Spirit Riding Free--Lucky and the Mustangs of Miradero

  Jim scowled. “Where are your gloves?”

  “They got wet, from scooping snow. It’s a long story.”

  Lucky knew she needed to apologize, and that, perhaps, she’d be apologizing for the rest of her life. But that would have to wait. “Mrs. Granger,” she called. She ran up to the sleigh. “The filly needs you. She’s going to die.”

  Fanny Granger grabbed her black bag and jumped out of the sleigh. “Show me,” she said. Everyone began to follow Lucky toward the cave. But Spirit blocked the cave’s opening. He lowered his head and glared at Al and the ranch hands. Who could blame him? Earlier that year they’d tried to break him. Spirit stomped a hoof. They all took a step back.

  “Spirit is being protective,” Lucky explained. “The filly and her mom will get scared if we all go inside.”

  “We’ll wait here,” Pru told her.

  Lucky motioned to Fanny. “Come on. Spirit will let you in.” Lucky and Fanny walked past Spirit. Once inside, Fanny set her medical bag on the ground, then knelt next to the filly. The mare got to her feet and began to pace. Fanny gently pulled back the filly’s eyelids and looked into her eyes. She felt the filly’s neck and shoulders. She ran her hands down the legs. Then she took a stethoscope from her bag and listened to her heart. She next pressed the stethoscope against her belly. The filly moaned. “Colic,” Fanny said.

  “What’s that?” Lucky asked.

  “People sometimes call it ‘fret.’ It’s like a really bad bellyache. None of the other mustangs are ill, is that correct?” Lucky nodded. “I’m guessing that, because of the dwindling food sources, this filly ate something she wasn’t supposed to eat. And as the pain increased, she stopped eating and stopped drinking. She’s dangerously dehydrated.”

  “I tried giving her water last night. She drank about a half a boot full. But it’s difficult to know for certain. Some of the water dripped onto the ground.”

  Fanny raised an eyebrow. “You used your boot? How ingenious,” she said, clearly impressed.

  Then came the question Lucky dreaded asking. “Can you save her?”

  Fanny tucked the stethoscope back into her bag. “It might be too late, but I’m willing to try if you are.”

  “Of course,” Lucky said.

  “Then let’s get her back to the ramada.”

  The mare wasn’t going to like what they were about to do. If only Lucky could explain to her that they needed to take her baby away or else she would die. But even more concerning was that Lucky would need to persuade Spirit to step aside and let Al and his men into the cave. Lucky ran her hand along Spirit’s mane. “You’ve got to trust me,” she told him. “You brought me out here and now I’m going to help, but we need to take the filly back to town. These men won’t hurt her.” Spirit would not budge.

  “We could rope him,” Earl, one of the ranch hands, suggested. “We could make him step aside.”

  “No!” Lucky glared at Earl. “No one will ever put ropes on Spirit. Never again.” She gave Spirit a gentle push. Then a shove. “Spirit, move!” But he stood firmly in place, his gaze never leaving Al.

  “Dad, he doesn’t like you,” Pru said.

  “He remembers me, that’s for certain,” Al said. “I still got a sore spot from when he threw me out of the corral.”

  Lucky realized what had to be done.

  “Mr. Granger, you’ve got to talk to him. He doesn’t trust you.”

  “Talk to him?” He scratched his beard.

  “Al!” Fanny called from the cave. “We need you and your men to move the filly onto the sleigh. So talk to the dang horse!”

  “Fine.” Al walked slowly toward Spirit, his hand outstretched, palm facing up, the way one does to a dog. “That’s a good boy,” he said. Spirit’s ears pinned back. “I’m not gonna hurt you. We just want to help that little filly.” Spirit tossed his head. Then he pulled back his lips and sneered. Al stopped walking.

  “He’s gonna bite!”

  Lucky stepped between Spirit and Al. She reached out and took Spirit’s face in her hands. “Please,” she said to him. “Please trust me.” Spirit’s ears relaxed. His nostrils vibrated as he released a slow breath. This time, when Lucky gently pushed him, he stepped aside.

