Wild Hearts (38 page)

“May I answer any questions?” I asked a man and woman who stood arm in arm as they studied a sorrel filly.

The woman smiled at me, tossing her long hair back. “We need another minute to look. We just can't decide on which one to sponsor.”

“Take your time,” I said with a grin. “I know it's hard! But if it helps, the sorrel filly is quiet and that palomino colt next to her is more high strung. But they're both halter broken and our vet says they're sound.”

“Okay, thanks.” The man's brows pressed together and he centered his eyes on the filly again.

“Brie!” someone called, and a
Lost Springs Register
writer sidled up next to me as I headed inside the barn. He pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses and turned over a clean piece of paper on his stenographer's notebook.

“How's the turnout?” he asked. “Is it what you expected? Are you happy with the donations?”

“We're very happy,” I said. “Look for yourself. We're doing fantastic.”

The reporter scribbled on his paper and moved off to take a photo of a woman petting a black filly in the pasture.

Volunteers were scattered everywhere. Logan and I had recruited at least a dozen people who knew enough about horses to help potential sponsors make their choices.

Pam was flitting from person to person and offering advice or any medical knowledge she had on the horses people inquired about. I'd even seen Dad helping an older woman with a cane walk to one of the corrals.

I had just finished giving the training history of a red roan mare to a man when Logan found me.

“It's crazy, isn't it?” he said, shaking his head.

“But it's a good crazy!” I said. “That means horses are getting interest and sponsors. Plus, we're bringing in money to care for them until summer.”

My eyes blurred for a second when I said the last line. I wouldn't be here to see the next event. Logan would, but I wouldn't. No more training horses with Logan, spending those long hours in the barn talking, or having a day like today.

“Hey.” Logan touched my arm. “You okay? What's wrong?”

I forced a smile. “Nothing. Just sad to think about seeing some of them go next year.”

He squeezed my hand. “Me, too. But we'll make sure that they go to good homes.”

He smiled at me before hurrying over to Pam, who was waving at him.

I was about to go back outside when Amy signaled at me from her booth.

“Brie, look.” She handed me a sealed envelope. “I think there's money in there. I don't know who it came from. I took the lockbox with me when I went to get some apple cider. The envelope was under my clipboard when I got back.”

My fingers trembled when I turned over the envelope. Turning away from the crowd, I huddled next to Amy and opened it.
Wrapped in a piece of paper were twenty crisp hundred-dollar bills. A tiny folded note was behind the last bill.
Brie and Logan, thank you.

“Oh, my God,” Amy said.

I nodded, unable to speak. Carefully, I folded the note and stuck it in my pocket and handed Amy the bills. That handwriting. The pen had pressed so hard it almost went through the paper. Half the letters were capitalized and half weren't. It was Dad's handwriting.

Three hours went by and Logan, Amy, and I didn't stop for a second. We had a stack of sponsor papers, and donations had almost filled the lockbox.

On my way to get a filly to show a friend of Pam's, I passed Frogger's stall. Wait a sec. I stepped backward and looked again. There was a red piece of paper taped to the open door.
SPONSORED
. Frogger was gone—probably being shown to his sponsors right now. Why hadn't Logan told me? He knew I loved Frogger.

My shoulders sagged and I leaned against the door and rubbed my hands across my eyes. Then Logan walked a few yards ahead of me, a blue lead rope in his hand.

“When did Frogger get sponsored?” I asked, hurrying to catch up with him. “You didn't even tell me! I want to meet his sponsor.”

“I'm sorry,” he said, speeding up and stepping into the round pen. “You were helping someone and it happened so fast. The guy had to rush off—something else to do.” Logan looked away from me and haltered a bay mare. “Amy's probably bringing Frogger back now.”

“Did you at least like the sponsor?” I choked out, getting angrier by the second.

“He got a
very
good sponsor.” Logan turned away and headed for the round pen. I should have been happy, but I loved Frogger. I wasn't going to meet his sponsor until next summer.
If
I even made it back next summer.

