The rest of the rodeo was a wonderful, heat-soaked, dusty, noisy, indulgent blur. After scowling at Wildfire’s former owner as I paid him my hundred dollar prize money and got my bill of sale, I talked and laughed with dozens of different people until my cheeks felt like rubber from smiling so much. We watched the Downhill Mountain Race, breathless, as the horses and riders careened down the mountain in their headlong, hazardous dash to the finish line. I visited the talkative yearling again to give him a shoulder scratch, and Kestrel, Jon, and I ate heavenly gooey burgers, soggy fries, and sweet, greasy mini donuts until our stomachs churned in protest.
I tried giving some attention to Wildfire now and then, but other than accepting some food and water, she didn’t want anything to do with me. I didn’t blame her. I still hadn’t given her what I promised. Instead, I was enjoying myself and making her wait. I knew I was going to set her free, but she had no idea if I’d keep my word or not. Considering that, plus how badly she hated humans, she was really quite civil to me.
Finally, three hours before sundown, Kestrel’s mom told us to start back. I borrowed a halter and lead rope from Jon for Wildfire, said goodbye to all my new friends, and we started the long trek home. Jon and Caroline rode with us until the turn-off to their house, and a lot of other people were heading home as well. It wasn’t until we were almost at Kestrel’s ranch that we were finally alone.
It was weird – I’d been so happy to hear all the noise and excitement of the rodeo, but now the glorious silence sounded just as delightful. Not that it was a complete hush; there was the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the hard packed dirt road, the birds warbling, the wind rustling the leaves, a distant cowbell, but these were all normal, everyday sounds. And then from behind us came the sound of a trotting horse.
I looked back to see a crimson red horse and his rider catching up to us – Redwing and Charlie – while leading a bay and white pinto. Kestrel and I stopped to wait for them.
Charlie’s eyes roamed over Wildfire as he approached us. “You didn’t buy that crazy mare, did you, Evy?” he asked.
“I sure did,” I said, sticking out my chin. “But she’s not crazy, Charlie. She’s just misunderstood.”
Kestrel laughed beside me.
Charlie stopped Redwing and the pinto edged around him to sniff at Wildfire. “Well, if anyone can speak to her, you can.”
Kestrel raised her eyebrows at this and I scowled at Charlie. Why did he have to hint about my gift in front of Kestrel? It’s already a miracle that she’s never guessed, and clues like that don’t help.
“I’m going to let her go live with the wild stallion,” I said quickly to change the topic. “I’m hoping he’ll give up on Cocoa if he has a mare of his own.”
Charlie laughed.
“What?” asked Kestrel. “Don’t you think it will work?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Charlie, his face lining around his grin. “I think it’ll work so good that I had the same idea. I brought you this pinto to give to the mustang.”
“Really?” What awesome news. Surely, he’d leave Cocoa alone if he had two mares to take care of and protect. “How did you get her?”
“She’s a donation. Her owner said she gets lame if she’s worked hard a couple days in a row. He needs a horse that he can take out on week-long hunting trips, so he has no use for her.”
“Will she be okay out in the bush?”
“She’ll be fine. She won’t be packing gear thirty or forty miles a day out there.”
“She’s cute. What’s her name?” asked Kestrel, leaning down to stroke the intelligent, blazed face.
“He didn’t say.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. At least Charlie didn’t tell Kestrel to ask me for her name. However, I could do just that. And I would, as soon as there were no humans around to notice if I acted distracted.
“We better get going. I have to be home before dark.” I reached for the pinto’s lead rope.
“You don’t mind finding the stallion?” he asked, handing her over.
I shook my head. “Not even a little bit. Stop by the next time you’re out our way to get the halter and lead rope.”
He nodded. “See you soon, then.” He turned Redwing away and started back toward town. They were loping before he turned the corner, obviously in a hurry to get back.
“I can take her,” Kestrel said, holding out her hand. I passed the pinto’s lead rope over, and we were off.
The pinto really was a sweetie. She seemed bright and perky, and wasn’t obstinate about being led, like Wildfire. No pulling back or racing ahead for her. And her emotions were lovely to sense. She had a bright way of looking at life, as if she completely believed that everything was going to turn out for the best. And maybe it would for her. Things have a way of working out for those who think it will, at least eventually. I couldn’t help but hope that her upbeat attitude would help poor Wildfire feel better about life too. The chestnut mare still looked awfully fearful and depressed, even though her previous owner no longer had control over her.
It was already mid-evening when we reached Kestrel’s, but we had to stop. Since her parents and sisters weren’t home yet, Kestrel left a note on the kitchen table saying she was going to my house to help me and would be home the next afternoon. Then she grabbed a letter from the counter, some cookies from the jar, and we were off again.
