as she reached to flip the lights on, something dark rushed at her striking her on the head and knocking her down before running out the door. She was woozy and had trouble focusing her eyesight.
Her heart beat rapidly, fearful that someone had harmed the horses or tried to steal them. They were all registered, healthy and well-cared for. Staggering up she had to push the house dogs off her as they tried to lick her face. She wondered why the guard dogs had not attacked the intruder.
Feebly turning on the lights, she went down the aisle checking to see if the horses were all there and all right. Hearing the guard dogs barking and throwing themselves at the door, she opened the feed room where they had been shut up. She jumped out of the way as they rushed out angrily.
Visitors, or non-horse owners, often thought the barn didn’t smell good. Ginger loved the aromatic odor of horses, feed, hay and, yes, sweat.
In the first stall on her left was Hank Baxter’s sixteen-two hand liver chestnut, Sunset Serenade. Hank had been the foreman before twenty-two year old Ginger had been born. In the next stall was her favorite, a fifteen-two hand bay with dark points, War Shield. In the third stall was a big, rangy, sixteen hand piebald, Dakota Joe, one of the best cutting horses on the property. In the fourth stall was her Grandfather’s favorite, sixteen-two hand, Wind Eagle, a big, strong Appaloosa.
On the right side in the fifth stall was Sierra Sioux a fifteen-two hand chestnut mare that had given them three beautiful babies that sold for an average of twenty-two thousand each as yearlings. In the sixth stall was sixteen-two hand Macho Man a tall Quarter/Thoroughbred who was everyone’s dream horse. He was excellent at just about anything that needed doing. In the seventh stall was a fourteen-two hand mustang mare, Shy Anne who had become a ranch favorite. In the last stall was a fifteen-two hand Palomino, Butter Cream, who had also been an excellent brood mare.
The barn dogs were so agitated that Ginger knew there was more to be concerned about. She apologized to War Shield and quickly saddled him. Placing a rifle on the saddle, she checked to be sure she had plenty of ammunition. She knew a two legged animal had been responsible for attacking her. What was he doing in her barn? She must have arrived too quickly for him to have time to do damage.
Ginger then made a very unwise decision. She decided to ride out and check on the horses in the pasture and the wild mustangs without alerting Hank or any of the hands. It wasn’t until way later that she wondered why some of the hands hadn’t awakened or no one seemed to be on night duty.
Ginger hoped the rain would hold off a little, although she felt moisture in the air. The storm was almost completely overhead and causing War Shield to crow hop while running through the dark. She finally came to her senses and slowed to a walk. She didn’t want to risk her horse getting hurt or breaking a leg in the dark.
As she moved through the pasture with the horses, she was relieved to see them calm and the majority were lying down. She went through a gate into the field with the wild mustangs. The farther out she rode the more she thought she should have told the housekeeper, Juanita Yellow Bird, that she was leaving. Too late now.
War Shield threw up his head and nickered softly, waving his ears back and forth to show he was disturbed. She then realized that the mustangs were milling around and making noises showing fear and confusion.
Suddenly there were several gun shots and yells which stirred the mustangs into a stampede. In a flash of lightning Ginger recognized that there was a Judas horse leading them. Judas was the name given to a horse that had been trained to lead the group into a trap that had been arranged for them.
The frightened mustangs were running, in the dark, toward a narrow canyon where they could easily be trapped. Rustlers would then back trucks to the opening and, men working together, would force the horses on the trucks to be taken away. They would then either be sold to a slaughter house for dog food or shipped overseas where people loved horse meat.
They could probably get at least a dollar a pound, thus an eight hundred pound horse would net eight hundred dollars or a thousand pound horse would bring a thousand dollars. Taking enough horses, in one night, would bring between twenty-five thousand and thirty thousand dollars.
Ginger hoped to divert the mustangs and herd them into the pasture to safety and away from the canyon. She counted on the frequent lightning bursts to help her see even though she knew the danger of being in a lightning storm.
One burst of lightning showed men on horseback spooking the mustangs to make them run. These men were running their own horse in the dark without thought of falling or harming their own horse. She saw several men raise an arm and fire a gun into the air. She didn’t want to fire her rifle under the circumstances.
She shouted in anger and plunged toward the men. They could not hear her above the noise of the storm and the roar of the galloping horses. She hoped to catch up with the Judas horse and turn him away from the canyon.
Taking off her hat, she waved it and yelled at the Judas horse. In the meantime she was praying that none of them would fall and break a leg or hurt each other running in fear.
A close lightning streak allowed two men to see her and realize what she was doing. She saw one raise his arm and point his gun at her. Just as he fired, War Eagle screamed and went down. Before Ginger hit her head and was knocked out, she thought, “No! They’ve shot my horse.”
Chapter Two
Ginger moaned and stirred. Without opening her eyes, she wondered why she was lying on the ground, in the dark, and with the rain beating on her. She was on her stomach and felt terrible. Rolling to one side, she laboriously opened her eyes and was looking at a pair of black Tony Lama boots with red trim. Long, long legs in black jeans were above the boots with a black shirt at the top. Her eyes went on up to a square jaw, high cheekbones, copper skin, long black hair and piercing black eyes. A black Stetson was too high up for her to see without rolling on her back.
She licked her dry lips thankfully moistening them with the rain drops. “Where did you come from? Were you the one who shot me?”
There was no answer as he leaned down and easily lifted her on her feet. Ginger’s five-eight only came to the dark man’s shoulder. She could only stare at him and wait for him to speak.
With no expression he spoke, “I moved back last week to help my parents take care of their ranch next to you. Howard and Arline Deerhunter. We’ve been missing some cattle, so I thought I’d ride out and see if I could catch cattle rustlers. I saw the men cutting your fence and followed them. No, you were not shot and neither was your horse. He slipped on some muddy ground and was bumped by some running mustangs causing him to lose his balance and fall down.”
“Where is my horse? Did he run off with the herd?”
“No. He’s standing beside my horse, Thunder Dancer. You don’t recognize me. I’m James Deerhunter.”
“Of course I remember you, Tokala. You left before I went away to college.”
“Yes, I went away to college hoping to become a veterinarian. My parents are old, and when my father had a stroke, my mother could not handle the ranch work and care for an invalid husband. I’ve been gone a little over ten years.”
They were walking toward War Shield as they were talking. “I’m so glad I got here in time to see what was going on and try to save the mustangs,” Ginger spoke with a relieved smile.
“The men ran when
