Page 47 of Where They Belong

He drove out to the smaller wild horse pasture, where the new adoptees from Cañon City decompressed and acclimated and so Mason and his crew could keep a close eye on them while they quarantined. They all came closer, having quickly learned the sound of the Gator meant hay and carrots and homemade cookies.

Mason turned the vehicle off, climbed out, and grabbed a handful of treats from the bucket. The extra bonded pair he’d brought home hung back at the edge of the small crowd, watching warily while they decided if they wanted to come closer to the human or not. Two curious yearlings came close and took a treat from his hand. They were brave enough that Mason was able to give their cheeks a little rub. He smiled, already starting to feel better. He grabbed another handful of treats from the bucket and tossed them out for the horses not comfortable coming closer so they could enjoy a snack too.

“Are you feeding them cookies?” Colt asked, skepticism or amusement laced his voice. Mason couldn’t tell which. He’d all but forgotten Colt was there.

“Yes.” Mason kept his eyes on the horses. While some were friendly, they were wild animals and could be unpredictable and dangerous. “They’re homemade.”

“That must take a while. Who makes them?”

“Me and my sisters,” Mason replied. This he could talk about. “We usually take one day each month and bake them together. Family bonding and all that. We use apples and carrots that we grow here, so we know the horses are getting the best quality.”

Colt didn’t say anything, but Mason felt his presence like a nearby flame. Even with how aware he was of Colt, how twisted up in his feelings he was about the man, the horses worked their magic on his soul, giving him the sense of peace that he desperately needed.

Satisfied everyone looked good, he hopped back into the Gator and headed for the pasture that was home to the senior mustangs. He didn’t see any of them at first, but when he killed the Gator’s engine, a faint rumble of thunder drifted to his ears. Out of the trees galloped the herd of a dozen mustangs. His heart sang at the beauty and power and majesty of these incredible beings. The herd was, of course, led by his favorite, Romeo. All the horses were favorites and special to him in one way or another, but there was something about Romeo that reached a little deeper into his heart.

Most of the horses fanned out and slowed down before they reached Mason, but Romeo galloped right up to him, stopping just a few feet away.

“Always gotta put on a show, don’t ya, buddy,” Mason said affectionately and then held out a treat for Romeo. Mason ran a hand down Romeo’s face and over his jaw as he chewed with gusto.

“He’s stunning,” Colt said softly at Mason’s shoulder.

Mason nodded. Romeo was battle scarred, the tips of his ears long ago blunted by frostbite, and his knees were arthritic, but he stood tall and proud like the formidable band stallion he once was, and his dark brown eyes were alight with a gentle intelligence and confidence.

“Special boy, this one,” Mason said through a tight throat.

After a few minutes soaking in the serenity of these amazing beings he was fortunate enough to give sanctuary to, Mason put his hands in his pockets and turned to face Colt. Another amazing being. He knew their once-dreamed happy ever after had been a fantasy, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy whatever time he had with Colt now. Pretend, just a little, that his dreamshadcome true.

Colt watched him with eyes as blue and soft as the summer sky, his body at ease and a quiet air about him. Mason didn’t feel the need to break eye contact and pull away, didn’t feel uncomfortable under that steady gaze. He felt a tranquility within himself that he normally only felt when he sat with the horses.

“What did you want to show me the other day?” Colt’s voice was little more than a whisper, as though he didn’t want to disturb the moment.

Mason raised an eyebrow.

“The morning after the adoption pickups in Cañon City,” Colt added and looked away, a frown tipping his mouth down as a subtle blush crept over his cheeks.

Right. The morningafterMason had dropped to his knees and sucked Colt off—and then Colt had left him alone on the veranda. He looked away, back to the grazing horses. So much had changed between them since then.

Mason motioned for Colt to get into the Gator but didn’t say anything until they were back at the hay shed.

“Why don’t you saddle up Zephyr,” Mason said. “I’ll meet you back here with Cuervo.”

Colt held Mason’s gaze for an extended beat and then shook his head.

“Why don’t I go with you while you saddle up Cuervo,” he countered, “and then you come with me while I saddle Zephyr.”

Of course. Because Mason was still in danger. Mason sighed but didn’t say anything as he headed for the pasture to get Cuervo, Colt right on his heels.

He brought Cuervo in, groomed and tacked him up, and then led him over to the small barn and waited while Colt got Zephyr ready. With a nod, he climbed up into the saddle and settled in for the ride.

“You going to tell me where we’re going?” Colt asked when they crossed the wooden bridge that led to a large outdoor arena, the hay fields, and a trail into the woods that hadn’t existed when Colt had lived on the ranch.

“Nope,” Mason said.

He grinned over his shoulder at Colt, who shook his head and smiled at him, a genuine lift of his lips that sparkled in his eyes. Mason’s heart swooped in his chest as he looked away.

They rode north on a lesser-used interior road after crossing the bridge—past the outdoor arena, where a narrow single-track trail split off from the road and into the open pastures where buffalo grazed peacefully in the distance. They neared a five-foot-high boulder at the edge of the tree line that marked the start of the trail, and a small herd of elk darted off into the woods. Mason steered them west again and into the forest.

Snaking along the narrow, winding trail into the woods, they climbed for about a half hour until they came to a clearing at the top of a ridge. This was one of Mason’s favorite spots. When he wasn’t soaking in the healing energy of the wild horses, he loved to come up here and sit with nature. He dismounted and slipped the reins over a sturdy tree branch. Colt did the same with Zephyr.

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