The Island Horse by Susan Hughes

valley or hollow, as Ellie and the island horse topped and descended a low rise, or when lingering to graze. Or even, once, when the littlest foal lay down, its tiny, knobbly legs giving out abruptly.
    But Orchid seemed unconcerned. He seemed certain of their loyalty and their bond to him. He came forward after Ellie and put them in her care as well, trustingly. Sometimes he stopped to drink or to rub his leg daintily with his muzzle. And sometimes he was so close she felt his breath on her shoulder or her arm.
    The wind blew, and the waves surged against the shoreline. It was a day like every other on the island — wind, waves and sand. And yet today Ellie was walking with her horse, and she had never had such a feeling of happiness bursting inside her chest.
    Chapter Eighteen
    The morning turned into afternoon.
    We’re moving too slowly. The roundup will be starting soon,
Ellie fretted.
Maybe it’s started already!
    Ellie had never been this far along the island before. After walking eastward for some time, she had turned inland, found Lake Wallace and walked until reaching its eastern end. And all the while, she had worried that the roundup riders would come bursting upon them, hallooing and whooping, and sweep her little brood away.
    But they hadn’t, and she and the horses had kept walking, moving southward. Now they had reached the southern beach and were moving eastward again. They should come upon the sand hills soon.
Soon,
Ellie hoped.
    She was getting tired. She walked with her head down, determined. Trying to keep the pace brisk.
    As long as the roundup riders don’t come … as long as they don’t find us now …
she told herself over and over.
    Suddenly, from atop a high ridge of sand, as she glanced out along the coast, searching for the hills, she saw strange tall bones rising in the distance. Astonished, she saw them sticking out of the beach, an enormous rib cage.
    What?! What strange animal is this? Could there be more, still roaming the shores?
Ellie wondered fearfully.
    She shuddered, but she had nowhere to go but forward. She drew closer, along the ridge, her heart thumping. But as she came near, she realized, with relief, that the bones were not bones. Rather, they were the wooden skeleton of a wrecked ship. They were timbers, stripped to white by wind and waves.
    Ellie’s legs were weak from worry and her hours of trudging. She paused to scan the horizon again, looking for the hills. Her stomach grumbled. Realizing she was famished, she hastily ate a piece of cheese and drank a few sips of cold tea.
    There was no time to waste, however, so she walked on, and the horses followed. And then, as the sun had reached its summit and was dropping lower, into mid-afternoon, she stopped and looked ahead again, shading her eyes. Ellie saw shapes in the distance that looked like mounds, rising from the beach.
    There they were! The sand hills! Finally!
    She picked up her pace. Orchid and his family stayed near.
    But then, glancing back at him, always watchful, she saw his ears prick up.
    â€œOh, no,” she cried because she, too, thought she heard something in the distance, approaching. The roundup riders? Was it them? She wanted to cry, to give up.
    The stallion raised his head higher, listening. He halted.
    Ellie stopped, too. She wanted to sink down, drown.
    Then Orchid turned his head, and looked at her. Fear and surprise were in his eyes … Was he going to panic? Flee toward danger?
    She couldn’t let it happen.
    â€œNo, we have to hurry. We have to hurry! Come on!” she called. She would not let them find him. She would not.
    Ellie started to run. She summoned up all her energy and her hope and her love for the island horse, and she started to run as fast as she could.
    She ran toward the hills, and when she glanced back she saw Orchid duck his head and kick up his heels. Then he tossed his mane and reared, and now he was galloping after her.
    He caught up to