The Mustang Tamer

“Damn,” Ben Delany muttered. Just as he’d heard, one of his prize yearlings, Dash Away, was in a slaughter pen. How the hell had it happened? Dash had been sold for twenty thousand dollars and had ended up at a place where bidders were paying a few hundred dollars-if that-for a horse.

Thirteen-year-old Beth Delany watched her father negotiate with Dash’s seller. She tried to concentrate just on the chestnut colt instead of the sad-looking horses around him who would undoubtedly be shipped off the Mexico to be slaughtered for their meat.
But she couldn’t ignore the commotion behind her. The calls and curses of half a dozen men and the outraged scream of a horse.
She wheeled around to see six or seven men, all holding ropes, trying to control a tall black horse. A blind fold had been thrown over the horse’s eyes and hobbles attached to his front and back hooves.
As she watched, the horse lashed out and the rope on his front hobble tore. He jumped onto his hind legs, pawing the air and screaming again. It seemed like all eyes in the pens had turned to the black horse. Another rope snapped and a man fell to his knees, only to scramble out of the way of deadly black hooves.
“That one’s been traveling at auctions for six months now,” Beth heard Dash’s seller say. “Not even the slaughter buyers want to take a chance on him.”
Just then the horse threw off his blindfold. The first thing Beth noticed was that the eye facing her was blue. The next thing was the gash on the horse’s forehead. And as she watched the horse, she realized he wasn’t simply lashing out. His blue eye watched the men. When one of the ropes pulled sharply, he jerked to the opposite side, snapping yet another rope so he was able to wheel around and try to run. He lashed out with both hind feet, kicking open a rusted gate and freeing two grays. He bucked straight up again, breaking his back hobbles.
“One powerful piece of horse flesh,” Beth heard her father murmur.
No kidding.

“If you want the horse back, you’re going to have to buy him back,” Dash’s seller said.
“I’m offering five grand for him!” Ben exclaimed.
The buyer shrugged. “You never know.”
“I’ve heard what these horses are going for. This is a meat auction, bidders are paying by the pound. The big drafts might bring in eight-hundred. He’s just a sporty Quarter. You’ll be lucky to get a thousand for him.”
“I’ve had buyers coming from all over the east coast to look at this horse. I told them to fight it out here.”
Disgusted, Ben turned to collect his daughter and then headed for the stands.

An hour later, Dash’s number was called and the yearling was led into the ring. He pranced at the end of his lead, golden tail flagging out behind him, head lifted proudly.
Ben listened as the announcer rattled off Dash’s bloodlines that Ben could recite by heart. The bidding started at two thousand and climbed. At the end, two men were battling it out, the bids up to eleven thousand. As Ben watched, he saw that both men were in suits and relaxed. Dash went for eleven thousand, three hundred dollars to one of the suits.
“Oh well,” Ben said, standing to leave. But Beth suddenly grabbed his sleeve as they released the wild black horse into the ring.

The announcer didn’t bother with description, probably not expecting anyone to be crazy enough to buy him. “Two hundred.” He said.
No one called out or raised a hand. The only sound was the thundering hoof beats as the horse ran and its loud breathing.
“One hundred?” Nothing. “Fifty?”
Beth looked around. No one looked like they were even considering buying him. He wasn’t even good enough for the lowest-rank slaughter buyers.
“Twenty? Ten?”
Beth turned to look back at the horse again. He was beginning to slow down a little. He broke to a trot, then a walk. His ears were pinned and his eyes squinted. But under that aggressive exterior, Beth could see the horse shaking. He was terrified. Beth had a soft spot in her heart for helpless things, something she'd learned from her mother. Now that her mother was gone, who was going to save all the helpless things in the world?
Either subconsciously or by force of her own will, Beth put her hand up.