“A reply from Ally,” she said, waving the envelope in the air as we left the house. “I forgot to tell you this morning.”
“Wow, that’s fast. Maybe she has some news for us.”
“Do you want to read it now?” she asked, as we mounted our horses.
“Let’s wait. Mom will never let me out again if I don’t get home in time.” Plus, I needed to scan for the wild stallion. If the letter held interesting news about my mom or Edward, I’d have a lot harder time concentrating on mustangs.
Even as Kestrel and I kept up a perma-chatter, I kept my horse senses wide open, hoping to pick up the wild stallion. I preferred to turn Wildfire and the pinto loose before we got home because then there wouldn’t be so many questions, but there wasn’t a peep from him as we rode along. Could he have given up on stealing Cocoa and left our area to start his herd elsewhere? If so, what was I going to do with these two horses? Mom wouldn’t be super thrilled to have two more dependents, one recurringly lame and another who hated people.
More than once, as we talked and rode through the dying light, I was struck by how much I was going to miss Kestrel when she went to school. My life was going to nosedive when she left, and now that the rodeo was over, that nosedive loomed just on the horizon.
“I love the sunset,” said Kestrel, when we finished talking about her conversation with the girl who owned the fleet-footed pinto.
I turned. The sky was awesome – and then it turned from awesome to stunningly amazing. The slanting sunrays sparked the clouds, turning them to flame: red and vermillion and crimson and cherry. The light smoldered so bright that everything around us glowed. Rusty looked pink and Twitchy was dark maroon, while the trees and grasses and bushes all claimed varying radiant shades between.
How much time would pass before we rode through another amazing sunset together? Beside me, Kestrel sighed contentedly. I copied her, but my sigh sounded more dissatisfied than anything. If only she’d tell me she wasn’t going away to school. If only she’d change her mind. But I knew that was one thing she would tell me as soon as she decided, if she decided to stay. She’d only delay telling me the truth if she’d already decided to go – and since she hadn’t said anything yet, I could only hope she hadn’t decided yet.
Mom was waiting for us on the porch when we rode around the last corner. As soon as she saw us, she slumped a little – relieved, I guess. She’d told me to get home at sunset and the sunset was fading already. She hurried down the porch steps, then walked briskly to greet us, her arms wrapped around her middle and Loonie at her heels.
“I hope she doesn’t mind that I came for the night,” Kestrel said, her dark hair glowing with the last of the sunset’s red.
“She’ll be glad. She loves it when you come. She might not be too glad to see Wildfire and the pinto though.”
Kestrel looked at me. “I didn’t know you named her.”
“It just seemed to suit her.”
“It really suits her. She’s red chestnut, has a fiery personality, and was a little out of control today. Sounds like a wildfire to me.”
I laughed. “That’s totally her. But let’s keep the out-of-control thing to ourselves, okay?”
“I’ll let you do all the explaining,” Kestrel said.
And then Mom reached us. “I’m so glad to see you, Evy.” She put her hand on my knee and gazed up into my face with reddened eyes – and the red wasn’t a sunset reflection. She’d been crying.
“We’re not late, Mom, and I was perfectly safe today.”
Her face contorted as she tried to rein her emotions in enough to speak. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why? What for?” I didn’t get what the big deal was. So I’d gone to a rodeo, and then I’d come home. Nothing else had happened. Except, oh yeah, bringing home two new horses. But Wildfire and the pinto couldn’t be causing this extreme reaction, could they? Maybe it was our fight. Guilt spiked me in the heart. I had been awfully mean to her.
“The horse…”
“I’m not planning to keep them, I promise,” I said with relief. So it was the two extra horses that were upsetting her. “They’re here for just a day or so.”
Mom looked confused for a moment, then shook her head. “No, no.”
“It’s something else. Something’s wrong,” Kestrel said quietly beside me.
Mom nodded, then her tear-filled eyes caught mine again. “This morning, I took my time coming back. I did some sketches and didn’t get home until early afternoon.”
“Yeah?” I said, still not understanding. What was so terrible about her stopping to sketch?
“While I was gone, that horse, the wild one, he came here.” Emotion threatened to stop her voice again.
And then a horrible thought shot into my mind. Twilight. But she’d been in her stall when we left that morning. She’d been protected. The wild stallion wouldn’t have gone into the barn. He couldn’t have opened her stall door.
Immediately, I reached out to touch her mind. She had to be here, she just had to be here.
But she wasn’t.
“I took so long that Twilight must’ve fiddled with the catch on her stall door until she opened it. She was free when he arrived,” Mom said. “And he took her. And I’m so sorry, Evy. So sorry.”