Myrton Ikard's Arc

Chapter 1 of 10

Myrton Ikard stepped off his porch at dawn and scanned the ridgeline. His breath misted in the cold air. Somewhere out there, a wild mustang stallion ran free across Gremlin's Gorge. The horse had been spotted three times in the past month. Myrton wanted to earn that stallion's trust. His breeding program needed new bloodlines. The ranch needed stronger horses. But this wasn't about business alone. He'd spent forty years training horses, and this felt like the challenge that mattered most. He walked down the dirt path toward the stable. The sand-colored stone walls glowed pink in the sunrise. He'd built the place back in the fifties with his own hands. Wooden stalls lined both sides of the center aisle. Each one stood ready for the herd he planned to grow. The stallion would need space here, eventually. Room to settle and feel safe. Myrton ran his hand along the doorframe. The wood was smooth from years of use. He had twelve stalls now. Only six held horses. This stable could handle more. It would handle more, once he brought that mustang home. He stepped inside and breathed the smell of hay and leather. This was where the real work would begin. Outside, Myrton checked the fence line behind the stable. Barbwire stretched tight between the weathered posts. He tugged each strand to test for weak spots. The wire held firm. This was where the horses would graze once the herd grew. The stallion would need open space to run, but safe borders to keep him close. Myrton walked the full length of the fence, counting posts. Sixty-three in total. The grazing area covered nearly four acres. It would be enough for now. He turned back toward the stable and squinted at the ridgeline again. Somewhere up there, the mustang was watching. Myrton planned to be ready when the time came to bring him down. Beyond the grazing area, Myrton spotted the old hand pump well. He walked over and tested the lever. It groaned but moved. He pumped three times before water gushed from the spout. The stream ran clear and cold. Wild horses needed water more than anything else in the desert. If he kept this well flowing, the stallion would come eventually. Thirst always brought them down from the high country. Myrton filled the nearby trough and watched the water settle. He had his stable ready. He had his fence secure. Now he had fresh water waiting. Everything was in place. The mustang would find what he needed here, and when he did, Myrton would be patient. Trust took time, but he had plenty of that.