The Wild Mustang of Colorado

[Tsar]

The Wild Mustang of Colorado
The story of a horse whose heart belonged in the wild
By StarTrekFan4Life

Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen (Finale)

[Tsar]

I stood in the field one day, grazing with the other horses. Everything was quiet and serene with the sun brightly shining, and the wind gently blowing across the plain. Occasionally I lifted my head to swallow a mouthful of grass, and to look out at the herd.

I was two years old, and proud to be the firstborn son of the alpha stallion. One day, I would be the herd's leader. For now, I was a spirited, spunky, rowdy colt. Sometimes I would wrestle with the other colts, and run after the young fillies, chasing them around the plain. Then an older mare would nip me, and put me back in my place. There was one filly I was particularly fond of. She was a dark brown-and-white paint, named Summer. I would stand and watch her as she pranced around, swishing her tail, and looking over at me with her sparkling blue eyes. Everyone thought she was the most beautiful horse in the herd.
I was a handsome mustang myself. My ebony coat shimmered in the sunlight, and my long black mane flew in the wind. I was entirely black, with not a single marking. That made me unique, and I was also proud of that.

But life as a wild horse brought difficulties and challenges. It snowed every winter, and created hunger and cold. There were predators: wolves, coyotes, cougars from the nearby mountains, rattlesnakes, and mustangs from other herds. The worst predator of all were the two-legged kind, commonly known as humans. Several members of the herd had been captured. Nobody knew where they took the horses, or what they did with them.
And nobody knew that the next victim would be me.

*

One warm and pleasant afternoon, Summer and I were running together in the field. We were told not to wander away from the herd, but we did anyway. We trotted through the tall grass, side-by-side, glancing at each other from time to time. We had stopped to rest and graze a while when we heard horses. They were coming our way, too. There were two or three. They were coming closer. We stood alert, ready to fight or run away. They came into view, and we discovered they weren't other mustangs; they were carrying humans!
I whinnied and bolted after Summer, who had gotten a headstart. The humans came closer. I tried to catch up with Summer, but the humans caught up with me. The one in front grabbed a rope. He started to swing it around in the air, and though I tried desperately to flee, it was useless. The rope landed around my neck and tightened. Then another rope was thrown around me. They turned around and headed back the other way, and I was forced to go with them. I turned my head and took the last look at my home I would in years, and promised that one day I would return.

[Tsar]

That night the humans made camp. We had started to make our way through the mountains. As they sat eating and talking around a fire, I was tied down to a tree. I could not sleep. All I could do was think how much I would miss my family and friends.

In the morning they started out again, a helpless me tied to the other horses. They traveled for days, weeks, months. It was early winter when we arrived at a ranch. I looked around. There were many corrals with horses in them, and some were being ridden. There were several little sheds, and one big barn. Some horses were in the barn, others in the corrals, and some tied to a post and being saddled or groomed.

The riders dismounted their horses and took my ropes. They led me into an empty corral and took the ropes from around my neck. Then they walked off and closed the gate. I nervously paced the sides of the pen, trying to find a way to escape. But I couldn't. The fence was too high to jump, and the gate was secured with a chain. Realizing it was useless wearing myself out looking for a way to get out, I stood and watched the humans. In a nearby corral, I saw a man mount a wild horse. The horse galloped around in circles, bucking and kicking until he tired. Coming out of the barn, a man on another horse trotted off somewhere away from the ranch. Then someone carrying a blanket and saddle walked over to my corral. He set it upright on the ground and walked back into the barn. He returned with a bundle of leather and rope. The man came into my corral. I pinned my ears and snorted at him. He didn't scare. The man walked right up to me, and though I struggled, managed to fasten the leather bridle around my head and put a cold piece of metal in my mouth. Then he attached the rope reins to the bit and hung them on my withers. Another man came and held my reins while the first man retrieved the saddle and blanket. He threw it on my back and tied it around my stomach. I kept my ears pinned back in discomfort. The bit was cold and hurt my mouth, the girth was tight around my waist, the saddle was heavy on my back, and it became two hundred and fifty pounds heavier when the man climbed on.

I reared before he could get his feet in the stirrups. He lost his balance and fell backwards, but he quickly stood back up and got on again. I bolted and ran around the corral, determined to throw him. I bucked, and reared, and ran around in circles. I kicked my heels up to the sky, and cut around the corral. Finally he landed on the ground with a thump. I charged after him. He scrambled to his feet and retreated. I heard him say something to the other man, and they both walked away and left me.

