Wanted: Sharpshooter

WANTED: SHARPSHOOTER

by

Florence Witkop

Copyright Florence Witkop 2012

Smashwords Edition

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CHAPTER 1

The sun was dropping fast but if the horses hadn't got too far I'd have them back before nightfall. Before Sensible Sioux got nervous and refused to obey the rein. She's a love, large and rangy and eager to move, and the only horse in the place that didn't follow Walkabout through the break in the fence and into the forest. But Sioux doesn’t like the dark and there was only a half hour of light left.

Don't worry, I’ll find them. I ignored the waning day. This should be easy. I knew horses and how to handle them and, in the off chance we didn't get back before dark, I knew the forest, even at night. I'll bring them back.

Carlos was concerned. They might be hard to find if they didn't stay on the trails. If they wandered into an aspen thicket or any of a dozen places I can think of with trees thick as fleas on a hound dog.

If it's getting dark when I round them up, I'll take a shortcut. Through an abandoned farm near the stable. It had few trees, and the open fields held every lingering ray of sun as long as possible.

I sat tall in the saddle and kept Sensible Sioux in check as if I hadn't a care in the world as I waited for Carlos to open the gate. He hobbled, slowed by the cast on his leg and making no effort to hide his irritation. Darn that Walkabout. More like a mule than a horse if you ask me. Even while chastising the horse that had caused all the trouble, there was no anger in Carlos. He likes horses too much. No other horse would even notice that tiny hole in the fence, let alone go through it. But that darn horse saw it and went for a stroll and took every other horse in the place with him.

Stop worrying, I'll find them.

Carlos scowled, sizing me up and down as one hand shielded his face from the late sun. Why couldn't Walkabout have gone for a stroll in the morning? Then you'd have all day to get them back. His gaze roved over the forest that had swallowed the very expensive horses that had been brought to Green Forest Stables for training, most of them for distance riding, that today had followed the gelding nicknamed Walkabout through a hole in the fence.

As Sioux and I ambled towards the trees, I heard Carlos' muttered comment. Damn fence. Followed by, Damn leg. Then louder so I'd be sure to hear. When you find Walkabout, give him a good talking-to. Followed by more muttering I couldn't understand.

Walkabout was at Green Forest to learn manners as well as to train for distance events. So he now knew that it wasn’t polite to head for the nearest tree every time his owner climbed into the saddle so as to wipe her off his back. Carlos hadn't yet, however, cured him of his penchant for going for a stroll whenever the mood struck and taking every nearby horse with him.

I liked Walkabout. He was a darling, lovable, easy-going horse with a rollicking sense of humor. He was probably laughing out loud at that very moment, watching from behind some Jackpine tree, intrigued by the commotion his impulsive walk had created.

Carlos’ scowl deepened as he closed the gate. I should be doing this, Maggie, not you. Horses are supposed to be my job. Managing the stable is yours.

I pulled Sioux to a stop. Managing the stables includes doing whatever is necessary and right now that’s finding and bringing back some runaway horses.

He scowled again, something he'd done a lot lately. We need help.

The owners of Green Forest were more than willing to pay for more help. They'd even had rooms for extra people included when the place was built. And, to be honest, we'd had help now and then. But being a good boss isn't my strong suit so no one stayed for long. So, in a way, it was my fault and mine alone that we were in this predicament. If anyone comes looking for a job while I’m gone, hire him.

Watching Carlos hobble to close the gate, I wished I was a better boss. Better people person. Less critical. Next time I went to town, I'd swallow my pride and put another ad in the paper. And this time, if anyone answered, I'd be nice.

The forest closed around me, and I urged Sioux on. The trees were steeple tall and green with constantly changing colors, at first the soft green of spring, but as time passed they became dark and brooding, a reminder that the hour was growing late. I shook the reins, Sioux flicked her ears forward to let me know she understood, and her gait changed to a fast trot. And just like that, we entered the thickest part of the woods and left the world of sunlight behind.

The horses had stayed on the trail so it was easy to follow their tracks, even in the dimness. And they hadn't been in a hurry, they'd just gone for a stroll so I caught up with them before the light disappeared completely, though when I saw them as I rounded a curve in the trail, the sun was only visible at the tops of the trees, with occasional rays filtering down that were barely enough to make out the horses' tracks.

They were unrepentant but glad to see me. They'd had their stroll and were ready to return to their stalls and dinner. Even Walkabout was eager to end his adventure. He stood quietly as I slipped a halter over his head and clipped a lead to it because, where Walkabout went, the rest would also go. Then I turned Sioux towards home, with Walkabout following tamely. When we set off, the rest of the horses followed like a bunch of innocent lambs.

But I was nervous. The sun was dropping all too quickly. Beneath the evergreens the light was almost gone. I urged them into a fast pace, hoping to leave the area of old-growth trees before the last glimmering of light disappeared because, in the north country even when the sun disappears completely in the forest, the long summer evenings keep the night at bay in open areas. I decided to take that shortcut across the abandoned farm and I wanted to reach it as quickly as possible.

I set a fast pace until we reached the large clearing that had was now an overgrown field dotted with patches of new forest in the form of fast-growing Jackpines. Glad to have reached it before true dark, I turned Sioux towards the field, knowing she'd go willingly because she knew home was on the other side.

She didn't move. She fought the rein. Stopped. Raised her head. Sniffed the air. Reared backwards in a movement so unexpected that I was almost unseated. When she came down, she danced sidewise and fought for her head even as I tried to turn her towards the field. Hey, girl, this is the way home. The easy way. Food awaits. Grain. I fought her to a standstill though her ears were still flat against her head, and I clucked. Go.

She refused. Absolutely refused. She knew the way well, had run free across that field many times. Still, she refused so adamantly that eventually I gave up and let her turn back towards the road.

We circled the deserted farm field in fast growing darkness, with me seething with frustration, glad only that we were on our way home and Sioux was once again the pleasant horse I knew and loved. Halfway around the field, though, even that changed. Passing a small stand of Jackpines, her ears went back and she bucked a couple times.

Then she started to run. Flat out. Almost before I knew what was happening, I found myself on an out-of-control horse, holding the lead for a second horse that was thankfully running just as fast, and followed by a dozen more horses, all galloping so fast that anyone watching would call it a stampede.

I failed to slow Sioux or to stop the stampede. There was nothing to do but hang on and pray that Carlos would see us coming and have the gate open when we thundered into Green Forest Stables.

He did and as soon as the last horse entered the corral, he slammed the gate shut and locked it, then turned and watched as Sioux slowed to a stop, ears still back, nostrils dilated, her coat lathered and dancing in circles that I didn't try to control. Whatever had spooked her, this was her way of getting past it and I simply stayed on her back until