“And water,” said Arnie. “They got to have water, so make sure they have access until we get there. I don’t want them thirsty on the trip.”
“You got it.”
Pleased, Zeke clicked the call shut, and smiled, thinking that this was a good day. The bear hadn’t attacked anyone, and the rescued mustangs would find good homes.
Plus, he had Cal right there, looking up at him with those blue eyes as if this was the best place on earth, the best day on the planet. The best thingever. Making Zeke feel better than he had in a long, long time.
“We’re going to treat the mustangs to some cookies,” said Zeke, taking the last sip of his coffee. “The handlers will be here soon.”
It was mid-morning, under a sunny blue sky, when the single wide trailer trundled out of a gap on the far side of the valley. Zeke thought he’d been seeing things as he’d scattered the last of the horse cookies on the other side of the smart fence, but then he smelled the diesel fumes and saw all the horses looking in that direction.
He’d not much thought about where the outlet was from the road that had been washed out, but there it was on the far side of the valley, looking quite narrow. But the heavy duty truck was indeed coming in their direction, pulling a single-wide livestock trailer behind it. Slowly coming toward them across the grassy valley.
Had it rained, the mud might have slowed them down, but for now, the grasses waved as the truck neared. Until finally it stopped and a cowboy, rangy and thin, his clothes and hat looking dusty and lined, as if it, along with the cowboy, had seen a lot of action, jumped out of the passenger side.
“Walt?” asked Zeke with a wave.
“The same,” said Walt in the clipped voice of a man who had no need for wasted words.
“They’ve had access to water for twenty-four hours, all the horse cookies we had, and a bit of our special feed as well,” said Zeke.
“Good,” said Walt.
“What else can we help with?” asked Zeke.
He would be willing to mount up as soon as he was asked, except as he watched Arnie back up the trailer to the gate of the smart fence, he realized he better stand by as the more experienced hands did what they did best and guide the mustangs into the trailer.
He had to admit the roundup went more smoothly than he’d thought it would. Arnie and Walt ducked under the electric gate and waded into the group of mustangs, who weren’t quite sure what was going on. The men clipped cords around each mustang’s neck, complete with metal tag.
“We’ll brand ‘em later once the vet has checked them over,” said Arnie as Zeke and Cal watched the mustangs race around, stop, and race around, trying to avoid the cords and tags. “No point doing it here when they’re all rattled enough as it is by the transport.”
“This is cool, huh?” asked Cal, looking up at Zeke, his smile wide. “But I thought it would be more—” Cal spread his hands as if he couldn’t find the words he was looking for. “I dunno. More like a rodeo?”
“More rough,” said Zeke. “I did too, honestly. These mustangs are wild, but these men—” He paused to smile back at Cal. “These men know what they’re doing. You have to be tough around a mustang, but they’re as gentle as they can be. Firm, but gentle. They’re doing it just right.”
As the first trailer load of mustangs left, Zeke checked the other mustangs, and parsed out a bit more of the special feed.
They only had so much supplies to go around, and he wished he’d brought more so the domestic horses could have a treat on the way back down. Still, he’d make sure they got extra grooming and treats when they were back home in familiar surroundings, so he spread the rest of the feed and clicked at the orange mare with the narrow face as she bullied her way to the biggest pile.
“Good girl,” he said. “You look after these guys, okay?”
His throat closed up as he thought of them, these wild mustangs bound for stables and fields and even back yards. For the training they would receive and their new lives that would be miles away from anything that they had ever experienced.
“You okay, Zeke?” asked a voice as though from far away.
Zeke took off his hat and scrubbed at his eyes and swallowed hard. There was no shame in tears, but he couldn’t quite explain these. But maybe with the way Cal was looking at him, his eyes overly bright and glistening, he didn’t have to.
“It’s the horses,” Zeke said, blinking hard as he settled his hat. “I didn’t know I would be so moved at the sight of them going to new homes.”
“Me either,” said Cal, and the moment hung between them, the horses in the temporary pen, the green grass and slow river, the ridge-line above, all of it circling around them.
The truck came back in under an hour, which told Zeke there was another bigger trailer on the other side of the mudslide. Someone had thought ahead to make the journey as stress-free for the mustangs as possible, and as quick as possible.
Arnie and Walt tagged the orange mare with the narrow face and the other five rangy beasts, then loaded them into the narrow livestock trailer. But before they headed out, both men came to shake their hands.
“You saved these horses,” said Arnie, and Walt nodded. “An errand of mercy. Sure, the mustangs could have lasted a few days, but why put ‘em through that? Their lives have changed enough as it is.”
Those last words told Zeke that Arnie had, at least once or twice, become teary-eyed at the sight of all that wildness on the verge of being tamed.
