Quest for the Silver Mustang

By Janice Ladendorf

In 1830, fourteen year old Lisbet McTavish embarks on a perilous quest. She wants to find friends who will accept her unusual self and the silver mustang she has ridden so many times in her medicine dreams. Her hidden heritage links her to the spirit world of our Native Americans. Her spirit guide is a falcon. She is a lonely, imaginative, and impulsive child who enjoys unfeminine activities, such as riding astride, swimming, fishing, and hunting. Her father is a doctor, a natural scientist, and a horse whisper. His mother was an Ottawa medicine woman, but he has chosen to pass for white. Lisbet plays many warrior games with him and helps in his research. They work together to aid escaped slaves and rescue abused horses. Lisbet's mother is dead and a freedwoman looks after them. Their home is in what will become West Virginia on the southern bank of the Potomac River.

When they are caught helping escaped slaves, they are forced to leave Virginia. Dr. McTavish obtains a post as Chief Surgeon at Fort Gibson in what will become Oklahoma. They travel together to Pittsburgh to a keelboat which takes them down the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers and up the Arkansas River to Fort Gibson. In Tennessee, an army family joins them and the son becomes Lisbet's friend. On their long journey, they have to deal with thieves, river pirates, men who abuse horses, slave catchers, gamblers, and an epidemic. When they reach Fort Gibson, they make friends with an Osage scout and hunter. After Lisbet saves his life, he invites them to visit his village.

Lisbet's unusual heritage and upbringing help her survive on the bloody frontier. Her adventures force her to face the reality of pain, cruelty, suffering, and death. On her journey, she chooses to become a warrior who uses her skills to resist villains and aid victims, both human and equine. Before her spirit guide allows her to find her silver mustang, she must understand and accept the risks taken by all those who are at odds with their society. She becomes a caring, sensitive adult.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janice Ladendorf
• Release date: Nov 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311566621

Janice Ladendorf

Janice Ladendorf has been working with horses for over sixty-five years. She has degrees in history and library science and has been writing for publication since 1966. She has published five books and over seventy articles. Her work is about history or horsemanship. Her memoir, A Marvelous Mustang: Tales from the Life of a Spanish Horse, is a true story, but written from the horse's point of view.

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What Reviewers Said About This Book

It's an historical epic full of adventures involving runaway slaves and Indians, but it's mostly about a girl's quest for a silver mustang.

Roundup Magazine, Feb. 2013, p. 30.

This book is extremely well-researched and takes the reader back in time to the American Frontier.

Mary Lignor, Feathered Quill, March, 2013.

The author tamed and trained a Spanish mustang, and her love of horses is obvious on every page.

Mary Ann Grossmann, St. Paul Pioneer Press, 7-1-2012.

A gripping story, hard to put down. Young Lisbet and her silver mustang search for each other through dreams as she makes her way through adventures that keep the reader enthralled.

Mona Gustafason-Affinito, Amazon Customer Review, 6-21-12.

Quest For The Silver Mustang

Janice M. Ladendorf

Second Edition

Copyright 2014

Smashwords Edition

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

The first edition of this novel was published under the title, Heart of a Falcon.

Cover photograph courtesy of Windcross Conservancy: Spanish Mustang Preserve, Buffalo Gap, South Dakota.

Table of Contents

Part One: Leaving Virginia

Chapter 1: Runaway Slaves

Chapter 2: Caught on the River

Chapter 3: Shunned

Chapter 4: Searching for the Doctor

Chapter 5: Racehorses and Races

Chapter 6: The Doctor Returns

Chapter 7: Westward Move

Chapter 8: Indian Heritage

Part Two: River Journey by Keelboat

Chapter 9: Reaching the Eagle

Chapter 10: Trapped Onboard

Chapter 11: Pirate Attack

Chapter 12: Freedman

Chapter 13: Stolen Victims

Chapter 14: Investigations in Town and Country

Chapter 15: Bartu Escapes

Chapter 16: Becoming a Woman

Chapter 17: Stephen

Chapter 18: Racing at Little Rock

Chapter 19: Epidemic

Chapter 20: Journey's End

Part Three: Living at a Frontier Post

Chapter 21: The Doctor Takes Charge

Chapter 22: Missing Mustang

Chapter 23: The Scary Party

Chapter 24: Mustang Rescue

Chapter 25: At the Races

Chapter 26: The Outlaw

Chapter 27: The Dun Mustang

Chapter 28: Dusty Tests Lisbet

Chapter 29: Little Buck

Part Four: Journey of Discovery

Chapter 30: Dream Magic

Chapter 31: Osage Village

Chapter 32: Lisbet Meets Moon Woman

Chapter 33: Horse Thieves

Author Information

Cover Picture

Part One - Leaving Virginia

Chapter 1 – Runaway Slaves

Northwestern Virginia

(Now the northeastern tip of West Virginia)

