Galloping Away

By Robin Kolb

A True Bond

When almost 13-year-old Alex forms a true bond with a newborn colt, she secretly promises to make him her own. But like all horses born on her family's Rosen Ranch, this colt is slated to be sold.

Alex thinks if she can prove herself a capable horse trainer, there might be a chance to keep the colt

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chicken Scratch Books
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781953743312

Book preview

Moonlight bounced off the snow creating a shimmering pathway to the barn. I slipped and slid over the ice, stuffing my arms into a warm jacket.

Thwack. I went down. Hard. Icy cold stingers burned through my hands and knees like hundreds of bee stings. But after having to wait until I was twelve for this moment, a fall couldn’t stop me.

A cool, damp nose pressed into my cheek.

Hey, Rosie. I sat back on my heels and took a moment to ruffle our dog’s thick winter coat. Rosie wagged her behind then nudged my cheek with quick taps. Grabbing gloves out of my pocket, I pulled them over my still-smarting hands. Let’s hurry. We don’t want to miss it.

I scrambled to my feet and shuffled onto the rough, crunchy snow where I could move faster. Rosie’s nails clicked over the ice close to my heels.

The heavy wooden barn door squealed on frozen rollers. I slid it open just far enough to squeeze through. Soft lights, still air, and my favorite fragrance greeted me—musky horse mixed with pine shavings, sweet hay, and well-oiled leather. So did the warmth radiating from the horses.

I quickly closed the big door behind Rosie, shutting out the cold.

It was quiet in the barn. Too quiet. Mom?

Alex. Mom’s voice echoed inside a stall at the far end of the aisle. We’re down here.

A few horses poked their heads over their stall doors, and I whispered hello as I walked by. I stopped when I reached Nevada—my favorite mare. She watched me with her big, kind eyes. I slipped through the door into her stall. Nevada took a step toward me. Light from the bulb overhead gleamed on her giant tummy.

Hey, girl, I said softly. She dipped her head to mine. Cupping her round cheekbones in my hands, I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to hers. Nevada leaned ever-so-slightly into my embrace.

I keep dreaming about your new foal, I whispered, forehead to forehead. Puffs of her warm breath caressed my face and neck. You’re gonna be a momma again.

Nevada, Sierra, and one older mare in the barn were ready to foal. Three babies might be born tonight. Three more mares were also due soon. All six of them were in a row of large box stalls.

I hope I’m lucky enough to see your baby being born. I kissed the velvety tip of Nevada’s nose and stepped back into the aisle to join my parents.

Daddy latched Sierra’s door shut. Hi, darlin’. He was still wearing his tan, insulated canvas pants and jacket—the same stained set he fed the cattle in that morning.

Mom’s faint smile didn’t cover the concern on her face about Sierra. You almost beat me back to the barn. Cool fingers brushed my cheek as Mom tucked flyaway hair behind my ear and straightened my hat. She pulled gloves from the pocket of her dark green winter riding jacket and then cinched it tighter around her waist.

Thanks, Mom, for letting me help this year.

Sofia could’ve been in the barn, too. But she’d rather sleep than see the foals being born. Sometimes, I didn’t understand my older sister at all.

We huddled together, all eyes on Sierra. The six-year-old sorrel stopped pacing and planted her feet wide in the middle of her stall. Her long, graceful neck hung low. A few dark speckles of sweat flecked her chest and muscular rear flank. Her nostrils flared with each huff of breath, exposing the delicate pink skin lining her nose.

Something wasn’t right. I squeezed my eyes shut—stomping down the pang of guilt I always felt when I saw Sierra.

Nevada popped her head over her stall door. I hurried back to her and slipped off my glove to stroke her strong neck.

I might give Doc Johnson a call, Mom said.

What’s wrong? I stilled my trembling hand in Nevada’s warm winter coat. Visions of the last time the vet was called out for Sierra reared high in my head.

I don’t want to alarm you, but she’s been up and down a few times—

Sierra buckled her front legs and lay down with a loud grunt and whoosh of breath. Without another word, Mom walked with long, swift strides to the phone on the front wall.

Will she be okay, Daddy? My voice squeaked. I hated it when my voice squeaked.

I hope so, darlin’. Daddy spoke in warm, low tones. He put his arm around me, pulling me close to his side. Sometimes mares just don’t seem to understand what’s happening the first time. That’s why I like to have more experienced mares in the barn with them. I don’t know if they talk to each other, but it does seem to bring them some comfort.

I shuffled closer and leaned against him. Perhaps Daddy’s voice helped Sierra as well. She stretched out on her side in the bed of golden straw and her breathing became more regular.

