Saving Snow Dragon: A Horse's Perilous Journey of Survival Against Man and Nature: Mystery Horse Lover's Series, #2

By Ann Feifel

Mystery Horse Lover's Series, Volume 2

243 pages

 

Ranchers, Riders, Rogues and Romance

 

Another epic tale unfolds in this fast-paced sequel to Ace the Black Stallion

Freedom for Ace and his band of wild horses is about to change.

 

The unthinkable happens on the freeway...

Snow Dragon, a prized white horse, escapes into the inhospitable mountains of Wyoming, where she faces one peril after another.

Snow Dragon and Ace square off against a corrupt ranch-hand who causes Snow Dragon to wind up in mortal danger.

 

~ Can Snow Dragon be rescued before succumbing to a horrendous fate? ~

 

In a dramatic series of events linked to one another, the epic story of Julia, Ace, and Ebony continues…

Paige, an insolent young girl with a sassy attitude, and her pony with an attitude to match.

A loveable dog, Gretta, a Labrador Retriever, thrust into a life-threatening situation.

Liesel will go to great lengths, even breaking the law, to gain possession of horses she covets.

A chance encounter ignites the embers of long-suppressed feelings into red-hot flames of a blazing romance.

 

Saving Snow Dragon, Mystery Horse Lover's Series Book 2, takes you into the horrors of wild horse-roundups, the challenges of ranching, the sport of equestrian riding and training, rising into a final crescendo that will leave you breathless.

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⚠ Mild foul language (PG). A sweet romance with no sexual content.

♥ Ideal for teens, young adults, and folks who are never too old to appreciate a delightful horse story. ♥

• Language: English
• Publisher: NORTHERN WINDSONG PUBLICATIONS
• Release date: Nov 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781777301545

Ann Feifel

Ann Feifel lives in Ontario with her husband, and two spoiled little dogs. She and her family members are all animal lovers, both domestic and wild. The first time Ann was lifted as a toddler onto the back of horse, so began her love for horses, and reading stories about horses. She has created two heart-warming books that she would have loved to read as her younger self and would enjoy reading even now. ACE The Black Stallion is Ann’s first novel. She began writing it in 2016, after a road trip through Wyoming... a most beautiful state! Seeing the feral horses that live free, provided fodder for her to create a story of HORSES, MYSTERY, DRAMA, AND EXCITEMENT. SAVING SNOW DRAGON, sequel to ACE, was a pleasurable two-year work in progress. So many readers enjoyed ACE and encouraged her to write the sequel, SAVING SNOW DRAGON PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW... REVIEWS ENCOURAGE AUTHORS TO KEEP WRITING, AND HELP OTHER READERS TO FIND BOOKS THEY WOULD ENJOY. THANK YOU.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The Roundup

A muffled thrum echoed along the canyon walls as it drew closer to the plateau where Ace and his band grazed. The black stallion threw up his head, his ears swiveling to identify the sound. Tiny hairs deep within his ear canal vibrated, relaying information to his auditory nerve. His tail lifted in alarm. Adrenaline surged through every muscle and nerve like an electrical charge, setting him into motion. Mane and tail flying, he bolted towards the closest mare and viciously raked his teeth across her hindquarters. Spurred into action by his savagery, she charged towards the others.

Too late. A spotter riding shotgun caught the movement in his binoculars and pointed. The helicopter banked sharply into the wind, then leveled out on a straight course towards the horses.

He yelled into the mike of his headset, cut them off before they reach that canyon!

The beast veered towards them like an evil bird of prey. A thundering roar filled the air. Great clods of earth flew from their hooves as Ace drove his mares and foals at a relentless pace towards the narrow canyon.

Two older bay mares with young foals straggled behind as the stallion desperately herded the group across the plateau. The rotor blades churned a whirlwind of rocks, sand, and gravel. Blinded by rising clouds of swirling dust, and spooked by gravel and rock striking her hide, the lead mare swerved from the mouth of the canyon. The others followed. Ace closed the distance and tore through the opening into the canyon. He halted and bellowed out a whinny, but the deafening roar of the beast drowned him out. The crazed group galloped on. Ears flat to their heads, eyes wide with fear, they desperately sought to escape this whirling devil pursuing them from above.

Side to side behind the terrorized group, the copter herded them to the desert floor below. The beast drove the exhausted band further and further away.

Ace stood trembling. Lathered in sweat, his broad chest heaved. Flanked by the sheer walls of the canyon, the sound of the enemy grew faint. He tossed his head and broke the silence with a snort of anguish.