For the rest of the day and all night long I stood in the corral. Nobody unsaddled me, nor did anyone feed and water me. For the next two days I was forgotten. On the third day the man mounted me again, but I was too weak to throw him. He rode me around the corral until he dismounted and unsaddled me. Then I was finally fed some hay and a bucket of water. At night someone led me into the barn and tied my head in one of the stalls.

I had never been in a barn before. I was scared and lonely, but I saw that the other horses were asleep, so in an hour or two I too dozed off.

[Tsar]

A few days later, someone lead me out of my stall. While another held my lead line, he walked back into the barn and returned. In his arms was a big jumble of leather straps. He laid it on my back and secured it around my neck and stomach. Again he walked back into the barn, and this time, he pulled out a most peculiar contraption. It was a black leather seat on two wheels with two poles attached to it. He rolled it behind me and attached the poles to the harness. I was also bridled. The bridle had extra long reins.

The man stepped into the contraption, which I later learned was called a buggy. He slapped the reins across my back. The other man led me forward. I didn't like the harness, or the buggy behind me, or the blindfolds on my face, but I couldn't buck it off like I could a rider. The man continued leading me around the ranch, while the other rode behind me. They did the same the next day and the next. I learned how to be a pull horse. I was taught to pick up my feet when I trotted, and to canter at a smooth and steady pace.

When spring came, I was brought into the local town of Denver, and sold to the Denver Stage Company. My work soon began. I pulled the stagecoach and its passengers with the other team horses. From the capital to Colorado Springs and back, we hauled people, mail, and packages. Every day we worked. Unfortunately, many times we weren't adequately fed and watered. The harness rubbed my skin sore, and pulling the heavy loads made my back ache. Somehow, I had to escape.

In the summer, there were more people and mail to pull. The trip was hot and dusty. I longed for the cool, refreshing water of the stream back home.

When winter came, the roads were covered in ice and snow. One day one of the team horses slipped on the ice and broke his leg. The rest of the trip had to be made with only three horses. There was a shortage of hay, and we were fed oats in the morning and hay at night, with nothing in between. Every day I was trying to concoct a plan to escape.

But after three years, my hope had faded. I had accepted the fact that I would never be free again. But one night in my stall, I started to think about my former herd. And I remembered the promise I had made--the promise to return to the valley. Suddenly life and determination came to me. I quickly thought of an escape plan. I whinnied and reared until a stableboy ran to my stall. He unlatched it timidly to see what was wrong. Without giving it a second thought, I bolted out, knocking the stableboy down. I ran through the open barn doors and down the street of Denver. Behind me I heard a man shout, "Hey! Come back here!"

But I wasn't turning back. I was finally free.

[Tsar]

When I felt that I was safe out of the area, I slowed from a canter to a trot to a walk. I was cold, tired, and most of all, hungry. Snow covered my back, and the air was so frosty I could see my breath. But it couldn't last forever, I reminded myself. It was better than pulling a stagecoach.

That evening, I had stopped to take a break when, in the distance, I spotted a man. He looked tired as he trudged through the snow. It looked like he was coming towards me. I stayed where I was at and watched him. The man continued walking towards me. I wasn't in any shape to run, so I just continued watching him.

Eventually he came five feet away from me. He stopped. I pinned my ears back and snorted, trying to scare him away. The man held up a hand.
"Easy, now," he said. I kept my ears pinned and pawed the ground. But my actions simply failed to intimidate him. He walked right up to me, took the rope lead that was tied to my halter, and began patting my wet black neck.
"Now what's a purdy horse like you doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?" His voice was rough, but kind.
"Well, there's no sense in leaving you. You look half-starved. I reckon I'll take you back to my place 'till your owner comes a looking for you. We better hurry up and get moving, 'for the snows starts up again." He tugged on my lead rope, and I followed him.

After a few miles, we reached the man's little farm. The cottage was made of brick, and so was the barn a couple yards away from it. He led me into the barn. Along the sides of the barn were stalls of horses. The man put me in a vacant stall near the back. I observed the barn. Horses of all colors stood, chewing alfalfa, occasionally giving a nicker. At the end of the barn was a hayloft. On the top of the hay was a mother tabby cat, watching her kittens as they played. In the middle of the barn aisle a collie dog lay asleep.