Doc Johnson will be here in about thirty minutes. Mom rejoined us. I sure wish we’d get a cell tower in this valley. Mom’s gaze didn’t waver from Sierra. I’d at least hoped to get some nice foals out of her. She’s been through enough. The thought of losing her. . . .

I scrubbed my burning face into the rough fabric of Daddy’s jacket. The waiting stretched. My legs grew heavy. Faint sounds of horses moving around their stalls and munching on hay seemed loud in the stillness of the barn.

A low groan from Sierra snapped me fully awake and sent a prickly wave over my scalp. Mom slipped inside Sierra’s stall. She crouched down on her heels to stroke Sierra’s neck, murmuring words too low for me to hear before she raised her eyes to Daddy.

I think it’s time, James. Vet or no vet, it’s not like we haven’t done this before.

Okay. Stay at her head, Katie. Daddy joined Mom in the stall. I’ll see if I can help with the foal.

What can I do? I wrapped my arms around my body. For the first time tonight, I shivered. Another loud grunt and whoosh came from a different horse.

See which mare that is, Daddy said.

With my heart pounding in my ears, I peered into the neighboring stall. It’s Nevada! Sierra’s mom was going to have her baby, too.

Daddy said in his soothing tone, Watch her for us would you, darlin’? Nevada’s always had easy births, so there shouldn’t be any issues.

This was the very first horse birth I’d get to see in person. Mom had already described the foaling process so I would know what to look for now that my parents finally thought I was old enough to help.

I leaned against the lower wooden portion of Nevada’s stall and then wrapped my hands around the cold metal bars that formed the top half of the wall. Pressing my face into my gloved hands was as close as I could get without being inside the stall.

Mares usually give birth soon after they lie down. I wasn’t going to miss it. Rosie curled up next to me. I could barely feel her nose resting on my thick winter boot.

I see a hoof, Daddy said calmly. You’re okay, Sierra, you can do it girl.

I gripped the bars tighter, trembling like I’d been zapped by an electric fence. Me too, I see a hoof. Now two hooves!

Ooh, here comes the nose. I think there’s a big white blaze down its face." I pressed forward, ignoring the cold metal biting into my cheeks.

A few nickers came from other stalls. It sounded like all the horses in the barn were welcoming the little one into their herd.

She did it!

Nevada shifted, gathering her hind legs toward her belly, and pushed up to stand.

She’s up and cleaning her foal already. I longed to get closer. I think it’ll be a red dun like Nevada. And, oh look, the blaze is shaped like an exclamation mark!

Colt or filly? Mom quietly asked from Sierra’s stall.

I lowered my voice. I can’t tell yet. Can I go in with them to take a look? Please?

For a few minutes, Alex, Mom said. Make sure you stay out of Nevada’s way. If she gives you any indication she doesn’t want you in there, leave right away. And remember, it’s important to project confidence. That lets the horses know everything’s okay.

I sipped in a steadying breath and eased into the stall. Nevada swung her head around. She regarded me for a moment with her big brown eyes, then released a low nicker in greeting before continuing to lick her new foal clean. The newborn lay still except for its chest rising and falling, no doubt exhausted after its entrance into the world.

Keeping my eyes on Nevada and one hand on the wall behind me, I let my fingertips be my guide. I carefully picked my way around the stall to get a better look at the foal. If Nevada laid back her ears, swished her tail, or showed in any other way she didn’t want me getting close, I was ready to calmly but quickly leave.

"It’s a boy, Mom! A little colt—he’s so cute."

The colt lifted his head and our eyes locked. We both grew still.

I’m the first person this colt has ever seen.

My heart leaped from a slow canter to a full-out gallop. His dark brown eyes were as big as his mama’s and already appeared filled with knowledge.

I took a few short steps and crouched down—I had to touch him.

He stretched his tiny nose to my extended fingertips. His ears flopped out to the sides like he didn’t yet have the strength to hold them upright.

Scooching forward, I stroked his soft chin. Tiny puffs of air and delicate whiskers tickled my fingers and sent shivers up my arm. His head tipped slightly to the left, but his gaze stayed locked on mine. Inching even closer, I saw my reflection shining in his eyes. Our breath mingled. I inhaled his sweet baby fragrance.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. It felt like a single moment and forever.

The newborn broke eye contact with a bob of his head and began shifting his gangly front legs out in front of his body. Nevada took a break from cleaning him. Instead, she prodded his rump with her nose to encourage him to get up.

The colt’s trying to stand already. You should see him. I shuffled back to the wall. The tingling that had begun in my fingertips raced over my skin and sat like a fluttering moth trapped in my stomach.

I’d never seen anything more beautiful than this colt.

My colt. There’s no way I can let you be sold. No way!

Snatches of my parent’s low murmurings reached me.

