Cole Ryder's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

Cole woke before dawn to a broken rail and an empty pen. The stallion had spooked in the night and torn loose. His lesson with Lilly started at first light. If he showed up with no horse, there'd be nothing to learn on and nothing to sell. He pulled on his boots and ran. He checked the barn first. Empty stalls, hay scattered, no black horse. He checked behind the ranch hand house, then the creek. Nothing. The sky went gray at the edges. Time thinned with every minute. Cole made himself stop and think like the horse instead of the man chasing it. A scared animal ran until it found food and quiet. He remembered the old orchard past the fence line. Nobody tended it now. The trees had gone wild, branches heavy with tangled fruit that dropped and rotted in the grass. A horse could graze there unseen for hours. Cole climbed the rise and saw it. The stallion stood under a gnarled apple tree, cropping fallen fruit. Its black coat was streaked with mud. It lifted its head and pinned its ears the second it caught his shape. Cole stopped. His old habit was to rush the horse before it bolted. He'd done that for three weeks and lost every time. He heard Lilly's words. You're pushing. He feels it. Cole let his shoulders drop. He looked at the ground, not the animal. He walked slow, one easy step, then waited. "You picked a fine spot," he said, low and even. He didn't want the horse. He just wanted to stand near it. That was the trick he'd never tried. The stallion stamped once. Then it went back to the fruit. Cole crossed the last of the distance and stood at its shoulder. He didn't grab. He didn't reach. He just breathed. The horse let him. Hooves came behind him. Lilly walked up the rise in her boots, curls loose in the cold air. She'd come looking when he never showed at the pen. She stopped when she saw them standing together. "You found him," she said. "And you didn't spook him." "Followed your rule," Cole said. "Left the rope home." She smiled, but her eyes went to the horse's legs. "He's favoring the front." Cole looked down. The stallion held its left foreleg light off the ground. A gash ran along the cannon bone, crusted with dried blood. The horse had cut itself busting through the rail. "He can't work like that," Lilly said. "No riding. Not for weeks." Cole's stomach dropped. He'd found the horse. He'd stood beside it without fear for the first time. But now the animal was hurt, and a lame horse sold for scraps. He couldn't tame what he couldn't work. "Then we don't ride him," Lilly said. She knelt by the wounded leg. "We heal him. And you learn to earn his trust while we do."