Black Wind Part 5

Black Wind Part 5

            The morning after Grandmother Tyler left the nursing home, Madelaine clomped down the stairs from the second floor of Mrs. Hanson’s house.  Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, she walked into the kitchen. 

            “Why do you have your riding boots on, Madelaine?”  Her grandmother asked, seated at the rough pine table with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her.

            Madelaine moved away from the refrigerator with the carton of orange juice in one hand.  Not looking at her grandmother, she took a glass from the overhead cupboard, set it on the sink counter and poured the juice as she answered,  “I’m going to try to find Black Wind.” 

            “Well, Madelaine Tyler, don’t look so sour.  If your lips freeze in that awful frown you’ll scare the horses!”  Grandmother scolded gently. 

            The girl’s lips trembled as she lifted her chin and faced her grandmother.  “I can’t stand Black Wind being lost.  I…I have to find her!” 

            “Of course, you do.  But going out into the mountains, well you know my rules.”  The older woman reminded her. 

            “You can’t go with me.  Can’t we forget the buddy-rule this once?”  She pleaded, tears pooling in her eyes.  Angrily, she swiped her hand over her eyes, dashing the tears away. 

            “The buddy-rule, the need to take a friend with you when you go into the mountains, it’s for your safety, honey.  You know that.” 

            “I’ll go with you, Madelaine.”  Billy stepped from the doorway between the living room and kitchen.  He went over to the stove and poured a cup of coffee in one of the heavy white mugs sitting on the counter next to the stove.  He moved over to the table and took a chair across from Grandmother Tyler.  “I phoned George Ellis.  He’s sending his son, Andrew, over to ride with us.  He should get here pretty soon.” 

            Mrs. Hanson walked into the kitchen just as Billy was speaking of Andrew.  “Huh.  Guess I’d best get busy makin’ breakfast and packin’ up a few sandwiches for you young’uns.” 

            From Mrs. Hanson’s backyard they followed the same trail that Black Wind had bolted up the night of the fire.  Madelaine rode Mrs. Hanson’s Arabian endurance mare, Silver Ghost. She turned to glance behind her. Billy rode his father’s quarterhorse gelding, Wellington, while Andrew followed on a black and white Gypsy Vanner mare he called Claire.  Madelaine had been surprised that a Gypsy bred cart horse would stand only 14 hands at the withers. However, unlike Silver Ghost who was 14 hands of sleek, running muscle, Claire was rippling with muscle that could pull a family wagon loaded with their life’s possessions.  She walked with a rapid stride that was somehow very deliberate, like she knew exactly where each hoof was placed. 

            Madelaine relaxed into her saddle, focused her attention on the trail ahead, knowing the guys rode well enough to keep up with her and Silver Ghost.  With a light tap of her heels, Silver Ghost broke into a ground-eating trot.  Madelaine heard the hooves of the other horses pounding behind her as they wound along Shy Bear Creek and up, up the forested flank of Shy Bear Mountain.  As the sun hit noon in the clear, blue sky, the cool sixty degrees of the mountain climbed into an a sweaty seventy-five degrees as they scrambled up the shale slope to the first meadow.  

            Madelaine quickly dismounted and loosened Silver Ghost’s girth. She tied the hackmore reins over the saddle horn, leaving enough play in the reins that the horse could lower her head, then pulling her saddle bag off, she left the mare to graze the lush grass of the mountain meadow.  By the time she found a log to sit on, Billy and Andrew had loosened their horses girths, looped reins over saddle horns, hiked their saddlebags over their shoulders and left the animals to graze with Silver Ghost.  Madelaine watched as the young men walked across the sun rich meadow. 

            She only dimly remembered anything about the first five years of her life spent in northern California with her mother and father.  She hated it, but sometimes she found it difficult to recall her father’s face.  The single car accident that killed her dad, had caused her mom to sell everything, load up their van and come up here to Washington and Grandmother Tyler’s ranch.  Four years ago, before her mom lost her battle with breast cancer, she’d assigned legal guardianship of Madelaine to Grandmother.  Billy had been Mom’s attorney.  It wasn’t until he’d met them after Mrs. Hanson took her to visit Grandmother that she’d seen him again.  In some ways, maybe it was his voice or the way he smiled, he kind of reminded her of her dad.  She thought about that, then pushed it out of her mind.  It still hurt to think about her dad. 

