Authors: Alan Evans
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve heard you’re some kind of famous horse
trainer, but, we were wondering why you would come all the way out here to set
free one little mustang?”
Shane became quiet. He wasn’t sure how to answer. He
didn’t want their pity, but he also felt at this point they were entitled to
know the truth. They could tell he was trying to find the words to answer, and
they waited patiently for his reply.
“It was my eleven-year-old son, Jacob, who wanted to
see the mustang come back here someday. He was real close to the horse, and he
knew she would be happier with her own herd.” He hesitated for a moment, looked
over at the Indians, and continued, “I lost the boy, along with my wife and
daughter, in a car accident a couple years ago.”
Hawk and JB were taken by surprise. During this
awkward moment, they sat quietly looking at the fire, waiting for Shane to
finish.
“It took me quite a while to finally get myself back
together, but when I did, I remembered the promise I had made to Jacob, that we
would set her free out here where she came from.”
It was JB who finally broke the silence while
watching Shane stir the fire with a long stick.
“He sounds like a boy to be proud of. You were lucky
to have a son like that.” Shane nodded his head and forced a smile as he
continued to poke the campfire with his stick.
Hawk then lightened up the mood with perfect timing.
“You know, they told JB he wasn’t allowed to have any kids.” Shane and JB
waited for him to elaborate. Hawk smiled before he continued, “They told ole
JB, nope, you can’t have kids. We’ll cut off your nuts before we let you pass
on that horse face in our tribe.” Shane laughed.
JB wasted no time with a comeback. “You asshole, you
never had any balls to start with. That’s why you don’t have any kids.”
Shane appreciated the way they jokingly changed the
subject and didn’t dwell on his story. At least now they understood why the
safety of their ancestral herd had become so important to a white man from
Tennessee. With the whiskey making them groggy, the three crawled into their
bedrolls and were soon asleep.
Shane felt as though he had only shut his eyes for a few minutes when
he was awakened by low-sounding growls and whines from both dogs. It was still
dark. He pulled his arm out of his bedroll and held his watch up close to his
face. He knew it was early morning by the position of the quarter moon, still
sitting high in the eastern sky. As he focused on the five a.m. reading on his
watch, he wondered what was upsetting the dogs. Shane felt a slight hangover
hit him from Hawk’s whiskey as he sat up to look around. Just then he heard
what sounded like a truck door slamming shut somewhere in the distance. “Hush
up,” he told the dogs, as he listened intensely. Soon, he heard the sounds of
several vehicles pulling up and shutting off their engines. The noise was
coming from the other side of the hill just north of their camp.
By now Hawk and JB were awake and listening as well.
They both scrambled out of their bedrolls. “Looks like we have company,” Hawk
said, as he grabbed his rifle and disappeared into the dark toward the top of
the hill.
Shane started to follow when JB grabbed his arm.
“We’ll stay here. There’s less chance of being spotted if only one of us goes.”
About fifteen minutes later, Hawk came back. Still a
little out of breath, he whispered, “There are seven trucks and trailers and at
least twenty-five men and horses along with about a dozen dogs. All of them are
dressed in camouflage and armed with rifles and scopes. They’re after the
horses, all right; I could hear them talking. They’re sending half the men east
over to Jasper Canyon to wait, while the rest of the men take the dogs to move
the herd over to them.”
Shane asked, “Should we radio for help?”
“We’ll call in and let Tigee know what’s happening,
but he knows if he sends a lot of our men out here now, someone will end up
getting hurt. We’re supposed to try to stop this without these bastards knowing
we’re here.”
Hawk grabbed the radio and made the call.
“Stay out of sight,” Tigee demanded. “You men get to
the herd before they do and send the horses west over to the thick forest at
Timber Creek.
My grandsons and I will be
out with the reservation police as soon as we can.”
Hawk and JB knew the herd had been grazing most
mornings in a clearing a couple miles east of their camp. Unless these bad guys
had been watching the herd and also knew this, the three of them should have an
advantage in reaching the mustangs first.
What they didn’t know, was that Thomas and Jack, the two Arapahos Vince
Nethers hired, had already entered the valley from a different entrance. They
had come in the night before with Bo Nethers and two other men and were already
slowly moving the herd west toward the soon-to-be waiting guns at Jasper
Canyon. The two Arapahos and Bo were directing more of the gang, via radio, to
meet up with them behind the herd. The hunt had been well set up, and so far
everything was working as planned. As soon as the other twelve men hooked up
with Bo and the Arapahos behind the mustangs, they would have enough people to
contain the herd and force the mustangs into the canyon’s deadly trap.
The sun was just rising over the mountains to the
east when Hawk, JB, and Shane arrived at the clearing where they expected to find
Naatea and the herd. Shane could see the concern on the Indians’ faces as they
saw the herd’s tracks heading toward Jasper Canyon.
It wasn’t long before Hawk and JB found the tracks
of the five shod horses that were obviously easing the mustangs toward the
east. JB said, “They’re moving slow and easy so they won’t scatter them. I
don’t know who these guys are, but they know what they’re doing.”
Hawk noted, “Since they’re moving slow it should
give us time to work our way around and get in front of the mustangs. There are
only four or five guys pushing them right now. If we get Naatea concerned,
he’ll break away, and they won’t have enough men to contain the herd. We’ll
work our way up to a high point over there and see if we can spot them.”
The three rode hard and fast up to cliff with a good
view.
“Look, there they are!” yelled Shane.
“Oh, shit!” said Hawk as he pointed behind the
mustangs. The three had reached their high vantage point, just in time to see
the other twelve men and dogs joining up with Bo and his four. Now there were
seventeen men on horses, and they were in perfect position to keep the mustangs
bunched up and moving toward the ambush.
