keeps burning toward the hills, itâll get into the canyons. My dad says theyâll act just like a chimney.â
Luke gave a nod, but then a tone from his radio distracted him. After a short sentence, he turned back to her.
âWyattâs right. That areaâs a disaster waiting to happen. It hasnât burned off in years, which means thereâs lots of fuel.
âIt looks awful when you see black, charred trees where a fireâs gone through, but a fire can be a blessing. Old brush is gone. Big animals can move through areas that have been too dense for them. New seeds get sun for the first time and the ashes act like fertilizer. Thatâs how nature does it and weâve been inter-ferinâ, settinâ ourselves upââ
As Luke turned to his radio again, Sam rubbed her arms against a sudden gust of wind, but it wasnât cold. The smoky summer wind might have gusted from an oven.
âWe got trouble,â Luke Ely shouted toward the nearest firefighters.
Sam moved with the men as they fought for abetter view of the area where Luke had assigned Nate.
She saw wild horses on the run.
Led by a young bay galloping full out, the horses stampeded down from the hills. What could they be running from? Had wind-borne sparks blown and started a fire they couldnât see from here? Was a fire already burning into the canyon?
When the bay tossed his head, showing a patch of white over one eye, Sam recognized Pirate. Just behind him ran the red roan filly she thought of as Sugar. The horses bumped shoulders and faltered. For a second, the filly veered off course as if the smoke stung her eyes. But then she must have heard the golden-brown mare, trying to keep up, because Sugarâs roan legs stretched as she pursued Pirate.
The golden-brown horse was the Phantomâs lead mare. Usually, she controlled the herd while the silver stallion watched from above, or hung back where he could see his entire band. But where was he now?
While Sam stood transfixed by the horsesâ hasty and clumsy descent, Jake and Quinn bolted back toward the other firefighters, who were already hefting the hose. It was then that Sam heard the sound of a cyclone, a tornado, some wild storm rushing their way. Only it wasnât a storm; it was a freakish gale created by the fire.
When Sam turned back to look for the Phantom once more, she could barely see the herd. Dark smoke reduced the mustangs to shadows darting andstumbling in the direction of the captive horses.
Sam squinted and used her hand to shade her eyes, as if that could keep them from tearing up from the smoke.
Something moved, far out in the pasture. Did the wild herd think the other horses were running to safety?
That could be it, Sam decided.
Once, Dark Sunshine had been a decoy, luring other horses into a trap. Sometimes BLM loosed a domestic horse just ahead of wild ones as they fled a hovering helicopter, and they followed the âJudas horseâ into a camouflaged corral. Maybe the same thing was happening now.
Pirate reached the pasture fence and raced up and down, looking for a way in. From where she stood, Sam thought he was near the gate, where sheâd been painting. What if she ran down and let the wild mustangs into the pasture? Once the horses were confined, the firefighters could protect them.
But if she ran down there, the mustangs would flee. She had to make this decision alone. Jake and the other firefighters were busy. Callie was gone.
Only the fire would help her make this decision.
Red flames danced like tightrope walkers along the top rail of the fence, burning closer and closer to Pirate. He circled away from the fence, looking as if heâd backed up to jump.
Sheâd heard of fear-maddened horses breakingfree of those leading them out of burning barns, to run back to stalls because they were home. But those were domestic horses.
Pirateâs determination to run through flames, into the sanctuary
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