Mustang, wild spirit of the West

A fictional retelling, from the point of view of Annie Bronn Johnston, of how this Nevada woman fought to protect the American wild horse, the mustang, from extinction because of professional killers who chased the horses for use in dog food.

Saved in:
Bibliographic Details
Main Author: Henry, Marguerite, 1902-1997
Other Authors: Lougheed, Robert (Illustrator)
Format: Books Print Book
Language:English
Published: New York : Aladdin Books, 1992.
Edition:1st Aladdin Books ed.
Subjects:
Tags: Add Tag
No Tags, Be the first to tag this record!

If God has a kind of plan for all of us, I like to think He coupled me with horses right from the start. It is not just my own mustang, Hobo, that is part of me. All horses call to me. We sort of belong together. This could not be just an accident. I remember the first time I saw a band of wild mustangs. It was only a flash. My Pa and I were freighting a load of wool over the mountains to California when suddenly he reined in and pointed. I saw the reason. Far off on a mesa a string of mustangs was running into the wind. It must have been into the wind, for their tails streamed out behind and their manes lifted like licks of flame. And just by looking I was out there with them, and I could hear their snortings and their hoofs ringing, and I could feel my own hair blowing and my lungs gulping for air, and I shivered in joy at such freedom. I remember whispering, "Whose are they, Pa?" And Pa saying, "They're runaways -- gone wild." There was a look of wanting in Pa's face, but excitement too at the free wildness. "Will they always live there, free like that...and then their colts and grand-colts?" Pa startled me with his sudden stern tone. "They could! If men don't get too grabby for every smitch of land for their cattle." Even as he said it, a cow bawled nearby. And in the distance a fading line of dust was all that remained of the wild ones. Pa clucked to his team and we drove off. For miles of mountain turns we rode in silence. We were still holding onto the beauty we had seen. I could still hear the echo of faraway hoofbeats. I could listen to nothing else. Yet even as I sighed in joy I felt a vague, uneasy worry. I didn't want anything ever to happen to them; I wanted them always to be free. But could they? That was the first time horses called to me. But now I know that God had a plan for me long before that. Excerpted from Mustang: Wild Spirit of the West by Marguerite Henry All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.