After being given a fresh bucket of water and some hay, I was very glad I had gone with the man.

[Tsar]

Two weeks later after the snow had melted and I had gotten my strength back, I was ready to start on my journey home, but John Greene (for I had learned that was his name) wasn't so anxious. When he was convinced I was without an owner, he decided I would make an excellent farm horse. So, I decided to stay a while longer.

The Greenes' farm was a nice place. In the morning, we horses were well fed with oats and bran. An hour later, we were let out to pasture and entitled to a whole day of grazing. Even though it was late winter and the grass was brown and dry, it sure tasted good. Mr. Greene's three sons would give us a thorough grooming every day, too.

One day, Mr. Greene saddled me up. He led me outside of the barn.
"Have you ever been ridden?" He asked. "Well, I guess we'll find out in a moment, won't we?"
I, of course, had been; but only under unpleasant circumstances. When Greene mounted me, I spun around and quickly walked off with my head down.
"Whoa, boy," he said and pulled on the reins. "You're broke alright, but you definitely need some training." He nudged my flank and I walked off again, but in a well-behaved manner.
Mr. Greene rode me for a while near the farm, and then we returned.

The next day, I was being groomed in the barn by one of the Greene boys when I looked out and saw a couple of men riding up to the cottage. I heard them stop and dismount.
"It looks like we have visitors, Sarah," Mr. Greene said to his wife. I heard the front door slam shut as he walked out to meet them. One of the men spoke.
"Hello, I'm Larry Williams."

Larry Williams! That was the man in charge of the stage! He must be looking for me, I thought. I continued to listen in on their conversation.

"Howdy," Greene said, "I'm John Greene." There was a pause. I assumed they were shaking hands.
"I'll get right to the point," Williams continued. "Recently one of my best horses escaped. I've been checking with the locals to see if they might have seen him. He's a pure black stallion. No markings at all."
"Well...Why of course! About a month ago I saw a stray horse running loose in the snow and decided to shelter him until his rightful owner showed up. Follow me."

Oh no!

I started to back away, even though I knew it was useless. Mr. Williams followed Mr. Greene into the barn. Greene introduced him to his son. Williams looked at me.
"Yep, I do believe it's him." Williams reached for my lead line. I pinned my ears back and reared. Mr. Williams stumbled backwards away from me, tripping over a pail and getting his foot stuck in it in the process. I came down and snorted at him.
Mr. Greene helped him to his feet. "Sorry Mr. Williams," he said, apologetically brushing the dirt off his suit. "I never knowed that horse to act so unruly."
Of course, Williams was rather unpleased himself. He shoved Greene away from him and reached for my rope once more. I reared again and struck my hoof at him. It just missed his shoulder.

This infuriated Williams. He spotted a whip in the corner of the barn, grabbed it and raised it at me. Greene came to my defense. "Now hold it!" he snatched the whip out of his hand and threw it the other way.
"I don't cotton to people coming in my barn, grabbing my whip and intending on beating my horse with it, and it looks like he don't either." He looked at me. "Maybe that's why he ran away from you. And when I found him, the horse was skin and bones! Now whether that horse goes with you or not is entirely up to him, and it looks to me like he don't want to, so you best get off my property." Mr. Greene reached for a nearby shotgun. "You're trespassing!"
Williams stared at Mr. Greene for a minute, looked at me, and then marched out of the barn in a huff. And that was the last I ever saw of Larry Williams.

[Tsar]

Late in the afternoon one Friday morning, Mr. Greene and his eldest son hitched me and another horse to a wooden cart. At first I was hesitant about pulling again, but then I remembered all the good things Mr. Greene had done for me. No, he wasn't the kind of man who would mistreat a horse like me or any animal.

He climbed into the seat with his son and clicked to us. Then we trotted into Colorado Springs, the nearest town. Mr. Greene and his boy picked up some items from the General Store, and we returned home.

One day while grazing in the pasture, I noticed something different. Something seemed fresher, newer, brighter. And then I realized it was spring. The snow had all melted, the trees were covered with delicate green buds, and robins constantly sung. Soon the grass would be green. The happy feeling of new life filled me, and I started to run and play.

