Disclaimer: "Me-e no own-ee dee Black-kuh." Which is how some Chinese say it.
A/N: 'Elo ppl! It's been a long time…'ope ya enjoy, and please R&R!!
Chapter 22
"What?! Are you sure?"
Moon nodded solemnly. "Dead sure. He came over, you see. He was the one who caught me, and he tied me to the post. He's their leader." She jerked her head towards the tents, silver mane flying. "His nephew's here too."
My mouth was dry, but I had to know.
"Do they know about me?"
Moon shook her head. "No. Not yet, anyway. But they're guessing…and…Spirit …they suspect you are who you are."
I managed one word. "How?"
"Well…one thing…there's the way you look…and your size and color–dun is a very rare color…and…there's the way you run."
"What way?" What difference did it make, which way I ran? I mean, all horses run…
"Look at the way I ran. We run with our weight back, using our hind legs to push us forward. It's the proper way of running. Looks nicer, see. Untrained horses, or horses that haven't been taught to run the right way often run with their front hooves, their weight forward." She attempted to demonstrate. I stopped her. Our pounding hooves probably hadn't woken the humans, since the thick snow muffled the hoofbeats, but I could see one of the Quarter horses fidgeting.
"Shh." I nudged her, jerked my head towards the Quarter horses, and nodded, backing away.
"Have you tried talking to them?" My voice was a whisper.
"No. I haven't been close enough to do so."
An idea had entered my head, one that came from Mother. When she escaped, she'd talked three other horses into escaping with her. Those three had gotten caught later, but then that didn't matter anymore, because Mother had still gotten away.
If she could convince three proud headstrong Thoroughbreds to run away with her, I was sure I could do the same thing with six quiet Quarter Horses.
"Hey." I moved close to one of them, a red roan mare.
"Shh. Hey, wake up!" My nose touched her neck. She raised her head sleepily.
"Hello, hi…" Her eyes were sill half shut. The brown gelding next to her threw up his head and let out a dreamy snort.
I chanced a nip. The mare's eyes flew open. They flew to Moon, then came back to me.
"Umm…" Now that I was here, what was I supposed to say?
Whatever it was, this mare seemed frozen in terror, or surprise, I don't know.
I gave up and ambled over to the brown gelding.
"Wake up! Sir?"
He just turned away, or as far as the rope would let him.
I moved down the line, waking them with nudges or nips. The last horse, a light gray mare, was tied nearest to the tents, and for an instant, I hesitated. Leery about going closer to the humans, I rocked back and forth before going back along the line, wishing someone would come to their senses.
Finally. Three horses' heads were up. I whuffed in their faces and watched their eyes spring open.
And close the next instant.
How ever did these horses wake up?
"Try hitting them," Moon called.
Okay…hit them…but which? I went around to the still-petrified roan mare and threw my shoulder against hers.
I'd expected her to jerk awake, maybe, or jump and say, "Hey what are you doing?"
I certainly hadn't expected what she did next.
The roan mare quivered and fell against the horse next to her, the brown gelding. He bumped her back, snorting angrily, only in doing that, his hindquarters hit the next horse. I watched as the movement swept down the entire line of horses, somehow like dominoes. Watched as the horse next to the light gray mare swung out his hindquarters to kick an imaginary enemy (his neighbor had whacked his head on the horse's) and hit her.
The moment the horse's hooves touched the light gray mare, she jumped a foot in the air and let out a piercing shriek of pain. Then she turned on the horse who had kicked her and sank her teeth in his neck.
That horse twisted and turned and tried to get his teeth in her neck, only the light gray mare wouldn't let go.
I stayed to watch only that part, then bolted for cover as tent flaps were zipped open and the humans stumbled out. They immediately ran over to the horses, quieting them, while others bent down and examined my tracks leading to and from the horses and Moon.
Miraculously, they didn't follow me.
I caught Moon's eye and mouthed, "I'll be back."
She nodded and I slipped off.
That night, I was back. Only this time, instead of going into their tents, the humans made a huge fire and sat around it.
They were waiting for me.
This time, Moon was tied even further away from them, as though they hoped that by doing that, I would be bolder.
I waited.
They waited.
I waited some more.
I waited till they were curled up on the ground, wrapped in blankets, the fire smoldering under the snow that was falling heavily again, before going closer.
This time, Moon smelled me, knew I was there.
We talked in low whispers, her eyes fixed on the sleeping humans, mine on the sleeping Quarter Horses, me tense and nervous and ready to bolt if there was any movement.
"Spirit, we've got to go now. Tonight."
"Why?"
