Myrton Ikard's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Myrton stood at the round pen's gate with the leather halter in his hands. The mustang walked beside him, calm and steady. The stallion's coat gleamed in the morning light, muscles moving smooth beneath the dark hide. Myrton opened the gate and led him inside. The horse followed without pulling or balking. Myrton unclipped the lead rope and stepped back. The mustang stood quiet, ears relaxed, watching him with dark eyes that held no fear. Months of work had led to this moment. The wild stallion was his now, ready to build something new. Myrton smiled and closed the gate behind them. He spent the rest of the day preparing the stable for the mustang's first night. Rain clouds gathered over the gorge—rare for the desert, but welcome. He hung the new rain chain along the stable's outer wall, metal cups staggered down from the roof edge. When the first drops fell, water poured through the cups in a steady stream. Each cup filled and spilled into the next, creating a sound like wind chimes. The mustang lifted his head from the pen and watched the water cascade down. Myrton leaned against the fence, listening to the rhythm. Everything he'd built—the pen, the feeders, the trust—had led here. His breeding stock would start with this stallion. The dream he'd worked toward was real now, standing calm in the round pen while desert rain fell around them.