Wild Horses. Claire McEwen
he was reaching for her.
Nora screamed and shoved past him, running before she was even conscious that she’d moved. Reaching into her pocket, she scrabbled for her car keys. Her pulse pounded; her blood hissed in her ears. Her breathing rasped across the nighttime silence. Every movement felt too loud, too slow, not enough. Her backpack swung and bumped awkwardly on her back.
She heard him jogging behind her, the ease with which his long legs were keeping up with her short strides only adding to her horror. He was playing with her. There was no way she could lose him. If she could just get to her car, get inside, lock herself in, she might have a chance.
She reached her Jeep, wishing the taillights didn’t flash when she touched the unlock button on the remote. She yanked the door open and the interior light came on—a beacon.
“Wait.” The voice was low and quiet. A gloved hand stopped the door. Nora gasped and whirled to face him. He was a terrible shadow in the blackening night, looming over her, emanating power. Nausea filled her stomach as she realized just how alone she was out here and what kind of horrible things might happen next.
“Let me leave.” She tried to make her voice commanding, but it quavered.
“It’s you.” His voice was low, wondering, almost fearful. Not what she’d expected. His fingers left the door and found her wrist, coiling around it. The leather of his gloves felt clammy on her skin.
“What do you mean?” His grip didn’t hurt, but it was binding and scary. “Let go of me!”
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I swear.” But he didn’t loosen his hold on her.
“Then, let me go.” She sidled carefully to the right, as far from him as his arm would permit. The car light, no longer blocked by her frame, revealed a faint glint that was his eyes, but the ski mask kept everything else under cover. He studied her face intently, as if he was looking for something there.
Still, her heart thudded, almost hurting. “Please let me go home.” She hated the plaintive note in her voice.
It was too dark to see what color his eyes were, but they didn’t look as though they belonged to someone dangerous. She’d grown up with criminals—she knew what eyes with no conscience behind them looked like.
“I’ll let you go,” he promised, “once you agree not to call the sheriff.”
“You stole horses,” she stated.
“Freed horses,” he corrected.
“Let me go.”
“They were going to die here, slowly, brutally, sweltering in the heat. They’ve got no shade, no protection from the sun. They’re standing ankle-deep in dust, and the government doesn’t care.”
“I’m sorry. It’s terrible. Can I please go home?” Her heart was slowing to a more regular thud. She had one goal. To get out of here, fast.
“Have you seen them?”
What, he wanted to have a chat now? “Yes,” she told him.
“Did you know that a foal died last week, right here? It wouldn’t have died in the wild. They’re our country’s iconic wild horses and we’re leaving them here in squalor because the government can’t make up its mind about what to do with them.”
With her fear fading, anger crept in. He was some kind of ecowarrior. He’d freed the horses on principle, to keep them safe. But without thinking of human safety. “They almost killed me when they ran.”
He visibly recoiled. “You were out there?”
Her voice shook at the memory, and she gripped the door frame more tightly, fighting her fear. “I got behind a rock. Just barely. I was sure I’d be trampled.”
“I’m sorry.” The shock in his voice was audible. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. He sounded truly upset. This was bizarre.
“Where are you taking them?” she asked. And then mentally kicked herself. Why was she still talking with this maniac? All she needed to do was agree with him and get out of here.
“Somewhere they’ll be free to roam and find the shade they need during the day.” He paused, hesitated. “Look...are you hurt? I’d feel horrible if...”
“I’m okay. But I want to leave.”
“Don’t call anyone.” The man shifted restlessly.
“I won’t. Now can I go?”
“Sure. Just hand me your phone.”
She hesitated.
“Hand me your phone, please.” He glanced over his shoulder again, obviously anxious to be done with this conversation and get on with his horse-liberation project. Reluctantly, Nora reached into her pocket and handed him her phone. With one quick flick of his wrist he sent it sailing out into the desert blackness.
“Hey!” Outrage made her fearless. “I told you I wouldn’t call.”
“I know.” Again he sounded genuinely apologetic. “But I have to make sure I have enough time to get out of here.”
As her fear subsided, a thought in the back of her mind solidified... His voice sounded familiar. How was that possible? Who did she know from around here who might free wild horses?
“Do we know each other?” she blurted out. And instantly regretted it. If he suspected she recognized him, would he hurt her?
Something changed. She could swear a current of worry ran through him. And she knew, without a doubt, that he knew her. He knew exactly who she was.
“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Goodbye.” And he was gone, his footsteps crunching unevenly on the gravel as he jogged back across the parking lot. Whoever her masked man was, he had a limp.
She climbed into her Jeep and slammed the door, warm relief filling her veins as she hit the lock button. Turning the key, she welcomed the sound of the engine roaring to life, and floored the gas to get out of the parking lot as fast as possible. She didn’t know anyone with a limp, and right now she didn’t even care who he was. What mattered was that he was gone and by some miracle she was safe. All she wanted was to go home.
* * *
TODD RAN A hand over his face. Getting the scratchy wool mask off provided him with about a millisecond of relief from his shock and horror. Nora Hoffman. After all these years, Nora had been here in the dark, almost killed by the horses he’d released.
This was insane. It made no sense. Why was she here?
Nora, his ex-girlfriend, face-to-face with him. Afraid of him.
Nora, of all people, witnessing him doing something illegal. Nora who hadn’t so much as jaywalked when he’d known her back in college. When he’d loved her.
He urged his horse into a lope until he caught up to where Walt was riding, flanking the mustangs. The wild horses were moving quietly now. They were tired after their ordeal under the dubious care of the Department of Range Management. A few stumbled. “Do you think they’ll all make it?” he asked his friend.
“Elliot’s place is only eight miles northeast. It’s mostly flat. If we move them slowly, don’t run them, and nothing spooks them, we can get ’em there.”
Todd sighed in relief and dropped back again, determined to keep any stragglers moving forward to safety and relative freedom. Once again he thanked God, or whoever was in charge of this messed-up world, for eccentric billionaires like Elliot Baxter. The elderly and ornery businessman was happy to flout government procedures and let the horses live in peace on his vast empty acres. He’d even put up a miles-long boundary fence, just to make it clear to the world that this particular group of wild horses was off-limits to further intervention from DRM incompetents.
Wendell, the formerly wild mustang Todd rode, was calm,