The Brink(ley) of Extinction

9

          It was sunshine that woke her the next day. The heat in her room was already stifling. She glanced at the position of the sun as she dressed. It had to be mid-morning already. Beth hurried downstairs, made a couple of sandwiches, wrapped one while she ate the other, then bolted out the door. Today was gonna be a big day.

          She packed up the saddlebags, tacked up Cherokee and rode for the hills, Fern's colt reluctantly following. Today she would get a good read on what kind of a horse he would be.

          She directed Cherokee toward an easier track than the one she liked to challenge the stallion on. Fern's colt was only just that, after all, a colt. She kept Cherokee at an easy walk toward the incline. Branches slapped by, scraping along her hat. Beth was immensely glad that she had thought to grab it on her way out of the house.

          The trio wound their way through the narrow wildlife trails, Beth keeping a close eye on the colt. The farther they went, the more his ears swiveled, catching every whistle of a bird and every rustle of grass. His head came up and he started to give slack in the lead rope. His pace quickened.

          When they reached an open space surrounded by a thicket of mesquite and willows, she pulled Cherokee to a halt. In a moment the stallion was staked out to graze and Beth was holding the end of the colt's lead, letting him explore and sniff each tree and blade of grass at his leisure. When he had relaxed, she clucked to him, encouraging him to move.

          By the time the three returned home, it was nearly sunset again. And Beth had come up with a name for the colt.

          "Well, what is it?" Blythe asked impatiently when they had all sat down to supper.

          Beth raised her chin, "His name is Ranger."

          Blythe's head tipped forward, her brows arching. "Ranger? Why?"

          "Because he's very surefooted in the foothills. I even took him up on Watchman's bluff and he did well."

          Blythe bit into a slice of bread, "But why 'Ranger'? Why not name him after a Mountie or something?"

          "Really?" Now it was Beth's turn to raise her eyebrows, "Mountie? Yeah, that sounds really melodic and not at all like a—"

          "Ranger it is!" Mama proclaimed. And that was the end of it.

          A knock on her bedroom door pulled Beth's attention away from her book, "Come in."

          Blythe tiptoed in and sat on the edge of the bed. "I hope I didn't upset you at supper."

          "You didn't"

          "'Kay. It just reminded me of a book I read a few weeks ago. The main character is a Mountie..."

          "—And he just happens to be the epitome of manhood and everything that is good in the world?" Beth finished. Even in the dim light of the crescent moon, Blythe's cheeks visibly pinked.

          "Something like that."

          "What's his name?"

          "Jack."

          "Well that still works."

          "What do you mean?"

          Beth shrugged, "His name. We could call him Ranger Jack."

          "Oh, you're talking about the colt now..."

          "Yup."

          "Okay, goodnight."

          "Goodnight."

          Blythe clicked the door shut behind her. Beth laid her book aside and rolled over to face the wall. Her thoughts ran through the day's events. At some point she noticed her mind had moved on to Bailey and the foals. She realized that she hadn't seen the filly since Sebastian Hamilton had taken her away. She fell asleep, resolved to visit her baby the next day if it killed her.

          It was suppertime by the time Beth had a chance to rest. From the moment she woke up, she and Papa plowed fields, while Mama, Blythe and Chip followed along dropping seeds in the rows. The next two or three days promised only more of the same. The family ate and collapsed into bed.

          Somewhere in the small hours of the morning, Beth woke with a start. A horse's shrill whinny pierced the cool night air. Cherokee. Beth bolted out of bed and was down the stairs before she realized she hadn't even grabbed a shawl or shoes. Her feet were freezing. She kept running. Papa reached the front door at the same time as Beth and they both squeezed through. The door slammed shut behind them. Beth and her father slipped between the wires and stopped cold.

          Cherokee's grey body pranced alongthe fence on the far end of the pasture. He whinnied again into the darkness.His dapples seemed to reflect the dim moonlight. Beth thought he was the mosthandsome horse she'd ever clapped eyes on. Another whinny, a different one,lower-pitched, made Beth and Papa exchange a glance. She knew it wasn't one oftheir horses; she knew all their noises by heart.