"Tomorrow, half of them are staying, and the other half are taking me back. I heard them talking a little while ago. Sims and another human, his nephew I think, they're not planning on leaving unless you're caught too. The other three humans…" She trailed off.
"Bad setback." I shook my head. "There's nothing we can do." I glanced at the horses. Humans asleep were harmless humans, because they are sound sleepers (sounder sleepers than horses anyway). But those horses…one whiff of my scent and they would…I wasn't sure what they would do, but I could guess it would be nasty.
"Can you pull the rope taut? I know, I know, I can't bite through it, but I still have to try."
She walked to the end of it, leaned back, and held it steady with her weight. I began hacking at it with my teeth.
Just clomping down and pulling didn't seem to work, so I set to grinding it.
No luck.
I dropped it (still taut), put a hoof on it, and pressed, hoping it would snap.
No luck either.
So, I made for the post and began fiddling with the knots with my teeth.
Tough rope. Tough post.
I went back to sawing.
Half of the night must have gone by, and only half the rope was cut through. It began snowing harder. The wind came, stronger than ever, driving snowflakes against our bodies and legs, threatening to blow us over. I could barely see the human tents, and the fire had gone out long ago. Moon was a slip of a shadow, nearly invisible.
The snow was piling up all around us, halfway up to my knees already.
Was it my imagination, or were there dark shapes stumbling to and fro?
"Spirit." The rope went slack as Moon fought her way over. "Spirit, they've gone back to their tents. They're sitting there, tent flaps partly open, watching, but I don't think they've seen you yet."
So the humans were up.
I nodded, she backed away, and I started again.
Then, the wind changed direction. It was now blowing toward the horses, against my back.
They would wake up in an instant. I worked faster.
One of them (I don't know which) tossed his/her head.
Stupid rope. Only a few tough strands were left.
It was snowing harder than ever. I couldn't see Moon anymore, though I could guess where she was by the direction of the rope.
"Hold on," I called blindly.
The plastic was cutting into my tongue, chafing against the corners of my mouth.
I didn't see the human until she was almost standing before me.
Then, I let go of the rope.
We faced each other, me, squinting, the human female frozen upright.
Out of the darkness, Moon's voice came, frantic. "What are you doing? Run!"
I turned, but before I could take a step, someone called.
"Spirit?"
And I stopped.
That voice. It was familiar.
Very familiar.
It brought to mind apples and sugar and carrots and laughter.
It brought to mind a human girl.
Chaya.
Chaya?!?
What was she doing here?
Forgetting everything else, I ambled forward, disbelieving.
It really was her.
Relief washing over in waves, I put my head over her shoulder, the way I used to.
"Hey boy!" She rubbed my neck with one hand.
And then I saw the rope in her other hand.
And I knew.
One step, two steps. I kept stepping backwards.
No. No way.
Chaya was my friend, wasn't she? She wouldn't throw that thing around my neck, would she?
She wouldn't catch me, bring me back, take me away from here.
She would have wanted me to be free.
She wouldn't. Chaya wouldn't. Chaya would let me go. Chaya would turn around and walk back and she would let me go…would she?
"Spirit…" Her voice broke. She was biting her lip.
Her free hand crept into her pocket. Out came a knife. For a moment, she glanced between the two–rope…and knife.
And she hesitated. I could just see the battle in her mind – on one hand, Spirit, her horse, and his freedom, and on the other hand, Sims, and his order. And the rope.
Come on…
I saw her come forward, saw her raise the rope, saw her widen the noose.
Move feet, move! Only this time, I was frozen in place, appalled, uncomprehending.
She was going to do it then. Catch me. Tie me up.
The rope dropped over my neck. I closed my eyes and sighed, expecting to be led away, expecting to be tied to a post.
Expecting to be taken.
Sadness washing over in waves. A heaviness. Something that I couldn't describe. Remorse. Regret. I shouldn't have trusted her after all.
And I thought I could. I had.
Except that nothing happened to me.
I opened my eyes.
The rope was still hanging loosely around my neck. So loose in fact, I could still slip my head through.
And Chaya was on her knees, hacking away at Moon's rope with her knife, my rope trailing on the ground.
I watched, unbelievingly, feeling an inexplicable joy, a lightness.
Chaya is my friend after all! This could have cost her her job, but she was doing it because she wanted to…
"I got him!" she yelled, then reached over and gave my rope two jerks.
Suddenly, I understood. She was going to make it look like she had caught me, only Moon and I had both gotten away. That way, she wouldn't take the blame and we could still go free. That was why my noose had been left hanging almost to my knees.
So, I did my part. Rearing and whinnying shrilly, I attacked the post, buying Chaya time as she worked frantically to get the job done.
