“THE THING IS,” WILL SAID, “WE NEED PARTICULAR QUALITIES in a horse.”
It was three days since they had returned from the ford. Sundancer was none the worse for the experience. Tug, of course, merely shrugged off the long ride as part and parcel of his everyday life. Today they were riding side by side, although as yet, Will hadn’t said where they were bound. Maddie might have imagined it, but she thought Sundancer was showing a new level of deference to Will’s shaggy little gray.
“What sort of qualities?” she asked.
“Speed, of course,” Will replied. “And your Arridan has that. In the short haul, he’s possibly faster than Tug.”
Tug shook his mane and snorted. Will smiled and leaned forward, patting his neck.
“I’d say he’s definitely faster,” Maddie said. “After all, he just ran away from the two of you the other day. You saw it.”
“Yes. I did,” Will said evenly. “But Tug wasn’t running then. He was just loping along, conserving his strength.”
“So how fast can he run?” she challenged, turning sideways in the saddle to study the little horse. As before, she thought that he was a fairly unimpressive sight.
To her surprise, Will shrugged. “I don’t know.”
She looked at him skeptically. “You’ve never seen him run?” she asked, but he shook his head.
“I’ve seen him run plenty of times. And each time, he ran as fast as he had to. But I have no idea if that was as fast as he could go. In fact, I doubt it.”
Maddie frowned uncertainly. She wasn’t quite sure that she understood him.
Tell her about Sandstorm.
Will considered Tug’s suggestion, then nodded.
“Some years ago, we were in the Arridi desert,” he began.
Maddie nodded eagerly. “Yes. Was that when my mother went off to rescue the Skandian Oberjarl?” She’d heard vague references to that event, but neither her mother nor her father had ever filled in any of the detail. Now she sensed that she was about to learn more about that adventure and she hitched herself around so she could watch Will as he continued.
“That was it. In any case, at one stage, I had to match Tug in a race against an Arridan stallion called Sandstorm. He was a real champion, the finest in the Bedullin herd.”
“Bedullin?” she repeated uncertainly. She wasn’t familiar with the word.
“The Bedullin are a nomadic Arridi tribe. Great horsemen and wonderful horse breeders. One of their young men took a fancy to Tug.”
Actually, of course, it had been one of the present Tug’s predecessors who was involved in the race, but Will didn’t want to get into that, or his belief that his horse’s character transferred from one incarnation to the next.
He wasn’t sure that he could explain it properly if he tried.
“We were separated—by a sandstorm, ironically enough. The young Bedullin found Tug wandering in the desert and claimed him.”
Maddie glanced down at the little horse. “Why?” she asked, undiplomatically.
Will looked at her for a few seconds, then shook his head. When he spoke, there was a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Because they’re great judges of horseflesh,” he said tartly. “They look beyond the obvious.”
And I have a great inner beauty.
Absentmindedly, Will patted Tug on the neck again. “Anyway,” he continued, “Sandstorm was the pick of their herd. He was their ruler’s personal mount. I convinced them that if Tug and I could beat him in a race, I would keep Tug.”
“Why didn’t they just keep him anyway? Why did they have to race you?”
“The young man in question was having a hard time riding Tug. I agreed to help him if he won the race.”
She snorted disdainfully. “Can’t have been much of a horseman,” she said. “What was so hard about riding him?”
He was about to answer, then stopped himself. He felt a sudden, wicked impulse. Maddie was so sure of herself, so quick to denigrate Tug. It might be fun to prick that balloon, he thought.
“I’ll tell you later. Anyway, Sandstorm took off like an arrow out of a bow. Tug went off after him, but over the first fifty meters or so, Sandstorm kept pulling away.”
“Well, of course he did,” she said, comfortable in her own certainty.
“The thing was, I was confident that Tug would outlast Sandstorm. Our Ranger horses are bred to have enormous stamina, and I made sure the race was over a long distance, not just a sprint. In the second part of the race, we started to gain. We gradually drew up level with him, and we were running neck and neck, with barely three hundred meters to go.”
Will was looking into the distance, but in his mind, he was seeing that desert racecourse again, looking back over the many years that had passed.
“Tug was running faster than I had ever known him to. But Sandstorm was a great horse. He was matching us. We’d draw ahead a meter or so. Then he’d catch us and draw ahead in his turn.”
He paused, remembering. Her eyes were alight with the excitement of the tale.
“What happened?”
“Well, Tug sort of took over. He suddenly accelerated away from the other horse, leaving him standing. But Sandstorm made up the gap once more, and as he pulled level, I felt Tug falter in his stride.”
“You’d pushed him too hard,” she said, remembering how she had done the same thing with Sundancer three days previously. Then she frowned. Tug was here with them. Obviously, they hadn’t lost the race.
“So I thought. But that slight falter was enough to make Sandstorm give it everything he had. He pulled away again, running like the wind.
“Then, he hit the wall, and Tug suddenly recovered and accelerated past him. I had no idea Tug could move as fast as he did. But even more amazingly, he had faked the other horse into overextending himself. That break in his stride had been intentional, to goad Sandstorm into too great an effort.”
Will grinned at his horse and leaned forward to scratch him between the ears.
