Crazy Kill Range, and she went at a long, ground-devouring lope. That
night she halted at a spring in the lower foothills. Berrybushes and
willow grew around the spring and there was tall grass. Lady Ebony
pulled the juicy grass contentedly. She was glad to be away from the
teeth and smashing hoofs of the chestnut stallion. She did not miss the
herd at all.
The spring was so much of a change after the parched desert that she
bedded down close beside it and rested until morning. With the gray
dawn she was up and feeding on the lush grass. For several hours she
fed, then she drank deeply and faced northward. Again she set her pace
at a fast lope.
6. Midnight
Lady Ebony held her course until late afternoon. She was high in the
red foothills when she halted. A little stream bubbled over red rocks,
willow grew along the banks, and the grass was green. On each side of
the water red rocks rose high against the sky. Along the base of the
cliffs lay great slabs and piles of stone, broken loose from the walls
by wind and rain, piled in confusion over the floor of the wild gorge.
Lady Ebony moved among the tumbled rocks. A bobcat bounded from a
thicket of rose brier where he had been hunting cottontails. Lady Ebony
snorted and shook her head.
She kept moving slowly along the stream until she came to a grove of
cottonwoods. Close beside the grove grew a dense thicket of tangled
brush. Lady Ebony dropped her head and began pulling the tender gamma
grass. She did not look up at the Crazy Kill Range again. After she had
eaten her fill she drank at the stream and lay down.
Sunset flamed across the sky and died into cool shadows. The red bluffs
changed from deep purple to slate gray. By almost unnoticeable degrees
the moon brightened and flooded the valley and the cliffs changed color
to match the white light. Now they were silvery with bands and squares
of black shadows across them. And the stars hung, big and white, close
to the ragged tops of the rims.
In this garden of red rocks close beside the little stream a colt was
born. The morning sun beating down on the floor of the gorge shone on a
wobbly little horse crowding close to Lady Ebony’s side.
The black colt jerked his curly tail and butted his head against his
mother’s side as he got his first breakfast. His legs were long and
heavy-boned. They were wobbly legs but they showed promise of great
strength. His head was finely molded like his mother’s, and his sleek
coat was all black, except for a white star in his forehead. That white
star and the heavy-boned frame were his inheritance from his father,
the chestnut stallion.
Lady Ebony was proud and excited over her handsome jet-black colt--so
black that he could well be called Midnight. She kept turning her head,
nosing his silky rump, and nickering softly. She was suddenly aware
of many things she had scarcely noticed before. She heard a rustling
in the thicket and sniffed the warm air nervously. A faint odor of
cat came to her and she snorted angrily. A few minutes later a big
bobcat stepped out of the thicket and stood looking at her. Lady Ebony
shook her head and stamped her feet. The bobcat opened his mouth wide,
exposing rows of white teeth and a red tongue. He closed his mouth and
his yellow eyes stared at the mare and her colt. Then he humped his
sleek back and trotted through the sunshine across the meadow to where
his mate was waiting for him.
In one of the big cottonwoods a flicker hammered away at the trunk of
the tree. Even this steady rat-a-tat bothered Lady Ebony. And when the
flicker’s mate sailed down from the sky and alighted on an anthill she
snorted again. The flicker up in the tree deserted his morning task
and came down to join his wife in an ant hunt. They danced and cavorted
on the anthill, picking up the busy little workers as they swarmed out
to repel the invasion.
A yellowbelly whistler came down out of the rocks and set to feeding,
sliding along the ground, sitting up to stare intently across the
meadow, chuckling to himself as he munched the roots he dug up. He was
joined by a pair of cottontail rabbits who stayed close to cover as
they fed.
Midnight finished his breakfast and began walking around on his wobbly
legs, investigating everything he came to with an inquisitive, pink
nose. Lady Ebony followed him nickering nervously. The little fellow
halted beside a clump of rattleweed. His ears pricked forward and he
listened. From the deep shade under the green leaves came a warning
rattle. The buzzing sound was repeated as Midnight’s nose drew closer.
Lady Ebony sprang forward and stamped upon the patch of weeds as she
shouldered her son away from the danger spot. The colt had met his
first enemy, a big rattler.