The ground crew waited by the gates. Kicked up by the stampede of hooves, a cloud of dust appeared in the distance, announcing their impending arrival. The two older bay mares and a solitary foal followed the group through the chutes, and the gates clanged shut behind them. One mare frantically circled the corral, whinnying for her foal.

The following day, Ace wandered down to the desert floor. Buzzards flew off as he approached to sniff the crumpled body of the dead foal, its tiny head twisted at an odd angle.

CHAPTER TWO

The Driver

The Driver cupped his hands under the faucet, splashed his face, and dragged his fingers through his unruly red mop. He glanced up at his reflection in the mirror. ‘Daddy-O, you look like crap.’ He brushed a hand over the stubble on his jaw, but decided to skip shaving. If he didn’t get on the road, he’d be late for the 9 a.m. pick-up.

He nudged the bedroom door open to peek in. A stream of light fell across his son’s face. He longed to touch the fine red fuzz on the tiny head, but he dared not. Cutting his first tooth, his wife had tried her best to comfort the wee lad, but he’d cried far into the night.

Long, slow breaths assured him his wife was also asleep, exhausted from hours of walking the floors. With a final look at his son, he closed the door softly behind him.

Downstairs, he picked up the dispatch sheet for the trucking company and read as he ate a bran muffin. He would be hauling ten horses in a livestock trailer; one to be delivered to Cody, Wyoming, and the rest to Denver, Colorado. A note at the bottom in bold red fonts read, Thoroughbred breeding stock. Handle with care. Feed and water at regular intervals.

He had a long drive ahead and little sleep under his belt. The Driver rubbed the back of his neck, then grabbed his baseball cap from a hook. He said a silent thank you to his wife for the thermos and cooler she’d left near the door, then stepped outside into the crisp air.

His breath rose in frosty billows as he walked to the curb and climbed into the cab. Spring had been late coming. The remains of dirty snowbanks caught in his headlights as he drove through town.

An hour later, he turned onto a side road. White fences seemed to stretch forever before he arrived at the driveway. On each side of the entrance, lanterns hung from two huge marble horse statues.

His eyebrows rose at the chrome trim gleaming across the front and sides of the stock trailer parked on the blacktop. Even the hubcaps. He noted the fancy lettering of the name emblazed across the side. Statewood Stables

Three men in dark coveralls stood in the light spilling from the open doorway of the stables. As The Driver climbed down, one walked over to give him instructions.

The man pointed at the cargo hold. In there is the water tank and hay. He demonstrated how swinging hatches along the sides allowed access to each horse.

Stop and check them every four to six hours. They each have a hay net and bucket. Keep the hay nets filled, and water buckets little more than half full. If you hit rough roads, they end up standing in wet shavings. These are valuable horses, especially the white one. But watch her, she bites.

Will do.

I checked the weather along your route. You might get some rain in Montana, but it should be clear most of the way. He pointed to a laneway. You can turn around there.

The Driver swung the cab around and eased back until the coupler clanked into place. The horses shifted uneasily inside the trailer. A loud whinny set off a round of replies from the stables.

The Driver climbed down to connect the wiring for the brake system and trailer lights. Yellow running lights blinked on across the top and the rear. ‘The fanciest horse rig I’ve ever pulled,’ he thought to himself.

He entered his route on the GPS, read the mileage, and blew out a long breath. ‘Seventeen hours, give or take. That’s a lot of miles to cover. I won’t be stopping every four hours.’ He waved at the man and chugged up the drive. Keeping a close watch in his rear-view mirrors, he swung the eighteen-wheeler wide past the statues onto the side road.

By noon, his bladder demanded urgent attention, and he pulled off to a rest stop. After a quick dash to the bathroom, he poured a coffee from the thermos and wolfed down two egg salad sandwiches, ignoring the persistent pawing of hooves in the trailer. ‘I’ll fill their hay nets at the next stop.’

He kept a steady pace through the afternoon in moderate traffic. Nearing dinnertime, the interstate slowed to a crawl, congested with commuters headed home. It would be a good time for another break and to tend the horses. He swung off at a truck stop and pulled in behind another rig. The trailer rocked as the hungry horses stomped and shifted around. He took a moment to roll his shoulders and crack his knuckles before he set about collecting hay nets. When he opened a hatch near the rear, round dark eyes studied him through a shock of white forelock draped across an ivory face. Her nostrils flared pink as she snorted at him. He didn’t know much about horses, but he thought to himself, ‘wow, this one’s a looker.’ He reached to give the velvety nose a rub, but quickly withdrew when she pinned her ears and nipped at him. Each time he tried to remove her hay net, she snapped at him. He lifted his cap and scratched his head. About to let her go hungry, an idea came to him. He gathered a handful of loose hay and offered it to her. She pulled greedily at it. With her mouth occupied, he seized the moment to grab her halter, and held her head to the side while he unhooked the net. Focused on eating hay rather than his hand, he secured it without losing a finger. While she tugged at the hay net, he read the brass name plate on the side of her leather halter. Snow Dragon.