            Madelaine could see Billy saying something to Andrew but the younger man shook his head.  It seemed strange that Billy, a grown man, knew Andrew well enough to ask him to come and help find Black Wind.  Andrew appeared to be around sixteen, with raven black hair brushing his shoulders and cool blue eyes staring out at the world from beneath bushy black brows.  The unusual combination of black hair and blue eyes made his angular face handsome.  With his slender, rider’s body and obviously muscular legs clad in tight blue jeans, she knew half the girls in her class would have been glad to be out riding in the mountains with Andrew. 

            “Hey, boss woman, this our lunch break?”  Andrew asked in a husky voice as he smiled down at her. 

            “I’m not the boss,” she muttered as she scooted over to make room for the guys to sit on the log. 

            Billy dug through his saddlebags, removed a sandwich and a thermos of coffee.  He unwrapped the sandwich, took a bite, chewed and swallowed before he said,  “That’s where you’re wrong, Madelaine.  You have to be the boss of our expedition.  You know Black Wind and we don’t.” 

            “And, both of you know the mountain around here better’n me,” Andrew added as he unwrapped one of the thick ham, cheese and bacon sandwiches Mrs. Hanson had sent with them. 

            Madelaine could almost hear Grandmother telling her,  “Don’t go duckin’ your head when you know something.  There’s a time to be modest and there’s a time to stand up and lead.”

            Madelaine supposed this must be the time to lead, but it sure made her nervous.  What if she led them in the wrong direction?  What if she made a wrong turn and they never found Black Wind?  She heaved in a deep breath and let it out slow, like Grandmother had taught her to do whenever she got nervous around a new horse they were working.  “Well, there are a couple of places we used to ride to.”  She began. 

            By the time they’d finished their sandwiches and mounted back up, they each had a crude map of the area drawn by Madelaine.  She x’ed places where Black Wind might go. They left the meadow and zigzagged up through close growing conifers.  Madelaine recognized western red cedars and Douglas firs but couldn’t name any of the others. 

            The trail led across a wide expanse where stumps of once mighty trees testified to the lasting effects of clearcut logging.  Scrub brush and slender deciduous trees, sudden holes and rotting branches crisscrossed haphazardly along their path, slowed them until Madelaine wanted to scream in frustration. 

            “Whoa,” Billy called out before they were even a third of the way to the woods on the far side. 

            Madelaine reined Silver Ghost around to see what Billy wanted. 

            “This area is so open Black Wind could’ve run across it at any point and re-entered the trees.  Let’s split up so we can cover more ground.  We can see each other so it won’t be like we were riding alone.” 

            The other two nodded their quick agreement and soon they were scattered across the open area.  Halfway across the scarred land, Andrew yelled and waved as he dismounted. 

            Madelaine squeezed Silver Ghost into a fast walk, the fastest they could safely travel over the broken ground.  Billy arrived at Andrew’s side moments before she did.   “What do you think?”  Andrew asked as he pointed at a wiry bush a couple of feet ahead of Claire’s nose.

            Madelaine and Billy dismounted then carefully made their way closer to the bush.  Distinctive hoof prints were sunk in the soft dirt next to the bush.  A few horse apples, definitely horse manure, lay scattered on the ground.  A number of branch tips of the leafy bush had been cropped off.  “It has to be Black Wind,”  Madelaine said, her voice clogging in her throat. 

            “Certainly stands to reason.  Horses don’t come up here on their own usually and this sign,” Andrew waved at the ground and bush,  “doesn’t indicate the presence of a person with the horse.  And the hoof prints aren't deep enough for the horse to be carrying a rider.”

            Heart suddenly hammering in her chest, eyes wide with eagerness, Madelaine hurried over to Silver Ghost and swung into the saddle.  “Let’s get moving.”  She said as she guided her horse around the men as they mounted their animals. Eyes on the ground, Madelaine led the way. 

            The hoof prints disappeared a couple of times as they crossed rocky ground.  Each time Andrew found them again.  The last time Madelaine had looked over at him and exclaimed,  “How do you do that?  I didn’t see anything that pointed anywhere.” 