Lady Ebony showed by her actions that she considered Midnight an
important little horse. She followed his wobbling course down the
stream, then back again. After that he tried to run but his legs
doubled under him and his body failed to do what he wanted of it.
Finally he trotted out into the warm sun and lay down. In a few minutes
he was sound asleep.
Lady Ebony stood over him for a long time with her head down. Finally
she set to cropping grass near where he slept. She knew that she must
be constantly alert, ready to repel attack from killers that had never
bothered her before. The morning serenade of a pair of coyotes above
the rock garden made her nervous. Their mad chorus of yelping laughter
and high, mournful notes caused her to move close to Midnight and stand
there with head erect. The song dogs of the dawn finished their chorus
and raced away across the meadow above.
A great bald eagle wheeled above the tops of the red cliffs, his
round, glassy eyes staring down on the meadow, his wings beating
the air with powerful strokes. He saw the mare and her colt and his
powerful beak clicked several times. His pinions stiffened and were
held as rigid as the wings of a pursuit plane as he banked sharply and
spiraled downward. He saw the black colt get to his feet and wander
away from his mother. With a piercing scream he shortened his circles.
His cry was answered from the deep blue above and a second eagle came
plummeting down on folded wings, her body roaring through the thin air
as she dived. She flattened her terrific plunge just above the red rock
garden and circled with her mate.
Lady Ebony jerked up her head and trotted to her son. She tried to
stand over him but he did not wish to be bothered at the moment. He had
discovered his own shadow and was making a great show of challenging
the flat, black thing following him on the ground. He tossed his head
and laid back his ears, his furry rump bumping up and down a little as
he threatened to kick at his mother.
The eagles soared and dived over the mare and her colt. The kings
of the air were savage killers without fear of any ground dweller.
They had struck down fawns and lambs and they knew they could smash
the wobbly colt if his mother left an opening. Midnight became more
irritated at his mother’s close guard. He tried to lash out at her with
his hind feet. Lady Ebony let him trot away from her. He halted and
snorted at his shadow.
The king of the air saw his opening and dived. His wings were folded
tight against his sides and he dropped like a bolt of lightning. Close
behind him came his mate. The attack was so swift that Lady Ebony could
not reach the side of her son in time to shield him. The diving eagle
spread his wings a few feet above the back of the colt. His heavy
breastbone struck Midnight a smashing blow while his long talons raked
deep into the tender back of the little horse. Midnight went down so
quickly the she-eagle missed him entirely. The blow which had felled
him was the same smashing stroke with which the eagle broke limbs from
trees when building a nest. It was his stroke of death, but he had not
gauged it as well as he had intended. The breastbone struck Midnight
across the hips and not in the middle of the back where it would have
broken him down.
With frantic snorts and eager whinnying Lady Ebony nosed her son as he
staggered to his feet. He crowded close against her, willing now to be
guarded. The eagles rose straight up into the blue for five hundred
feet before they leveled off. They circled and looked down, their
screams ringing along the cliffs. Midnight stayed close to his mother.
His rump was smarting and he felt the need of her strength. After a
time the eagles widened their circles and flew away.
Midnight had learned another lesson. When Lady Ebony sounded a warning
call he rushed to her side instead of humping his back and dancing up
and down. He wanted no more raking talons in his skin. He was beginning
to know the price of life in the wild. He was coming to know that the
strong live while the weak and the foolish die soon.
But the little horse’s fright passed quickly. He was a true child
of the wilderness and fear was a passing shadow. With the circling
killers gone from the sky he forgot them and sought dinner. He was much
stronger now, his legs had stiffened and he was able to bounce up and
down. The blood of his father gave him something Lady Ebony did not
have, a vitality and a savageness all babies of the wild must have
to survive. Had he been born with the band he would have been able to
follow them. He made a short circle among the rocks, then came back to
his mother’s side where he thrust his head under her flank and began
drinking lustily. Lady Ebony was proud of him, but she was worried too,
because there were so many enemies in this wild country. She was a
horse trained to depend upon man, his fences and his protecting rifle.
Vaguely she knew she should be in a shed during this important time.
Midnight shared none of her worries; he was typically a wild horse.
