Rodeo Rocky by Jenny Oldfield Page A

deep breath, with her eyes still on Rocky, she answered quietly and firmly. “The plan’s real simple. I get up on Rocky and head him way out of here into the mountains. I ride him to Eagle’s Peak and down into the next valley, where there are no ranches, no roads; just miles of forest.”
    “And?” Lisa rode Cadillac right up beside her, following her gaze across the water to where Rocky stood.
    “And nothing,” Kirstie said. It was wild land without fences, with vast stretches of grass between the trees, pastures where deer grazed and horses roamed. Like Wyoming. Like the land the mustang knew best. She took a deep breath and told Lisa what was in her heart. “I’m gonna set Rocky free!”
    “But first you have to cross the creek!” Lisa pointed out the most obvious difficulty. “Forget that the pain in your shoulder is killing you. Ignore the fact that your mom is relying on getting her two grand back on the horse…”
    “Don’t think I haven’t thought it through a hundred times.” Kirstie shook her head and began to look for a safe place to cross. “But hey, have you got a better idea?”
    The question silenced Lisa. She frowned and walked Cadillac slowly along the bank of the stream. Opposite, Rocky had broken into an agitated trot. He ran a short distance by the water’s edge, away from Crystal Falls, turned quickly, and trotted back.
    “OK, Lucky, we need to join Rocky.” Kirstie edged her horse into the cold current. She felt him flinch as water lapped his knees. He hesitated, looking at Rocky, who was still trotting and wheeling around, whinnying now and pawing the ground.
    “How deep is that water?” Lisa asked nervously. She watched a piece of sodden driftwood speed by, tumbling between jagged rocks, then swirling and disappearing under the surface.
    Kirstie pressed Lucky’s sides to order him on. “It doesn’t matter; he can swim it, no problem.”
    “In that current?”
    “He’s strong. He can make it.” She glanced across the creek. It was thirty feet wide at this point, and the far bank was low and flat enough for her horse to climb out easily. Only Rocky seemed to be growing more upset at the place she’d chosen and to be warning Lucky against it. The mustang stamped and snorted, wheeled away, and raced upstream. He took a slope and stopped on a ridge of rock, inviting them to follow.
    With Lucky still only knee-deep in the water, Kirstie narrowed her eyes. “No, that’s no good. It’s too steep for us to get out there.” Her chosen place was better, she decided. Once more she gave Lucky the signal to plunge in deep.
    Reluctantly, straining at the reins, the palomino obeyed. He walked awkwardly into the current until, with a sudden jerk, he was out of his depth and swimming. The water rose around Kirstie’s legs and swamped the saddle. It closed over Lucky’s shoulders. His legs paddled smoothly and strongly, resisting the force of the rushing current, carrying them across the creek to the far shore.
    The ice-cold water pushed against Kirstie’s legs. She was waist-deep and still in the saddle, leaning into the current to resist it, struggling with the pain of her injured shoulder. But Lucky was making progress; they’d gone beyond the halfway point and the bank was now only a short way off. Rocky had charged down from the ridge and stood quivering on a ledge of black rock some fifteen feet from the grassy spot where Lucky would land. He was still agitated; his ears were back, he tossed his head and stamped. Then, as Lucky found his feet touching the riverbed again, there was a sudden swirl and giant eddy. The current had switched. It threw Kirstie sideways, so that she had to cling to the drenched saddle horn to regain her balance.
    “Hang on, Kirstie!” Lisa yelled from behind.
    Up ahead, Rocky stopped his restless stamping and froze.
    Kirstie hauled herself upright. “OK!” she whispered to Lucky. The worst was over. He could steady himself and walk on.
    One step,