Wild Horses by Claire McEwen Read Free Book Online

“Why am I not surprised by that? Geek.”
    He laughed softly and she had to look away. He was too familiar, still so beautiful, with a smile that lit his whole face, slashed dimples in his cheeks and added a spark of delight to his eyes.
    â€œSome things don’t change.” He lifted his bottle in her direction. “To old friends.” But the way he held her gaze, just a little too long, told her he was thinking about more. About what they’d been and how they’d been. About afternoons tangled up in his bed and nights sitting on his roof, watching the stars, reading poetry out loud by flashlight. He was remembering how crazy in love they’d been, so that it seemed the stars they watched were wheeling overhead in a private show just for them. He was remembering, suddenly, the utter magic of it all. The magic she’d never been able to forget.
    â€œTo old friends,” she answered, watching him clink his bottle to her glass. The sound was oddly festive, and very much at odds with the worry in her heart.

CHAPTER FIVE
    N ORA TOOK A gulp of her vodka. Todd’s toast was to old friends, and old was the key word here. A reminder that her memories of him should stay in the past where she’d buried them. Just because Todd was handing her a shovel didn’t mean she had to start digging them back out.
    Luckily, remembering what was wrong wasn’t that difficult. All she had to do was touch the bruises on her hip. Or take a deep breath and feel the pinch under her ribs. She peppered her question with just a little sarcasm. “So are wild horses your new cause?”
    â€œI guess they are. Not the cause I moved out here for, though. I was hired to manage a campaign to prevent fracking in this area. But when that project was over, I was burned-out. I mean, we’d stopped the destruction here for now, but they’re still tearing up the rest of the earth for natural gas. It just felt futile. I bought the shop and figured I’d just be a mechanic and spend my free time in the mountains.”
    â€œSo what happened?”
    â€œI went hiking in the scrub one day and saw a herd of wild horses running. A stallion, mares, even a few foals. They were incredible. After that I started going out there in all my spare time to watch them. It was so peaceful, you know? I got really into taking photos of them.
    â€œAnd then one day, while I was watching them, a couple helicopters showed up. It was a roundup, and they chased the herd, flying behind them, really close to the ground. The horses were panicked, falling down, getting hurt. The foals got left behind, separated from their mothers, terrified and exhausted. It wasn’t right.”
    She nodded, a lump in her throat, picturing the horrifying scene he described.
    â€œI loved those horses, and I was a witness to their suffering,” he continued. “I knew I had to try to help. So I started adopting them from the government auctions. And I convinced this local horse trainer to teach me how to work with them.”
    â€œIt’s so strange to think of you on a horse,” she told him. “You were such a city boy.”
    He smiled, tracing a water mark on the table with a callused index finger. “I sure was. But I learned pretty quick. It felt kind of natural to work with them. And once they were trained, I sold them as riding horses.”
    â€œAnd you still do it?”
    â€œI’ve trained and sold over two dozen mustangs now, but it’s not enough. The Department of Range Management just rounds up more. There are only a certain number of people who want to adopt a mustang, no matter how well trained it is. And my ranch is getting pretty full. I can’t adopt many more.”
    â€œWhat happens if no one adopts them?”
    â€œThey spend their days in government holding facilities. Like the DRM station we were at last night. In dusty corrals, packed together, separated from their family