stronger animal. Probably a descendant of Sir Galahad. He had the size and strength of that line, which was well known in the area. He would surely hurt her father's old bull unless she intervened.
They faced each other with wild eyes, heaving flanks and lowered heads. The two could critically injure each other if allowed to continue. Her father could not afford to lose his breeding bull. She had to separate them.
Why had Adam put his animal into the adjoining pasture? He should have known there would be trouble. Had he done this just to provoke Gramps?
Adam and her grandfather were like two bulls themselves, always circling warily around each other, ready to charge. Jo had attended a college clear across the United States to avoid being caught between the two.
After a brief glance at her, the bulls resumed their battle. Upset with Adam for creating a situation where there was bound to be a fight, she did not pause to thoroughly check things out. She yelled loudly and waved her arms, then jumped Paca into the patch of dense brush. She was used to handling cattle and knew the bulls would move away from a horse. They plunged sideways, startled at the unexpected intrusion, but went no further.
As her mare bounded through the brush in short little leaps, Jo yelled again. This time, with a toss of their heads, the two combatants raced off into the woods, each going a different direction.
There. That did it. If only it were possible to overcome all her problems that easily , Jo thought, satisfied.
Then Paca slammed to a stop, stiff-legged, throwing Jo up against the saddle horn. She caught herself by reflex and eased back into the seat, alarmed at Paca's unusual behavior.
The Appaloosa stood ridged, trembling violently.
What was wrong ?
"Come on." She urged Paca ahead by rocking her own body forward and squeezing with her legs, but the mare refused to move.
A silver flash caught Jo's eye and she glanced down, right into a mass of tangled barbed wire—all that remained of the fence after the bulls' fight. Camouflaged by the stirrup-high brush, the treacherous strands rippled threateningly around Paca's legs, the shimmering coils as deadly as any poisonous snake.
Fighting down the urge to panic, she looked to the other side. Death stared back at her as several swaying loops surrounded her horse's legs.
Jo held her breath as she assessed her chances. Barbed wire could kill, holding a horse and rider prisoner while the terrified animal destroyed them both. Paca hadn't been ridden since Jo's brief return two years ago during Christmas vacation and had acted like a young colt earlier today. If the mare fought the wire, she could kill or seriously injure them both. No one would find them until morning, since Jo normally rode until dark or later.
Her parents had come to accept her long-range jaunts. They wouldn't be worried until midnight. Already the April sun was casting long purple shadows across the valleys of the Blue Mountains.
Jo had already covered many miles in her meanderings this afternoon, elated to be back and riding the mountain roads and trails of Oregon. No one knew where she was. Jo could only pray that her well-trained Appaloosa would stay calm.
Paca shifted uneasily, and Jo looked hopefully up the fence line towards Adam's ranch. Before her grandfather's feud with him, Adam had always extracted her from her childhood scrapes. He seemed to know where to find her...and was usually the first to arrive when she landed in trouble.
She would not get out of danger sitting in the saddle, waiting for help. She had to free herself. If Paca panicked as she dismounted, both of them could be torn to shreds, but Jo saw no alternative.
"Whoa. Easy girl." Jo took a deep breath for courage, bent forward, and pulled both feet from the stirrups.
The mare turned her head to look back, nostrils flared.
"Whoa, Paca," Jo murmured...and slid gingerly off into the looping wire. Several barbs scratched painfully up
They faced each other with wild eyes, heaving flanks and lowered heads. The two could critically injure each other if allowed to continue. Her father could not afford to lose his breeding bull. She had to separate them.
Why had Adam put his animal into the adjoining pasture? He should have known there would be trouble. Had he done this just to provoke Gramps?
Adam and her grandfather were like two bulls themselves, always circling warily around each other, ready to charge. Jo had attended a college clear across the United States to avoid being caught between the two.
After a brief glance at her, the bulls resumed their battle. Upset with Adam for creating a situation where there was bound to be a fight, she did not pause to thoroughly check things out. She yelled loudly and waved her arms, then jumped Paca into the patch of dense brush. She was used to handling cattle and knew the bulls would move away from a horse. They plunged sideways, startled at the unexpected intrusion, but went no further.
As her mare bounded through the brush in short little leaps, Jo yelled again. This time, with a toss of their heads, the two combatants raced off into the woods, each going a different direction.
There. That did it. If only it were possible to overcome all her problems that easily , Jo thought, satisfied.
Then Paca slammed to a stop, stiff-legged, throwing Jo up against the saddle horn. She caught herself by reflex and eased back into the seat, alarmed at Paca's unusual behavior.
The Appaloosa stood ridged, trembling violently.
What was wrong ?
"Come on." She urged Paca ahead by rocking her own body forward and squeezing with her legs, but the mare refused to move.
A silver flash caught Jo's eye and she glanced down, right into a mass of tangled barbed wire—all that remained of the fence after the bulls' fight. Camouflaged by the stirrup-high brush, the treacherous strands rippled threateningly around Paca's legs, the shimmering coils as deadly as any poisonous snake.
Fighting down the urge to panic, she looked to the other side. Death stared back at her as several swaying loops surrounded her horse's legs.
Jo held her breath as she assessed her chances. Barbed wire could kill, holding a horse and rider prisoner while the terrified animal destroyed them both. Paca hadn't been ridden since Jo's brief return two years ago during Christmas vacation and had acted like a young colt earlier today. If the mare fought the wire, she could kill or seriously injure them both. No one would find them until morning, since Jo normally rode until dark or later.
Her parents had come to accept her long-range jaunts. They wouldn't be worried until midnight. Already the April sun was casting long purple shadows across the valleys of the Blue Mountains.
Jo had already covered many miles in her meanderings this afternoon, elated to be back and riding the mountain roads and trails of Oregon. No one knew where she was. Jo could only pray that her well-trained Appaloosa would stay calm.
Paca shifted uneasily, and Jo looked hopefully up the fence line towards Adam's ranch. Before her grandfather's feud with him, Adam had always extracted her from her childhood scrapes. He seemed to know where to find her...and was usually the first to arrive when she landed in trouble.
She would not get out of danger sitting in the saddle, waiting for help. She had to free herself. If Paca panicked as she dismounted, both of them could be torn to shreds, but Jo saw no alternative.
"Whoa. Easy girl." Jo took a deep breath for courage, bent forward, and pulled both feet from the stirrups.
The mare turned her head to look back, nostrils flared.
"Whoa, Paca," Jo murmured...and slid gingerly off into the looping wire. Several barbs scratched painfully up
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