  While Lucky continued to keep Spirit calm, Al spread a blanket on the cave floor. Then, working together, Al, Jim, Pru, Abigail, and the ranch hands carefully lifted and set the filly onto the blanket. The mare paced nervously. “One, two, three,” Al said, and holding the edges of the blanket, they lifted and carried her to the sleigh. Earl had removed the back of the sleigh and the back seat so they could set the filly inside.

  Fanny climbed in and laid a blanket over her. “Let’s go,” she told her husband. Al took the reins and the sleigh began its journey back home. The mare followed.

  While Jim mounted his horse, Lucky pulled herself onto Spirit’s back. “Dad, I’m sorry,” she said as they rode side by side. “I’m sorry for making you worry about me.”

  “You see how that mare is following the sleigh?” Jim asked. Lucky nodded. “She won’t let her baby out of her sight. That’s how I feel, every day, about you. But when I do let you go off, I trust you to make the right decisions. Staying by yourself, out here in the canyon, with a storm approaching, was not the right decision.”

  “Dad—”

  “We’ll talk about it at home.” Lucky cringed. She couldn’t remember her father ever being this upset with her—not even when she’d barely escaped the dynamite in Filbert Canyon.

  They spoke not another word the entire ride back.

  30

  It looked as if the entire population of Miradero was waiting at the Granger Ramada, but the first face Lucky saw was her aunt’s. Cora gripped her skirt and ran straight at Spirit. He skidded to a stop, unsure about the bundle of energy careening toward him. The moment Lucky slid to the ground, she found herself in her aunt’s arms. “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky,” Cora kept saying, over and over. Lucky didn’t squirm to get away. “Lucky, oh my darling Lucky,” Cora sobbed. Dark circles clung beneath Cora’s eyes and her usually perfect bun was loose, with layers of hair falling around her face.

  Jim spoke gently to his sister. “She’s fine, Cora. She’s not hurt.”

  “Are you sure you’re fine?” Cora asked, now holding Lucky at arm’s length. “Did you get hypothermia? Did you get frostbite?” She pressed her palm against Lucky’s forehead. “Oh, why didn’t you wear more layers? I’m always telling you to wear more layers!” Lucky didn’t want to tell Cora about her sore hands, so she hid them in her pockets.

  “I’m fine; really, I am.”

  Like Jim had before, Cora’s expression turned fierce. “Well, you’re in big trouble, young lady!”

  “I know.”

  Cora’s anger quickly melted into relief and gratitude. “Oh, thank goodness you’re back home.” Jim handed Cora his handkerchief.

  Lucky hugged Cora again, fully aware that she’d now made her father and her aunt cry. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long,” she tried to explain. “I’m sorry.”

  As others began to gather around, Spirit and the mare retreated to a nearby hill. Neither wanted to be so close to that many people, especially the one who was wailing.

  Mayor Gutierrez stepped forward. “What a lovely and touching family reunion,” he said. Then he put his arm around Lucky’s shoulder and posed as the Miradero Gazette’s photographer took a picture. “Lucky, on behalf of the entire town, I’d like to welcome you back and say that we are all relieved you are safe and sound.” He spoke as he always did, as if giving a speech.

  Althea was there, along with a group of women from the Miradero Ladies’ Aid Society. “Lucky, you worried us sick. I thought I was going to have to hog-tie your aunt. She plumb went out of her mind with worry.”

  “Sorry,” Lucky said.

  Even Miss Flores was there, along with Turo, Snips, and the rest of Lucky’s classmates. “Lucky, we are so happy you’re safe,” Miss Flores said.

  Lu
cky realized it was Monday. “Why aren’t you in school?” she wondered.

  Miss Flores looked puzzled. “School? How could we possibly think about learning with you missing?”

  “We were all getting ready to help with the search,” Turo explained.

  Lucky swallowed hard, holding back tears. All these people had been worried about her. They all cared. And it wasn’t just the school that had closed—Winthrop was there, so that meant the general store wasn’t open, either. She recognized shopkeepers, Tanglefoot Inn staff, and even Miradero Mel’s owner. This little town had come to a standstill for her. She might have started crying, too, but there was a pressing matter to attend to. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Everyone!” she called. “I’m very, very sorry that I caused so much worry. And I want to thank each one of you in person, and I will, but right now, I need to help Mrs. Granger.”

