Instead of my usual Writers and Readers Websites this week I bring you THE CONCLUSION of my award-winning short story SKYKICKER ~enjoy!
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THE CONCLUSION!
CONTINUED FROM PART 1, POST OF APRIL 7
SKYKICKER
She shifted the reins to her left hand alone, her
right going to the six-gun riding at her hip.
She always kept it with her for varmints of all descriptions, but she
had never dreamed she would be forced to use it on the stud she viewed as her
prize.
Nora's
heart filled her throat. Her stomach
churned and she knew she couldn't sacrifice the faithful, valiant Buck.
The
faded buckskin twisted away from Skykicker's attack, managed to spin, and
planted a solid kick with both rear feet, in the stallion's girth. Snow was falling heavier. The stud was bloodied now, but the injury was
plainly superficial.
She
prayed Buck's were the same as she pulled the gun from her holster, frantically
firing first into the air. Three shots
in a row cracked across the snowfall’s woolen silence.
The
golden stud reared to his full height, forefeet pawing the air while Buck
danced just out of reach at the end of his picket rope. The powerful Skykicker came down hard at the
sound of gunshots, hoofs gouging the earth when he lunged forward, slamming a
shoulder into the already off-balance buckskin.
Buck
went down hard, thrown onto his side and rolling onto his back, legs flailing
helplessly in the air as the stud took flight in a deer-like leap, tossing his
rear quarters into the air in his trademark gesture of defiance.
Nora
pulled Windy up short, leaping from his back and running to Buck as the horse
climbed unsteadily to his feet. A glance
told her his injuries were not serious, though he was bleeding some. Hands trembling, she pulled his picket pin
herself.
"Go! Go home!"
She
slapped the gelding’s rump and threw her arms in the air, yelling, startling
Buck into a trot. He headed in the
general direction of the ranch house.
She
was astride Windy in the next moment.
Nora couldn't give up now. She
was too close -- and too damned mad.
Windy
pivoted, nearly unseating her, then took off like he knew he was Nora’s only
salvation. He snorted, shook,
crow-hopped, then threw off fatigue, running with a second wind, neck stretched
into the thickening snowfall.
Skykicker
was just up ahead. The run, then the
brief skirmish with Buck, had taken a toll.
He was moving slower and his mares were slacking off in passive
rebellion. It took more effort from him
just to keep them bunched and moving.
Then
there was the mare about to foal. She
lagged further and further behind. Nora,
even on Windy who'd already given his best, was gaining rapidly on that mare
who brought up the rear of the herd. The
stud moved to intercept Nora, placing himself between Nora, astride Windy, and
the tiring mare. He nipped and pushed,
running alongside her, urging greater speed, but the little mare's strides
continued to shorten. She hung her head
in exhaustion, plumes of vapor streaming from dilated nostrils.
The
mustang band was drawing further ahead.
The snow, falling heavily, drew a pale curtain between them.
Nora
sat very still upon Windy, silently urging him on, trying to be as small a
burden as possible, knowing he was very nearly spent. But Shadow, her last mount, was picketed just
ahead. Windy had given much more than
she had ever counted on. The stallion's
tactic had gained him no relief. Nora
spoke softly to Windy.
"You'll
be able to rest soon. Not much
further. Shadow's waiting for us over
the next rise."
She
edged Windy over to thwart any attempt the stallion might make to try again
with Shadow what he had with Buck.
There
was unbridled fury in the toss of the stallion's head. Through the blowing snow he appeared the
demon riding the storm crest.
Despite
the cold, Nora sweated into the folds of her sheepskin jacket. She couldn't afford to be caught flat-footed
by the stallion a second time.
The
pace punishing, they came off a low hill, stride for stride, running a hard
race parallel to the golden stud, clouds of the dry snow pluming up in their
wake. Up ahead of them, right where she
had left her picketed, Nora saw Shadow.
The gray filly was dancing
lightly at the end of her picket rope, ears up, face turned toward their
approach, barely more than a dark form, a silhouette against the rippling
curtain of white falling from the sky.
She was more high-strung than the rest, but she had incredible speed and
endurance. And, she wasn't afraid of
anything. She was attentive and eager to
race the wind. Agile and fleet, the
towering stallion would be just another challenge to her. What a match the pair would make when the
time was right. What offspring they'd
produce.
Nora
gauged Skykicker, paced him, aware of the heaving of Windy's sides, his great
gulps of air, and the weightiness she sensed in his legs.
The
stallion turned his eyes toward her, his gaze intense, but he was looking past
her, eyes fixed on Shadow.
"Oh
no you don't! You're not getting to
her!"
Nora
was barely aware of having shouted the words at the running horse. Just as she hadn't been aware of the snow
accumulating upon the ground in wind-blown drifts and shallow blanketings.
The
golden mustang nipped his companion, turning her from their original course
which would have taken them right past Shadow.