            Andrew shot her a shy smile.  “My grandfather’s full-blooded Cherokee.  Every summer, up until he died last year, I went back east to the Carolina hills and he taught me some of the old ways.” 

            The trail entered the trees at a sharp uphill angle.  The horses scrambled as rocks and dirt crumbled beneath their hooves.  An occasional horse apple was the only real evidence of a horse having passed that way during the past few days.  The loose soil simply showed some animal of a good size had struggled up the hill as they were doing. 

            The sun dipping behind the towering trees threw long shadows across the tall, coarse grass of the small open area Madelaine rode into. As good of shape as Silver Ghost was in, she was snorting, her sides glistening with white foamy sweat.  Madelaine slid to the ground and loosened the girth as she waited for Billy and Andrew.  She could hear their horses' labored breathing before they arrived.  Like her, the men dismounted and loosened their horses’ girths to give the animals a much deserved break. 

            Andrew led Claire up next to Madelaine.  Eyes narrowed and focused across the clearing he said,  “Well, it’s pretty clear something’s been up here.”  He pushed his chin out to indicate the obvious trails winding through the grass and several clearly grazed spots.

            “Madelaine,”  Billy stepped up next to Andrew, Wellington’s muzzle at his shoulder.  “Why don’t you try calling Black Wind?  Maybe she’s close enough to hear you.” 

            “Okay.”  She wet her suddenly dry lips.  “Would you hold Silver Ghost?”  She handed the reins to Andrew, then stepped away.  With slow movements, she walked to the center of the clearing.  Hands cupped around her mouth, she let out a sharp, high pitched whistle.  As she whistled, again and again, she turned in a full circle so the sound would travel as far as possible.  Done, she dropped her hands to her sides and waited.  The lowering sun had lost much of its heat to the coming evening.  They would have to head home soon, with or without Black Wind.  She couldn’t stand the thought.  “Please, please, Black Wind, please be here.”  She whispered to herself as her eyes searched the treeline surrounding the clearing. "If you aren't here, I don't know where else to look."  

            “She isn’t here, Madelaine,”  Billy called finally.  “Come on, we have to leave or we’re going to be stranded up here all night.” 

            Head hanging in despair, Madelaine started towards the men.  Then she felt it.  Eyes watching her back.  She stopped and turned slowly in a circle, searching the deeper shadows beneath the trees.  Nothing.  She shook her head and chided herself for imagining things as she headed once more towards the men and the horses waiting for her. 

            It was there again!  Eyes on her back.  The only other time she’d felt that was when a cougar had been following her last summer.  Grandmother said it must’ve just  been curious since it never tried to rush her.  She swung around.  Nothing.  But…wait.  What was that?  She peered across the grassy area.  Yes!  A shadow of deeper black moved beneath the trees.  She lifted her hands.  She cupped her mouth.  “Please, Black Wind, please be here!”  She whispered as she puckered her lips. 

            The echo of the piercing whistle died as Black Wind stepped cautiously from the trees on the far side of the clearing.  Even in the deepening evening, Madelaine could see the horse nervously pawing.  She began walking quickly towards Black Wind. 

            Black Wind threw her head up and danced backwards, turning her side towards Madelaine as if she might bolt at any second.  Madelaine stopped immediately.  “Black Wind, it’s me!”  She called to the horse. 

            The filly stopped the uneasy dancing of her hooves and turned towards Madelaine.  When she was once again still, Madelaine started forward, walking on the balls of her feet.  Immediately the horse threw her head up and shook it. She danced sideways, flipped her tail high and pranced a few yards away from the girl. Madelaine heard her snort as if she were terrified.  Even after Madelaine stopped, Black Wind’s hooves still jigged a nervous tattoo, but at least she stayed in one place. 

            Again, when Madelaine stopped, the horse calmed and once more faced her.   Taking a deep breath, Madelaine held it then slowly released it, trying to think, to remember what she’d read about the language of horses.  “Horses have a natural language,”  she repeated to herself. “If a person will use the horse’s language, they can communicate in a way that makes sense to the horse.”  She spoke the words just beneath her breath as she watched the filly tossing her head up and down.  “I have to figure this out quick!”  She told herself as she glanced up at twilight edging across the sky. 