Early May, 1830

Lisbet McTavish felt the spring sun warming her back. Blissfully, she inhaled the scent of blossoming flowers, plants, and trees. The green growth in the fields and pastures beside the road created a feast for her black eyes. Birds filled the air with their songs and a woodpecker hammered at a nearby tree.

Her stocky bay pony strode out and her wiry body automatically swung along in rhythm with his walk. His ears flicked back and forth, as he shared her joy in listening to the sounds of spring. Suddenly, he hesitated, looked to the right, and snapped his ears forward. Lisbet turned in her saddle and saw a red fox poised with one front paw in the air. Hunters called foxes vermin, but she thought of them as fellow predators and beautiful ones.

The fox looked at them for a moment before he spun around. He leaped gracefully over a post and rail fence before he loped off through the pasture on the other side. As he bounded through the tall grass, Lisbet saw his brush floating above the grass, then disappearing below it.

She caressed her pony’s neck. Neolin, thank you for pointing out that fox to me. She touched him lightly with the calves of her legs and he obediently walked on again. She looked up and a speck in the sky turned into a falcon swooping down on his prey. He made a neat catch and soared off to eat his dinner.

Lisbet envied the fox and the falcon because they had so much more freedom than she did. She had to wear uncomfortable clothes while they had their own coats of fur or feathers. They could fight, run, or fly away from threats. She had to be polite to adults who dared to disapprove of her and her eccentric father. Someday she hoped to find a place where she could be herself, but still have friends who accepted her.

She patted Neolin again, and then felt him tense underneath her. He flicked his ears backwards and she heard odd metallic sounds coming from behind them. She quickly moved her pony to the side of the road, turned him towards the sounds, and halted him. Her well-trained pony stood motionless even when she dropped the reins on his neck.

Lisbet wore boots, breeches, and a linen shirt with an open neck. She took off her straw hat and reached up to check on her long black braid. Whenever she delivered secret messages for her father, she pinned it up on the crown of her head before she hid it under her hat. She wanted strangers to see her as a boy, not a fourteen-year-old girl.

While she redid her braid, she thought about how much she enjoyed riding astride and wearing boy’s clothes. At home, she usually rode bareback. On her longer rides, she used one of her father’s English saddles. Fortunately, he believed sidesaddles were unsafe and never forced her to use one. Their neighbors called her riding style unfeminine. Every Sunday morning after church, somebody complained to her father about it.

Lisbet put her hat back on, picked up her reins, and waited by the road with Neolin. A party of men came down the road towards them with a coffle of slaves. The man in the lead rode a scrawny horse. He cradled a carbine in his arms and carried a whip. As he came closer, Lisbet noticed he used a curb bit with long shanks. He also wore roweled spurs. His horse had sores on his sides from the spurs and whip welts over his rump.

Behind him came a line of men with iron collars around their necks. Chains linked the collars together. A chain from the collar of the first man had been attached to the saddle of the leader’s horse. He used it to drag the coffle along behind him. The ugly expression on his face and the cruel look in his eyes made Lisbet feel sick. She clenched her teeth as she struggled to keep her stomach under control.

When the coffle of men stumbled past her, their chains jingled. Whip marks, bruises, and wounds showed beneath their tattered clothing. Lisbet had hunted with her father and helped skin game. One glance told her which wounds had been made by bullets and which ones by the fangs of a dog.

As one of the men came past her, he raised his head and looked straight at her. Anger and defiance shone out of his eyes and she guessed ill treatment had not yet broken his spirit. Before he lowered his eyes, she smiled at him. Two men with leashed dogs walked beside the chained men. The half-starved attack dogs looked savage, but they ignored Lisbet and Neolin.

Behind the chained men came a wagon pulled by two skinny horses with whip welts on their backs. Sores peeked out from under their ill-fitted harness. Several scent hounds dozed in the back of the wagon. The two men on the seat carried muskets.

