The broken beta - healed by innocence

One with the heard

*Wade*

For several days, we find the herd, walk into its midst, and watch the horses scamper away, but each day they don't run quite as far or quite as fast. On the fourth day, they don't run.

I feel Briony's arms tighten around me as I guide Sorrel into the middle of the herd. The palomino stallion eyes us warily, slowly approaches, and sniffs Sorrel, sniffs my leg. I think I can feel Briony holding her breath against my back. How I wish I could turn around to watch her. I imagine her green eyes bright, her lips curved into a smile.

When the stallion determines we are no threat, he shakes his head, sending his long silver mane rippling over his neck, and saunters away as if to say, ‘Do as you please.’

I do just that. I weave my horse through the herd, studying each one, judging its merit. I'll capture them all, but I'll keep only the best. I don't have enough rope to tether them all on a lead.

The one thing I miss throughout the day is Briony's questions. She holds her silence, and I long to hear her voice. I have a feeling my place is going to seem so much quieter for having known her.

*Briony*

I lose track of the days as we travel with the mustangs. Their range covers a considerable distance, but I wouldn’t mind if we galloped forever toward the dawn.

I love the feel of the horse beneath me, the man before me when the herd senses danger and runs. I love the night sounds when the mustangs settle in around us. Wade draws me close, and I sleep in his arms. Sometimes, we talk quietly about the horses, which ones we prefer, or about the moments during the day when we don’t speak but each sense the other’s thoughts revolving around the same conclusions.

I know before he tells me that he prefers the stallion’s lead mare over the others. I know he will use her as the foundation of his own herd. I know he will take care in breaking her.

And I know in the hours before dawn when he quietly leads Sorrel away from the herd and takes me to the small box canyon that I have fallen in love with him.

“I don’t understand why I can’t stay with you.” I say.

He cups his hands, brings the water from the small pond to his lips, and gulps. “Because I’m gonna ride them hard, and I need someone to close the gate behind us once I lead them in here.”

“What if they don’t follow you?” I ask.

He stands and dries his hands on his trousers. “Then I’ll have to chase them down and rope the ones we want. We’ve lost enough time as it is.”

I wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t understand how you can view the past few days as losing anything. It was the most incredible experience of my life.”

He runs his finger along my chin. “I didn’t mean it that way, but you have someone waiting for you. I need to get you to him.”

He strides to his horse and mounts. “Stay behind the brush until you hear me holler. Then start closing the gate. I’ll get over to help you as soon as I can.”

I sit on a boulder and wait. I watch the sun ease over the horizon and feel the loneliness sweep through me. Could a person love more than once in a lifetime, love more than one person this deeply, this strongly?

Chase had answered my advertisement; I have given him my word that I would marry him. I have an obligation to fulfill, but I imagine years from now my children will circle my feet, and I’ll tell them how I helped their uncle capture the beginning of his dream.

I hear the pounding hooves, feel the ground vibrate. I scamper behind the brush and wait. The herd comes into view, thundering over the plains, their heads thrown back, their tails raised, their sleek muscles bunching and stretching as they rush toward their destination.

Trailing behind, guiding them, keeping them on course rides Wade, low over his horse’s back, the wind whipping his hair, the sweat glistening over his body. I think if I live to be a hundred, I’ll never see anything more magnificent.

Breathing heavily, their coats shiny with exertion, the mustangs gallop into the small canyon, heading for the pond. I hear Wade call my name as he roars past.

I move the brush aside and begin pushing the gate of limbs and rope. Then he is beside me, shoving it into place as the horses mill within the canyon. He fastens it, grabs me about the waist, and hauls me to the side. “Don’t know if it’ll hold them,” he says as he releases me.

The stallion is the first to notice that they are trapped. He rears up and rushes toward the gate of tree branches but stops short of ramming against it. He trots back and forth. I can almost feel his anger.

“I have a feeling he’s a horse you don’t want to rile,” I say.

“Yep.” Wade digs through our belongings, locates his shirt, and draws it over his head. “I could geld him. He wouldn’t be so spirited then.”

I am appalled. “You won’t, will you?”

“Nope. He wouldn’t be much good to me then.” He walks to the gate and holds out his hand. The stallion snorts and trots into the late-morning shadows.

“What now?” I ask.

“We’ll give them a day to calm down, then we’ll pick the ones we want and head out.”