He couldn't attack Shadow so he was sheering off, veering away from the
real threat. But the heavily burdened
mare continued to slow, blowing with her efforts. He had to take a stand or leave her.
Nora
drew Windy back to an easy lope, congratulating herself on her unexpected luck
when she saw the mare slip, lose her balance, and step down hard into a dip
hidden beneath the snow. And she was
close enough to hear the awful sound, like that of a green branch snapping,
before she heard the animal's scream of pain and terror. A piercing, heart-rending sound that quelled
self-congratulation and wiped the smile from Nora’s face.
Instinctively
the woman hauled back on the reins, dragging Windy to a quivering halt as the
mare tumbled to the ground. There was no
thought involved, no time for consideration or apprehension as to what the
stallion would do. Nora just leapt from
Windy's sweaty back, running to the fallen horse who thrashed in the light, dry
snow, trying to get back up. She threw
herself across the mare's neck, trying to hold her down, wishing she could
quiet her fears while Windy stood lock-legged nearby and the stallion broke
stride, whipping back to where his charge lay.
The
pregnancy-swollen mare ceased her struggles and lay still beneath Nora, breath
rasping in her throat, small sounds of pain escaping her lips. Her leg was badly broken. There was no hope for the little mustang
mare. There was only the merciful end
Nora could provide. And the terrible
loss of both mare and the foal she was carrying. The weight of the tragedy slammed into Nora
like a mule kick. Her stomach curled
into a cold knot.
"Oh,
God!" I didn't mean for this to
happen! I'm sorry!"
With
a gulp that wrenched her throat with pain that threatened to shut off her
breath, Nora's hand went to the gun she had settled back in its holster. The mare's eyes, soft and solemn, were fixed
on her in a strangely trusting gaze and in that instant Nora knew hope wasn't
lost for the foal. It was trying to be
born.
Skykicker
pranced closer, tossing his magnificent head, black eyes glinting his fury,
while his body telegraphed his uncertainty and even dismay. He nickered softly to the fallen mare and for
a wild instant, Nora was convinced that she was his favorite. Windy backed up a couple of strides, snow
swirling in wind-borne plumes as the stud circled the woman and the mare.
Nora
was on the ground, at the mercy of the stallion she had been relentlessly
pursuing. She gave him one hard look,
then turned her full attention back to the suffering animal sprawled in the
snow. She couldn't save the mare, but
maybe she could save the foal. If the
king of that little mustang band didn't decide to pound her into the ground.
She
began stroking the mare, murmuring soft encouragement.
"We
can save your baby. I'll help you. Shhhh, it'll be all right."
Whether
from the fall or because she had already been in labor for some time, or just
because was no pampered, domesticated lady's mount, the foal was coming
fast. Nora saw it begin to emerge.
The
stallion continued his circuit, prancing, feinting toward Windy who shifted
back a few more strides, and half reared every time the stud neared Nora. In the distance, above the rising wind,
Shadow gave shrill testimony to her anxiety.
Skykicker
turned toward the sound, pivoting in the snow, creating a softly mounded
crater. He turned back toward Nora,
circling her again while the mare struggled and the woman guided the foal into
the cold, wind-swept world.
The
stud chuffed the wind, catching the scent of fresh blood, then charged, pulling
up short mere inches from Nora, sharp forefeet plunging down beside her and
cascading snow across her. Just as
quickly, while the adrenaline flooded her system, he backed up, head lowered,
eyes fastened on her with malevolence.
"Damn
you!" Nora ground the words
out. "Damn you!" This time louder.
Then,
arms full of helpless new-born colt, she subsided.
"Damn
me." Softly spoken. "This wasn't supposed to happen."
"It
was supposed to have been an adventure; we were going to be friends one
day."
Skykicker
bolted, snow geysering in his wake. He
raced after his band of mares, then pulled up, prancing toward Shadow, head
elevated, tail arched. Beyond him his
mares, slowed, fading into the snowy curtain like wraiths, hovering just at the
edge of his influence, awaiting the patriarch's command.
Nora
grabbed handfuls of snow, giving the small, newly arrived little horse a brisk
rub down. She examined the small orphan
mite closely as she did. He was a fine,
sturdy colt with the promise of a broad chest, large nostrils, long legs and dark,
intelligent eyes. Every inch of him
proclaimed his parentage. He stared at
Nora as if comprehending all that had so recently transpired.
She
helped him struggle to his feet on the snow-covered ground and he promptly
plunged down into the fluffy white stuff.
Then he immediately tried to get back up.
Gaining
her feet, Nora took a deep breath, glancing from exhausted, mortally injured
mustang mare at her feet to Skykicker, where he sidled up to Shadow. Her stomach twisted. It was cold, snowing more heavily. She had to get the colt home. Her plans and dreams shattered, she would
have to begin again.
