking about, I
wouldn’t give you any information until I spoke to her.”

Thinking fast, he said, “I owe her family some
money, but I don’t know how to contact them. Can you call her and let me speak
to her?”

She left the room and came out a few minutes later.
She told Shane to pick up the phone and push the button for line one.

“Hello, Tara.”

“Who is this,” she asked curtly.

“It’s Shane Carson.”

“What do you want?”

“I came out to ask you for some help. Can you meet
me somewhere to talk?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t want any more trouble!”

He answered quickly, “No, ma’am, no trouble. I
promise. I’m looking for information about my mustang. We could meet some place
public, if that’ll make you feel more comfortable. Please, I drove all the way
out here, hoping you would help me, and besides, you kinda owe me a favor.”
 

Tara was quiet for a minute. “Meet me across the
street from the Affairs Office. There’s a little restaurant called The Long
Horn. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Thanks. I’ll be waiting.”

The small restaurant was busy, and the aroma of food
cooking made him realize how hungry he was. It was close to noon, so he sat in
a corner booth and ordered lunch. The waitress was well-spoken and friendly.

“How are you today? The special is meat loaf.
Everyone sure seems to like it.”

“That sounds good,” Shane replied with a smile.

Just as he finished eating, Tara walked in. Everyone
appeared to know her, however, they seemed a bit surprised when she walked over
and sat across from Shane.

“Thanks for coming. Can I buy you lunch?”

Tara shook her head, no. “I’m pretty busy today.
What can I do for you?”

“Like I told you on the phone, it’s about my mare.”

Tara raised her hand, stopping Shane before he could
continue. “First, I want to apologize for what happened yesterday. My brothers
never would have treated you the way they did, if they’d known how you helped
me in town. I didn’t tell them what happened. I was afraid they would go after
those guys and get into a fight. When we left the farm, I told them what you
did for me and how you got the mare in Tennessee. After they heard the story,
they promised they would leave you and the horse alone. So, if that’s why you
came out here, you don’t need to worry anymore.”

Shane started to reply, but Tara had more on her
mind, so he
respectively kept quiet and let her continue.

“I also want you to understand that the Shoshone are
good, honest people, and we are proud of our heritage. I know there are plenty
of nice folks in the town of Reddick, but there are also some who don’t like us
because we’re Native Americans. My brothers, along with the rest of us, have
lived with this all of our lives and tend not to trust others until we get to
know them, as friends. When they saw the brand on the mustang, they naturally
thought you were one of the gang who steal our horses.”

“That wild herd is very special to your tribe, isn’t
it?” Shane remarked.

“They are an important part of our heritage. That
small group of idiots from town knows this, yet they still try to take the
mustangs. They force us to keep a close watch on the herd. Usually we’re
successful in stopping their attempts to steal them, but now and then they do
catch some. That’s probably how you ended up with your mare.”

“I saved her from the killer market three years ago.
I can assure you, the horse has been treated well. I’ve come a long way to put
her back with her wild herd. She’s the only reason I’m here.”

Tara looked puzzled, “Why would you come halfway
across the country to set her free?”

Shane was guarded in his answer. “I made a promise
to someone very close to me and to the horse, that I would do this.”

Tara remarked, “You must really care for this person
to go to all this trouble.”

He responded with a slight nod.

“What do you want from me?” she asked.

“I had two reasons for coming here today. The first
was to let you know I overheard those men we tangled with in town planning to
steal more of the horses Saturday afternoon. They talked about a trap they
built in a canyon, and they were bragging about taking their dogs and guns.”

Tara smiled, “My brothers have
already found the trap and destroyed it. The head stallion of the herd is
smart. Between the stallion and our herd watchers, those men won’t have much of
a chance to catch any horses this weekend. But, thank you for the information.”

Shane looked relieved. “Do you know anyone I can
hire as a guide to help me find the Mustangs, so I can set my mare free with
them?”

Tara shook her head. “I’m sorry. It just doesn’t
work like that. No one in our tribe will help you without my grandfather’s
permission. He is one of the leaders of my people, and the tribal member in
charge of our wild horses. The decision would have to be his.”

Continuing to think quickly, Shane asked, “Then,
would you take me to your grandfather? Maybe if he understood why I’m here, he
would help me put the mare back where she belongs.” Shane
realized how much easier this would be with the Shoshone’s permission. He could
also read the immediate doubt in the girl’s face.

Tara looked down toward the table and took a slow
breath as she mulled over his unexpected request. “I wouldn’t get your hopes
up, but I’ll take you to meet him.”