I kicked.
I whirled.
I bucked.
I threw my shoulder against it. I ran to the lengths of the rope and strained, making it look like I was going berserk.
The, when Moon pulled free, I jumped backwards, head lowered, felt the rope slide onto my neck and catch against my ears.
One toss of the head and I was free.
Chaya raised a hand and slapped Moon on the flank.
Moon bolted. I bolted. And as we ran, I glanced back.
Chaya was running back toward camp, waving her arms, yelling, "Oh no! They got loose!"
Thank you, I told her silently.
We ran, Moon's head held sideways so as not to trip on the trailing rope. And when we'd rounded the corner, we heard the hooves.
They were coming after us, only this time, we would get away.
I grinned at Moon. She grinned back. We poured on speed.
It was exhilarating, until I suddenly realized we were going the wrong way.
We were going back the way I came last night. Up ahead, was Dead Horse Canyon and the Spanning Bridge. With the mound of snow underneath, blocking our way.
"Oh no."
Moon glanced at me. "Don't tell me we're lost again."
"No…it's just…up ahead, there's a–"
"–dead end," she supplied. And sighed.
I veered off right and stopped, against the canyon wall.
"Hey wait! Where are you going?" She pulled up opposite me, on the left canyon wall.
"We wait for–"panting, I jerked my head back at the approaching humans.. "Then, when they're past, we go that way…"
"Okay…"
We waited. Until we saw that they were riding in a line, straight across the gorge.
"Bad setback." I dove out of my hiding place and began running towards the humans, Moon hot on my heels.
"Do you realize that that's the second time you've said that tonight?"
I nodded, breathless, not caring.
As we approached, I could see the shock in three of their faces, and glee on one. They had expected us to run away from them, not at them.
The horses' eyes widened. We swept by, through the line of stunned humans and horses, looking back as they recovered and spurred on their mounts, Chaya still grinning from ear to ear.
I looked back and counted one, two three…four?
Where was the fifth human?
I counted again.
Four…
"SPIRIT!!" Moon screamed. I turned my head and saw something nearly on top of me, something that loomed huge and blackened the sky. The last rider!
Desperate, I veered left, towards Moon.
Too late! Horse and rider leapt down from the ledge and crashed down on me.
I fell.
Moon paused. "Keep running!" I yelled.
Somehow, I fought free of the tangle of ropes and legs and bodies.
Only to find that it was only the horse, and that the rider was up on the other horse, the extra horse they'd brought. And he was bearing down on me, lasso in hand.
Ahhh!!
I was up on my feet and running. The other three horsemen closed in around me, driving me towards somewhere.
Where?
And then I saw the beginning of the trails that led up to the platform where Moon had been caught. I saw their camp.
They were planning on cornering us at the top.
"Moon!" I came to run beside her. Together, side by side, we swept up the tiny footpaths, me in the back.
The platform!
"That way!"
I didn't know where we were going. All I knew was that up was good, because up led to the mesas.
And this was up.
"I know. Don't tell me: we're lost again."
"Right-o. Listen to me: you know the trail we were taking when you got caught? When this trail branches, take the right hand side and it'll lead to that trail. Just follow it to the top. Keep running and whatever you do, don't look back. When you reach the top, look for any kind of cover and wait for me there. If you hear screams, don't wait for me anymore, because it means I won't be coming."
Then, something hit me on the rump.
A rope!
"Faster!" she panted. We raced up the incline, laboring against gravity, panting for breath, muscles screaming, lungs burning, with one goal in mind: get to the top.
Now, we were swinging our heads as we ran, hoping the ropes wouldn't hit their mark, hearing the lassoes whirling, feeling the fear.
Suddenly, Moon disappeared. Up the right trail, I hope, although I wasn't exactly sure…
I was alone now. They were after me–all five of them–and they'd forgotten about Moon because they wanted to catch me instead. So, I led them upwards, threading my way through obstacles, running so fast the wind was whistling in my ears, stinging my eyes, so fast that everything was a blur of color, confusing, misleading, just as everything was confusing and misleading in my mind.
Getting Somewhere didn't matter now, because right now, all I was doing was running, hoping I would lose them before I got to the top, just running, just staying away from them, from their ropes. It was all suddenly very simple: keep running, stay free, stop running, get captured. Leading them somewhere wasn't important anymore; there was jut one trail anyway, and I couldn't go back.
So I ran. And somewhere, when everything was blurs of color, I thought I saw something–a fleeting shape, a huge, black flowing something running along beside me–on air.
Which really is impossible.
And suddenly, I was stopping, stopping so fast my feet were skidding, sliding to a halt, stones crashing down from my hooves, because that was it–the trail had ended–out into open space.
