The Brink(ley) of Extinction

10

          Beth ran to the barn to get a lantern. All the stabled horses had thrown their heads over the stall doors and were looking intently in the direction she had just come from. She lit the lantern and set out back toward her stallion. Papa had crouched in the tall grass, a couple dozen lengths away from where Cherokee paced back and forth. She squatted next to him and squinted into the night. Cherokee's every whinny was answered with a lower-pitched one.

          "Papa. If there's a horse out there, we need to catch it. What if it's one of Mr. Stokes's Thoroughbreds? They cost a fortune and if it dies on our property, he'll start a feud for sure. You know how he is." Beth whispered urgently.

          "I know, Beth, I know," Papa patted her knee, "But we can't very well catch what we can't see."

          "Can I try, though? I can't bear the thought of having an innocent horse's death on my hands." Beth pleaded. "Please?"

          Papa sighed, "Very well. I'll get the gate."

          Beth squeezed his hand in thanks, then ran back to the barn for a halter and lead.

          She left the lantern in Papa's hand. Beth took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could hear coyotes and wolves howling in the foothills. Missy's bark-howl-bark combination rose to the slivered moon, accompanied by Daisy's honey-smooth howl. The hair on the back of Beth's neck stood straight up at the veritable cacophony.

          A flash of grey fur blew past her. The long strides told Beth that Daisy had been untied from her post behind the house. Missy trotted up next to her. Beth could hear her panting but could only see the white patches on the dog's sides. And her glowing eyes. Beth walked in the direction that the whinnies seemed to be coming from, stepping carefully to avoid twisting her ankle in the abundant groundhog holes.

          The horse wasn't too hard to find with both of her dogs on the trail. Daisy trotted ahead while Missy never strayed from Beth's side. She trusted them completely to keep her safe and to find their quarry. They led her away from the farm toward the creek. The whinnies became louder and clearer and Beth started to hear thrashing sounds. Water splashed and tree branches cracked. She slowed down and started to pay more attention to her surroundings.

          She stepped into the tree-line. Her hand gripped the leadrope just a little tighter and her steps became slower and lighter. Her eyes had adjusted some time ago to the dimness of the landscape. As she got closer to the banks of the creek, the shape of a horse came clearer to her vision. Beth frowned as the dogs nosed up to the animal. It didn't strike out so she deduced it must be either scared to death, trapped, or used to dogs. Then it shifted and she spotted the shape of a saddle on its back. A bridle revealed itself, the reins, or rather 'rein', looked to be tangled in a bush.

          She stepped up to it and let it smell her hand. A quick check left her thinking he had once been well taken care of. One rein was missing and the horse's mouth was bleeding as if he had pulled free of something that had been tied to his bridle. Or rather, something that the bridle had been tied to.

          Beth stroked him for a minute before crouching to untangle the remaining rein from the bush. She looped her leadrope around the gelding's neck. She made short work of removing the bridle and slipping the halter she'd brought, over his face. She whistled to the dogs and started out slowly, pointing her little group toward home. With the amount of noise Cherokee was making, Beth didn't even need the dogs showing the way.

          Blythe was standing next to Papa in the barn when Beth and the dogs led the new horse inside. The lanterns were lit. There was a flake of hay and a bucket of fresh water on the ground. The three of them made short work of stripping the gelding clean. Then Papa ran his hands down each of its legs and his flanks. Beth cleaned the cuts on his mouth and dabbed ointment into the wounds. Lastly, Blythe threw an old blanket over his back and let him into an empty stall.