“That’s right,” Pete said. “They call it ‘timber rustlin’.’ Instead of stealin’ horses, they’d be stealin’ trees. The Federal foresters an’ the FBI’d clap ’em behind bars the minute they found out about it.” He turned to Jim. “Matter of fact, I never knowed this here was gov’ment timber. Must be a big temptation to Yancey, havin’ all them fine trees right next to his own property.”
“There you go again,” said Jim, annoyed. “Believing the worst of a man before you’ve even met him.”
The screech of the power saw became louder as they rode forward. In a moment they rounded a bend and came upon the logging operation in full swing. A small donkey engine added to the din. As the riders came into view, the logging crew of four men looked up in surprise. At a hand signal from one of them, the noise ceased. The man who had given the signal threaded his way over the fallen logs and approached the visitors with a stern expression on his face. His chin and cheeks were darkened by a three-day growth of whiskers, and his boots and mackinaw were covered with sawdust.
“Good morning,” said Jim pleasantly. “Is Mr. Yancey here?”
“I’m Mark Yancey,” the man snapped. “Who’re you?”
“We’re from the Broken Wheel, a horse ranch down in the valley. My name’s Jim Newton.” Jim thrust his hand down for a shake, but Yancey paid no attention to it. Jim smiled. “This is Pete Wilkie, my foreman; and the boy is my son, Joey.”
Yancey peered at Joey through a pair of bushy eyebrows. “Joey, huh? I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?”
“Yes sir,” Joey answered shyly. “Last summer, when I came up with a friend to camp out. We made a mistake and camped on your property. You chased us off.”
Yancey scowled. “Oh yes, now I remember. You were ridin’ a black horse.”
“That’s right,” Joey said eagerly. “Fury. That’s why we rode up here today, Mr. Yancey, to look . . .”
“We’re sorry to interrupt your work, Mr. Yancey,” Jim cut in, “but we’re trying to get to Blazing Ridge.”
“Then why the devil didn’t you follow the trail? You’re way off base.”
“We know that, sir, but the bridge was out. The only way we could get to the ridge was across this property. Would you be kind enough to give us permission?”
“Why? What’s so important on the Ridge?”
“A herd of mustangs is wintering up there,” Jim explained. “Early this morning Joey’s horse, Fury, broke away from the ranch and we think he might’ve gone to join the herd.”
Yancey’s eyes showed a flicker of interest. Turning, he addressed one of his men who was shambling toward the group. “Hey, Bud, you hear that?”
“Hear what?” the man asked blankly.
Yancey disregarded the question and spoke to Jim. “This is Bud Snape, my loggin’ boss.”
Jim gave Snape a polite greeting. Snape, a hulking man dressed in dirty work clothes, flicked the edge of his woolen cap with his middle finger.
“These riders are from a horse ranch down below,” Yancey told Snape. “I bet you can’t guess what they’re lookin’ for.”
Snape frowned. “Nah, how could I? I’m no mind reader.”
“They’re lookin’ for a black horse that ran off last night.”
Snape, who seemed a little slow at understanding, thrust a grimy finger under his cap and scratched his head. A few seconds later his broad, flat face lighted up, and he flashed a broken-toothed grin. “No kiddin’,” he said. “I’ll be doggoned.” He looked up at Jim. “So that black critter belonged to you, huh?”
Joey leaned forward eagerly. “You mean you saw Fury?”
Snape wrinkled his forehead. “Saw what?”
“Fury. My horse.”
Yancey broke in angrily. “Yes. We saw Fury. He raced through these woods like an express train. Knocked over a stack of empty oil drums and woke everybody up.”
Pete guffawed. “That’s Fury, all right.”
Yancey glared at Pete. “It’s no laughin’ matter. He might’ve done a lot of damage.”
Joey was anxious to get going. “Come on, Jim, let’s look for him.”
“Easy, Joey, we will,” said Jim. He turned to Yancey. “We’re sorry that our horse caused you so much trouble. If any damage was done, I’ll gladly pay for it.”
Snape spoke up. “Don’t worry, mister, yer horse didn’t bust anythin’. Just made a heck of a racket, that’s all. ’Specially when he ran back through here with a white mare.”
“A white mare?” said Jim. “Are you sure?”
“An’ how. That mustang was as white as a ghost.”
“Look,” Yancey said impatiently, “you’re wasting my time. Like Snape said, your horse was running with a white mare. Now ride anywhere you want to ride, but find him in a hurry and clear out.”
“Thanks, Mr. Yancey, we’ll do that,” Jim said pleasantly. He slapped his rein. “Let’s ride.”
As they left the road and cut into the woods, Snape called after them. “There’s a clearin’ about a half-mile straight ahead. I betcha ya’ll find them two horses grazin’ there together.”
“Thanks, Bud,” Jim called back. “Sounds like a good tip.”
“Wal, Jim, what’d I tell you,” Pete said, after they had ridden out of earshot. “Is Yancey an unfriendly cuss or ain’t he?”
“He is,” Jim answered with a chuckle. “And he’s also a pain in the collar button.”
Joey peered through the trees ahead. “Gosh, I sure hope we find Fury in that clearing. If we don’t, we’ll have to ride all the way up to Blazing Ridge.”
“Simmer down,” Jim said. “We’ll have Fury back before the day’s over.”
When the light grew brighter in the dusky forest, Jim gave the hand signal to halt. “The clearing’s just ahead. Let’s continue as quietly as possible.”
In a moment Joey caught his breath and pointed. “There!” he exclaimed in a low voice. “Look!”
Grazing at the far edge of the clearing, gleaming snowy white in the sunlight, was the mustang mare. Fury stood grazing beside her. Hearing the approaching riders, he flung his head up and gave an angry stallion scream. The mare leaped sideways, whinnying in fright.
“Call him, Joey!” Jim commanded. “Let him know it’s you!”
“Fury!” Joey shouted. “Fury, it’s me!”
Fury bent his ears toward the sound of the voice, then turned to the mare and voiced a shrill command. She wheeled obediently and raced from the clearing into the safety of the forest.
“Come on!” Pete yelled. “Let’s catch him before he takes off after her!”
As they burst into the clearing, Fury darted away in the direction taken by the fleeing mare.
“Fury!” cried Joey. “Fury, come back!”
“Dismount!” Jim barked. “Try to coax him back, before he gives us a chase.” Jim caught hold of the pony’s bridle as Joey leaped to the ground.
Fury had hesitated at the far edge of the clearing. Joey walked toward him, slowly.
“Fury,