Black Cloud Read online

  HORSE DIARIES

  #1: Elska

  #2: Bell’s Star

  #3: Koda

  #4: Maestoso Petra

  #5: Golden Sun

  #6: Yatimah

  #7: Risky Chance

  #8: Black Cloud

  This is a work of fiction. All incidents and dialogue, and all characters with the exception of some well-known historical and public figures, are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Where real-life historical or public figures appear, the situations, incidents, and dialogues concerning those persons are fictional and are not intended to depict actual events or to change the fictional nature of the work. In all other respects, any resemblance to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2012 by Patricia Hermes

  Cover art copyright © 2012 by Ruth Sanderson

  Interior illustrations copyright © 2012 by Astrid Sheckels

  Photograph credits: © Associated Press (this page); © Bob Langrish (this page)

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.

  Random House and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.

  Visit us on the Web! www.randomhouse.com/kids

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at www.randomhouse.com/teachers

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Hermes, Patricia.

  Black Cloud / Patricia Hermes; illustrated by Astrid Sheckels. — 1st ed.

  p. cm. — (Horse diaries; 8)

  Summary: Despite the dangers, Black Cloud enjoys his life as a wild mustang colt in 1951 Nevada but when humans round up and slaughter his herd, he is rescued by a talkative girl named Annie who gives him a safe and comfortable life, lacking nothing but freedom.

  eISBN: 978-0-375-89964-5

  1. Mustang—Juvenile fiction. [1. Mustang—Fiction. 2. Horses—Fiction. 3. Human-animal relationships—Fiction. 4. Nevada—History—20th century—Fiction. 5. California—History—20th century—Fiction.] I. Sheckels, Astrid, ill. II. Title.

  PZ10.3.H466Bl 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2011020784

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v3.1

  For the cousins:

  Lizzie and Mikie and Ben.

  And for London.

  —P.H.

  For my father,

  who first drew horses with me.

  —A.S.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  1

  Northern Nevada

  2

  Predators

  3

  Rescue

  4

  Home

  5

  The Ways of the Herd

  6

  Ousting a Troublemaker

  7

  Restless and Worried

  8

  Humans!

  9

  Trapped

  10

  The Humans Return

  11

  Annie

  12

  A Real Know-It-All

  13

  Still Not Free

  14

  A Strange Game

  15

  A New Chance

  Appendix

  About the Author

  About the Illustrators

  “Oh! if people knew what a comfort to horses a light hand is …”

  —from Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell

  Northern Nevada

  Early Spring, 1951

  It was spring when I was born. From the moment I opened my eyes and tried gathering myself up onto my wobbly legs, I knew that I was the luckiest colt ever.

  Course, I didn’t gather myself up fast just like that. Legs don’t do what you want them to do when you’ve just been born. I lay on the ground awhile, trying to figure out where I was and maybe even what I was. But after resting a bit, I could tell that my first job was to get my legs under me and heave myself up. I tried.

  It didn’t work real well. I got partway up. And then my legs buckled at the knees, and down I went, so that my belly was flat on the ground. I tried again, and then again. My mama was nearby. She kept nickering at me, That’s good; what a good boy. You’re doing just fine.

  Well, not so fine. Down I went again. Hard.

  Mama kept standing beside me and saying how well I was doing, and she looked me right in the eye when she said it, so I knew she meant it. After a bit more getting up and falling down, I was standing. Now I was right up there by my mama, and I could see her and smell her. Just like that, I knew what to do. I buried my nose in her side and began nursing.

  Like I said, I was the luckiest colt alive.

  Still, it was hard work, and my legs were wobbling, so it was time for a nap. I collapsed on the ground, right where I was, and Mama lay down beside me. I slept really hard and really long, and when I woke I was hungry again. So I nursed some more. And course, that made me tired, too. So after I was done, I slept again.

  It took a few more days of nursing and resting and practicing before my legs were any good to me at all. I’d stand. Wobble. Fall over. I’d stand again. Wobble more. And collapse in a heap. One day, I twisted myself up so much, it seemed my legs were wrapped halfway around my neck.

  That time, it took all the smarts I had to untuck myself and get to my feet again. But once I did it, I found I could stand. And each day, I stood a little longer. And longer. Soon enough, after a few days, when I reached to my mama to nurse, my legs hardly trembled at all. If they started to wobble after a bit, I just lay down wherever I was and slept.

  Mama said I slept real good. Real, real good. She said she’d never seen a horse who could sleep so hard. Sleep was just what I needed, because when I woke up, I had all the energy I wanted to set off running. And oh, how my legs carried me after just a few days, farther and faster.

  First, though, before I could run ahead, I had to see where I was going. That’s because in those early days, my eyes weren’t much better than my legs. Things nearby I could make out just fine, like my mama, but things far away were blurred. Suddenly, though, one morning, when the sun poked its face over the hills, I could make out lots of new things, and my mama told me what they were.

  There were trees that waved at me, like they were happy to see me and wanted to say howdy. They were scrubby and skinny, but Mama said they gave shade to us when the sun got hot. There were birds, big ones and little ones, with wings that made them fly high into the sky. The birds could even sit in the treetops! Some of the big ones were awful noisy. But others made sweet little sounds at twilight, so that I fell asleep listening to them.

