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Two days later, the brothers were looking down from the rim of the canyon wall as the mustangs disappeared around the bend.
“The gods must smile on you,” Daniel said. “I just can’t believe it!”
The trail used by the herd was some fifty feet wide below them and a quarter mile long, but at each end there were narrow gaps in the canyon rim permitting no more than three horses abreast.
“What we need to do is block off that north entrance with a fence. We can build it today and put it up tonight after they come through. Then we need another gate we can swing shut behind them when they come back from watering.”
“They’ll be trapped in this place.” Jake eyes were alight with glee. “We can catch them all!”
“We don’t need them all. And we don’t have the time or the manpower we’d need to catch them all. No, we’ll stick to the two we picked out. But it’s sure gonna be a lot easier than I expected.
“Come on, brother, I saw a stand of young birch a ways back―they’re just what we need for the fences.”
They cut the trees into poles. For the north fence, they built two portable units, both high and strong, and covered them with branches to make it look like a natural barrier. They pulled the sections close to the gap―as close as Daniel thought they could get without warning the herd. Then they cut more poles for a simple post-and-rail fence for the narrower southern entrance.
That evening, the mustangs came through the northern gap without hesitation and as soon as the last few disappeared along the trail, Daniel and Jake began to drag their fences into place. They had less than an hour to situate them and lash them together with the long, tough rawhide strips Daniel produced from his pockets. Rawhide would hold up better than vine, he told his brother, and nails or barbed wire were out of the question. He was careful to explain that the barriers they built would cause no harm to the mustangs and that, if hysteria infected the herd, they’d have to set them free before any injuries occurred.
The moment the barrier was complete, the brothers retreated, climbed to the canyon wall and made their way to the southern gap, being certain to stay downwind of the herd. After drinking, the mustangs came back through and approached the branch-built wall curiously. Then the old king caught the scent of man. He snorted and turned, reared up and whistled a challenge. But Daniel and Jake were already blocking off the southern exit, sliding the rails into their makeshift fence, the posts of which leaned in against the canyon walls. The white stallion pawed the ground but didn’t approach them.
The Donovan brothers made their beds on the other side of the post and rail fence. The mustangs congregated at the opposite end of the trap, and followed the white stallion in restless circles until the dawn broke.
Just after sunrise, Jake helped his brother reinforce the southern gate. They’d found a crevice in the canyon wall they used as additional support for the right side. On the left, they moved several boulders in to support the posts. Daniel tested it against his weight.
“All right, Jake,” he commanded, “you watch me. I’m going after the mare. You sit there on the post―if any of them come near you, flap your hat at them. Don’t scare them, just wave them away. Here we go.”
With his lariat held low, Daniel jogged noiselessly toward the herd. They milled and turned but he ignored their activity, concentrating instead on the sorrel mare. Fear filled her eyes as she realized she was his prey. Though she was tired from the night’s milling she pranced away, but he ran straight at her and when she reared, he threw the lasso high and wide. It came down over her head and one leg, and he tightened it with a deft flick of his wrist. She snorted and whistled when she realized she was caught.
The herd scrambled away. Daniel dug in his heels as she strained against the rope. He pulled himself closer to her hand over hand, until he was less than ten feet from her. Then he addressed her silently.
Little sister, you have no need to fear me. You will not be hurt. You will be changed, but you will not be hurt. Little sister, I have come to ask your help. I need your help for my friend, my brother. You will be changed but you will not be hurt.
For the better part of an hour, he stood eye to eye with her. Finally she quieted and he backed away. Reluctantly she followed his lead, though her body still shivered with fear. He led her to a tall tree at the side of the trap, tying the lasso around it, giving her little room to move.
Daniel turned to his brother and asked, “Want to try it?”
“Oh, yeah!” Jake grabbed his rope and built the noose. Like Adam, he was left-handed, and it made him seem awkward at times. But the natural skill was there.
“Concentrate on the one horse,” Daniel said, “and ignore all the others. Let him know you’re after him. And wait ’til he rears before you throw. Try to get the rope over a foreleg, too, so we don’t have to choke him to bring him down.”
Eager as he was, Jake couldn’t concentrate on the single horse. His first two attempts at roping the colt had failed, and Daniel could see his frustration building, but before he could speak, Jake threw his lariat again. He was off balance and fell backward even as the rope caught the ears of a bay mare. She reared, pawing the air as he tried to scramble away. Her hoof crashed down on his left boot, pinning him there. As the mare rose up again, Daniel ran to his brother, grabbed his collar and yanked him back. Jake started to thrash and moan.
“Keep still!” Daniel’s whisper was adamant as he crouched down beside him. “Be quiet. The herd’s riled up. Don’t do anything more to upset them.”
They waited, not moving from that spot. Almost an hour later by Daniel’s reckoning, the mustangs finally quieted.
“How bad you hurt?” he asked Jake.
“I’m OK. She caught the side of my leg more than the front, then kind of slid off. It hurt like hell at first, but it’s way better now.”
“Let’s see.”
Jake pulled his pant leg up and scrunched the soft leather boot down. A purple bruise shaped like a crescent moon stood out against his white skin. He poked at it gingerly.
“Ouch,” Daniel commented. “Think you can walk?”
“Pretty sure.”
Daniel helped Jake to his feet, watched him take a few tentative steps, and shake his leg out. He limped a bit but it seemed no permanent damage had been done.
“All right, boy-o, watch and learn.” Again the studied approach, the intelligent response, the perfect throw. And another hour spent in soothing and calming the colt while the herd milled restlessly.
Daniel tied the trembling pony next to his dam, watched their silent commiseration, and motioned to his brother. “Stay here and watch them while I take down the barrier.”
As Daniel skirted the trap, the herd pranced away from him. The barrier wasn’t as sturdy as it appeared; he dismantled it quickly. He climbed on a rock to watch the king trotting back and forth, his tail high, his mane almost sweeping the ground, his nostrils blowing out the scent of man. Finally the stallion reared and trumpeted a warning blast at Daniel, leaping out at a gallop, whistling for his band to follow. By twos and threes they crowded out of the gap in the canyon wall, ignoring the man who sat and watched and marveled at their beauty. They ran after their king and didn’t stop until they were many miles away.
“A good day’s work,” Daniel said as he came back to Jake and the captured horses. His brother was staring at his boots. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m no damn good at this, am I?”
“You just need some experience. It’s not as easy to do something as it is to watch. You think I’m good at it, but it’s only because I’ve been doing it for eight years or so. How do you think I felt the first time I went out with Alec?”
“How?”
As he fashioned hackamores for the captives, Daniel answered, “Pretty damn stupid. There I was, with this kid who was fifteen years old―and I was a big man of twenty. I chased a roan mare all over creation, and never once came close to catching her. Then Alec made me sit down and he caught her without even raising a sweat! But I learned, Jake. The same way you will. The hardest thing is to ignore the other horses, to stop worrying about what they’re doing behind you. And the next hardest thing’s learning the patience it takes to gentle them. But you take these two to Alec and he’ll show you how it’s done. And maybe he’ll take you out with him this summer.
“Now let’s get these two back to the corral and stop in to see Adam and Jesse for a few minutes.” Daniel grabbed his rifle and gathered the hackamores, gently urging the captives to follow in his wake. His brother walked beside him, matching the woodsman’s strides with his own.