Suddenly, my mind was clear; I knew where I was, I knew what I was doing, and what I must do, and everything became clear, if not in slow motion.
I turned to look back. The horsemen were sitting on their horses, sitting with stunned shocked expressions on their faces, as I knew mine was too, because he was there.
Him.
The black stallion.
The black stallion.
The one who had appeared in my paddock all those months ago and kicked Steele out of it, the one who was running beside me on the Belmont, and the one who was standing here now, feet braced, blocking the humans' way across the trail, saying silently with his eyes, Stop.
But this time, I knew who he was. Or at least, I thought so.
He stood there, mane and tail streaming, silent, regal, majestic, appearing whenever I'd needed him most, (which included now, when I needed help more than ever), and I knew he was the same and always will be, from the time when he rescued the red-headed boy from the sea, when he burned up the tracks and became the most famous horse in the world, when he sired numerous foals, and down, down through the years, always watching over us, just as he was now watching over me, the very last horse in the world through whose veins his blood ran…
"The Black?" I whispered.
The stallion flicked an ear back, but didn't move otherwise. The humans appeared to be in a spell, eyes fixed on his, frozen, not moving, just like I was, drinking in his proud head, flowing body, spellbound.
"Hi-yahhh!!!"
Apparently, not all the humans.
A rope was thrown around my neck. I jerked out of my trance, neighing in terror as my feet were pulled out from under me and I crashed down heavily on the ledge, which I now remembered being called as the Dead Horse Rock (don't ask me why; it's of no relation to Dead Horse Canyon).
For a moment, stars were dancing in front of my eyes, but I was scrambling up, and my head was clearing.
"Hello boy."
I went cold.
He was sitting on his horse there, holding the rope around my neck and another one around my left hind leg.
"Fancy us meeting here… most unusual place for a reunion of old friends, don't you think?"
Once again, I was swamped with Sims' loathsome smell–disgusting, revolting, nauseating, till I wanted to throw him clear off the ledge, only I knew one small movement and he would jerk the ropes and I would either: a) choke, or b) fall.
I don't like either choice.
And neither would you.
He dismounted and his horse backed down to the trail, probably disliking dizzying heights.
Carefully keeping an eye on Sims, I walked to the edge and peeked over.
The cliff went on and on and on. Other cliffs rose beside it, though not so dizzyingly high. I craned my neck back and saw a wide stretch of open barren land behind us (or rather, below us) that would have been green in spring–the mesa.
This place was so high, so dizzyingly high, that I didn't even want to think about falling, incase it should happen.
"Here!"
I was yanked back. The rope around my neck started to tighten. A white bandana was tied around my eyes–now all I could see were vague shadows and blurry outlines.
Gritting my teeth, I lunged against the ropes–and pulled up short, gasping for the air that my burning lungs couldn't get.
"That nice? Huh?"
The rope was pulled tighter. Black dots began dancing around the edges of my vision. I gagged and choked.
"Know what I want? You think I want you back…well that's right…and not quite right…"
My knees were swaying. Mouth open, tongue lolling, I sank down. He sank with me.
"I want more. I wanted to get your mother back. I wanted to get you back. Do YOU HEAR ME??!!!?!?!"
His voice was echoing strangely.
"I want my life back! I want to get back to training big-time! I want the honor and respect I used to command!!! And you know what? I don't have it! I don't have it all!!!" He laughed, head tilted back. I could remember dimly wondering if he had gone crazy.
Maybe he had.
"Everything I've got, I poured into my work, and you took it away!!! You and your runaway of a mother…" The last few words, he was pounding the ground with his fist.
Lying on my side, the rope started to slacken. I gulped in air.
Sims continued ranting. "But I've got you now…only you won't bring my life back…"
He really thought I could understand him!
After a while, he quieted down. Carefully keeping the rope slack, I rose and started to make my way down the ledge, back to the trail where the black stallion was still keeping the horsemen petrified.
"Oh no you don't!" Sims yelled.
The next instant, he jumped on my back, and from then on, everything was a constant blur of color. Panicking, I did the only thing I could think of to get him off: I reared and flailed my forefeet. When I came down, I bucked. On the narrow ledge of Dead Horse Rock, I rolled on the ground.
I fought. I went for Sims, tearing at his clothes, his arms, his hair–everything I could reach with my teeth.
Then I reared again.
I stayed up as long as I could. Then, I did one stupid thing: I tried to buck while rearing. One hoof slipped and we went over backwards. I could remember neighing shrilly because I thought we were going over the cliff. I remember thrashing frantically, pawing the ground with my hooves.
