Covenant- Trilogy of the Horse
American wild mustangs, a symbol of freedom older than our nation, are under attack from the forces of corporate greed. But those who are legally bound to protect and care for them have become a willing ally in their destruction. A small group of concerned Americans find themselves thrown together to stop these forces from killing these majestic creatures. Katriona McCool never thought she’d be at the center of this struggle. And Alex Manly never thought he would be to blame.
When Kat, a disconnected teenager from the suburbs of California, finds herself in the wilds of Colorado, on a mission to rescue herself and a band of mustang from losing more than just their freedom, she learns more about herself and the power one person can possess to make a change for the better.
But the forces of greed are great and in this time of economic uncertainty during the Digital Age, horses in America are more vulnerable than they’ve ever been at any other point in history. And while the humans believe themselves the doer of all things, only one person, Luz Pena Ph.D., understands the way the world works and that it is Alpha, the lead mare of the Pegasi band, who is really in command. Together, they’re trying to restore the covenant made in 1971 to keep wild horses and burros in their proper place- the wilds of the American West. And the connections Kat has to the mustangs’ plight go deeper than she could ever possibly imagine. They will take her through the perilous journey of the Trilogy of the Horse.
EXERPT FROM COVENANT- TRILOGY OF THE HORSE
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The sun hung low on the west Texas horizon. Just beyond a southern ridge of mountains lay the feral lands of Mexico with the Rio Grande slithering its way in between. Far to the east, night crept in with its dying streams of light. Auction night came slowly to this abandoned cattle ranch in Concord County, Texas. As if the aching joints of the rows of pipe corrals winced in the chilled air, remembering warmer days of kinder times when their only purpose was to hold a horse or two while the nights passed.
But now the fourth Saturday night of the month passed with a kind of sporadic midnight activity of a street walker; utterly conspicuous in her moral turpitude, but straining desperately towards a kind of civility.
Tonight, this ten acre lot was again the hub of activity. But now among the sand and sagebrush and greasewood, it stood like an outhouse too far placed and of no convenience to anyone. This, the Concord Crown Livestock Auction, struggled itself towards legitimacy. Among the rows of duct tape and bailing wire holding the shelter roofs in place overhanging the dung piles from horse and burro and cow, or the odd goat, the smell of livestock that filled the air was tinged with the odor of decay wafting over from the far corner of the lot.
The emaciated corpse of a piebald mustang gelding had lain all day in the brutal Texas sun, rotting where he died, flies digging in frenzied mobs at its nose and eyes. The discarded mustangs that shared the corral with the corpse stood as far away from it as they could, their faces turned away in a kind of solemnity. Instinct triggered something in them between deference for their dead comrade and fear of dying, itself.
Copyright © 2017 C.J. Goldsmith
Photo Art Copyright © 2017 C.J. Goldsmith
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