“The thing is, we need horses that combine stamina and speed. A Ranger horse can move incredibly quickly, as you’ll see later. But it can also keep up that constant lope you saw yesterday for hour after hour, with barely a rest.
“We need that. We travel alone. If we’re ever in a tight spot, we need to know that our horses can outlast our enemies’ horses—even if they have remounts available to them. We have just the one horse. We need to be able to rely on it.
“Our horses have to be smart and cunning. And be fast. And able to run all day without pause. That’s the way they’re bred. Our horse breeders have been breeding them that way for generations now.”
“So where are we going now?” she asked, although she thought she already knew. Will’s words confirmed her suspicions.
“We’re going to see Young Bob. He’s our senior horse breeder. And he has your Ranger horse ready for you.”
• • •
Young Bob was something of a revelation. Bowlegged and slight of build, he ambled out from his cabin to meet them.
His skin was browned by years of exposure to sun and wind. He was almost completely bald, with just a few tufts of wispy white hair on either side of his head. When he smiled, Maddie saw that he had very few teeth left, and his face was wrinkled and creased with age. She couldn’t begin to assess how old he might be.
Only his eyes were young. They were blue and bright and discerning. And clear. He knuckled his forehead to Will as they rode up to his cabin.
“Good day to you, Ranger Will.”
“Good day, Young Bob. Hope you’re keeping well,” Will said. Young Bob nodded several times at that, as if considering the statement.
“Oh yes. Can’t complain. Can’t complain. Get the odd ache and pain now and then, of course, and my back sometimes gives me a terrible twinge . . .”
He cackled with laughter. It was a strange, high-pitched sound but Maddie thought it was appropriate, coming from this gnomelike figure.
“But there I go, complaining, don’t I?” Young Bob doubled up laughing, then stopped abruptly and turned that surprisingly shrewd gaze on Maddie.
She felt she was being assessed.
“There’s never been a girl apprentice before,” he said.
“So, how are you enjoying it? Do you like it?”
She hesitated. It had been some time since she’d even considered that question. The days had been too busy learning new skills and perfecting her shooting and slinging to ask herself if she was enjoying it.
“Yes. I am,” she answered after a pause. She was surprised to find that she meant it.
Young Bob tilted his head to one side to study her more closely. The smile faded as he looked at her, assessing her. He seemed to approve of what he saw.
“Good for you,” he said. “It’s a big chance you’ve been given. Make the most of it.”
“I plan to,” she said. She was conscious of Will’s appraising gaze on her.
Conscious, too, that she meant what she said. She did plan to make the most of this opportunity, and she felt another quick sense of surprise as she realized it.
And suddenly, that smile split Young Bob’s wizened face once more.
“Course, she can’t be no Ranger without no Ranger horse, can she, Ranger Will?”
“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Will agreed.
“Then I’d best fetch one for her.” Young Bob turned away, hobbling quickly toward a large stable building that stood behind his cabin. He moved in a slightly sideways shuffle, hopping across the dusty ground.
When she judged he was well out of earshot, Maddie leaned over in her saddle and said softly to Will, “Why do you call him Young Bob? He’s positively ancient.”
Too late, he held up a hand to forestall her. But Young Bob turned back to face them, cackling once more.
“Cause my father is Old Bob—and he’s even more ancient than me.”
He turned away again, resuming that strange, half-hopping gait toward the stables. He had gone another five meters when he glanced back over his shoulder at her.
“And he’s the one who’s deaf. I ain’t.”
Maddie glanced at Will, holding her hands out, palm uppermost, in a helpless gesture. He shrugged.
The bent-over figure disappeared into the stable. A few seconds later, they heard a horse whinny from inside the large building. Tug instantly responded.
Sundancer’s ears pricked up and he looked around. He was a little unsure of himself in these surroundings. Tug, by contrast, seemed perfectly at home.
Young Bob emerged into the morning sunlight, leading a horse behind him. In spite of her misgivings about Ranger horses, Maddie leaned forward expectantly. This was to be her mount, after all.
Like Tug, he was stocky and barrel-chested, and somewhat short in the legs. His mane and tail were both long and his coat was on the shaggy side.
But he’d been curried and brushed until his coat almost gleamed. And she felt a catch in her throat as she saw that he was a piebald—marked in irregular patterns of white and black. She’d always fancied piebalds.
Young Bob led the horse up to them. Tug whinnied again and moved forward to nuzzle the other horse. Sundancer stepped nervously, backing off a few paces.
“This here’s Bumper,” Young Bob said.
“Bumper?” Maddie asked.
The horse breeder cackled again, patting the horse affectionately. “Named him that when he was a foal. He used to like to bump into things—see if they’d fall over. He’s over that now.”
As if on cue, the piebald butted him with his nose, causing him to stagger a few steps.
“Well, mostly, anyways,” he admitted.
Maddie was studying the horse, discerning the powerful muscles hidden under that well-brushed coat. Bumper looked at her, and she saw the intelligence and empathy in his eyes. She felt a sudden rush of ownership—
no, she thought, it was more like friendship.
“What do you think of him?” Will asked, his eyes intent on his young apprentice.
And for the third time in ten minutes, Maddie found herself somewhat surprised by her reply.
“He’s beautiful,” she said softly.