You’re a sassy one Miss Snow Dragon, but a fine lady, he said.

Back in the cab, he ate the last sandwich. A smile came to his face when he noticed a Ziplock bag in the bottom of the cooler. ‘Mmm, homemade chocolate chip cookies.’ After he gobbled them down, he called his wife to thank her and say goodnight. She told him the baby felt better and had already fallen asleep. Give our little munchkin a kiss and I’ll call you in the morning. Love you, Babe.

Accustomed to dozing short periods on long hauls, he set his alarm for four hours and climbed into his bunk.

The annoying blast of the buzzer woke him with a start. He swung his feet to the floor, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stretched and wrinkled his nose when he caught a whiff of his pits. The lingering warmth taunted him as he smoothed his bedding.

He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his toiletry bag from the storage under the bed. A puddle with a skiff of ice cracked underfoot as he stepped down. He drew in a few deep breaths to clear his head after the stale air in the cab. His eyes watered as he hurried up the sidewalk to the restroom.

After a quick walk-about with his flashlight, The Driver climbed in and poured the last of his coffee from the thermos. Swallowing it in one gulp, he grimaced at the bitter taste.

The evening traffic moved along at a good clip when he merged onto the highway. Commuters, now at home in suburbia, relaxed on their sofas after supper.

Hours later, he eyed the fuel gauge and took the off-ramp at the next fuelling station. As the rig filled, the horses stomped, anxious to be fed again. The Driver kneaded a muscle in his shoulder. It had bothered him ever since his high school days. During football practice, a fellow teammate built like a tree trunk, and just as stupid, had tackled him.

He pulled from the pumps into a ten-minute parking lane to use the restroom and tend the horses. Dog-tired, he closed the final hatch and glanced to the trucker’s parking in back. A solid row of rigs huffed white spirals of acrid diesel exhaust into the night air. He sighed. Every spot had been taken. He’d have to push on and sleep after unloading the horse in Cody. He rounded the trailer for a final check, then climbed into the cab and flicked the overhead lights on to update his logbook. Aware he’d exceeded the legal time limit allowed to drive in one stretch, he’d have to manipulate the numbers.

When he turned south, he was too tired to admire the snow-capped mountains to the east, their jagged peaks etched against the purple-blue light of dawn.

The hypnotic drone of tires lulled The Driver into a dream-like state. On a straight stretch, he wavered over the line. A car coming up on the inside lane laid on the horn. His head snapped up. He glanced at the time and scratched his stubble. ‘C’mon man, just a few more hours.’ He adjusted the seat upright and flicked on the radio to the croon of Garth Brooks. Chilled, he longed to crank up the heat, but cracked the window instead, hoping fresh air would, ‘clear the cobwebs,’ as his mother used to say.

Twenty miles further, his chin dropped to his chest, and his hands went slack on the wheel. Little by little, the truck drifted across the line to the other side of the road. When the front tire dropped off the pavement into loose gravel, he awoke with a jolt and jammed on the brakes, leaving double black trails of rubber along the pavement. He wrestled with the wheel, attempting to gain control, but the momentum of the heavy trailer thrust him into the grass on the sloped median. Careening down the incline towards a row of concrete dividers, the tires gouged deep ruts through the soft soil. The trailer began to slant to the left and the horses swayed as one against the walls. The concrete dividers loomed ahead as the top-heavy rig tilted, taking the cab with it.

A split-second before impact, The Driver closed his eyes. His sad, and final thought... he would leave his wife a widow, and his baby boy, fatherless.

── ✧ ──

One door gaped open at the rear of the horse trailer. Those not dead or gravely injured, desperately scrambled to gain their footing.

First to come upon the carnage, two young men ran past the trailer towards the crushed cab.

Amidst the mayhem of terrified shrieks and hooves battering the walls, the men peered through the mangled cab, searching for the driver. A fitting tune crackled from a speaker, with Conway Twitty singing, I’ll Never Make it Home Tonight.