Calm
now that the golden stallion had retreated, Windy stood a few yards away. He was blowing, but still game.
She
hadn't noticed it before, but she was breathing deep and fast as well, sucking
the frigid air deep into her lungs in a cathartic wash. And suddenly it dawned full force on her that
the stud was intent on having Shadow.
Nora
left the colt and raced through the snow toward the big stud, slipping and
sliding, gasping and yelling.
"Hiup
thar! Get on with you!"
Skykicker's
head jerked up, the fury returning to his stance at Nora's stumbling
approach. He screamed his piercing
challenge, forefoot pawing a gouge in the accumulating snow. Shadow shied at his display, but she pranced,
neck bowed, signaling interest.
Nora
kept coming, not about to give up her prize filly so easily. For now she would settle for driving the
stallion off and getting home with the colt and her animals. She would test the stallion's mettle another
day.
Skykicker
had other ideas.
He
ran toward Nora, attempting to force her to give way. Playing his own version of chicken.
She
stood straight and tall, immobile, eyes meeting those of the stallion as he
bore down upon her, pulled up short and reared to his full height towering over
her as impressive as an enraged grizzly.
When
she didn't budge the golden stud wheeled, a phantom in the white-gray filigree
of the falling snow, racing back toward where the colt stood uncertainly near
his fallen mother. The little thing
tottered a few steps away from the mare, then closer, head raised, legs
unsteady, his posture nonetheless a miniature of his sire.
Nora
nearly screamed her frustration, a sob rising into the back of her throat
attempting to strangle her. The mustang
was running her just as she'd run him and she was helpless to anything other
than run the direction he dictated, terrified he was going to trample the tiny
foal.
Windy
snorted and danced, reins dragging in the snow, head elevated unnaturally high,
ears turned forward while he kept the distance between himself and the crazy
stallion respectable.
Skykicker,
in a juxtapositioning of rage and tenderness, nuzzled the mare where she lay,
blowing hot air against her cheek and muzzle, urging her to get up.
Nora
felt the tears burn their way down her cheeks then, her heart breaking when the
valiant mustang mare rolled up, trying to regain her feet. The injured horse squealed her agony and the
stallion was right beside her, nosing her gently, turning his magnificent head
toward his new son, then back to her.
The
mare tried, oh how she tried, but she couldn't put enough weight on the injured
limb to lever herself up. She fell back
exhausted as Nora blundered through the deepening snow back toward where she
lay.
Skykicker
feinted in Nora's direction, returned to the injured mare and hung his head a
few moments.
"She
can't run with you any more," Nora
said quietly to the stallion, choking on the last words, then dragging in a
deep breath to continue. "I'm
sorry,” the words were strangled out of her, “I didn't mean for it to end this
way."
The
stallion lifted his head, looking at her through intelligent, liquid black eyes
while the snow fell, clinging to lustrous mane and forelock, melting on his
broad back raising a faint yet distinctive steam. He nudged his offspring, Nora could have
sworn, in her direction, then wheeled and loped off a few strides.
Nora,
tears freezing on her cheeks, her insides twisted into knots she didn't know
existed, didn't hesitate again. She drew
her gun from her holster and one well-placed shot ended the mare's suffering,
the crack of the pistol oddly muted in the eerie, silence of the snow-swathed
valley.
She
shrugged out of her heavy coat and stripped out of her thick flannel shirt and woolen undershirt. Then she swiftly drew the coat back on,
buttoning it against the rising wind before wrapping the struggling foal in her
garments and hurrying to where Windy stood, ground-tied and uncertain. She put the colt across Windy's withers,
gathered the reins and vaulted up behind, pressing close to the orphan to share
her warmth.
Nora
turned Windy toward Shadow, glancing toward Skykicker with something akin to
gratitude for a few moments before the stallion jerked away and began to run.
And
he was running straight for Shadow.
Burdened
as she was, there was nothing Nora could do.
The stud made a bee-line for the filly.
Sharp teeth went right for the picket line, severing it as swiftly as
would a Bowie
knife and then he sank his teeth into her flank. Shadow whinnied sharply and bolted.
The
benevolent feelings of but moments past fled and Nora threw a curse after the
golden stud as he bolted for his band of mares, herding Shadow before him, head
high, tail streaming burnished gold on the wind. Helplessly she watched the wild stallion take
off with her best filly.
"We're
not finished, you and me!" Nora
yelled past a raw and dry throat.
"Not by a long shot! You
look for me, because I'll be coming after you!"
She
took a deep breath, turning Windy toward the home corral as the stallion
withdrew into the distance, snowfall dimming his silhouette. He was nearly lost to her sight when he gave
his distinctive bound, throwing both hind legs into the air and let loose with
the challenging whistle of the victorious stallion.
THE END
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To Hell And Back at http://amzn.to/1IJQWnv
Cloud Dancer (historic romance) at http://amzn.to/1DJyTjt
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