All her life Lisbet had heard stories about the horrors of slavery, but the sight of the chained and abused men brought those stories alive for her. This was the first time she had actually seen bounty hunters with their catch. She knew that they worked for the rewards offered by the owners of runaways, but their brutality shocked her.

Lisbet lived on the south bank of the Potomac River. To reach freedom beyond the Mason Dixon line, runaway slaves had to cross the River and go just a few miles through Maryland to the Pennsylvania border. She guessed the chained men had been caught near the River. To be recaptured so close to freedom had to be terrible for them. Their plight filled her with sympathy; but, if she wanted to help them, she knew she had to conceal her feelings from the men who had caught them.

The leader of the party stopped his horse and the line staggered to a halt. He looked back at Lisbet and yelled, Boy, you come here.

As she rode up to him, she gritted her teeth and put a bland expression on her face. Neolin reacted to the tension in her body by coiling up underneath her. She felt him tremble when he caught the smell of blood from the abused men and horses.

The leader spat tobacco juice over his horse’s neck and looked ahead at a fork in the road. We needs a good campsite. What's down this here road?

Lisbet smelled raw whiskey as he took a swig from the jug attached to his saddle. Sir, if you take the left hand fork, there’s a stream a mile or two down the road with enough space for a camp.

He guffawed and glanced back at the slaves. Good, we want to celebrate tonight. We been chasing this lot for weeks. Now we got ‘em and their owner, he’s gonna pay us good money when we get ‘em back to his plantation.

As the line started again, Lisbet moved Neolin back out of their way. When they had gone past, she slid off his back and led him into the trees beside the road. She leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Tears of outrage and sympathy slid down her face.

Her pony nudged her until she stopped crying. Lisbet pulled out a handkerchief, rubbed her eyes, and dried her face. She ran her hands down her pony’s warm silky neck and remembered her first sight of him. When her father bought him for her, he had been even thinner that the slave catchers’ animals and covered with sores.

She hugged him. We have to do something to help those men in chains. I’d like to get rid of those evil men, guide all the runaways to freedom, and find good homes for all those poor animals.

Her family had always worked with other people who helped escaped slaves find their way to freedom. Her father also rescued neglected or abused horses. She helped nurse them back to health and had always rejoiced when he found good owners for them. She glanced up and saw a falcon soaring in the sky. The familiar sight filled her heart with the spirit of a warrior and a plan that might work came into her mind.

Lisbet knew just where to go to get help for the chained men. Her father believed nobody would suspect a boy or girl on a pony of carrying secret messages so she often delivered them for him. On this trip, she had a sealed letter for one of his friends.

She jumped up on Neolin, walked him back to the road, and headed down the right hand fork. They had two more miles to go. To make her plan work, she had to hurry. She pushed her pony into a gallop. By leaning forward and driving her feet down in the stirrups, she kept some of her weight off his back.

As much as she loved Neolin, sometimes she wished she had a taller and faster horse to ride. At thirteen hands, he was a big pony, but his short strides limited his speed. Also, he was twenty-five years old and she had to be careful not to overtax him. Ever since she read about the mustangs who lived on the western prairies, she had dreamed about replacing him with one of them.

Her father’s friend was a blacksmith. Before they reached his shop, Lisbet slowed her sweating pony back down to a walk. When the burly man came out to greet her, she gave him his letter and told him what she had seen on the road.

His face sagged into a mournful expression and he shook his head. I doubt if those bounty hunters would sell their horses. We can do nothing for their captives. We can’t afford to risk exposure. The penalties for helping runaway slaves are too severe.

But we must help them.

Aren't the slave catchers armed?

Yes, sir. They are.

We can’t fight armed men.

Lisbet cried. If only my father were here, I think he’d ambush or drug those slave catchers and take the slaves to freedom. I know he’d want me to help them.

The man frowned. I’ve heard stories about your father. Didn’t he grow up with the Ottawa Indians?

Yes, sir. He did. His father and grandfather ran a trading post in their territory. Her father’s mother had been an Ottawa medicine woman, but he had chosen to live in the white man’s world and keep his Indian blood a secret.

Didn’t he serve in the war of 1812?

Yes, sir. He did, but as a surgeon. He’d been a frontier hunter and fighter before he became a doctor."

I’ve never even been a soldier. I’m a peaceable blacksmith. Locking on those iron collars takes a long time. Knocking out the pins that hold them together is much easier, but has to be done with a hammer and chisel.