That evening the big bobcat serenaded them from the blue-black depths
of the cottonwood grove. No man or beast who has ever heard the
terrifying yowling of the cat-of-the-mountain when he is struck by a
lonely mood has remained calm and unfrightened. Even the cougar and
the wolf move off when he starts serenading. The big cat began his
plaint with long “me-ows” till after a few minutes his cry was a series
of “row-row-rows,” ending in terrific screeches. The weird screaming
echoed along the rock walls of the gorge. It finally tapered off into
long-drawn wails filled with hopeless despair as though the big fellow
was condemned to a terrible fate and knew his time was near.
Lady Ebony rushed to the side of Midnight and began frantically herding
him up the canyon. She did not have to urge the little horse. He struck
out wildly, running as fast as he could, looking back in terror,
expecting to see a monster leap on him from the woods.
A pair of coyotes trotting up the canyon halted and stood for a moment
staring through the moonlight. They whirled and raced back, casting
glances over their shoulders as they ran.
After a time the big pussy with the bobtail walked out of the grove and
seated himself on a rock. Whatever had been troubling him seemed to
have been chased away by his vocal efforts. He yawned and stretched his
lithe body leisurely, then looked around with a satisfied smirk. He had
the canyon to himself and seemed highly pleased.
He was a male weighing perhaps twenty-five pounds. His ears had black
tufts at the ends, his lips were white with whiskers springing from
black spots. In this he favored the lynx cat. But his eye rings were
white and his reddish-brown body was marked with cloudings suggesting
spots while his feet were small like those of a house cat. His tail
was not more than seven inches long, a stubby bobbed-off tail, but it
jerked nervously as he sat smiling over his kingdom of rock piles and
tall grass. He was not hungry and the hunting mood did not fill him. He
had feasted well on wood rat and rabbit earlier that evening. He had
simply wished to clear all neighbors from his presence. Now that he had
done it he sat and smirked on the top of his big rock.
But the big cat did not reckon with one hunter who was not impressed
by his terrible song. A big, snowy owl came beating along the canyon
wall. His dim shadow floated across the grass toward the rock where
the cat was sitting. The owl had not feasted that evening. Fate had
been unkind. Every rabbit pasture he had swept over had already been
raided by coyotes or cats. The old owl was never choice about his prey.
His way was to strike at any living thing that came under his powerful
beak and talons. He saw the shadow on the rock move. The animal sitting
there was not bigger than many he had killed before. With a scream he
dived.
His smashing body struck the surprised cat on the neck and back. Long
talons sank deep into the stringy muscles while powerful wings battered
the sleek sides, knocking him off his perch and rolling him over.
Instantly the sleepy fellow was changed to a hissing, spitting demon.
He twisted his body and with claws and teeth lashed back at the ripping
beak and beating wings of the owl. The owl drove his fangs deeper and
tore at his snarling victim with his hooked beak.
The bobcat’s fangs found the neck of the owl and sank into it with
crunching swiftness. Blood spattered and fur and feathers filled the
air. The battlers clung to their death holds and exerted all their
strength. The bobcat’s raking hind feet ripped feathers out of his
assailant and found the stringy flesh beneath them; his fangs sank
deeper. Over and over they rolled, the owl flapping and clicking his
beak savagely, the cat hissing and snarling and yowling.
Both fighters weakened quickly because their wounds were deep and
driven into vital parts. They tumbled into a hollow between two big
rocks. There they struggled feebly for a time. Finally they lay still,
the crumpled and tangled body of the owl under that of the cat, his
big, round eyes staring savagely up at the stars. The bobcat lay with
fangs driven into the neck of his antagonist, his yellow eyes closed to
slits, his sleek coat marred by tufts of torn hair.
A little wind stirred down the canyon. It passed over the hollow where
the dead animals lay, it seemed to spread the news that two deadly
hunters had passed out of the red rock garden. The bunnies crept out
to the edge of their thicket homes and the wood mice and rats ventured
into the tall grass. After the way of the wild they started feeding
peacefully.
Lady Ebony and Midnight halted in the middle of a meadow a mile above
the spot where the battle had taken place. Midnight, true to his wild
instinct, had already forgotten the fear that had sent him charging out
of the garden below. He saw a doe and a fawn feeding at the edge of
the meadow and started over to make friends with them. Lady Ebony did
not forget so quickly. She was nervous and excited all that night and
tried to keep her son from walking up to the doe.
