I crested the ridge right behind Glooscap to see a small glen with a dozen or so large painted horses, their musculature clearly visible. Some were prancing about, tossing their manes, swishing their tails, while others were drinking from a crystal-clear stream, that divided the glen, or grazing on bountiful patches of long grass. A few paused and turned to look curiously at Glooscap and me. The rest of the group hadn’t yet arrived on the top of the ridge. Strangely, I felt like I’d been there before. Maybe I’d once seen a similar setting in a picture or on TV or in a movie.
A powerful stallion, all black save a few patches of white, lifted his head from the stream. He stared at us for a moment, water dripping from his muzzle. Waving his head back and forth, he gave a loud neigh that resounded through the glen. All the horses stopped what they were doing and turned to look at us.
“’Bout time we stopped,” said Colby, panting away, coming up behind me. He rested his hands on his knees.
“Shhh,” said Glooscap, over his shoulder. “You will scare them.”
The others reached the top of the ridge, clustering behind us. No one spoke. The horses stared at us as if we’d intruded on their private gathering. They all remained motionless, their eyes wide, ears pointed, tails no longer swishing. Nervous.
Glooscap slipped the bundle from his shoulder and handed it to Brodan, then he began to cautiously inch toward the big black stallion, who I assumed was the leader of the herd. The other horses watched Glooscap intently as he approached. Inch by inch, Glooscap treaded forward, until he was only a few feet away. The stallion snorted and tossed his head, his black mane fluttering like a cape. When he was within a few feet, Glooscap began humming softly, reminding me of what I’d learned to do to soothe animals at Whispering Cedars.
When Glooscap was an arm’s length away, he slowly lifted his hand. The stallion nudged it with his muzzle. The other horses wandered over to investigate the visitor, first surrounding Glooscap, then thrusting their noses toward him, as if they were trying to get a better sense of who had entered their sanctuary. Because it was a sanctuary with everything a horse could ever want––fresh water, plenty of grazing, trees for shelter and windbreak, and even soft bedding. It was more inviting than the spot we rested the night before on the banks of Cootamain, even more than the Sawnay village and longhouse where we’d slept. But then I preferred the freedom of the outdoors over the confines of walls. Walls made me feel claustrophobic, like the world might begin to close in and crush me, like I felt in those holding cells at court, and in my room at the youth detention.
At Whispering Cedars, on weekends during the warmer months, I’d head up into Montana’s high country on horseback with old ranch hand Jerry and his son Rufus. We’d round up the ranch’s cattle for a head count, checking to find out if any had fallen prey to mountain lions or grizzlies or wolves, or maybe broken a leg or fell over a cliff edge. It was during those times that I learned to love the night sky for its beauty and mystery, far away from the ranch’s lights, far away from any artificial lights, under the cloak of night. The only lights were the waxing moon and glittering stars. The only sounds were the coyotes serenading the rolling black hills and the creatures that called them home, like a long lullaby that I never ever wanted to end, a lullaby that I’d fallen asleep to more times than I could count.
The longer I was away from it all, the more I missed it, the more I wanted to return, be with the land, be with the animals. Now I was there, sort of, only on a different world, with different people, different circumstances. And it felt good, all things considered.
After a few minutes, Glooscap motioned for me to come forward, I walked slowly on the balls of my feet to the horses. I lifted my hand up and a mare, chestnut with white patches, stepped away from the others. She moseyed over to me and began to sniff my palm tentatively. Then she whinnied loudly, took a few steps back, sending waves of skittishness through the herd.
Glooscap began to hum again, louder this time. He gestured for me to try again.
I reached out and rested my palm on the mare’s muzzle. She shut her eyes. With my other hand, I rubbed her neck in long, gentle sweeping motions, causing a shiver to run through her body, and mine too.
As Glooscap continued to hum, he motioned the others forward. Slowly and silently, they inched into the glen and approached the herd. The horses surrounding Glooscap and I began to disperse. First, one young tan stallion with patches of white trotted proudly over to Simon, then a white-and-black mare to Anna. Within a minute, all of us were paired up, stroking a horse or resting a hand on some part of their bodies. Except for Colby, who was hanging back and bouncing from one foot to another, squirming like his feet were on fire. “I need to pee something fierce,” he said, and took off behind a tree.
“He has the bladder of a child,” said Cawop.
“Now, we ride north,” said Glooscap. With that, he grasped the stallion’s mane. He spryly leapt atop his back, then spun him three-sixty. The horse neighed and hoofed the earth. In my mare’s large black eye, I could see my reflection. I clutched her mane and swung my leg up and over her back, her front quarters solid against my inner thighs. The others began to mount the horses that they’d chosen or—maybe a better way to put it—the horses that’d chosen them. They were all fine, healthy, powerful animals. Perfect specimens, as Vince would’ve said.
“Hey, I know you all trying to leave me behind,” said Colby, emerging from some bushes.
“If we could only be so lucky,” said Tabby, rolling her eyes.
A young stallion, tan with black patches, whinnied and trotted straight toward Colby, swooshing his tail side to side.
“Oh, yeah, that’s a fine-looking ride,” said Colby, giving his toothy smile. He waited until the stallion stopped next to him, and then he swung his leg over its back and leapt on.
“And to think you didn’t have to steal it,” said Tabby. “Bravo.”
“Me and this guy got an understanding. Ain’t that right?” said Colby as he petted the stallion’s neck.
Suddenly, the stallion bucked once, then twice, almost sending Colby flying. He leaned forward, a panicked look on his face, and he quickly started petting his neck again, hoping to calm his mount.
Anna put her hand to her mouth, trying to catch her laughter before it spilled out, but she only managed to alter it to a snort.
“Hey, why are they called thunder horses?” said Simon, rubbing his stallion’s forehead.
Glooscap and Brodan smiled mischievously at each other. “You will see if they choose to show you,” said Glooscap. He then looked at each member of the group, nodding his head as if he was proud of us for managing so far. Then he spun his mount around and set his stallion trotting across the glen. I clicked my mouth and gave a hip thrust. My mare cantered after his stallion. Behind me, the others got into line. The remaining horses parted to allow us through, letting out a chorus of neighs that carried on well after we all left the glen.