Others arriving at the scene ran into the field to catch the three horses who’d somehow gotten out. Two had horrible gashes streaming with blood. A white horse, the fourth and final horse to escape the wreckage, stood dazed for a moment. When a woman tried to catch hold of her halter, her head flew up and the whites of her eyes flashed in fear. The horse turned and tore into the field. Without slowing, she galloped past the horses and people in the field, heading towards the hills in the distance.

They watched the white horse, her blanket flapping with each barreling stride, until she disappeared around a large clump of shrubs.

── ✧ ──

Snow Dragon ran farther and farther away from the accident site. She stumbled down the bank of a shallow creek, splashed through, her hooves gouging the earth as she charged up the other side. On she galloped, weaving around large boulders, trees, and scrub brush. A sheer rock wall loomed ahead. She swerved and followed the base until she came to a rock-strewn gorge and turned uphill towards the jagged peaks above. Heedless of the rugged footing, her hooves clattered across uneven ridges and gravel. Dislodged stones skittered down the steep slope below. With her chest heaving, she came to a halt on a small ledge. Her neck, dark with sweat, she drew in great breaths through flared nostrils.

Nearing dark and desperate with thirst, Snow Dragon left the ledge and made her way back to the creek. Submersing her muzzle into the ice-cold mountain run-off, she greedily drank her fill, then wandered along the rock wall until she came to rest under an overhang. Night fell, but the mare never slept. She nervously swung her head around, peering into the darkness each time she heard a sound.

Snow Dragon had lived a pampered life, ill-adapted for the harsh and unforgiving land she’d escaped to. She’d never spent a night outside. During the winter, she’d worn a quilted horse blanket and bedded down at night on a thick layer of shavings. A bucket heater kept the water at a tepid temperature. In the warmer months, fly sheets and mesh face masks protected her from biting insects.

Hunger overtook her as dawn broke, and she left the shelter of the overhang. Unlike the sweet hay and tender grass on the ranch, she turned away from the coarse grass growing on the cliffs and the desert. By late afternoon, out of desperation, she ate the wild grass along with other edible greens she could find.

Late that evening, temperatures dropped, and clouds rolled in low over the mountains. A light snow fell. Shivering under the thin shipping blanket, she spent the night, lost and alone with her back to the wind in a shallow depression.

Within a week’s time, many horses and riders came into sight, spreading across the desert, followed by the horrible sounds of countless wheeled machines kicking up clouds of dust. Each day, more and more appeared. She kept on the move and came upon a deep crevice. Providing a safe haven, she stepped out of sight into the narrow passage between the towering cliffs. Small animals with brownish fur and long leathery tails scurried past, squealing at the intrusion.

She kept close to the crevice during the day, watching, listening, and slipped inside her sanctuary whenever riders came near. Terrified, she stood trembling in the semi-darkness when loud whirling beasts came from the sky a few afternoons later. Only after night-fall she emerged to forage for food, and to drink from a nearby stream.

Days passed. After a lengthy time, when horses, men and machines, no longer crossed the desert or ferreted about through the hills, she wandered away from her hideaway.

She roamed the desert and foothills at the mercy of the elements. Swarms of flies attacked her tender skin with a vengeance. She kept on the move while she foraged on bushes, coarse shrubs and sage grass. Sharp stones bruised the sensitive frogs on her feet, and the walls of her hooves chipped and cracked on the rugged terrain. Thorns gashed her legs, leaving her sore and miserable.

Her leather halter held strong, but the shipping blanket twisted and snagged on branches. She dragged it into tatters until it fell off when the buckles snapped. The protective bell boots and leg wraps were long gone. Her mane and tail, once long and luxurious, twisted into a mass of dreadlocks. If her owners could have seen her, they wouldn’t have believed she was their horse.

One evening at dusk, as Snow Dragon rounded a boulder, she halted at a strange rattling sound. She stepped towards it, peering at the coiled creature. Agitated at her approach, the rattling intensified. From the cliff above, a dark shape and flurry of feathers swooped across in front of her. Snow Dragon threw up her head as a great horned owl plucked the rattlesnake from the ground.

Unaware it had saved Snow Dragon from an extremely painful, and potentially deadly bite, it flew off with its meal twisting and writhing in the sharp talons.

CHAPTER THREE

Julia and Liesel

Before Julia turned ten, her mother had been stricken down by cancer. Her father, Martin, had considered selling their Quarter Horse brood mare ranch in Cody, Wyoming, but he couldn’t do that to his daughter. She’d already lost her mother. He couldn’t take the ranch and