Is Sierra okay? My voice squeaked.

Just keep an eye on Nevada and stay out of her colt’s way. Mom didn’t answer my question. Don’t worry. Doc’ll be here in a few minutes.

The colt braced himself with his stretched-out front legs. Gathering his hind legs under his body, he pushed up and lurched forward, then sat back down and toppled to his side. He curled his long, knobby legs to his belly once more. Bits of straw stuck to his side.

Nevada nudged his shoulder and he tried again. This time he made it most of the way up before his knees wobbled and he slipped onto a cushion of straw-covered shavings.

Come on, boy, you can do it. I longed to help him, but I knew better.

Nevada nudged his shoulder a little harder than last time, rocking him where he lay. Once more he tried, this time getting up on all four feet. He swayed but stood his ground, then took a couple of short, uncertain steps. Nevada moved alongside him.

You did it. My legs shook more than his. I dropped down on a mound of bedding and leaned back into the stall corner to watch.

My instant bond with this colt amazed me. Jackson was the only other horse I felt this attached to, and I’d been riding him for as long as I could remember.

But one thing I knew for sure—the connection was real.

Even now, when the colt and I weren’t touching, I felt a tug on the lasso stretched between our hearts.

His tiny grunts and slurping noises floated to my ears. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier until visions of us racing through fields filled my dreams.

The steady clip of boots down the barn aisle echoed in my head.

Thanks for coming, Doc. Mom’s voice jolted me awake.

The vet’s here!

I tried to pull myself up from my sleepy depth and shift my legs, but they were weighted down. The first thing I saw was the colt, curled up against me with his head in my lap. Nevada calmly munched hay on the other side of the stall.

Aww, look at you, I whispered, brushing my fingers down his neck. He twitched like shooing a fly but didn’t wake up. I hope Mom didn’t catch me sleeping. How embarrassing.

I stroked a tiny, fuzzy ear, and then leaned over to run my hand down his side. My hat fell off, spilling my hair onto his shoulder. We have the same color hair, like Jackson, too. The colt flicked his ear. That has to mean something special.

The stall door next to us creaked. Mom said, Sierra’s foal seems to have one of her front legs bent back and stuck.

A hoof banged against the wall and then scraped against the stall floor. Sierra was trying to get up again.

Doc’s voice reached me through the stall boards. Easy girl, let’s get this foal out, shall we? There you go. Okay, now for the shoulders. Once we get those, the rest is easy.

For several moments it was deathly quiet. Then some grunting and more scrambling from Sierra.

I had to see what was happening.

Time to face Doc Johnson. I swallowed hard. It’d be the first time I’d seen him since Sierra’s accident. He probably blamed me, too. But I couldn’t hide from the vet forever.

It felt like I was moving through molasses as I lifted the colt’s head, scooched out from under him, and gently set his head down onto a pillow of shavings. Back in the aisle, I sidestepped until I could look into both Sierra’s and Nevada’s stalls.

My stomach flipped when I got a glimpse of Sierra. She was lying flat-out with rolled-back eyes and flat-back ears giving her a frantic, half-wild look. Mom knelt by Sierra’s head, stroking her neck, attempting to calm her. And keep her down if necessary.

Sierra’s neck, chest, and flanks were slick with sweat. I didn’t know if that was from her struggles—or her nerves. One of the foal’s front legs and a finely shaped head were visible. With a heart-wrenching squeal from Sierra, and help from the vet, the shoulders appeared. In another few moments, a newborn filly lay still on the straw.

Daddy grabbed a small towel from his back pocket and vigorously rubbed the foal, mimicking what mares do to stimulate their newborns. The vet swiped a finger through the foal’s mouth and suctioned both nostrils to clear any mucus. Mom stayed at Sierra’s head, stroking her neck. Everyone worked in silence.

The entire barn seemed to be holding its breath.

At last, the newborn started scrambling, trying to stand. Daddy and the vet stood up and then Mom backed away. Sierra lurched to her feet.

Doc Johnson broke the silence. This is a nice, big foal for her first. He pulled off long, disposable gloves, turning them inside-out.

Mom closed her eyes and tipped back her head for a moment before she smiled at Daddy. Then her gaze landed on me. How’s Nevada and her colt? Mom not-so-subtly reminded me about my job.

Good. I swiveled to check on them. The colt was still asleep. He’s already nursed.

Hi, Alex. Doc Johnson’s friendly smile seemed the same as always. I hadn’t seen you there.

Is Sierra—I mean, how—how is she? I sniffed and swiped my eyes with the back of my glove.

Doc selected an ace bandage from his kit. She’s okay. He paused and caught my eye. She’s okay. He wrapped the top half of Sierra’s tail in a smooth