Midnight approached the mule deer and her fawn. He nickered softly and
humped his back, doing a little dance to show off before them. The doe
snorted and shook her head. She was not afraid of a colt but she would
take no chances with her baby. She turned about and led the little one
back into the brush.
Lady Ebony stayed in the upper meadow. She wanted to give her son time
to get his legs under him before moving on. By the third day the colt
was able to race around the meadow. He noticed the brightly colored
flowers, and made a great show of fear when a rabbit hopped away before
one of his charges. He was inquisitive and shoved his pink muzzle
close to everything that interested him. That day he met one of the
wilderness dwellers who lived in a burrow under a dead stump. Midnight
was dancing about pretending to be frightened by a pair of rockchips
who sat on a stone scolding and chattering because he had disturbed
them. The stranger walked out of a brier thicket and marched down a
deer trail.
He was sleek and black except for broad stripes of white running down
his back. His tail was a handsome plume of drooping hair, his snout
was pointed, and his little eyes stared out on the world like black
buttons sewed on his face. This stranger showed little interest in his
surroundings. His dull mind held but one thought. Hunting for mice and
bugs had been poor in the thicket near his burrow; he was crossing the
meadow to another thicket. He had no fear of other animals. He claimed
the right of way on every trail and not even a grizzly bear would have
contested that right.
Midnight stared at the striped brother, then shook his head and stamped
his feet. He expected the big skunk to scamper for cover, then he would
chase him. When the striped one paid no attention to him Midnight
advanced a little closer. Perhaps this dull-sighted fellow was a little
deaf. He danced and stamped his feet some more as he extended his nose
toward the skunk. The skunk marched on, ignoring the little horse.
Midnight stamped close to the striped fellow; the skunk’s plume lifted
with a jerk as dirt and rocks showered over him from the colt’s hoofs.
Any other wild creature would have fled from that danger signal. To
Midnight this seemed a friendly gesture. He whinnied eagerly and thrust
his nose closer to the striped one. The plume jerked twice as the skunk
halted in the trail.
Lady Ebony saw the skunk. She whinnied a loud warning. Midnight
jerked up his head and looked around. He expected to see an enemy
descending from the air or rushing out of the woods. His action saved
him considerable pain and surprise. A greenish flare of musk shot by,
close under his nose. Reeking fumes rolled around him. Midnight whirled
and galloped hastily toward his mother. He dashed past her and thrust
his muzzle into the cool water of the stream. Then he ran back to her
side and stood staring at the striped brother, who was marching at an
unhurried pace down the deer trail. The skunk’s aim had been low but he
had taught Midnight another lesson. The striped one was master of all
trails and not to be annoyed or disturbed.
The musky smell hung so rank and strong over the meadow that Lady Ebony
led her son to the lower end of the field where the breeze carried the
smell away from them.
Lady Ebony did not move on up the canyon to the long slopes dropping
away from the higher benches of the Crazy Kill Range. There would
still be chill nights and deep snowdrifts in the spruce near the peaks.
She wandered slowly up the little stream, halting for days at a time
in lush meadows where the grass was green and tender. Midnight grew
rapidly; his legs became strong and steady. Lady Ebony watched over him
constantly, never letting him stray far from her side. When he raced
around a meadow she followed him, running at his side, urging him to
greater speed.
She remembered the things she had learned on the high mesa. When she
made long stops she chose rock-bordered meadows where the yellowbelly
whistlers lived. The yellowbellies always had sentries posted in the
daytime. At night when the whistlers were deep in their burrows she lay
down close beside her son.
An afternoon came when she had need for her vigilance. From a high
perch on a red rim a lank cougar sighted the mare and her colt. He was
lying on a narrow shelf where the warm sun beat down on his sleek hide
as he drowsed. Through slitted eyes he watched Lady Ebony and Midnight
feeding below his lofty perch. There was no flesh he prized more highly
than young colt. He twitched the black tip of his tail and unsheathed
his sharp claws, but he did not move. Slow, sure, and patient methods
were those of the yellow killer. Once he had waited on a ledge for four
days in order to make a kill, a scrawny colt from a wild band. The colt
in the meadow below would be easier prey because there was cover close
to the tall grass.