Couldn’t the slaves file through the links in those chains?

They could, but it would be a slow process. My files are eight or ten inches long. They could hide them, but they would have to conceal the cuts on the chains and the scraping sound made by the files. Besides, how can you get any files to them?

I think the slave catchers are planning on getting drunk. If they do, I’m sure I can sneak up to their camp. My father taught me how to move and hide like an Indian on the warpath. I can take the slaves a hammer, a chisel, and some files. They can decide if they want to use them to escape again.

When she set her jaw and let her determination shine out of her eyes, the blacksmith sighed. I’ll give you the tools, but please be careful. If the men aren’t drunk, don’t even try to get the tools to the slaves. If they catch you, don’t tell them where you got the tools or mention my name.

Lisbet smiled at him. I promise I’ll be careful.

She carefully wrapped up the tools and got back on her pony. To cool him down, she rode him across the road and through the woods at a slow walk. When they reached the top of the hill that overlooked the slave catchers’ camp, she dismounted, loosened his girth, and took off his bridle. Before she tied him to a tree, she took a nosebag of oats off of her saddle and slipped it over his halter.

From the hill, she studied the layout of the camp. One of the slave catchers lay sleeping on the ground. The other four sprawled around the campfire laughing, singing obscene songs, and drinking from large jugs of liquor. They had stacked their guns by the wagon and had not yet posted any guards. The end of their chain had been wrapped around a large oak tree and secured with a rope. The defiant man who had looked up at her leaned against the tree.

The bounty hunters had tied their horses and dogs near the stream. All the horses wore nosebags and the dogs had bones to fight over. The wind carried their scent towards Lisbet. She chuckled to herself and decided that her plan was going to work. She had picked just the right time to sneak into their camp. She studied the terrain around it and figured out how to reach the tree. She felt a few butterflies in her stomach, but her father had taught her how to move soundlessly through woods, meadows, and fields.

Lisbet tucked her hunting knife securely under her breeches. She glided down the wooded hill and crawled through the long grass to the oak tree. As she neared it, a noxious odor reached her nose. It came from the broken blisters and infected burns underneath the collars worn by the chained men.

When she reached out and touched the defiant man on the calf of his leg, he jumped and rolled his eyes towards her, but made no sound. She touched her finger to her lips and put the tools on the ground beside him. He shifted his position a little, grabbed them, and shoved them underneath his tattered clothes.

He watched her use her knife to cut through the rope that tied the chain to the tree. When she finished, he couldn’t stretch his swollen lips into a smile so he winked at her. She smiled and winked back at him. She wriggled slowly backwards, turned herself around, crawled back through the grass, and climbed the hill.

She untied her pony, took off his nosebag, and hugged him. I made it, Neolin. One of them has the tools they need to free themselves. Oh, I hope some of them get away from those brutal men. I just wish we could have rescued those poor horses.

She bridled her pony, tightened his girth, and tied the nosebag to her saddle. She mounted and silently walked him down the hill and back through the woods. She told the friendly blacksmith about her success and headed Neolin down the road towards home.

When they reached it, she saw the wide waters of the Potomac River glimmering in the fading light. Lisbet gave a sigh of relief and patted her tired pony. Neolin, you did well today. You deserve a good meal and a rest.

Pride filled her heart when she looked at her home. It was a two-story farmhouse set at the edge of the five hundred acres owned by her family. Extensive gardens lay between the farmhouse and the river. She glanced over their wild woods and meadows, then at their fenced fields and pastures.

Briefly, she thought about her family’s history. Her maternal grandfather had built her home and lived there with her mother. The white bricks in the chimney told runaway slaves that the people in that house would help them. Her parents had met when they were escorting slaves to freedom. After their marriage, they had settled down with her grandfather and he had left the property to her mother. She had died when Lisbet was born, but her father had decided to go on living in Virginia.

When Neolin reached his stable, Lisbet dismounted and hugged him. She glanced up at the sun. Oh, oh. It’s getting late and I still have my chores to do. I’m glad we don’t have any extra horses to groom, doctor, and feed right now.

Neolin nuzzled her and she gave him another hug. I won’t have time to help Maybelle with dinner. I hope she doesn’t get mad at me. Lisbet’s mother had inherited Maybelle, and then freed her. She was their cook and housekeeper.

She put her saddle and bridle away, and then gave Neolin a good rubdown. While she worked, she wondered what her father would say when she told him about her attempt to help the chained men.

