herd noise.
But then she heard another honking, this one louder, more insistent, somehow more serious. Stevie looked over her shoulder to where she thought the sound came from. At first, all she saw was a dry patch of brush. Then she saw it wiggle. She turned Stewball around to get a better look. Soon she realized that some of what she thought was just brown bush was actually brown calf. There was a frightened bleating sound as the calf bellowed for attention once again. He was in trouble and he was scared.
Stevie and Stewball rode over to the calf. Before she dismounted, she wanted to have a plan so that she wouldn’t frighten the calf before she could be sure she could help him. She realized that the brown bush was a thorny bush, and that the thorns seemed to have caught in the calf’s soft hair. It was going to take a lot of work to get him loose. She thought she’d better get started right away.
Stevie spotted a place where she could hitch Stewball while she worked. It wouldn’t do to have him wander off. Carole and Lisa were farther ahead, and Kate was riding with her father. Stevie swung her right leg over the saddle and was about to lower herself to the ground when she heard a sound she couldn’t confuse with anything else in the whole wide world.
It was the sound of a rattlesnake, shaking his rattle furiously, about to strike!
Stewball knew the sound, too, and it scared him. He reared in terror, tossing Stevie to the ground like a sack of potatoes, then galloped off as fast as his legs could carry him.
At that instant, the little calf broke loose all by himself and trotted off to find his mother.
Stevie landed in the dusty earth by the thornbush. She landed hard on her side and hit her head on the ground. She was dizzy, and sore, and confused. For a moment, the world was a haze in which there was the distant bellowing of an unhappy calf, the vague pain in her ribs, and the sound of a horse’s hoofbeats, retreating. But one thing was clear. The rattling hadn’t stopped. When Stevie turned her head, she saw it.
There, not two feet from her, coiled to strike, was a diamondback rattler.
And his target was Stevie!
T HE ONLY SOUND Stevie could hear was the viper’s rattling. The mooing of the herd and the thump of their hooves on the dry ground faded to a distant sound, insignificant compared to the insistent danger warning of the snake.
Then she heard a dog bark. Stevie’s eyes were riveted on the snake’s, and his to hers. She couldn’t see a dog, she was only barely aware of its presence. The dog growled.
The snake rose up, as if to see better. Every instinct Stevie had told her to flee, but she had the feeling that this snake liked moving targets. She was frozen where she sat in the dust, just a few feet away from the deadly creature.
The dog barked again. This time it was very close.Stevie could hear him panting excitedly as he approached her and the snake. She didn’t even dare to turn and see what kind of dog it was, but there was something familiar about the bark. And then, there was something even more familiar about the whistle that followed it.
Tomahawk barked again and then growled at the snake. The dog crept between Stevie and the snake and bared his teeth at the rattler.
Stevie looked up and behind her. Christine Lonetree was there, on her horse.
“It’s a rattler,” Stevie said. “Please help me!”
“You’re going to have to help yourself,” Christine said. “Back up slowly. Get out of the snake’s range. And get out of Tomahawk’s way.”
Stevie inched backward slowly but steadily, keeping her eye on the dog who stood between her and the rattlesnake. When she could, she stood up and retreated, still watching the two animals face off.
When she was about fifteen feet away, she circled the scene, standing near to where Christine was holding her horse still. Even the horse could sense danger. His nostrils flared and his ears lay back almost flat on his head.
When
But then she heard another honking, this one louder, more insistent, somehow more serious. Stevie looked over her shoulder to where she thought the sound came from. At first, all she saw was a dry patch of brush. Then she saw it wiggle. She turned Stewball around to get a better look. Soon she realized that some of what she thought was just brown bush was actually brown calf. There was a frightened bleating sound as the calf bellowed for attention once again. He was in trouble and he was scared.
Stevie and Stewball rode over to the calf. Before she dismounted, she wanted to have a plan so that she wouldn’t frighten the calf before she could be sure she could help him. She realized that the brown bush was a thorny bush, and that the thorns seemed to have caught in the calf’s soft hair. It was going to take a lot of work to get him loose. She thought she’d better get started right away.
Stevie spotted a place where she could hitch Stewball while she worked. It wouldn’t do to have him wander off. Carole and Lisa were farther ahead, and Kate was riding with her father. Stevie swung her right leg over the saddle and was about to lower herself to the ground when she heard a sound she couldn’t confuse with anything else in the whole wide world.
It was the sound of a rattlesnake, shaking his rattle furiously, about to strike!
Stewball knew the sound, too, and it scared him. He reared in terror, tossing Stevie to the ground like a sack of potatoes, then galloped off as fast as his legs could carry him.
At that instant, the little calf broke loose all by himself and trotted off to find his mother.
Stevie landed in the dusty earth by the thornbush. She landed hard on her side and hit her head on the ground. She was dizzy, and sore, and confused. For a moment, the world was a haze in which there was the distant bellowing of an unhappy calf, the vague pain in her ribs, and the sound of a horse’s hoofbeats, retreating. But one thing was clear. The rattling hadn’t stopped. When Stevie turned her head, she saw it.
There, not two feet from her, coiled to strike, was a diamondback rattler.
And his target was Stevie!
T HE ONLY SOUND Stevie could hear was the viper’s rattling. The mooing of the herd and the thump of their hooves on the dry ground faded to a distant sound, insignificant compared to the insistent danger warning of the snake.
Then she heard a dog bark. Stevie’s eyes were riveted on the snake’s, and his to hers. She couldn’t see a dog, she was only barely aware of its presence. The dog growled.
The snake rose up, as if to see better. Every instinct Stevie had told her to flee, but she had the feeling that this snake liked moving targets. She was frozen where she sat in the dust, just a few feet away from the deadly creature.
The dog barked again. This time it was very close.Stevie could hear him panting excitedly as he approached her and the snake. She didn’t even dare to turn and see what kind of dog it was, but there was something familiar about the bark. And then, there was something even more familiar about the whistle that followed it.
Tomahawk barked again and then growled at the snake. The dog crept between Stevie and the snake and bared his teeth at the rattler.
Stevie looked up and behind her. Christine Lonetree was there, on her horse.
“It’s a rattler,” Stevie said. “Please help me!”
“You’re going to have to help yourself,” Christine said. “Back up slowly. Get out of the snake’s range. And get out of Tomahawk’s way.”
Stevie inched backward slowly but steadily, keeping her eye on the dog who stood between her and the rattlesnake. When she could, she stood up and retreated, still watching the two animals face off.
When she was about fifteen feet away, she circled the scene, standing near to where Christine was holding her horse still. Even the horse could sense danger. His nostrils flared and his ears lay back almost flat on his head.
When
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