The king cat lay watching until late afternoon. He yawned many times
and his red tongue arched between his long fangs as he opened his
mouth. As long shadows began to creep out from the canyon walls he
yawned again, a stretching yawn, then got slowly to his feet. He tested
the wind and looked up and down the wall. Lank, sag-backed, with high
shoulders and high, projecting hipbones, he was a killer to be feared
even by a grown horse.
The cougar slid down among the big rocks piled at the base of the
walls. He moved on great padded feet without sound. Halting beside a
rock almost the same color as his tawny robe he stood for a long time
staring through the evening light on the pair below. Midnight was
having his supper. He was feeding hungrily, butting his mother’s side,
twitching his tail. The cougar stood, silent and unmoving, except for
the tip of his tail which snapped back and forth nervously. His nine
feet of stringy muscle and furry tail blended with the great rock
beside him.
He appeared not to be giving much attention to the scene below him.
Really he was surveying the ground he had selected as a hunting spot
and was missing no detail. He could creep out on the windward side of
the mare where a clump of buckbrush grew. From there he would have two
mighty leaps to make. He would wait until the colt had moved away from
his mother’s side. Perhaps the youngster would wander close to the
buckbrush. His black whiskers jerked and his yellow eyes flamed through
slitted lids. Softly, silently he skirted the piled-up rocks and slid
into the timber to windward of the feeding horses. Like a tawny shadow
he passed from one bit of cover to the next, his lank belly close to
the ground. He often halted his unhurried descent to stand staring down
on his victim.
On reaching the last of the cover he flattened his belly to the ground
and crept forward through the tall grass. He kept moving, slowly,
noiselessly, until he lay behind the clump of buckbrush. There he
lifted his head and stared out through the green leaves.
Midnight had finished his supper and was nosing about a few yards from
his mother. Lady Ebony had dropped her head and was pulling grass. She
turned slowly toward the open meadow, her back toward the killer. She
had no thought of danger at the moment. The big cat listened intently.
He wanted to be sure the yellowbelly whistlers had all gone in for the
night. His head rested on his forepaws. There was no sound except that
made by the horses, but he waited, rigid.
The dusk deepened and the big cat stirred. He raised his head and
peered out across the grass. And now his eyes were wide open, yellow
pools of savage eagerness contrasting with his relaxed body. Midnight
was strutting about, sniffing and snorting, humping his back and
shaking his head. Lady Ebony was moving steadily away from the clump of
buckbrush. The cat’s belly dropped to the grass, his hind legs drew up
under him, his head flattened between his massive forepaws. His yellow
eyes had located the exact spot where his first leap would land him,
a bare spot where the grass was dead. From there he would hurtle upon
the unwary colt. He meant to strike the little horse down with a broken
neck so that no matter how well the mare might give battle the colt
would lie waiting for him when she moved away.
For a moment the great body of the king killer was tense and still,
then he leaped, his body arching upward, his great claws reaching out
before him. He landed noiselessly on the patch of dead grass and poised
there a split second while he drew his legs under him; then he leaped
again, rising high, hurling his body toward the colt.
An odd quirk of energy made Midnight jerk up his head. He began bucking
and bouncing. That sudden impulse saved him from the smashing blow the
cougar intended to land. The yellow killer landed where Midnight had
been standing. His scream of blood lust rang out, but his long fangs
and ripping claws missed their target. Midnight squealed in terror as
he saw the yellow killer clawing and lashing beside him. He plunged
toward his mother, and Lady Ebony leaped to his rescue.
She sprang at the enraged lion with uplifted hoofs lashing and
flailing. Mother instinct had completely banished her fear of the
yellow killer. The cougar reared back and lashed at her but he did not
stand his ground. Before her hoofs could smash down on him he leaped
back, spitting and snarling. Lady Ebony did not stop her charge. Her
slender legs pumped madly. The cougar was knocked off his feet and
sent sprawling in the grass. He rolled over, righted himself, then
fled before the pounding hoofs of the infuriated mare. Reaching the
cottonwood timber he bounded up a tree and lay licking his bruises and
spitting angrily.
Lady Ebony charged back to Midnight and shoved him up across the
meadow. The cougar leaped down from the tree. Circling, he followed the
pair, limping. Blood stained the weeds and tall grass along his trail.