No Other Will Do (Ladies of Harper's Station #1)(56)

Mal dismounted and approached the downed pair cautiously. As strong as they were, one kick from a hind leg could take out his knee. Like most draft horses, Shires were docile and obedient creatures under normal circumstances. But these were far from normal circumstances.

The horses must have heard his approach, for the one that lay half on top of the other lifted his head and tried in vain to struggle to his feet.

“Easy,” Mal cooed, worried the beast might do serious damage to his partner if he continued flailing. “I’m here to help. Just gotta see what we’re up against.” He crept around the pair, giving them a wide berth as he circled first past their hindquarters, then around to their heads.

He understood why Porter had been in such a tizzy. The geldings were still fastened together. Neck yoke hung intact beneath the collars. Crosslines over their backs. No wonder they’d been unable to get up. One had probably stumbled over the irregular ground and taken his partner down with him.

Holding his hand out in front of him, Mal took a step toward the fallen pair. The black on top—Hermes? Or was it Helios? Mal had no idea which was which—snorted and shook his head as if trying to fling the blinders away so he could better assess the threat and protect his friend.

“Whoa, Hermes.” Mal decided using a name the horse had at least heard before, even if it was the wrong one, was better than nothing. The faster he could establish trust, the greater the chance they’d get out of this without serious injury. At least for the top horse. Mal hadn’t witnessed much movement from the one beneath. But then, having nearly a ton of horseflesh pressed against you would make movement difficult for even the hardiest creature.

Mal shifted slightly to the left, putting himself in the horse’s direct line of sight. He stretched his hand out toward the beast’s nose. “Easy, boy. Porter sent me. He’s real worried about you and Helios, there.” Mal took another step, hunching low over his boots. “I can help you get free if you’ll let me.”

Almost there.

Hermes snorted again, his eyes wide, but his head settled to an occasional gentle bob. And when Mal cupped his open hand around the end of the horse’s nose and crooned soft words, the black gradually stilled. Mal patted the horse’s cheek with his free hand and stroked his forelock. Hermes’s side heaved, but the shuddering sigh seemed to be one of relief, not fear.

“That’s right. Just relax. Let me do all the work.” Mal continued talking in low tones and stroking the frightened horse’s neck as he worked his way closer to the yoke.

Not wanting to damage Porter’s harness any more than necessary, Mal kept his knife in his pocket and worked at the buckle on the breast strap first. Hermes tried to get a look at what he was doing, and nearly slammed his horse collar into Mal’s head.

Mal dodged, then patted the black’s neck and gently pushed his head back down. “Lie still, big boy. If you knock me out, you’ll have no rescuer. Then where will you be?”

Finally, he worked the buckle loose and tugged the breast strap free of the ring on the neck yoke. The martingale loop slid off next. Now all Mal had to do was find a way to climb between a pair of beasts weighing nearly two tons to cut the crosslines and any other tangles that held the animals together without getting squashed or trampled.

Not any more dangerous than blowing up mountains. Or at least that’s what he told himself as he edged between the two massive heads.

Thankful for the blinders that obscured his movements from the horses’ view, Mal eased a hand into his front trouser pocket and extracted his knife. He slipped the largest blade from its folded position and gently locked it into place. Then, folding the leather of the first crossline over the sharpened edge, he sawed through the strap. He paused to croon and pat both horses again. The gelding pinned beneath Hermes stirred, bringing a touch of a smile to Mal’s face.

“What happened, old fellow? Hit a rock? A prairie-dog hole? Probably expected your partner to right you like he would if you were still hitched to the wagon, huh?” Mal turned slightly and took his knife to the second crossline. “Ended up pulling him right down on top of you instead. Bet you’re ready to get him off your back. Well . . .” Mal clicked his knife shut and slipped it back into his pocket. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

Keeping one hand on each horse as long as possible, Mal backed out until he was no longer between them. He moved to the outside edge and gently took hold of the halter straps near the top horse’s cheek. “Ready, Hermes? One. Two. Three!” Mal pulled on the strap. “Up now, Hermes. Up!”

As soon as the animal started to move, Mal released the halter and jumped out of the way. Hermes rocked and snorted, and finally rolled to his feet.

“Oh, ho! Good job, old man!” Mal grinned and started moving toward Helios, but the second Shire needed no human encouragement.

The second black craned his neck upward, then surged to his feet. The half-unlatched neck-yoke bar flopped down at a sharp angle beneath his collar, one end dragging the ground. The horse kicked at it a time or two, as if not sure if it was something to be afraid of, but Mal moved in quickly to quiet him.

“You’re a trouper, aren’t you?” Mal praised as he worked the buckle on the breast strap and freed the beast from the dragging bar. “Now, I just need you two boys to stand still a little longer so I can get you untangled from the rest of this mess.”