Chapter 2 - Caught on the River

Dr. Ian McTavish walked into the stable leading his horse, Pontiac. Like his daughter, he had black hair and eyes, a wiry build, and aquiline features. He wore boots, breeches, and an open necked shirt. You’re late. What kept you?

He listened to Lisbet’s story, and then hugged her. I’m proud of my warrior daughter, but you took quite a risk.

Lisbet shrugged. Oh, their half-starved animals were busy eating and I knew men that careless would never see or hear me. You’re not angry with me?

He had always enjoyed playing hunt, hide, and sneak with his daughter, but didn’t know how to convince her that that slave stealing was not a game. No, you did all you could, but I’m glad you didn’t get caught.

I’m not sure if I felt sorrier for the abused men or the abused horses.

Slaves and horses are property. Men who abuse other human beings often abuse animals. Slaves can escape, but here in Virginia horses have no place to run. We can’t afford to buy slaves and give them their freedom, but owners are sometimes willing to sell their abused horses for very little.

Lisbet shuddered. I know, but I felt I had to give those men choices. I don’t understand why that blacksmith didn’t want to help them.

I’m sure he did, but he made a good decision. Slave stealing isn’t a game. If he or you had been caught, none of us would be here to help other runaways.

I never thought about what would happen if I got caught. I just wanted to help those chained men escape again. You're right; helping runaway slaves isn’t a game.

Her father breathed a sigh of relief. Keeping our activities secret hasn’t been easy. That’s one reason why we so rarely mingle with our neighbors.

Lisbet sighed. Sometimes I’m glad nobody at school wants to be my friend.

Her father winced. That’s been hard for you.

Oh, our secrets aren’t the main problem. We’re just too different from our neighbors. Unlike them, you don’t believe in beating women, children, or horses. I wear dresses to school, but they know you let me ride astride and act like a boy. I’d never dare tell any of them that I have a falcon as an animal guide and spirit teacher.

Her father hugged her again. Let’s turn Pontiac and Neolin out; and then I’ll help you with your chores. We’d better be on time for dinner.

When they hurried into the house, Lisbet heard Maybelle singing hymns. As they came into her kitchen, she spun her short, sturdy body around to face them. Lisbet noticed she wore a new, clean apron over her ankle length dress.

Maybelle frowned and waved her ladle at Lisbet. You be late.

Lisbet’s father put his arm around her shoulders and smiled at Maybelle. Lisbet’s had quite a day. While we eat, she can tell you all about it.

Maybelle listened to her and said, Tonight we prays for them men in chains.

Good idea, said her father.

Lisbet frowned and thought for a few moments, and then her face lit up. I’ll pray for their escape.

That night Lisbet dreamed about the slave catchers. When they beat their captives and their horses, she felt every blow. In the morning, she remembered her dream and hoped that some of the slaves had managed to get away from those evil men.

That day, she decided Neolin needed a rest so she did chores and helped Maybelle in the kitchen. After dinner, she went out and saw dark storm clouds in the sky. She caught Neolin and brought him into the stable for grooming. She removed layers of dried mud from his coat, picked up each foot to clean it, and combed the tangles out of his long, black mane and tail.

Sweat dripped steadily off her body. Whenever she stopped to wipe her face, she thought about a replacement for her pony. She loved him, but knew she had outgrown him. Pontiac was well bred and beautiful, but she didn’t want a horse like him. Ever since she had read the published journals of the Lewis and Clark expedition with her father, she had dreamed about owning a mustang like the ones they had seen.

When she finished grooming her pony, she climbed up into the hayloft to find an apple for him. She knew her father had taken his boat out fishing. She looked out the loft door and saw him rowing three escaped slaves across the river. Suddenly, she saw the bounty hunters rapidly paddling a dugout towards her father. An apprehensive shiver ran down her spine.

One of the slave catchers recognized her father and Lisbet heard him shout, Dr. McTavish. Fear brought tension to every muscle in her body.

Her father reached the north bank before the slave catchers caught up to him. The runaways leaped out and ran for their lives and freedom. Her father spun his boat around and rammed it into the dugout. It started to sink and she began praying for his safety.

He kicked off his boots, leaped over both boats, and dove into the water. The slave catchers clung to the broken boats and floundered towards the northern shore. Her father swam back across the river and she ran to meet him.

He saw her and stopped. His wet shirt and pantaloons clung to his lean body. He ran his hands through his long, black