“Look
how small she is.”
“Heart!
What a funny color.”
“I’ll
bet she has a dumb name.”
“Why
doesn’t she just behave instead of throwing such an embarrassing temper
tantrum?”
“She
probably never learned how to behave out there in the wild.”
“She
looks stupid!”
“Blaze!
What have I told you about such language?”
The
three mares and the colt in the paddock watched as some human wranglers dragged
a little mustang mare into the corral. Her dull yellow coat was speckled with
dirt and sweat. Dark eyes huge, she bucked and reared, kicked and swung her
head about.
One
of the onlookers, a big black shire mare, said, “She’s certainly not as bad as
some, though. Remember that one mustang? Tiger Eye, I think her name was.
Heart, she was a pretty one. But they used her as a bucking bronco, until she
escaped.”
The
chestnut thoroughbred at her side giggled. “I liked her, even though she called
me names. This new one’s so funny. I hope we get to meet her.”
“You
were just saying a minute ago that you bet she had a dumb name,” said the last
mare, a pretty bay Dutch warm blood.
The
thoroughbred laughed again. “A dumb name, maybe, but I still want to meet her,
Denver.”
Denver
shrugged and looked back at the mustang. Such big, terrified eyes . . . she
felt her heart go out to her, even though she knew the mare would be taken good
care of. The ranchers were kind, and they fed you carrots and sugar cubes. If
only this one knew. “Do you think she’ll be all right, Camelot?” Denver asked
the shire.
Camelot
snorted. “Perhaps, if she gets it under control.”
The
wranglers closed the corral gate behind the mustang, who tore little circles
inside it. Denver moved away from the other mares and sidled up to the fence
closest to the corral. The colt, Blaze, followed. The mustang swung around to
look at Denver and glared.
“Whatcha
lookin’ at, brownie?” she snapped.
Denver
started, but reminded herself that this was a roguish mustang, not expected to
know manners. She cleared her throat and said, “Um, hello, and welcome to
Double Cross Ranch. I’m Denver. What’s your name?”
“Shut
it, brownie, I’m in no mood to chat.” And the mare rolled her eyes and spat
into the dust.
Denver
shied and swished her tail in front of Blaze’s sensitive eyes. “Mom,” he
growled, pushing it back with his nose.
“Hey,
you’re a cute one!” said the thoroughbred, bounding up out of nowhere.
“Strawberry!
She doesn’t want to talk,” hissed Denver. The mustang glared at Strawberry, who
only giggled.
“C’mon,
what’s your name? We’ll be your friends. You don’t want to be in a totally new
place and have no friends!”
“Beat
it!” screamed the mare and swinging around, kicked at the fence. The horses on
the other side jumped aside, eyes huge.
Camelot
trotted up. “Maybe she is as bad.”