Leaning against the wooden fence rail, I stared out at the nearest pasture. Two pregnant mares stuck their heads over the fence and watched the action going on around them. Pam had recommended we keep the mares until they'd given birth and had their foals weaned. Pam had also gelded any stallions capable of breeding with our mares since she didn't want to add to the herd population.

“Excuse me,” a woman said. She swiped at her coffee-brown bangs. “I'd like to lead that guy.” She pointed to Oscar. He was in a round pen with a couple of colts he'd made friends with after his encounter with Holden. Logan and I had spent hours encouraging Oscar to trust us and every day we spent with him had chipped away some of his sour attitude. He'd lost the wild look in his eyes as he slowly realized we weren't going to hurt him.

“Sure,” I said, sniffing and then straightening. “I'm Brie.”

“Susan,” she said. She gave me a friendly grin and studied Oscar.

I couldn't blow off potential sponsors for the other horses just because I was upset about Frogger. Oscar deserved this chance.

“This is Oscar. We had to work daily with him from the beginning because he was one of our shyest horses. He didn't want to trust us.”

“Hmm,” Susan said. “How old is he?”

“We can't be completely sure, but our vet estimated he's between six and seven years old.”

Susan reached her hand forward and let Oscar sniff her. She moved her hand up his neck and rubbed his shoulder. Oscar didn't flinch under her touch.

“Would you like to lead him now?” I asked Susan.

“Please,” she said. I handed her the blue lead line and she clicked to Oscar. “C'mon, big guy.”

Oscar followed her without hesitation and she led him twice around the round pen. The colts watched Susan lead Oscar and then halt him. She ran her hands down his legs, checked his hooves, and lifted his lip to check his teeth.

“You put a lot of work into him, didn't you?” Susan said, smiling at me.

“Logan and I did,” I said. I patted Oscar's shoulder. “He's a good horse. He just needed time and a little special attention.”

Susan eyed Oscar again and then nodded. “I'd love to sponsor him. I'm really impressed with what you've done. Are you going to keep this place open after the adoption event?”

“Yes, we are. We're keeping a couple of pregnant mares and we'll take care of whatever horses aren't adopted.” Logan and I had talked with Pam and she'd agreed that we needed to keep the mustangs who weren't adopted instead of moving them somewhere else after all our hard work. Whether the horses got homes or not, they'd all have a safe place to live.

Susan handed me Oscar's lead rope and reached into her pocket. “I'm going to write you a check.” She scribbled, and then ripped out the check. “I wish I could give more,” she said, handing it to me.

“No, thank you,” I said, not looking at it. “Whatever it is, we—” I glanced down at the check.
Ten thousand dollars.
Oh, my God. “This is too much!” I held the check out to her. “You don't have to do that.”

Susan shook her head. “I want to. I know what it costs to keep a ranch running and it's not cheap to care for horses. I've got a place on the other side of town. Take the check and use it to have more events like this.”

“Wow.” I was quiet for a minute. “Thank you so much. It'll be put to good use, I promise.”

Susan rubbed Oscar's muzzle. “I have no doubt.”

“Let's go fill out the paperwork,” I said, and we headed off to see Amy.
Ten thousand dollars.
I owed Holden a trip to his favorite place, the Waffle House, after this. He'd helped Oscar more than Logan and I had.

Half an hour later, I was latching the pen shut when Mom and Dad headed my way.

“Hi,” I said. It was still weird to see Dad walking around a pasture in tennis shoes. It was probably only the second time in his life he'd worn shoes that weren't leather.

“It's going so well, hon!” Mom said with a grin. “You're going to be out of horses soon.”

“I doubt that,” I said. “The older ones will stay until they've had more training. But Logan's okay with that. They just need more time.”

“You did a great job, Brie,” Dad said.

I wrapped my arms around him for a second. “Thanks. For everything.”

“We don't want to interrupt your work,” Mom said. She and Dad headed to the barn.

Pam, holding four lead ropes, walked over and gave my shoulders a squeeze.

“What do you think?” Pam asked as we watched Logan lead a newly weaned gray colt for two young guys.

“I think we're doing well. Amy says we've raised lots of money and many people are putting their names on horses as potential adopters.” I paused and looked at Pam. “You think we're doing okay, right?”