He followed her old pickup on a winding road,
heading northwest out of Fort Washakie. After several miles, they drove through
a run-down neighborhood of shacks and trailers. Out of the corner of his eye he
watched children playing on a rusty old car, men passing around a bottle of
wine, and people sitting on porches seemingly doing nothing. He thought about
these sad conditions and wondered how many of the three thousand Shoshone on
the reservation lived this way.

Soon after passing through this impoverished
neighborhood, the scenery began to improve. Only a few miles up the road, Shane
noticed several huge, rolling fields. Here, a vast number of quality Angus
cattle were grazing serenely on the lush, early summer grass. Just beyond one
of these fields, Tara slowed, turned left, and went through a freshly painted
entrance. Shane realized as they pulled into the ten-acre compound, that this
was the headquarters for the large cattle operation he’d been driving through.

Scattered along the edges within this gated area,
were twelve small, smartly painted houses. Each one was complemented with its
own recently mowed yard, leaving the aroma of fresh-cut grass lingering heavy
in the air. He was a bit bowled over by the contrast from this place and what
he had driven through only a short time ago. At the far side of the compound
was a large well-kept stable with at least a dozen stalls. Adjacent to the
stable was a separate barn where he saw a handful of men unloading a flatbed
trailer full of alfalfa hay. He surmised that this hay had probably come from
the recently baled field, which they had passed about a mile before.

Located in the middle of the compound he noticed a
stoutly built square corral, with a strong looking snubbing post standing in
its center. This old-style-type pen was used for breaking young horses�—�the
hard way. He figured these pens were probably a common sight in this part of
the country. Built on two sides of the corral were a couple of nice flat
one-acre riding areas. These would be perfect to put some initial training on
the young horses, once they were started under saddle. Except for the old-school
breaking corral, he was
impressed. These folks had a nice training center.
      

He wasn’t surprised to see the facilities here. He
remembered Mr. Jensen telling him the Shoshone were born horsemen and that they
bred and trained working horses to sell. The horses in these paddocks were not
mustangs. He could tell they were domestic horses and guessed they were
registered stock. It was easy to conclude that these animals provided a good
supplemental income for the Indians’ cattle business. He wondered if the ranch
was owned by an individual or the whole tribe.

Tara stopped in front of one of the small houses,
and Shane parked alongside. As they got out of their trucks, she motioned for
him to stay on the porch. “I’ll tell my grandfather you’re here and wish to
speak with him.”

Shane sat down on the porch swing to wait. He looked
again at the snubbing post in the center of the corral and found it hard to
believe that experienced horsemen, such as these, would still be breaking
horses this old-fashioned way.

A snubbing post is a large pole set firmly in the
ground. An unbroken horse is tied to it and forced to stand relatively still
while being saddled for the first time. This procedure provides a way to keep
an untrained horse under control while introducing these new scary things.

Shane, from experience, knew this made horses feel
even more scared and trapped. It ended up leaving a bad impression on the
frightened animal�—�a feeling that could last for months or in
some cases for the rest of their lives. He grinned as he remembered using this
method himself a long time ago. The truth be told, if the right person hadn’t
come along and taught him a much better way, he’d probably still be doing it.

After a short wait, Tara came to the door, “You can
come in.”

The house was small but well furnished; clean with a
comfortable lived-in atmosphere. He could see several modern appliances in the
kitchen plus a large TV in the living room. In the small den/office, a
beautiful Indian headdress grabbed his attention. It hung almost five feet high
on a tall rack and still came within a couple of inches of touching the floor.
The entire length of the headdress was adorned with large, bright feathers,
skillfully laced together with leather and strings of colorful beads.

There were many other Native American artifacts
neatly situated throughout the house. Shane’s eyes drifted to one wall in
particular, on which hung several impressive knives and hatchets with bone and
deer horn handles. On the same wall hung a very old looking bow mounted next to
a quiver full of arrows. “This is an interesting blend of past and present,” he
remarked quietly to Tara.

Before they entered the living room where the old
Indian was sitting, she whispered, “My grandfather is very shy with strangers
and he prefers to speak our Shoshone language. I may have to do some
interpreting for you, but be assured he understands and speaks English.”

The three of them sat facing each other while Tara
explained, “My grandfather is the shaman, or medicine man, of our tribe. It is
one of his responsibilities to teach the younger generation all about our
ancient traditions.”

The old man sat quietly as Tara spoke. She told
Shane again how the Shoshone considered the mustang herd an important part of
their heritage. “It is also one of my grandfather’s responsibilities to ensure
that our herd be properly managed as well as to keep them wild and free, as
they have been for hundreds of years.”