Myrton Ikard's Arc

Chapter 5 of 10

Myrton spotted fresh tracks near the water trough he'd placed at the edge of his property. The hoof prints were deep and clear in the damp soil. The mustang had come down from the ridge during the night and drunk his fill. Myrton crouched and traced the outline with his finger. The stallion was getting bolder. Three weeks of patience had paid off. Myrton stood and looked toward the hills where the sun was burning off the morning haze. Today felt like the right day to drive into town and make his progress official. He cleaned up and drove to the Mustang Registry Office, a small wooden building that had stood since the 1950s. Inside, a clerk sat behind a desk covered with leather-bound books and filing boxes. Myrton explained his breeding program and his work with the wild stallion. The clerk nodded and pulled out a registration form. "You'll need to document the bloodline once you've got offspring," she said. Myrton took the papers and signed where she pointed. It wasn't a done deal yet, but putting his name in the registry made it real. When he stepped back outside, he felt the weight of commitment settle on his shoulders. It felt good. That afternoon, Myrton carried his old wooden cabinet out to the barn and set it near the tack room. The glass doors caught the light as he opened them and placed his ribbons and medals on the shelves. A few carved horse figurines he'd collected over the years filled the bottom row. The awards weren't from big shows, just regional competitions, but they proved he knew what he was doing. He stepped back and studied the display. The mustang would come down again tonight, and the night after that. Eventually, trust would build into something stronger. Myrton closed the cabinet doors and headed back to the house. His herd would grow, one careful step at a time. The evening sun turned the desert orange as Myrton walked past the paddock. He stopped at the spring that bubbled up near the edge of his land, where clear water pooled between rocks and green plants. He'd discovered it years ago but never paid it much mind. Now he saw it differently. The mustang would find this place, drawn by the sound of running water and the cool air. Myrton knelt and let the water run over his hands. This spring was part of what made his land valuable, what would keep horses healthy and strong. He stood and watched the water flow down toward the trough. Everything was falling into place. The stallion was coming closer, the paperwork was filed, and his land offered what wild horses needed most. Trust took time, but the signs were all pointing forward.