           She closed her eyes.  She could almost see the pages of that book in her mind.  “If a young horse commits an error in the herd, the lead mare will face him and move towards him.  In this way, she pushes the offending youngster away and out of the herd.  She seldom pushes him beyond a few feet from the herd’s fringe.”  It dawned on Madelaine.  “Black Wind thinks I’m pushing her away.” 

Madelaine opened her eyes.  The young horse was standing at an angle to her.  She had pulled her head down out of the sky, as Grandmother would say, but Madelaine could tell the filly was watching her.  “How do I make her understand I want to help?”  Madelaine whispered to herself.  While she stared at the filly, she remembered.  “When the lead mare feels the youngster has been punished by exile long enough, she will turn sideways to the youngster. The younger horse will drop his head and chomp, as if chewing, as he slowly draws closer to the herd.  Sometimes, the lead mare will walk towards the youngster, always at angle, to welcome him back in the herd.  When she gets to him, she will begin grooming his body.  All is forgiven.” 

Deliberately, Madelaine turned sideways and began moving towards Black Wind.  She walked at an angle, like the book said a lead mare would do. 

Black Wind’s head sank until it was horizontal to the ground.  She watched the filly from the corner of her eye as she moved ever closer. The horse dropped her head even lower.  Now, Madelaine could see her muzzle moving as if she was chewing grass, just like the book said. 

As she finally crossed the last few feet, she quietly untied the lead rope she’d been wearing around her waist.  With one hand, she reached out and began scratching behind Black Wind’s ear.  The little horse's muzzle drooped until she touched the grass. She leaned against Madelaine as the girl looped the lead rope around Black Wind’s neck.  Only then did Madelaine take her first full, shaky breath. 

When Madelaine and Black Wind was close enough, Andrew tossed the extra halter that had been hanging on her saddle horn towards her. With quiet, efficient movements, Madelaine slipped the halter on Black Wind and snapped the lead rope to the halter. 

No one said a word until Madelaine was mounted and they had started down the trail towards Mrs. Hanson’s.  Billy led with Andrew behind him. Madelaine rode behind the two guys so Black Wind would feel more comfortable.

 “There for a minute, I thought she was going to bolt back into the trees.”  Billy glanced back and commented.

“Me, too,”  Madelaine admitted.

“Where did you learn that horse language you used?”  Andrew asked as he took a quick look over his shoulder. 

“Grandmother bought me a book called Natural Horsemanship.”

“Good job.” 

Was that approval in Andrew’s voice, Madelaine wondered? Not that she really cared, or anything.  

It was full on dark when they finally rode over to Mrs. Hanson’s pasture fence and tied the horses to the top rail.  The yard spotlight flipped on and Mrs. Hanson walked out of the house and across the porch. Grandmother limped right behind her.  Madelaine led Black Wind towards the back porch as Mrs. Hanson helped Grandmother down the three steps to the yard.   

Grandmother stood at the base of the steps, next to Mrs. Hanson and Harry.  As Madelaine drew closer, she saw tears running down her grandmother’s wrinkled cheeks.  “You did it, Madelaine.  You found her.”  The old woman, with Mrs. Hanson’s help, hobbled over to Black Wind. 

Still holding the lead rope, Madelaine stepped to one side so her grandmother could stand close to Black Wind.  The old woman dropped her cane and placed a hand on either side of the filly’s face.  Black Wind dropped her face against the woman’s shoulder and gave a soft snort.  

That night Madelaine stretched out on the bed in Mrs. Hanson's guest room.  Maybe, she thought, with Grandmother out of the nursing home, life would return to normal. After all, no one had seen Uncle David since they’d discovered he’d stolen everything out of Grandmother’s house.  Maybe he had left the state. 

Wouldn’t that be great? But, there was a clenching in her gut.  Somehow, she didn’t think Uncle David was going to stop his attacks that easily.  That last time she’d looked in his eyes, she’d seen how much he hated them.  His voice on the phone had been full of anger at them.  Grandmother and her, both.  Why did he hate them so much?  Why  was he so angry?  Maybe she’d better figure that out before he came back.

                                          END OF PART 5