That night in my stall, I was just falling to sleep when I smelled something. It was the aroma of smoke. Then the other horses started to smell it. They stirred uneasily in their stall, nickering anxiously. Then the smoke became visible. The collie dog whimpered, and the horses, including myself, started to whinny. I reared up and neighed. Mr. Greene and his three boys came to see what all the commotion was about.
By now there was a flame of fire. It started to spread across the floor. My stall was near the back, near the fire. I knew I would die if someone didn't act quick.

"Fire! Fire!" "The barn's on fire!"

The Greene family started to hustle up buckets of water from the trough and the well. They ran into the barn, throwing the water on the flames and then running back for more.

"Get the horses out!"

The men started unlatching the stall gates and shooing the horses out. Things quickly became confusing and frightening as horses galloped out of the barn, the dog barked continuously, and a part of the barn roof fell down into one of the occupied stalls. Finally, someone opened my stall gate and I bolted out and through the barn doors, as when I escaped from the stable in Denver. When no more could be done, everyone stood back and watched the fire as it utterly destroyed the barn.

[Tsar]

The fire had burned the entire barn to the ground. Two horses had died. No one could determine the cause of the fire.

All eleven horses were either in the pasture or tied to the hitching post. Mr. Greene was leading me somewhere when a rider stopped in front of us and dismounted.
"Howdy John," he said. "I heard about the fire. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Wasn't your fault, Nick. In fact, I don't have the slightest idea of what could have started it. It's a mystery, that's for sure."
"What are you gonna do with your horses?"
"I don't know."
"That's a nice looking stallion you have there. What's his name?"
Mr. Greene stroked his chin. "I don't know. I never thought about naming him."
"Oh. Well, if you'd like, I could keep him at my ranch long enough for you to build a new barn."
"You sure it wouldn't be too much trouble for you?"
"Heck no."
"Well, alright." Greene pat my forehead, and then handed my rope to the man. He tied it around the horn of his saddle and then cantered off with me beside him.

I was a little unsure of whether I wanted to stay with this Nick Lunden or not. I guess I really didn't have a choice. That night I slept alright, but in the morning after breakfast when I expected to be let out to pasture, I was not. Instead, a cowboy lead me outside where about three others sat on their horses, including Lunden. I was tied down to a saddle, and the next thing I knew, the four of us were galloping off to who knows where.

For several days we traveled. Finally we reached the destination--a cattle ranch. Lunden was obviously a horse thieving trail boss.

The next day I was saddled up and taken to a corral. A tall wrangler mounted me. He kicked his sharp spurs into my flank. I bolted and started to buck. I bucked from one side of the corral to the other. He hung on. I spun around and reared, then lunged forward and bucked as high as I could. But he still hung on. It seemed he was impossible to throw, so I gave up.

A few days later I was saddled up again and ridden by a cowboy out to a large field, covered with grazing cattle. I saw other horses with cowboy riders, too. Lunden rode in front of the herd, leading the others. In a minute all of the men started to gallop their horses around the cattle. It appeared as if they were chasing them somewhere.

My rider slapped the leather reins across my shoulders. I dashed forward. He started turning me left and right, then rode me away from the herd after a lone calf. He took a rope and began swinging it in the air. I braced myself, expecting it to hit me; but to my surprise, he threw it at the calf and it landed around his neck. It reminded me of when I was lassoed as taken from my herd.

We rode all day long. When night fell, we stopped. I was finally able to take a drink of water. After I had quenched my thirst, I lowered my head to the ground and grazed on the rough prairie grass. Later we horses were tied down and unsaddled. My back was sore and worn. My feet hurt. I was dusty, sweaty, and tired, but I could not sleep.

When dawn came, we started out again. The same thing that went on the day before happened that day. And then the next day, the next day, and the next. I knew each day I was farther away from Mr. Greene, and farther away from my herd. It was no use to try and escape; there was no way to.

After many weeks of herding cattle, we finally reached a town. The horses were boarded at the livery stable while the drovers stayed at the hotel. After several days, we traveled back to the ranch.

[Tsar]

I met up with hard work at the ranch, too. Every day I was worked and ridden. Sometimes I had to pull a buggy into town for supplies. I was ridden in rodeos, sprinted in races, and taken to the Colorado Plateau to catch wild mustangs. I was well fed and watered, and that was good. Still, I was always looking for my chance to escape.