  As the crowd began to drift back to their homes, Lucky hurried into the barn. The farmhands had carried the filly inside. According to Fanny, they needed to get her hydrated and give her some medicine to settle her stomach. Jacques brewed a special herbal tea, which Fanny had successfully used on other horses. He flavored it with apple juice to make it more appealing, for horses love the scent and flavor of apples. Once it cooled, Lucky hand-fed it to the filly. This was a slow process, but Lucky knew they needed to get as much liquid into her as possible.

  “Her mom is still waiting outside,” Abigail said. “She looks a looks a lot like Spirit. Do you think she’s his sister?”

  Lucky nodded. “That’s my guess.”

  With the feeding under way, Fanny, Al, Jim, Cora, Miss Flores, and Althea walked up to the Grangers’ kitchen for a hearty breakfast. All that worrying about Lucky had left them famished. The PALs insisted on staying in the barn.

  “You really scared us,” Pru said as soon as the others had left.

  “Even Boomerang was worried,” Abigail told her. “Isn’t that right, Boomerang?” He stepped forward and before Lucky could duck out of the way, he licked her face.

  “Uh, thanks, Boomerang,” she said, wiping away the slobber with her sleeve. “I love you, too.”

  “I think we should make a pact,” Pru said. “That we never, ever leave one of us alone like that again. That we always stick together!” That was an easy pact to agree to, and so they did.

  While Pru and Abigail tended to the other critters, Lucky didn’t leave the filly’s side. Jacques brought more medicinal tea and ham sandwiches for the girls. Before they took a break to eat, Pru and Abigail carried some hay and a bucket of water to the hill and fed Spirit and the mare.

  “I see you’re back.” The snide voice belonged to the one and only Maricela. As she entered the barn, Chica Linda and Boomerang turned their rumps to her. “My mom said you’d probably get eaten by wolves.” She paused, looking down at her feet. “I’m glad you didn’t get eaten by wolves.”

  “Gee, I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Pru told her.

  Maricela ignored Pru and instead walked up to the stall. “What’s everyone looking at?”

  Lucky put her finger to her lip. “Try to be as quiet as possible,” she whispered. “We don’t want to upset her.”

  “Upset who?” Maricela asked as she peered over the stall door.

  “That’s the horse Lucky saved,” Pru told her.

  “It wasn’t just me. It was everyone who saved her,” Lucky said.

  “But you risked your life,” Abigail said. “You’re a hero.”

  Lucky sighed. “I’m not a hero. We did this together. Besides, I didn’t risk my life. Spirit was with me. He kept me warm and he would have taken me home after the blizzard had passed.”

  “Well, I think you’re a hero,” Pru said. “Not just because you wanted to save a horse, but because you worked so hard on our group project.” She narrowed her eyes at Maricela. “When your co-leader did nothing, you got up early and stayed up late to finish the work so we wouldn’t fail. I think that’s heroic. What do you think, Maricela?”

  Maricela didn’t seem to be listening. She took a step into the stall. Then another. “Is he going to die?” she asked.

  “It’s a she,” Lucky said. “A filly. And we’re not sure if she’s going to die. She might.” Lucky looked down at the little face. The filly’s eyes were closed, her breathing steady. Every once in a while her eyelids twitched. Was she dreaming? If so, what did horses dream about? Probably warm spring days, with soft green grass and butterflies to chase. Those days will be here soon, Lucky thought. Just hold on and you’ll see them again.

  Maricela took another step. Wait. Was she actually walking toward a horse? Lucky, Pru, and Abigail all watched, their expressions wide with wonder, as Maricela knelt in the straw, reached out, and ever so gently touched the filly’s shoulder. “She’s so soft. I’ve never pet a baby horse. How old is she?”

  “We think about six months,” Lucky said.

  “We think she’s Spirit’s niece,” Abigail added.

  At the touch, the filly opened her eyes, lifted her head, and gazed at Maricela. “She’s so cute,” Maricela cooed. “She has such pretty long eyelashes.” Then she leaned over and delicately kissed the filly’s cheek. Silence fell over the barn. Even the chickens stopped scratching. At that moment, the only thing that could have surprised Lucky more was if Maricela had planted a kiss on Pru’s cheek.

  “You want to give her some medicine?” Lucky asked.

  “Can I?”

