Читать книгу Montana Madness: A Novel - Sioux Dallas - Страница 7

Chapter One

Thunder rolled and crashed over the ranch house until the walls shook. Frequent bursts of lightning lit the night sky as bright as day. Ginger Proudfoot had been awakened by the storm overhead, but was brought straight up in bed when her two Border Collies leaped on her bed and landed on her body.

“Hey! You cowards. What’s wrong with you? You’ve heard storms before and you’re safe inside. Now move over.”

The dogs continued to stare at her and then look toward her bedroom window that looked out over the barn and pastures. She finally heard the angry barks of the guard dogs, two Blue Heelers and two German Shepherds in the barn. It penetrated her sleepy brain that something was not right.

Ginger hurriedly got out of bed and looked out the window. She always checked the barn with the prized personal horses, just before going to bed and then closed the big doors. The doors now stood open and were crashing back and forth in the strong wind.

* * * * *

Ginger’s parents had been killed in a flash flood as had the horses they were riding. She was only sixteen and her widower paternal, Grandfather Chaska Magi Proudfoot came back to live on the seventeen hundred acre ranch and take care of it until she became of age to take over. He was full blooded Comanche, but his beloved wife was Scots and Sioux. He called her Angel and she called him Mike.

Grandfather Proudfoot had a contract with the BLM (Bureau of Land Management) to take care of several head of wild mustangs on about five hundred acres of the ranch. He gave them the land making sure the Big Horn River ran through it. Other ranchers also protected the mustangs.

These mustangs were the old, sick, lame and very young who could not be adopted. The younger ones would probably be adopted, but the others would live out their lives in peace.

Grandfather had died the year before at the age of ninety-six. Ginger had just finished college and had returned home with her degree in Animal Husbandry and a minor in Accounting. The Majestic Equine Ranch was dear to the heart of Grandfather whom she loved and she determined to do the best she could to make it grow. She loved the ranch life and didn’t mind the hard work. She was breeding and raising Quarter horses, training them for cutting cattle and for gymkhanas. At twenty-two she was the youngest ranch owner in the area.

Forty horses, for workers’ use, were in a separate pasture, but the personally owned horses were kept in the barn at night and allowed out to graze and run during the day. The pasture horses had three-sided sheds for shelter. Borders’ horses were in a separate barn and pasture.

Ginger exercised her horses every day in addition to the training of the horses she hoped to sell or the ones the boarders left to be trained. She refused to sell to someone just because they had the money. The buyer had to prove to her that they had a suitable place to keep the animal and were willing to care for it properly.

* * * * *

Quickly dragging on a pair of jeans and a green and blue flannel shirt, she stomped her feet into her old, worn boots, grabbed her rain-proof poncho and rain hat and ran out to the barn. Thankfully it wasn’t raining hard yet, but she knew the noise of the approaching storm would cause the horses to be jittery. Too, she couldn’t understand how the big doors had blown open. Where were the guard dogs?

Stepping inside the barn she called soothingly to her four-legged babies.

Just as she reached to flip the lights on, something dark rushed at her striking her on the head and knocking her down before running out the door. She was woozy and had trouble focusing her eyesight.

Her heart beat rapidly, fearful that someone had harmed the horses or tried to steal them. They were all registered, healthy and well-cared for. Staggering up she had to push the house dogs off her as they tried to lick her face. She wondered why the guard dogs had not attacked the intruder.

Feebly turning on the lights, she went down the aisle checking to see if the horses were all there and all right. Hearing the guard dogs barking and throwing themselves at the door, she opened the feed room where they had been shut up. She jumped out of the way as they rushed out angrily.

Visitors, or non-horse owners, often thought the barn didn’t smell good. Ginger loved the aromatic odor of horses, feed, hay and, yes, sweat.

In the first stall on her left was Hank Baxter’s sixteen-two hand liver chestnut, Sunset Serenade. Hank had been the foreman before twenty-two year old Ginger had been born. In the next stall was her favorite, a fifteen-two hand bay with dark points, War Shield. In the third stall was a big, rangy, sixteen hand piebald, Dakota Joe, one of the best cutting horses on the property. In the fourth stall was her Grandfather’s favorite, sixteen-two hand, Wind Eagle, a big, strong Appaloosa.

On the right side in the fifth stall was Sierra Sioux a fifteen-two hand chestnut mare that had given them three beautiful babies that sold for an average of twenty-two thousand each as yearlings. In the sixth stall was sixteen-two hand Macho Man a tall Quarter/Thoroughbred who was everyone’s dream horse. He was excellent at just about anything that needed doing. In the seventh stall was a fourteen-two hand mustang mare, Shy Anne who had become a ranch favorite. In the last stall was a fifteen-two hand Palomino, Butter Cream, who had also been an excellent brood mare.

The barn dogs were so agitated that Ginger knew there was more to be concerned about. She apologized to War Shield and quickly saddled him. Placing a rifle on the saddle, she checked to be sure she had plenty of ammunition. She knew a two legged animal had been responsible for attacking her. What was he doing in her barn? She must have arrived too quickly for him to have time to do damage.

Ginger then made a very unwise decision. She decided to ride out and check on the horses in the pasture and the wild mustangs without alerting Hank or any of the hands. It wasn’t until way later that she wondered why some of the hands hadn’t awakened or no one seemed to be on night duty.

Ginger hoped the rain would hold off a little, although she felt moisture in the air. The storm was almost completely overhead and causing War Shield to crow hop while running through the dark. She finally came to her senses and slowed to a walk. She didn’t want to risk her horse getting hurt or breaking a leg in the dark.

As she moved through the pasture with the horses, she was relieved to see them calm and the majority were lying down. She went through a gate into the field with the wild mustangs. The farther out she rode the more she thought she should have told the housekeeper, Juanita Yellow Bird, that she was leaving. Too late now.

War Shield threw up his head and nickered softly, waving his ears back and forth to show he was disturbed. She then realized that the mustangs were milling around and making noises showing fear and confusion.

Suddenly there were several gun shots and yells which stirred the mustangs into a stampede. In a flash of lightning Ginger recognized that there was a Judas horse leading them. Judas was the name given to a horse that had been trained to lead the group into a trap that had been arranged for them.

The frightened mustangs were running, in the dark, toward a narrow canyon where they could easily be trapped. Rustlers would then back trucks to the opening and, men working together, would force the horses on the trucks to be taken away. They would then either be sold to a slaughter house for dog food or shipped overseas where people loved horse meat.

They could probably get at least a dollar a pound, thus an eight hundred pound horse would net eight hundred dollars or a thousand pound horse would bring a thousand dollars. Taking enough horses, in one night, would bring between twenty-five thousand and thirty thousand dollars.

Ginger hoped to divert the mustangs and herd them into the pasture to safety and away from the canyon. She counted on the frequent lightning bursts to help her see even though she knew the danger of being in a lightning storm.

One burst of lightning showed men on horseback spooking the mustangs to make them run. These men were running their own horse in the dark without thought of falling or harming their own horse. She saw several men raise an arm and fire a gun into the air. She didn’t want to fire her rifle under the circumstances.

She shouted in anger and plunged toward the men. They could not hear her above the noise of the storm and the roar of the galloping horses. She hoped to catch up with the Judas horse and turn him away from the canyon.

Taking off her hat, she waved it and yelled at the Judas horse. In the meantime she was praying that none of them would fall and break a leg or hurt each other running in fear.

A close lightning streak allowed two men to see her and realize what she was doing. She saw one raise his arm and point his gun at her. Just as he fired, War Eagle screamed and went down. Before Ginger hit her head and was knocked out, she thought, “No! They’ve shot my horse.”