Sharron had been looking forward to the summer break all year. Her parents had finally decided to let her take the train out west and spend the whole summer working on her Uncle Matthew’s Centaur Ranch. Each year, her uncle and the ranch hands scour the countryside for the wild bands of Centaur wandering the endless grasslands of the frontier, roping, breaking and training their catch to be sold back East to the wealthy and powerful looking for exotic mounts to ride or pull their carriages. But almost as soon as she arrived, Sharron noticed something worrying her Uncle.

“It’s ‘cause of the rustlers.” Sharron’s cousin, Charlotte, told her. “There’s a gang of ‘em varmints...runnin’ round, right now, stealing mares and selling ‘em south of the border. One of the neighboring ranches lost near half their herd in one night. They lose anymore, reckon they’ll have to sell their ranch.”

After a few weeks working around the ranch, Sharron had almost forgotten about the rustlers, when late in the evening, a rider came galloping up to the ranch, to report that a band of suspicious characters had been seen skulking around not far from the neighboring Lazy B Ranch.

At once, Uncle Matthew had the Ranch Hands saddling up to ride over there and try to catch the rustlers in the act. Sharron and Charlotte both wanted to come of course, thinking it would be a fun adventure, riding the range at night in pursuit of a band of desperadoes, but Uncle Matthew forbid it.

“No, it’s too dangerous.” He told the teens. “Stay here, where it’s safe.” And with that, he grabbed his gun, hoped into the saddle and rode off, followed by the rest of the ranch hands. Left alone, the girls could do nothing but wait late into the night, wondering how things had went, if the rustlers had been caught, if anyone had been hurt.

Just as they were heading off to bed, Charlotte heard a noise from outback. The clatter of a heavy wooden door. “What’s that?” She asked, directing her cousin’s attention.

“Maybe it’s your uncle and rest coming back?” Sharron suggested.

“No, they’d be coming by the front gate, that sounded more like it was coming from the stables.” Charlotte said, then gave a start. “You don’t reckon it could be the rustlers?”

The earlier sound of a door being swung opened was followed by the muffled neighing of the centaurs in the stable as something woke them from their sound slumber. There wasn’t no doubt anymore. Someone had snuck in, and it could only be the rustlers. “They musta let themselves get spotted by the ‘Lazy B’ so everyone would be riding off over yonder. Then those low down snakes done doubled back and made straight for here to rustle our whole herd!” Fear crossed her face for a second, before it was replaced with a look of resolution. “Come on! Let’s go check it out!”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? By ourselves?” Sharron whispered back. “Shouldn’t we wait for your dad and the others to get back?”

“We don’t know when they’ll be gettin’ back!” Charlotte replied. “By then, it could be too late. By morning, the snakes’ll be halfway to the border and once they get over it, there’ll be no finding them. I’m not gonna let ‘em steal our livestock and ruin all of pa’s hard work!” Sharron had no argument to this, so she simply followed her cousin, first to the gun rack in the hall, where she grabbed a small squirrel gun and then to the back door.

“Keep quiet…” Charlotte whispered back to Sharron, who didn’t need to be told. The teenage girls tip toed across the open yard towards the stables, keeping another of the outbuildings between them and the rustlers busy at work inside.

The two peered around the corner of the shed, in time to see one of the rustlers coming out, leading a pair of centaurs: a mare and her nearly grown foal. In the dim light of the moon, the girls could see the rustlers had the centaurs in full harness: their arms strapped behind their backs, bits between their teeth and blindfolds over their eyes.

From the muffled whinny's and the twitching of their ears, Charlotte could easily see the two were spooked. Between being woken in the middle of the night and the full restraints, something the ranchers normally only used on freshly caught wild centaurs until they had learned to accept a rider, they were unsure what was going on, but didn’t like it.

The rustler led the two a couple yards from the stables, to where a second rustler in a dark hat and coat stood by, watching things. From the sounds still coming from inside the stables, there was another man still busy inside.

Ducking back around, Charlotte rumbled to load her rifle.

“Are you crazy?” Sharron whispered intently.

“I reckon we’ve got to do something…” Charlotte whispered back, nodding to the scene in front of the stable. From the sound of it, the second rustler inside had gotten his picks harnessed up and was about to come out with them. “They’re going to take off any second now and it’ll be too late. Besides, they’re not expecting anyone to be here. One shot and I reckon’ the yellow bellied cowards will skedaddle.”

“And if they don’t?” Sharron asked. “There’s three of them!”

“Actually…” A voice suddenly spoke up from behind the two. “There’s four of us.”

With a cry of fright, the teens spun around to see a fourth rustler, standing behind him. He was dressed in a brown overcoat, with a black hat pulled low over his brow. Between it and the bandanna he had tied across his note, his features were completely obscured. But what was all too visible was the revolver he had in his hand, pointed at the two of them.

“Alright miss, drop the shooting iron.” He drawled towards Charlotte, “And no sudden moves.” Glumly, she obeyed. “Now ladies, get those hands up, and turn towards the shed.” The girls had no choice but to obey. Stepping over to them, the rustler took some rope from his belt and tied their hands together. Then a couple of bandannas went across their eyes and between their lips, rending them blind and mute as well.

“Now, get steppin’.” He ordered, giving his captives a push in the right direction. They stumbled forward, around the corner and into the yard in front of the stable. “Lookee what I found!” he called to his compatriots. “Good thing I was watching the ranch house, it weren’t quite so empty as we thought. These two came out a snoopin’ round.”

“Well now, what do we do with them?” Another of the rustlers asked. “Can’t leave ‘em here…”

“Let’s take ‘em with us…” A third man said. “Feller who’s buying these mares, betcha he’d pay a good bit for the two of them as well.”

The other rustlers all chorused their agreement with the plan. The teens groaned through their gags loudly against it, but their muffled pleas were ignored. One of the rustlers grabbed Sharron and lifted her up, throwing her over onto her belly across the back of one of the pilfered centaurs. A nearby moan told her her cousin was getting the same treatment. The girls had their ankles bound with rope, then another long rope passed from their knees under the mare and across the back of the captives’ necks and back under, ensuring they wouldn’t fall off.

As soon as this was done, the rustlers fetched their own steeds and mounted up. “Let’s ride! I want to be halfway to the border sunup!” The leader to rustlers said. With whoops and yips of triumphant joy from the bandits, mixed with the terrified cries of their captives, the rustlers rode off into the night...