Page 15 of Wilder Heart

“Lucky for you, I’ve got plenty of practice waiting around. Not much else to do in prison,” he said. “You know a thing or two about being locked up against your will, don’t you?”

Would Lain fire him if he opened up the paddock and let the horse go? Or would he understand that some creatures just weren’t meant to be contained?

“Better not risk it,” he murmured. “Unfortunately, you’ll just have to deal with me.”

The horse drifted a few steps closer, tossing his head again. His ears were laid flat, his front legs stomping in the dirt.

“There’s no sense in all that posturing,” Wilder pointed out. “There’s a fence between us, and nobody’s here to see how tough you are. Come on. You want it or not?”

When he was almost near enough to reach out and touch, the horse stretched his neck out to take the apple from Wilder’s hand with his soft lips. Wilder grazed his nose with his free hand, intent on showing him that not every touch was a bad one. The horse startled, dropping the apple, but came back and picked it up off the dusty ground.

“There, see?” Wilder said. “Not all humans are that bad. Some of us give treats.”

The mustang snorted loudly, turning to look at him with one liquid black eye.A likely story, it seemed to say.

“Fine, don’t believe me. I’ll win you over eventually. For now, we probably both need sleep. Early mornings and whatnot. I’ll come back by in the morning with another treat.”

Breakfast wasan awkward affair the next morning, thick with tension and many warning glares from Cash, mostly aimed at Billy. When Wilder finished eating and put away his plate, he grabbed another apple from the fridge and ventured outside. The sun was just cresting over the hillside, winking through the evergreens that dappled the eastern field. The mustang—who really needed a name—was standing under the awning of the barn, his head hanging lazily and one back hoof cocked up, resting.

Wilder whistled, and the golden horse’s head rose, ears pricking forward. “Damn right you know who I am,” he called as he approached. “Good morning, beautiful boy.” He climbed up on the lower rung of the fence. “I promised you a treat, didn’t I? Come on. Come get it.”

The horse inched closer, tail swishing. Wilder didn’t say anything, holding his arm out and waiting. In the harsh light of day, the horse took longer to warm up to him. Maybe because he was more visible, more plainly strange and bipedal than in the sleepy haze of the night. Wilder didn’t move even when his arm started to ache, and bit by bit, the horse moved closer, occasionally tossing his head in agitation. Wilder didn’t move a muscle.

After maybe twenty minutes, which felt like an eternity to his outstretched arm, the mustang was close enough to stretch his neck out and take the apple from Wilder’s palm.

“That’s a good boy,” Wilder praised softly. “See, I’m nothing to be afraid of. The friendliest felon you ever did see.”

There was a snort of amusement from behind him, and he turned to see Cash watching him.

“What—how long have you been standing there?” he asked, flushing with embarrassment.

“Long enough,” Cash replied archly. “Glad to see you’re making friends withsomeone.”

Wilder wagged a finger at him. “Don’t hold the other thing against me.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I know who was at fault last night,” Cash said, strolling closer. “I’ve got to ride out with the flatbed trailer for some hay bales today. You want to tag along?”

“Sure, yeah.” His gaze drifted to the mustang, who had trotted away and was watching them warily from the middle of the paddock.

“You like that one, huh?”

“I do.” He couldn’t put his finger on why. He was a beautiful animal with his golden fur and black mane and tail. He was full of spirit and personality. Something about him just called to Wilder.

“Well, maybe I’ll block some time out in the evenings for you to work with him. Lord knows nobody else has managed anything with him so far.”

Wilder glanced sharply at him. “I don’t need you to do me any favors.” And he didn’t need to owe anyone any, either.

“No favors at all,” Cash said, his whiskey-brown eyes following the mustang around the paddock. “If you can already get him to take food from you, you’re doing better than any of the rest of us. We’ve either got to get that horse pulling hisweight on the ranch, or he’ll have to go somewhere else. I’d rather keep him here, if we’re able. That means he needs to let somebody ride him.”

Wilder desperately wanted to be the one to ride him, but not if it meant bullying the horse into letting him. He wanted to be able to take his time with him, earn his trust.

“Give me the time to get on his good side,” Wilder said. “I’ll get there.”

Cash nodded. “I’ll see you get it, then. Come on, we’re burning daylight. That hay’s not gonna deliver itself.”

On their way to the long shed where the work trucks were parked, small, rapid footsteps across the gravel broke the silence, and Wilder turned, his eyes widening as he spotted Annalise rushing toward him, blonde hair flapping out behind her head.

“Daddy!” she squealed. “The chicks are hatching! Come on, come see!” She grabbed his hand, and Wilder’s weary heart lurched in shock at the sensation of her tiny fingers in his. She gave him a tug—and then stopped, looking at the tattoos on his knuckles. When her eyes met his again, there was confusion and surprise in her deep blue eyes. She looked like Lain. Like a Blackwood. Likehim.

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