Pam nodded. “You're doing great. I'm very proud of you and Logan.”

“Thanks.” I hugged her and she adjusted her blue baseball hat. “Logan's never been this happy. He had me, Jack, and Holden, but he loves being with you. I'm glad you were able to give that to him.”

Before I could say anything, Pam walked off toward a group of new people who were getting out of a van. I felt like a fraud. It wasn't easy to walk around like nothing was wrong and not tell Pam or Logan the truth. But it would ruin the day. I clamped my mouth shut and kept working.

The fundraiser came to a close a few hours later, just before Logan and I dropped in exhaustion. We'd sent Amy home, Pam was back in her house, and the last sponsor had filled out the final paperwork.

Wordlessly, Logan took my hand and we headed into the barn. He shut the doors, took me into the tack room, and turned on a small fan. I collapsed on a pile of blankets and he crumpled beside me.

“Too tired to even move,” I said, closing my eyes.

“No kidding,” he said. “But look.” He pulled the lockbox between us and showed me the hundreds of bills inside. “We did it. This is going to take care of all the horses, surprise Pam with a thank-you for all she's given us, and help us at the next event.”

I swallowed and looked away. Logan had no idea he'd be doing the next event alone. I'd told him when we were first together that I usually moved every year. But I had
also
told him that sometimes we stayed longer. The worst part was that I now had a date and he didn't know.

“How many horses were sponsored?”

Logan pulled a ledger from the lockbox and scanned it quickly. “Looks like
all
eleven! Plus, a couple of people want to come back when it's less crazy to look at the older guys that we didn't show. We've got five or six left.”

“That's great,” I said softly. My mind wandered to Frogger. “Tell me about Frogger's sponsor.”

Logan sighed and stretched his legs before looking at me. “Well, she got him as a gift from her boyfriend.”

“Oh. Good boyfriend.”

Logan nodded. “Very good boyfriend. The best boyfriend. She doesn't know it yet, since he got Frogger for her as a surprise. He knew she really wanted him and he thought she'd like to keep him.” He elbowed me and grinned.

I swatted at him for elbowing me. Then I froze.

“No,” I said. “You didn't. No way.”

Logan got up from the blankets and tugged me off the ground. “C'mon! Look!” He pulled me out of the tack room and down the aisle to a stall we'd never used. In a box stall at the far end of the aisle, Frogger stuck his head over the stall door when he heard footsteps.

BY BRIE
had been added to the
SPONSORED
sign taped to the stall door.

“Oh, Logan.” I opened Frogger's stall and hugged the colt. Frogger let me wrap my arms around his neck and I couldn't stop my tears.

“Don't cry,” Logan said. “I thought you'd be happy.”

“I am. It's just . . .” I sank along Frogger's stall wall and sat in the clean sawdust. Logan sat beside me.

“What? Just tell me. I know you're eventually going to move—if that's what you're thinking about. I'm not going to give him away when you move.” Logan's eyes locked on my face. My hands clenched and I shut my eyes so I didn't have to see his face.

“That's what's wrong. I'm moving soon.” The words almost sounded foreign. I forced down a sob.

“Sooner like when?” Logan's voice was quiet and he rubbed my forearm. “Where?”

“C-California.” I ignored his other questions.

“Okay, we'll figure it out.” Logan took my hand. “We've got plenty of time to at least—”

“No,” I interrupted with a whisper. “No. Logan . . .”

The words weren't coming out. It felt as if I was pulling them out from my gut and my insides were wrenching and twisting until I couldn't breathe. Logan didn't say anything. He rubbed my back while I drew my knees to my chest.

“Two weeks,” I finally uttered in a shaky breath. Logan must have assumed Dad had told me at the event, because he didn't ask me how long I'd known. Frogger stepped beside me and leaned down to sniff my arm. I broke down into sobs until I fell asleep in Logan's arms with Frogger watching us.

I don't know how long we were in Frogger's stall or what time it was when Logan carried me out of the barn and put me in his truck. He buckled me into the passenger seat.