Cowboys and Mustangs

Half a Song- Codi

I breath heavily as I place my hands on my hips and bend over as I reach the top of the hill, why did I decide to go for a run this morning? I hate exercising, well at least the cardio part of it. The worst part is over, now I would mostly be going downhill back to the cabin. I gathered a big breath before I turned around and began my jog back to the cabin.

It was a beautiful Friday morning, probably around 40 degrees and not a cloud in the Wyoming sky. The wildlife around me were being as active as me, I saw a quite a few of rabbits, squirrels, birds, and a couple of does and bucks. The landscape around the ranch was breath taking: overlapping mountains, never-ending coniferous and evergreen trees, luscious fields of the greenest grass and the prettiest wild flowers, and miles of creeks.

My favorite thing about the mountains is the quietness. I love being out here and having the opportunity to actually hear myself think and have time to myself. Although, it's not too quiet. The rushing waters from the streams, the birds chirping, and the swish of the wind whipping through the branches are things that balance out the secluded quietness.

I stopped in my tracks when I heard the deafening scream of a mountain lion. My heart raced more as I looked around me to spot anything. I was standing on an old trail in a clearing, but on both sides of me branches of old trees hid anything potentially out there. I had no idea what direction the scream came from, or how far it was from me. Then the lion let out a whimperish squeal, and this time it sounded further away. Deciding not to push my luck, I continue on my jog, quickening my pace this time.

I only got 500 yards before something in the trees caught my eye. I walked a couple of feet to get a better look. My breath caught in my throat once I saw what was only 40 yards in front of me. A beautiful buckskin horse limping through the trees, carefully watching where she was stepping.

Why was she limping? Was she hurt? A gasp escaped my mouth when she turned just right so I could see her mangled croup and thighs. From here I could the artist of her wounds was the mountain lion I heard only a few minutes ago. I was heart broken for her, I need to do something.

So I begin to relax and clear my thoughts, then I let out a soft whistle to get her attention. Her ears immediately perked towards me then her body tensed when she saw me. She was definitely a mustang by her build, lack of brand, and coloration. Good thing I knew a thing or two about wild horses.

I cautiously took small steps toward her, trying to get a better look at her wounds. She stood still, keeping her ears turned to me and eyes glued on my hands. But then my foot stepped on a branch, snapping it and scaring the mare.

"God dammit." I mutter to myself as I watch the mare bolt away from me. I was shocked at how fast she was moving with her wounds, definitely a full bred mustang. I chased after her for a couple hundred yards, giving up after I loose her in the heavily forested trees.

I ran up the trail from my cabin to my parent's house with heavy breaths and my heart racing like the wind. I was thankful I saw my brothers around the barn, saddling their horses. Great timing. I look around for my trusty ranch horse, and former mustang, Buck. I stopped and put my fingers in my mouth and whistled for him, in which he responded immediately and cantered over to me. He is the only horse that I got to do that for me.