Saddle Up(14)

“Simple.” Keith stood and retrieved the satellite phone. “I’m calling the chopper in.”

“To carry the horse?” Dave asked. “That’s crazy.”

“Why? They airlift people, don’t they? This foal won’t make it if we don’t try,” Keith said. “The bird’s already in the air. All Trey needs is our GPS position to land it.”

“Look, Keith, they use special helicopters for rescue operations. We don’t have any of that. What do you expect Trey to do? Fly with a horse in that tiny cockpit?”

“It’s a really small horse,” Keith argued. He silenced Dave’s next protest with a dark look as he dialed base camp. “Mitch, it’s Keith. No, we’re all okay, but we’ve got a foal that’s in a real bad way. I need you to send the chopper.”

Mitch groaned. “How big is it?”

“’Bout two hundred pounds. We need to transport him. He’s gonna die if we don’t get some fluids into him ASAP.”

There was a long pause before Mitch answered. “This’ll have to be Trey’s call.”

“I understand that,” Keith replied. “You’ll call him?”

“Yeah. It’s crazy as hell,” Mitch replied, “but I’ll call him.”

“Thanks. I owe you.” Keith disconnected the call.

“He’s really sending the chopper?” Dave asked.

Keith smiled for the first time in three days. “He’s sending it.”





Chapter 7


“It gets really cold on that chopper. These’ll keep you warm.” Beth handed Miranda a sheepskin-lined jacket and a pair of leather gloves.

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.” Miranda accepted the jacket, donning it over her hoodie. Her heart raced with excitement as she buckled herself into the helicopter. A succinct safety briefing followed. Trey was terse, almost gruff. She wondered if he’d taken a dislike to her or if it was just his personality. Then again, it had been a pretty shitty day for everyone.

“You’re gonna need these too.” Trey handed her a set of noise-canceling headphones.

“Will I be able to hear you with them on?” she asked.

“Yes, and I can hear you too. There’s a built-in mic.”

As soon as she put them on, Trey started the engine, and the aircraft jolted almost violently to life. She held her breath in anticipation as the blades began to rotate. Within seconds, the rough, rocking motion transformed into a smooth vibration. Her stomach filled with frantic butterflies as they lifted vertically into the air.

“How long have you been doing this?” she asked, trying again to break the ice.

“Flying? Or wild-horse roundups?”

“Well, both,” she replied.

“I started helping out with the roundups almost as soon as I could manage a horse by myself. I guess I was about six or seven. I fell in love with flying the first time I went up in one of these, but I had to wait twelve years before I could learn how to fly one.”

“How did you get your training?”

“Uncle Sam.”

“You were a military pilot?” she asked.

“U.S. Army. Flew the Kiowa Warrior, a light scout helicopter ’bout the size of this one.”

“Where were you deployed?” she asked.

“Afghanistan. Three combat tours in terrain a lot like this.” His jaw tightened as he nodded to the mountainous desert below. His body language suppressed further questions. Having almost forgotten her purpose, Miranda uncapped her camera lens and began recording as Trey scouted the mountains for horses. With bated breath, she gazed out at the seemingly limitless expanse of sage-peppered desert stretching out between craggy mountain peaks. “Wow. It’s so vast. And so beautiful in a rough-hewn kinda way.”

Trey merely grunted.

“Look”—he pointed below a moment later—“there’s two down there. We’ll try to get them moving, but if they show signs of distress, I’ll have to back off and call a wrangler in.”

He’d already begun his descent when Mitch called on the radio.

“Keith needs you,” she heard Mitch say. “He’s got a foal in a bad way. He wants you to fly it in to camp. Can you go and check it out?”

“You expect me to put a foal in here?”

“I expect you to use your best judgment. I know you won’t do anything stupid,” Mitch replied.

“Famous last words,” Trey mumbled. After Mitch gave him the GPS coordinates, Trey turned to Miranda. “Looks like we have a change of plans.”

Miranda regarded the cramped cockpit incredulously. “You aren’t really going to try to fly a horse in here, are you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” he replied. “It’s not the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

She never got a chance to ask him to elaborate. The helicopter quickly regained altitude and changed direction. In a matter of minutes they spotted the small group of horses and riders. The helicopter landed nearby. The mustangs skittered away, white-eyed and trembling, but they didn’t run very far.

As soon as the blades quit rotating, Trey hopped out. Miranda followed, ducking her head and hugging her camera. Her chest squeezed at the sight of Keith kneeling by a fragile-looking colt with its eyes half-shut, looking as if it held onto life by a thread.