At last it came after several years of being a cutting horse. It was a cool, starry night. I was chewing hay in the barn corral when I noticed a loose board in the fence. I walked up to it. I knew if I knocked it down, I could easily jump the fence. I waited until midnight, when everyone was asleep. Then I turned around and kicked out at the top board. I missed the first time, then I tried again and succeeded. The board feel to the ground, leaving only the bottom two. I walked as far away from it as possible, and with a running jump, I sailed over the fence and galloped away as fast as my legs could carry me.

I ran all night. I was sure I was headed in the right direction to the Greene farm, but my only concern was to flee from Lunden's ranch. When dawn came, I stopped long enough to boost my energy with some grass and a drink of water from a nearby river. I knew a whole possey of cowboys would probably come looking for me when they discovered I was missing, so I started out again.

Nighttime came, and I rested on the thought that everyone had given up searching for me. Of course, there was always the possibility they hadn't; but either way, I was probably twenty to thirty miles away from the ranch. After grazing a while, I laid down and got some well-deserved sleep.

Morning came, and my odyssey continued. As I steadily traveled, morning turned into noon, and the hot sun beat down on my back. But I was later relieved when evening's coolness struck. Afterwards the full moon rose, and I had completed the second day of my journey. And soon the third, and the fourth, and the fifth. I recognized many familiar landmarks that I had seen on the way to the ranch.

After an entire week of traveling, I reached within of mile of Lunden's farmhouse. To be seen around his place would be giving myself up; I had to go far around it. It would take longer, but it was better to play it safe.

Finally the Greene farm was within my sights. As I stood on the top of a hill, I examined the area below. A new and bigger barn had been built. The cottage was still the same, as were the pastures and yard. But as I observed it more, I noticed there were no chickens out and about in the yard. The collie dog could not be seen. The horses were not in the paddock. I shook my mane and trotted down to the house. I whinnied triumphantly. To my astonishment, no one could be seen. I crept back to the barn. It had been shut and locked. I whinnied again. No one responded.

I walked out back behind the house. I kept stepping along, looking for any trace left.

I stumbled across a grave with a cross standing by it. Something told me it was Mr. Greene. His wife and sons had probably moved away, along with all the animals. But why didn't they sell the farm? Obviously nobody lived here. I couldn't think of a reasonable explanation. All I knew was that I had lost my master, John Greene. It was time to move on now, and go back to my herd in the wild.

[Tsar]

Once again I was traveling west, to be with Summer and the rest of my herd. It was almost autumn, and I knew I had to make it before winter came, and snow and ice that would endanger my journey through the mountains.

The journey started out easy. There were many creeks and streams to supply me with fresh, clean water. The grass had not yet died, so miles of meadows and plains offered grass and edible wildflowers.

Soon it became harder. There were farms and houses I had to stay clear of. In a couple of weeks, the terrain became unlevel as I headed into the mountains. Summertime ended, and the air became cool and crisp. Occasionally a gentle late summer breeze would sweep through, rustling the leaves and wisping through my mane. I appreciated the zephyrs, for they dried my perspired back.

The days passed on. Summer became autumn. One late September morning, I came very short from being captured. I was grazing out in the open, unaware I was being stalked by two riders hidden by a tall row of hedges. My mind was completely on the grass and I was not alert until one of their horses nickered. I swooped my head up with a start. I looked over my shoulder, saw them, and galloped off in a flash. The two riders sprinted after me. I continued to gallop as fast as I could. Ahead were forest highlands. As I raced along, I figured out a plan. If I took them into the unlevel terrain, I could manage to escape; the riders' horses would be unable to carry them and swiftly climb up the hills at the same time.

The riders were slowly but surely gaining speed. But as we headed into the hills, they slowed down. I jumped over logs and climbed up the rocky ridges with ease. The other horses had a hard time carrying their heavy riders as they treaded through the woods. A large ravine was ahead of me. I came to a halt when I discovered it. It was too steep to walk down. It was on all sides of me except behind me. The riders had caught up with me. If I didn't jump the ravine, I would be captured.

Willpower, determination and strength surged through me as I galloped towards the ditch and leaped forward. I landed on the other side with a stumble. I regained my footing and trotted away. Behind me I heard one of the horses whinny. I stopped and looked back. One horse had fallen into the ditch with its rider. The other reared backwards at the edge of the ravine and threw the second rider. I was sorry it had to end this way, but it was the only way for me to escape being captured.