Wild Horses Read Online Free Page A

long!” she pleaded.
    “About an hour and a half,” he promised. “Just hang on, OK?”
    Dragging breath into her lungs to stem the panic that almost choked her, she convinced him that she would be OK. “Go, Charlie!” she cried.
    An hour and a half before anyone came… Would her mom and Matt be back from Denver? Could they get the vet over from San Luis? If they did, would the wild stallion let him near? And were his injuries too bad to treat?
    Questions crowded into her head and jostled for answers. None came. Meanwhile, as the herd waited uneasily by the far cliff and Lucky stood patiently at a distance, Kirstie knew that it was up to her to calm the injured horse and stop the bleeding from his injured leg.
    She turned to face him, his life in her hands.

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    The stallion knew that he was helpless, his magnificent power stripped away by the crashing rocks. As Kirstie went cautiously toward him again, anxious not to distress him, his whole body quivered. His eyes rolled, his nostrils flared.
    Behind her, Lucky followed then came to a halt midway between the injured horse and the rest of the herd. His metal shoe struck bare rock and echoed through the canyon making the wild horses shy away in a tight huddle. Without their leader, trapped by the landslide, they turned and swung nervously this way and that.
    “Easy, boy!” Kirstie whispered as she approached the bleeding horse.
    He was struggling to raise himself, pawing at the ground with his front feet, reaching out his head and straining to take his weight on the injured knee.
    “Wait!” Kirstie drew near. She knew horses and some basic first aid, so she planned what to do. The first thing was that the wound needed to be strapped tight to stop the bleeding. If the stallion would let her get close enough. Breathing steady, reassuring words, she advanced step by step.
    The horse tossed his head, whipping his wet black mane back from his face. He watched her every move.
    If she looked him in the eye, he would see this as a threat, Kirstie knew. So she kept her gaze fixed on the wounded knee. She inched toward him, her eyes averted, murmuring encouragement.
    The stallion struggled again, every nerve straining against her approach.
    When eventually she was within a few inches of him, feeling his hot breath on her hand as she knelt and stretched out to touch him, slowly, slowly winning his trust, she decided on her next move.
    She was wearing a T-shirt under her denim shirt so, quickly and smoothly, she withdrew her hand and unbuttoned her top shirt. It was soaking wet from the rain, but once she had it off, she was able to pull hard at a seam and tear down the length of one side. Within a minute, the pale blue shirt was in strips, ready to use as a bandage around the stallion’s knee.
    The horse’s head was up, his eyes watchful, his body still quivering with tension and pain. The clink of a bridle and the sound of metal shoes shuffling over rocky ground in the background told Kirstie that Lucky was still wisely keeping a safe distance.
    “Here we go!” she breathed, taking one end of the makeshift bandage and edging forward on her knees. Luckily the stallion’s left leg was uppermost, the damaged knee clearly in view. Kirstie flinched as she saw the skin scraped back from the bony joint, the jagged, dirty wound, and the steady flow of blood on the wet rock where he lay. But she pressed on, determined to lay the bandage across the wound and slip the fabric under the leg so that she could begin winding it and strapping it tight.
    “Good boy!” she soothed. Amazingly, a sixth sense must have told the wild creature that she was offering him his only chance of survival. He kept his head up, watching her as she strapped the wound, but he didn’t resist.
    Kirstie worked quickly. When one length of torn shirt was used up, she began another. At first, blood seeped quickly through each layer, but then the tight padding began to take effect. Soon, the bleeding eased and