  Mama showed me streams and rocks. I found out that streams moved, and rocks didn’t. My mama liked the stream almost as much as I liked her milk. She buried her nose in the water, drinking and drinking. I didn’t like the stream, except for splashing in a bit. I even splashed my mama at times, just to tease her, then turned and fled, in case she got angry. She never did.

  Mama told me many things, and she got specially talkative at night when we lay quietly together. One night, she told me she had chosen a name for me—Black Cloud. Because, Mama said, my body was black as night, just like hers. But I also had big patches of light against the dark that looked like clouds. I liked that thought—that clouds fell right out of the night sky and onto me, as though they had chosen me.

  I learned from Mama that when she realized it was time for me to be born, she had wandered away from the rest of the herd—even a
way from my sire, my papa—till she found this perfect place. It was a sweet, soft meadow we were in, tucked low between rocky cliffs that towered above us. It was safe, Mama said, and I mustn’t leave it till we were both ready to go together.

  Mama also said we were lucky that there were no icy rains pelting us like earlier that spring. Course, I didn’t know what rain was yet, but Mama said I’d see soon enough. Meanwhile, we had this quiet place so we could be together for a while, and so Mama could tell me all I needed to know.

  I remembered everything she told me, too, storing it all up in my head, and Mama said I was a terrible one for questions. She said she’d never known a colt who was so curious, but she also said I was a quick learner, and smarter than anything. I already knew that, though. Mama said I’d need those smarts when we returned to the high desert. We were mustangs, Mama said, brave and strong and hearty. But there were things out there to watch out for—wolves and rattlesnakes and cougars. And humans.

  I didn’t know what wolves and rattlesnakes and cougars and humans were. I could tell, though, that Mama’s big eyes seemed troubled when she talked about them. I paid little mind. Like I said, I was smart, and I knew Mama could take care of anything. And what she couldn’t take care of, I could.

  Each day I learned more, storing up knowledge along with my strength. And I began to wonder about things.

  One night, I played a game with myself, trying to figure out what I liked best—daytime or nighttime. At first, I thought I liked days the best, because there was sun and I could gallop and play. But then I’d turn around in my mind and think: I like nighttime the best! At night, the sky turned black and the trees and cliffs disappeared and other things came in their place. There were those birds that sang me to sleep, and a moon that hung in the sky, lighting up the earth and throwing shadows on the grass. There were stars that poked out of that sky, running right down to earth, and clouds that raced across the dark sky. I thought if I could just gallop to the top of that mountain peak that towered over us, then maybe I could touch the clouds or the stars.

  Mama said I couldn’t. I didn’t really believe her, though I didn’t say so. See, Mama wasn’t young like me. I bet she couldn’t run far and fast like me. So maybe I would try. Someday. Soon. Because, and I told my mama this, someday I would be the biggest, strongest mustang ever. For now, though, for now, I was content to lie beside my mama and think of all I would learn and do the next day, when the stars went away and the sun came up. I slept and I dreamed. And I was happy.

  Like I said—I already knew that I was the luckiest colt to ever be born.

  Predators

  It went on that way for I don’t know how long—the big night sky stretching out black above us, stars blinking. Then day came, and the sun beat down, and it turned hot, hot, hot. Then night fell again, the sun dipping below the mountains, and I got cold and curled up beside my mama for warmth. One morning, Mama said that soon it would be time to head back to the herd, once I had built up strength in my legs. I was already strong, and I started to tell her that but then stopped.

  I had learned that I shouldn’t argue with Mama. That was because that morning, I had run too far from her, showing off, she said, and she had whinnied me back and nipped me on the flank. She said I should never leave the safety of the meadow without her, and she made me feel shamed of myself. So I hung my head low, near the ground, so she’d know I was sorry. And for the rest of that day, I stayed real close, because I guessed it was true—that she’d been around awhile. She probably knew a little more than I did.

  Still, I knew that one day I would be the biggest, strongest mustang ever. And each day, I told Mama that.

  Then came a night when Mama was fast asleep beside me, and something wakened me.

  I lifted my head. I perked my ears forward. Listening. Sniffing the air. The moon was out, round and white, hanging over the hills, lighting up everything in its path. And there, on top of the long crest of the hill on the far side of the meadow, was something that made me wonder. Long-legged creatures. A line of them stretched out along the craggy hilltop.

  Horses? The mustang herd my mama had told me about?

  I nosed at my mama. Wake up! Look! The herd has come for us.

  Mama shifted and pushed me off. She didn’t want me to nurse now. Well, I didn’t want to nurse, either. I wanted to ask her about those critters on the hilltop. But she just moved away from me in her sleep.

  I turned back to the hill and studied those critters some more. They were strung along the rocky hill, and even from that far away, I could see that they had long, long legs, though maybe not as long as mine. There was a pack of them, a family maybe. They held still, staring down at my mama and me. The moon showed them in outline—their pointed ears and heads hung low, tails back. I could tell, even though I’d never seen them before, that they were after something. Had they just come up to meet me? My heart beat hard and fast, the way it did when I was galloping and racing.

