Wild Horses Read Online Free

the land fell away. Now he was gone.
    Had she imagined him? Was he a shadow against the red cliff, a figment of her imagination? Perhaps no real horse could ever have been so perfect.
    Kirstie laid a hand on Lucky’s neck. He dipped his head and nudged her forward. Then he too took a step across the rock-strewn canyon.
    The horses in the wild herd saw them move. They edged nervously away, around the rim of the gully, all looking gray and unreal through the rain. Ignoring them, Lucky put his head down and headed ten, fifteen yards toward a heap of newly-fallen rocks. Two uprooted pine trees had landed in the shape of a cross beside the unstable pile, their branches brushing the ground and making a green screen in front of the crumbled cliff face.

    Trust your horse. It was the golden rule at Half Moon Ranch. Lucky knew what he was doing. So Kirstie stepped after him, right up to the screen of broken branches and sharp pine needles, where the palomino had stopped. Pushing past him, she climbed up the heap and pushed the nearest branch to one side.
    Her heart lurched again. There, half-buried beneath the rockfall, was the stallion.
    Kirstie let out a gasp. Straightaway, before she could even think, she squatted down and began tearing at the fallen rocks with her hands, heaving them to one side, wrenching with all her might. The horse was motionless, eyes closed, head sunk awkwardly against a ledge, his front legs invisible, but his back legs and hindquarters clear of the landslide.
    If she could just move the rocks from his chest and shoulders … She tore away, grazing her hands so badly they bled. The scarlet trickles merged with the rain and mud, but she didn’t feel the cuts. All that mattered was freeing the stallion.
    He was unconscious, but still breathing. She could see his chest heave as she dragged a large rock free. But what about his legs? She went more carefully now, lifting the last rocks from around his girth until she uncovered the long, black front legs. Then she stopped and sat back on her haunches, staring down at a blood-soaked mess. The horse’s left knee had been crushed by a heavy rock.
    “Kirstie?” Charlie’s voice drifted over the barrier of boulders and mud.
    She swallowed hard, struggled to control her voice. “I’ve found him!”
    “The stallion? Is he hurt?”
    “Yes.”
    “Bad?”
    “Pretty bad. Charlie, we need help!” Softly she put out a bleeding hand to touch the stallion. She stroked the soaked black coat, wiped away the dirt from around his mouth and nostrils.
    The horse opened his eyes. They flickered shut, then opened again. He lifted his head.
    “Easy!” she whispered.
    Lucky stepped back to give the wild creature space.
    The stallion pulled away from Kirstie’s hand. His eyes rolled in fear at the human touch.
    “It’s OK,” she whispered. “I won’t hurt you.”
    But he didn’t trust her. He lay on his side, kicking with his back legs, feebly at first, then more strongly as he regained consciousness. He wanted to be up, away from the pile of ugly rocks that had crashed down onto him, away from the girl with bleeding hands, her soaking hair plastered to her skull, her face smeared with mud.
    Kirstie held her breath. She wanted to help him onto his feet and he wouldn’t let her. Instead, he struggled alone. He got his back legs under him, ready to take his weight and shove. His head was raised. Now his knees bent and he should have rolled from his side onto them, then pushed up until he was standing. But his injured knee buckled under him. Once, twice, he tried but sank back.
    “Charlie, get help!” Kirstie stood up, took hold of Lucky’s reins, and together they ran toward the debris that blocked the entrance. “I don’t care how you get in here, just get help…please!”
    “OK. I’ll radio to base and take the whole group back to the ranch with me. You hang on, do what you can for him!” The wrangler took the only way out of the mess.
    “Don’t be