Everything was like that: flashes and blurs of color one moment, amazingly in slow motion the next.
And then, suddenly, we were lying, me, on my side, with my head half-raised, him, dangling, only holding on with his hands.
"Arrrghhhhh!!!!" He leapt like a cat and fastened on to my mane. We started sliding.
He knew he was going down and he was going to bring me down with him!
I paddled with my hooves, desperate for any traction. The ground was cold and hard, digging into my skin as Sims slid downwards, and pulled me to my doom with him. My neck was starting to hurt. He was actually hanging on by handfuls of my mane!!
My head was level with the edge! My nose was actually hanging over!! I glanced down and felt my stomach drop.
"Wind…" Now it wasn't Sims the mad, revengeful, trainer. He was Sims, and ordinary man like all the rest, and I found that he wasn't invincible after all–that he was a human too–he had strengths, he had faults, and he could be afraid.
For a moment, his mask was gone and I could see deep into his eyes, see what he could have become if not for the circumstances–an excellent, trainer, kind to his horses, who would have done the world a lot of good. If he had not been the man he was, and if I hadn't had a reason to hate him, to dislike him, if I had just been an ordinary racehorse without mustang blood, I might have bonded with him, and we might have become the greatest horse and trainer in all of track history. And for a moment, I found myself wondering what would have happened if my mother hadn't escaped.
The next moment, the vulnerable look disappeared and the hatred returned. And I remembered something Mother had told me before: that no matter what the circumstances, you choose to be who you are right now. Everything is by choice–you choose to feel what you feel, choose to do what to do, choose to become what you become, so that what you are right now isn't anyone else's fault but yours.
And I felt the dislike coming back, the mutual hatred washing away the pity, and this hate gave me strength.
For a moment, we were eye to eye, our noses inches from each other's, then I gathered my strength and yanked free.
"Ahhhhhhh!!!!!" His voice was drawn out in a long wail. I looked over the edge and watched him falling downwards, taking handfuls of my mane with him.
And breathed a sigh of relief.
I stood up on shaky legs, sure what had happened would be forever imprinted on my mind.
He was a good trainer. Not a good man, but a good trainer.
So, in spite of myself, I bowed my head.
My hooves clacked hollowly as I clattered my way down from the edge, down, down back to the trail, still not believing I'd done what I did.
The black stallion had turned his head and was watching me.
Suddenly, I felt shy and intimidated all at once. I couldn't meet his steady gaze.
I stopped when I was beside him.
I owed him my life. So, I reached forward, touched his nose with mine, and
told him silently, Thank you.
Somehow, he understood.
He was still watching me as I walked down the trail, away from the ledge, away from him, away from the humans, and down, down, down back to the platform, because I only knew my way to the mesa from the platform, and not from anywhere else.
Then, up, up up the right trail, up to the mesa and–
"Wind!!" Chaya rubbed my nose, and beside her–!!
Moon?!
"Hey! I thought I told you to hide!!"
She grinned, relieved to see me, then explained, "I heard the yelling. So sorry, I really was curious, so I stayed around. And look!"
She showed me her feet, shoe-free, and nodded to the pile of metal lying on the ground. "I can't believe how light it is!"
"Wind?" Chaya scratched my ears. "You can understand me…can't you? Sims was always saying you could, but I didn't believe him…until now…"
Her voice was different. She was choking up, and trails of water were making their way down her face, just like they had when Sandstorm died.
Chaya was crying. She threw her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder, her shoulders shaking.
Don't cry, I wanted to tell her. Don't cry for me, be happy for me…
"I who–what you are…"Her voice was muffled. "And I think they should never have taken you off the range in the first place…because you belong with them…now I understand why you were so wild, why you never were tamed…"
She let go of me. Moon came around and put her head over Chaya's shoulder. "Bye…be a good filly…"
My turn. I breathed in the scent of her, knowing this was probably the last time we would meet, that I might never see Chaya again.
"I'll miss you guys…" She hugged us both.
"Now you…" She was talking to me between sobs. "You take good care of her…and both of you…" She was talking to the two of us. "Stay mustangs forever…"
Pounding hoofbeats made me raise my head. Chaya looked back too. "They're coming. Go!!"
And then, we were running, going into a gallop, our hooves pounding on the ground as we ran away, away from the humans, away from her…
I turned and watched as Chaya became steadily smaller and smaller, waving at us, until she was completely swallowed up by the now-distant cliffs.
I faced forward and threw a buck for happiness.
We were running as my father and mother had done all those years ago, running with our heads down low and our hooves pounding the ground; running with the wind in our faces, lifting our manes and tails.
Going home.