  This was the herd my mama had told me about! I knew it was. I’d go to them. Maybe my sire, my papa, was among them?

  I scrambled to my feet. I was steady enough now, and didn’t twist myself all up.

  I looked down at Mama. She was still sleeping. She wouldn’t be angry at me for leaving. It was just mustangs, the herd, our own kind, so they wouldn’t harm me. Quietly, I moved away from Mama, turning toward the rocky cliff. The critters had moved closer by then, coming downhill toward me. One of them seemed to be the leader, slinking low along the ground, the others following. He trotted closer, closer.

  I lifted my head and whinnied softly, saying howdy, friendly-like. As they moved to me, I moved toward them, my nose up, sniffing the air. I trotted all the way across that meadow, till I came to the edge, close by the rocky cliff.

  I stopped.

  And I knew something then, and my heart went crazy inside me. These weren’t horses. They weren’t the herd. They smelled bad. Their eyes glittered in the moonlight, and they moved toward me, holding low to the ground, treachery in their eyes. And hearts. Instinct told me that.

  I backed away, my legs getting tangled up again, but I got my footing fast.

  I didn’t turn tail. Again, my instincts told me better. I kept facing them, ready to kick out at them, backing away at the same time. But no matter. The lead one leapt from the top of that craggy hill. He flew through the air. Straight at me.

  I whirled away and ducked sideways. Not quick enough. In a moment, he was on me, his weight knocking me to the ground. I went down to my knees, squealing in pain.

  He sank his teeth into the soft part of my belly.

  Rescue

  For a moment, the pain was so bad, I couldn’t do anything. And then I began to scream. Mama! Mama! I struggled back to my feet. Frantic. Terrified.

  The critter’s jaws were clamped on to my belly, and he hung there, swinging back and forth as I moved. With each movement, the pain tore through me. I tried shaking him off, but his jaws were clamped down hard, and pain surged into my gut.

  Then another critter set upon me from behind! He snapped his jaws down on my rear leg. The pain was too much. I collapsed, my knees buckling beneath me.

  And then came the sound of fury. Black fur flew in, and my mama was there, swirling and coming on at them like she was four mustangs, not just one. With her jaws, she grabbed the critter hanging on to my belly. She tore him away from me, shaking him loose, and I screamed with pain. Mama flung him hard against a rock, and I heard his head smash.

  Then she turned to the one on my leg. She struck at him with her foreleg. He didn’t let go. Mama struck out again. All the time I was trying to shake him off, too, and the pain was screaming through my head and blood was streaming down my leg.

  Mama shoved me then. She shoved me hard. She tumbled me over, right onto the ground. I lay there helpless, the critter still clamped tight to my leg. Mama’s giant hoof came down on the critter’s head. His jaws let loose. Mama didn’t stop, though. Furiously, her hooves
drove him into the ground, again and again, until he lay still.

  She spun around, looking for whom to take on next. But there were no takers. The others had slunk off. The two dead ones lay crushed and broken at our feet.

  I trembled as I worked to get my legs under me. I could barely stand, and my heart was beating so hard, surely it would come out of my chest.

  Mama nudged at me. Come, she said, come. She stood close, her shoulder pressed against me, helping support me, while I struggled to my feet. She kept encouraging me, speaking softly, nudging me ahead of her. Come, my Black Cloud, come. You can do it.

  Night was moving away, and the sky was lightening enough for me to see. Together, Mama and I made our way across the meadow and back to the stand of trees. I was limping and bleeding and didn’t know where I hurt the most—leg or belly. Or maybe my heart. I knew I had done something wrong and bad.

  I turned and looked back once. The rest of those critters had returned and were feasting on their dead kin!

  I started to lie down then, but Mama wouldn’t let me. She kept nudging me, circling me, nosing at my wounds. She made little sounds, sad and happy at the same time, and I didn’t know what to make of any of it. Finally, she turned her flank to me so I could nurse, and that helped, and when I was done, I collapsed on the ground.

  Mama? I said. I didn’t have strength to say or ask more.

  Wolves, Black Cloud, Mama said. Wolves.

  Wolves, I thought. Yes, Mama had warned me about wolves. And I was ashamed. I had gone out of the meadow. When I shouldn’t. Wolves. And rattlesnakes. And cougars. And humans.

  Your wounds aren’t deep, Mama said softly. You’ll heal. A few more days and you’ll be well.

  I was sure Mama was going to scold and shame me. But she didn’t. Not yet, anyway. She just let me sleep.

  And sleep was all that I wanted to do.

  Home

  I was mighty sore for the next few days, but soon enough, my belly healed and the stiffness in my leg wasn’t so bad anymore. Once Mama saw me running and leaping about, she said it was time to join up with the herd. She hadn’t said a single harsh word about the wolves, and me going off to meet them. Not a word. That was when I realized that Mama understood. And she forgave. She knew I’d learned my lesson. That I knew that I’d almost got myself killed. It wasn’t likely I’d do that again.