Page 10 of Wilder Heart

Wilder sucked his lips between his teeth. “Um, I’ll get this.” He gestured to the bags on the floor. “Thanks for bringing them in for me.”

Cash nodded, his warm gaze roaming Wilder’s face. “I’ll go park the truck.”

Wilder followed him to the door, watching the sway of his broad back as he strode to the idling truck. He closed the door before Cash could realize he was watching him, blowing out a breath in the silence of the room.

He left the bags piled on the bed. There would be time to unpack everything and put it away later. Right now he didn’t want to make Cash wait for him.

The sun was high in the sky as he made his way across the lawn and the circular driveway toward the big white barn. In the field beside it, a buckskin horse trotted nervously, tossing his head. His black mane billowed in the breeze coming off the hillside, and since Wilder saw no sign of Cash at the barn yet, he wandered over to the fence to watch, resting one foot on the bottom rung.

“What’s the matter, boy?” he called, and the horse slowed, tossing his head and eyeing Wilder distrustfully. There were other horses inside the fence with him, but he didn’t seem interested in them, keeping to himself and pacing fretfully.

“That’s a new one,” Cash said, and Wilder turned to see him approaching. “Still untamed. He’s only been here a couple of days.”

“He’s still highly stressed,” Wilder noted.

“Yeah, he paces a lot. Doesn’t let anyone get close. Lain’s been debating what to do with him. If we can’t get him to mellow, he won’t be fit to ride. And a horse who can’t be ridden doesn’t have much value in the ranching business.”

“He doesn’t like being locked in behind a fence,” Wilder said. “He knows he’s trapped.”

“Mm-hm,” Cash agreed, his gaze on Wilder’s profile. “He just needs time to adjust.”

It felt cliché to say he understood what the horse was going through, but the sympathy pains in his chest didn’t listen. He knew a thing or two about being thrown into a situation he wasn’t ready for, feeling trapped in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.

He just didn’t know whether prison was the nightmare or this so-called freedom.

Cash patted his shoulder, sliding away. “Come on. Let’s saddle up a couple of horses and get moving.”

Following Cash into the barn brought back visceral memories from his teenage years. The old horse barn was nothing like this, but some things were universal. The sweet smell of the hay, the musky scent of animal and freshly oiled leather. Two horses waited for them in stalls, a chestnut mare and a brown and white paint.

“This is Hexie,” Cash said, going to the paint and stroking her face. “You’ll be riding that one, Persimmon. Until I get a better feel for how you ride, she’s our easiest to handle. Lain even lets Annalise ride her.”

Wilder blinked dumbly at the name. Mary-Beth was the wife. Annalise must be the daughter. He wondered how long it would be before he laid eyes on her. Did she look like Lain? Likethem?

Cash was watching him in that knowing way of his again. “I take it you haven’t met her yet.”

“No, not exactly.”

“She’s a sweet kid. You’ll see her around. She has some chores around the ranch. Feeding the chickens and such. She likes to feel involved and helpful, and shelovesthe horses. Lain lets her ride in the evenings sometimes.”

Wilder wasn’t so sure Lain would want him anywhere near his daughter, but he refrained from saying as much. Cash showed him where the tack was stored, and they got to work saddling the horses. It had been at least ten years since Wilder had done this, fitted a saddle on a horse’s back and put a bridle on. Persimmon wasn’t a fan of the bit, and Wilder chuckled as he worked the metal between her teeth.

“I’ll be gentle, girl, I promise,” he said, stroking her big forehead as he slipped the leather over her ears.

She snorted out a breath, bumping her nose against his chest and leaving a dirty smear behind.

“I’ll have you know this is a new shirt, ma’am,” he chided.

Cash chuckled. Wilder hadn’t realized he could hear him, and he ducked his head sheepishly.

When they finished, leading their horses out into the aisle, Cash gestured for him to take Hexie’s reins and said, “Let me double check your saddle real quick.”

That was fine with Wilder. There was a chance he’d forgotten something, after all, but everything appeared to be in order. And then they were off. Wilder slung a leg up and over Persimmon’s back, and she automatically fell into step with Hexie when he nudged her.

“How’s it feel?” Cash asked as they stepped out in the sunlight and the horses’ opened up their pace, trotting side by side.

Wilder chuckled, shifting on the saddle. “Weird but also not. Does that make sense?” It didn’t seem right to equate it to riding a bike, because horses were living animals that could always be unpredictable, and no two were the same. But there was a bone-deep part of him that never forgot how to do this. Being on horseback felt a little like coming home. A return to the status quo.

Back before Dad sold off all the horses, he’d spend hours in the barn and paddock, tending to them and riding them. He didn’t have a favorite, rotating them all out equally. When Lain started sneaking off to see his girl, especially, Wilder found solace with the horses. Dad made sure they never had friends over, and everybody in town kept their noses out of the Blackwoods’ business. Nobody was willing to get involved, even though it was common knowledge that Dad was deteriorating.

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