  What was happening? Not only was Maricela cooing over a horse, she wanted to help? Lucky showed her how to hand-feed the filly and she did it. With no complaints. Her fancy wool coat was getting dirty and she didn’t seem to care. “She’s the sweetest horse I’ve ever seen. Can I keep her? Can she be mine?”

  “Maricela, we thought you didn’t like horses,” Abigail said.

  “Why would you ever think that?” Maricela asked.

  “Why?” Pru blurted out. “Because you’re always calling them smelly and stupid. And you didn’t want our group project to have anything to do with horses. That’s why.”

  Maricela shrugged. “Well, maybe I don’t like some horses.” She quickly glanced at Chica Linda and Boomerang.

  Abigail frowned. “How could you not like Boomerang? He’s never done anything mean to anybody. Ever. And he can’t help it if he gets gassy. He eats too much.”

  “I think I know why,” Lucky said. Maricela stopped feeding the filly. She straightened her back and shoulders, as if readying herself to take whatever punch Lucky was about to give. But this wasn’t a punch. Lucky had been thinking a lot about the situation, and it was time to straighten this out. Lucky looked at Pru and Abigail. “It’s not because they are horses. It’s because they are your horses.” She paused to let it sink in. “Maricela doesn’t like your horses because she believes that they kept you from being her friend.”

  Abigail frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Suddenly, Maricela’s eyes welled with tears. Lucky hadn’t expected that reaction. She thought that Maricela would deny everything. Or would stomp away in a huff. But her shoulders sank, and when she spoke, her voice was so quiet they all had to lean forward to hear. “Pru was too busy to be my friend, so I became friends with Abigail. We were having so much fun together. We had tea parties; we colored pictures; we played dress-up.” She looked at Pru. “But then you told Abigail all about your riding lessons. You took her away from me.”

  “No I didn’t,” Pru said.

  “Yes you did.” Maricela wiped a tear off her cheek. “Abigail started riding with you every day. There was no time for me.”

  “Gosh, Maricela, Pru didn’t take me away. I found out that I loved riding, and then I got Boomerang and, well, horses are a ton of work. You have to groom them, feed them, exercise them, play with them, talk to them, and sing to them. Boomerang loves it when I sing. All of that takes a lot of time.”

  Pru leaned against the stall. “Is that why you’re always ma
d at me? You think I took Abigail away on purpose?”

  “Yes,” Maricela said, her tears now gone. She held out her chin in a look of defiance.

  Both Lucky and Abigail stayed quiet. This was a moment that needed to happen. Pru and Maricela had been fighting a battle and they needed to tell each other how they felt.

  “Is that why you ruined my audition?” Pru asked, hands on hips. Maricela looked away. “I knew it! You changed the music so I’d be off-key and sound horrible. Why would you do something like that?”

  Maricela slowly got to her feet. Then she carefully stepped past the filly until she stood face-to-face with Pru. Lucky and Abigail held perfectly still, though Lucky was ready to throw herself between them should words turns into actual punches. “Maybe I did swap the alto sheet music for soprano sheet music. I know you can’t hit those high notes. And maybe I did take my dad’s key and sneak into Town Hall and throw away your Founder’s Day speech, but—” Maricela gasped, as if surprised by her own words. Had she confessed more than she’d intended? “But you deserved it, for being mean to me.”

  “I was never mean to you.”

  Tears welled again. “Everyone likes you. Everyone is your friend. And then Lucky came to town and I tried really hard to be Lucky’s friend, but you took her away, too. You all started riding together. Once again, I lost out to a stupid horse.”

  Lucky wanted to point out that she’d met Spirit without Pru’s help, but she continued to keep quiet. For a long time now, Maricela had felt left out. Like Aunt Cora said, when people act mean, they are often hurting inside. Sure, there were better ways to deal with the situation than to seek revenge, but it took courage to admit loneliness.

  “I didn’t—” Pru was about to defend herself again. Then she stopped, shoved her hands into her pockets, and took a deep breath. “Look, Maricela, you have to understand. You were always welcome to ride with us. But you never did.”

  “My mom wouldn’t allow it. She said it was too dangerous and not ladylike.”

  “You still can ride with us,” Abigail said. Then everyone, including Chica Linda and Boomerang, looked at Pru, waiting for her reaction.