“Damn it!” JB hollered. “Come on, we have to get to
the mouth of that canyon! That’s our only chance to head them off and stop
this. I can tell you now, we’re going to have to make ourselves known when we
get there.” They took off again at a full gallop. “You guys be ready for
anything when we make it to that canyon,” he added as they sent their horses down
the steep grade at a dangerously fast pace.
Tory and the other two horses were lathered up and
sucking wind hard when they arrived at the canyon’s only opening. They were
still on the outside of the canyon, so there was little concern about being
spotted by the shooters positioned on the ledges inside the canyon walls.
“Here they come!” yelled Hawk. By now Bo and his men
had the herd stampeding straight for the opening, and straight at Shane, JB,
and Hawk. With the herd only a couple hundred yards in front of them, JB began
to scream out with one of his bloodcurdling war cries. All three of them began
firing their guns in the air and hollering at the top of their lungs, trying to
turn the mustangs away from the doom that awaited them inside the small canyon.
In an instant, panic and confusion filled the air.
The herd was moving down the wooded trail toward the three men at an alarming
pace. Shane could see the terrified look in the mustang’s eyes as Naatea cut to
the left and broke through the containment with the main part of the herd. In
spite of their efforts, about ten of the mustangs made it by the three men and
into the canyon.
With the seventeen bad guys who had been chasing the
herd now coming right at them, Shane, Hawk, and JB had no choice but to follow
Naatea and the rest of the herd to safety. If they allowed themselves to be
pushed back into the canyon, they could easily be cut down by the waiting guns,
along with the ten doomed mustangs that had just run by them and through the
pass.
The snipers in the canyon opened fire. As the shots
rang out, Shane and the two Shoshones stopped their horses and turned to look
at the canyon opening. This was just in time to hear the horses screaming in
pain from the array of bullets piercing their flesh. In the silence that
followed, the three men just sat there staring at the pass with agonizing,
hopeless looks. Then suddenly, the expression on JB’s face changed. He raised
his rifle over his head with his right arm and readied himself to charge toward
the pass. Shane, sitting on Tory next to him, reached down just in time to grab
the reins on JB’s horse. “No man, there’s too many of them.”
JB’s common sense quickly overcame his rage. Shane
looked him in the eyes and waited until he was certain that JB had regained his
self-control before he let go of the reins. A moment of calm soon ended with
the distant sound of growling dogs, followed by a single gunshot. Shane was
almost knocked out of the saddle as the bullet creased his left bicep. The
unexpected shot startled the three men and their horses. Shane grabbed his arm
in pain and then noticed both Butch and Jessie behind the two shooters’ horses,
snapping at their heels. In the process, Butch took a solid kick from the horse
on the right and ran off yelping to the woods with Jessie by his side.
The dogs had arrived just in time to foil the men’s
first attempt to shoot Shane square in the chest. JB, with his rifle already
out of his scabbard, reacted instantly by returning fire and hitting one. The
two gunmen on horseback were only about a hundred yards away. As Shane looked
in their direction, he immediately recognized them as his two Arapaho rivals,
Jack and Thomas. Jack still had his rifle held up to his cheek and it was
pointed directly at Shane. Suddenly, realizing that JB’s bullet had hit his
friend and partner, he dropped his gun, jumped down off his horse, and pulled
the wounded Thomas behind a rock for cover.
Shane could clearly see the fresh stitches in Jack’s
cheek where he had cut him with his spur during their fight over Tara last week
at the cave.
“Come on, let’s get out of here!” Hawk yelled. The
three turned their horses and rode fast toward the west where the two Shoshone
knew there were plenty of thick woods and a stream to water their tired horses.
Shane was worried about Tory and hoped he hadn’t
pushed his aging friend beyond his limits. As soon as they reached the water,
he dismounted and was relieved to see the tough, old gelding would be fine
after he caught his air, cooled down, and then had a drink.
“Why in hell were they shooting at you?” Hawk asked.
“I had a run-in with them last week,” Shane replied.
He wasn’t sure how to answer beyond that without going against Tigee’s wishes,
revealing what was really going on in the valley. Although they’d done all they
could to avoid violence, blood had now been shed. The three men knew that
Thomas was shot, but they had no way of knowing how badly the Arapaho was hurt.
Even though Shane realized the bullet that JB fired in return had probably
saved his life, his appreciation was overshadowed by his fear of the consequences
that would certainly result from it.
Shane knelt next to JB at the creek, then took some
cool water to wash the blood off his arm, revealing it was nothing more than a
deep scratch. He realized there were two things that saved him today. The first
was Butch and Jessie causing Jack’s horse to move just before he pulled the
trigger. The second was JB’s quick reaction that took out Thomas, who also held
Shane in the sights of his rifle. He looked at JB and said, “I owe you one,
man.”
JB took a deep breath and replied, “That son of a
bitch had it coming. The lives of all of those pricks aren’t worth one of those
mustangs they just slaughtered. They just shot them down for no good reason. If
you hadn’t held my horse back when you did, I would have ridden in and shot a
lot more of ’em.”
“It’s a good thing he stopped you,” Hawk said. “You
would have been killed, and we would have an even bigger mess than we do now.”
Shane had no way of knowing that Nethers would send
his crew in so soon to try to eliminate the herd. He had rolled the dice,
gambled that Megan Tillie and the activists would be able to throw a monkey
wrench in Nethers’s plans before he went after the horses. Nethers’s success
revolved around the idea that no one outside their small community would give a
damn about the Indians or their mustangs. All of this might have changed if
Shane’s people had arrived a day or two earlier. He wondered, perhaps, if this
tragedy would have happened if they had confronted Nethers and told him they
were onto his plan. But, he and Tigee felt strongly that the potential for more
problems would be lessened if Shane’s plan to expose Nethers’s intentions to
the outside world was a surprise.