Myrton Ikard's Arc

Chapter 2 of 10

Myrton pulled a notebook from his shirt pocket and opened it to a blank page. The spine cracked softly. He'd spent forty years training horses, but wild mustangs were different. They didn't know saddles or bridles. They didn't trust humans. He needed to learn their patterns first. When did they drink? Where did they graze? What spooked them? He clicked his pen and wrote the date at the top. Then he added his first note: "Watch and wait." That would be his method. No ropes yet. No traps. Just observation. He closed the notebook and tucked it back in his pocket. The real work started now. The next morning, Myrton drove his truck thirty miles east to find Tom Cassidy. The man ran a small ranch outside town and had worked with mustangs for decades. Myrton parked near a dusty paddock where an older cowboy stood beside a gray stallion. The horse's coat shone in the sunlight. Tom held no rope, no halter. He just stood there, still and calm. The mustang lowered his head and took three steps closer. Tom waited. The horse sniffed his hand. Myrton watched from the fence, taking mental notes. This was what he needed to see. Patience wasn't just waiting. It was knowing when to move and when to stay put. After twenty minutes, Tom walked over and leaned against the rail. He didn't say much, but he answered Myrton's questions about timing and distance. By noon, Myrton understood one thing clearly: the mustang would decide when trust began, not him. That evening, Myrton hung a vintage lantern on a post near the stable yard. The metal was cold in his hands. The glass panels were clean and clear. He struck a match and lit the wick inside. Warm light spread across the dirt and wooden fence rails. The sun had already dropped behind the ridge. He'd need to work early mornings and late nights now. The mustang moved at dawn and dusk. If Myrton wanted to track him, he'd need to match those hours. He adjusted the lantern's flame and tested the latch. It held steady. The light would keep him safe around the horses when darkness came. He stepped back and looked toward the ridgeline one more time. Tomorrow he'd start watching. Tomorrow he'd begin learning the stallion's routine. The first step was clear now. He had to see the horse before the horse would ever see him. The following week, Myrton set up a sturdy wooden post in the open area between the stable and the grazing land. He drove it deep into the ground with a heavy mallet. The post stood waist-high and thick as his forearm. He coiled a length of rope around it and tested the hold. This snub post would be crucial later, when the stallion finally came down from the ridge. The first touch would be the hardest moment. The horse would need something solid to tie to, something that wouldn't give or break. Myrton walked a circle around the post, checking the packed dirt. It didn't shift. He'd learned what he needed from Tom. He'd prepared his stable and his land. Now he had the tools ready for when the stallion was close enough to handle. Everything was in place. The watching could begin.