The American mustang, wild, wind-tossed, and thundering across the open West, might have vanished into myth if not for Velma Bronn Johnston. A shy woman who was left with physical effects from a childhood battle with polio, Johnston was living a quiet life on a struggling ranch near Reno, Nevada, when she discovered wild horses being brutally transported to slaughter. Outraged, she reported it, only to be offered a permit allowing her to do the same horrific deed. But instead of backing down, Johnston took a stand.
Her refusal to profit from cruelty launched her into a firestorm of activism, upending her life. Laughed at, threatened, and dismissed, she pressed on. When a rival mocked her as “Wild Horse Annie,” she seized the name as a badge of honor and purpose. Embracing her new identity, she began to raid illegal holding pens under the cover of darkness, captivated the media, and became the voice of a movement. Her biggest allies? Schoolchildren across America, whose letter-writing campaign swept the country.
Johnston’s commitment to these majestic animals was finally recognized in 1971 when Congress unanimously passed legislation to protect the nation’s wild horses, an enduring victory for one determined woman and the animals she refused to abandon.
Award-winning author Terri Farley presents the captivating story of Horse Girl, revealing Velma Bronn Johnston in a new light through family photos and journal entries never before published. Farley’s storytelling brings Johnston’s unwavering courage into the spotlight, revealing a woman determined to protect the wild mustang, no matter the cost.
Excerpt
She slips out the back door of her house and hurries toward whoops, laughter, and thudding hooves. The boys had beaten her to the horses. They were older and didn’t have Mama pestering them to stay off Washington Street.
Why would she go out the front door when the real fun is the big backyard, at the corrals?
Gray hooves fringed with brown hair trot beside Daddy’s boots. She’s not tall enough to see past the middle fence rail, so she chins herself on it and holds on. Now she sees most of the horse’s bay shoulder and the boys’ bare feet, clapped against the side of the horse.
Daddy’s taken the wild out of this new horse. He hasn’t given the horse a name. She’s too small to pull the freight wagon, and he means to sell her for cash money. He says Velma can just call her “the mare.”
Daddy motions that it’s okay to come on into the pen. Velma ducks through the fence rails and—yes! Daddy flies her off the ground to land on the mare’s back. Velma is sandwiched between the two boys. They make room, not exactly complaining, but squirming.
The mare doesn’t like it. Her head jerks up and her steps stutter.
Daddy tells them all to sit up straight, push their heels down, and quit fooling around. They do. At the sudden shift in weight, the mare bolts.
Velma bounces between the boys before slipping sideways. As the mare bolts, Velma falls. Her shoulder hits the ground. She rolls, nose and mouth sucking dust, eyes squeezed shut. With her back flat on the dirt, she opens her eyes and sees the mare’s brown belly. Velma turns her head toward a gray hoof close enough to touch. But she doesn’t.
The mare lifts her hooves and sets them down. One thud. Two, three, four thuds, but she goes nowhere. Velma thanks the mare for not tromping on her.
Daddy’s hands reach under. They clamp Velma by the ribs and swing her back up on the mare. He tells the boys to go wait by the gate. Velma’s riding alone this time. A little wobbly, she grabs the mare’s black mane. The hair feels thicker than hers and warm from sunshine.
Just like before, Daddy says to sit up straight, push her heels down, and pick up the reins. She unclenches her fingers and, one at a time, moves her hands from the mare’s mane to the reins.
The mare flicks one ear back at her, listening because Velma is in charge.
Velma hears the rush of wind through feathers, then spots a wild goose coasting over, aiming to splash down in the Truckee River that runs through the middle of Reno, Nevada.
At Daddy’s order, the mare takes a breath deep enough to move Velma’s legs and then steps out. Without the boys taking up space on the mare’s back, Velma can sit up straight. She can’t look through the horse’s ears like a rider’s supposed to because the horse’s head is too high. But she can look up. She’s closer to the sky than she’s ever been.
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