Chapter One

You took me to adventure and to love. We two have shared great joy and great sorrow. And now I stand at the gate of the paddock watching you run in an ecstasy of freedom, knowing you will return to stand quietly, loyally, beside me.
- Pam Brown

The sun was casting its scorching rays on the desert land, the ripple waves of heat visible as the earth seemed to bake. The desert creatures slithered and crawled almost sluggish, compared to their usual quick flitted movements. The band of wild horses whisked their tails lazily; heads dipped low, soft, liquid brown eyes half closed as they dozed. The sun glazed against the Mustangs' broad backs, casting a glow of their shimmering, summer coats.

I sighed and moved with my horse's shift, feeling his sudden energy as we gazed at the wild horses from a few yards off. Chuckling slightly, I leaned forward and stroked the glistening bay neck, the coat soft as silk beneath my hand. For a moment, I twirled his long black mane between my fingertips, gazing down at the silver horsehair bracelet tied around my wrist. The bay gelding's head turned and he eyed me, questions being asked as he waited, waited to let loose.

"Oh Ace!" I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Though getting up there in age, Ace, my bay Mustang, was young at heart and was often ready for a ground eating gallop with his fellow wild companions, whom he once called family.

"Sorry Boy, not today. It's simply too hot!" With a twitch of my heel and little guidance of the reins, Ace turned like a dime and we headed back to the ranch. My ranch. Those words felt amazing whenever spoken on my lips and left a flutter in my heart. I was proud of the 30 acre homestead, with the 12 stall barn with two round pens, arena, and a few runs. Not to mention the pastures surrounding the area. More so, the mission of my ranch is the most important. I've partnered up with the BLM, attempting to help with the outrageous amount of non-adoptive, unwanted Mustangs. Because I'm on a certain budget, the BLM, with a special thanks to my step-mom Bryanna who works there, donates a few Mustangs who have no chance, or so they think. Other times the donation fee is negotiated to an acceptable price.

From there, the Mustangs who are frightened, at times wounded and starved, come and recover at my ranch. The road isn't easy; instead it's long and rough, with many curves and rough patches, for all of us. As the horses' spirits rise into hope once more, we begin to work with trust and understanding. College definitely helped with some of the training areas, but the best teachers are indeed, the horses. Reading, watching, and understanding their language helps me the most on helping them in return. As the equines become more responsive in that area of expertise, groundwork eventually leads to being saddled, to being ridden. Once I feel the horse is ready and after they've told me they are no longer scared, I post pictures and information on my website of that particular horse. From there, that Mustang is hoped to be adopted to a loving, indulgent home. Though it's always difficult to say good bye, I've somehow managed as I instead look forward to the new horse in need.

It began last summer after my last year of college. In the beginning, my dream was difficult to generate but with the loving help of many family and friends, it was managed. Step by step, my facility was built and in that summer, my first horse came to me. Along this journey, I've met an exceptional number of supportive people, donating to me and the ranch. Without them, it would be an ongoing challenge to keep this operation going. And of course, I've met horses with various personalities along this outstanding road. Oh, and a slight confession; the unadoptable horses have a loving home with me.

Ace pulled against the reins and gave a slight crow hop, pulling me away from thoughts and memories. I quickly stroked and gave Ace an apology pat. Piped fences came into view, 6ft. high. Ace walked with a steady pace, me rocking gently in the western saddle. The barn roof loomed ahead and the Mustang beneath me tossed his head and picked up stride, thinking of a loving grooming and feed. I laughed but kept him in check, not wanting to allow the behavior. As the runs ran alongside Ace and I, I squeezed my legs and the responsive gelding slowed to a stop.

"Good boy," I murmured, dismounting. As soon as my worn boots hit the ground, my hands found the familiar leather of the cinch and I loosened it along with replacing Ace's bride with the comfortable nylon of a halter. Stroking his head, I turned and led Ace to the barn, his hooves clopping gently on the hard, desert floor. I paused momentarily, quickly tying the lead rope to the thick, wooden post. I unsaddled Ace and gave him a long, relaxing rub down until the faint sweat marks had completely disappeared.

"There ya go, Ace." I leaned in and gave my beloved Mustang a quick kiss on his velvety muzzle before leading him to a nearby 5 - acre pasture. I opened the gate and led him through, unbuckling his halter. I gave his bay coat one last stroke before stepping away. Ace, feeling the excitement of being free, took off in a smooth gallop, tossing and shaking his head as he went to join the pasture's other occupants. I found myself leaning against the fence, watching the few horses unite together and play around the pasture, bucking with pleasure. The inky black coat of Tempest, my sweet but sassy mare, stood out vividly against the others. Her elegant prance was showy as she seemed to glide upon the desert ground, her hooves kicking up light clouds of dust.

My eyes observed the three other horses tossing their beautifully sculpted heads in pleasure as the herd of five playfully romped. They had certainly come a long way since the very beginning. I watched the sorrel strike out at an imaginary danger, eyes wide as he blew out through his nostrils. Monty was an 11 year old Mustang, caught by the BLM and adopted. Unfortunately, his new adopters didn't have a clue of how to take care of a wild horse and scared the gelding, making him nervous. My first sight of poor Monty was nearly indescribable. The sorrel stood alone in a small run, mane & tail unkempt and long with tangles. His coat was shaggy from the winter's coldness and though spring had arrived; his owners had failed to curry it away. Monty was frightened and skittish, shying at every movement. What haunted me most though was the vacant, hollow look in his mocha eyes. I could see he had nearly given up on what life he had remaining and I knew I needed to get him to the ranch immediately.

Already, that's been two years ago. The gelding's coat is shiny and sleek, muscles rippling with health and power. Ribs and hip bones no longer show and his eyes have become, once again, that of a jubilant, content equine. Most importantly, Monty's trust has grown in humans, and not only me. Jen, one of my best friends, is able to ride the gelding without any issue. This accomplishment can mean only one thing: adoption.

Though it's always a grateful achievement for the Mustangs to come along so far at the ranch, it's difficult to see the horses adopted by new owners. Of course, these horse owner prospects are given a run-down procedure to enable the horse will have a loving, safe home. The future owners are given a facility check (to check the horse's forthcoming housing and ensure its welfare) and references by another. After the preparations receive an okay, the horse is good to go. Even when sadness courses through my body while seeing the trailer's reflecting lights drive off, I also feel accomplishment and the knowing that I helped that horse and soon I'll be able to help another.

The desert wind suddenly lifted, threatening to rip the Stetson off my head. I sighed and reached for the brim, tugging it lower on my forehead. My eyes traced the horses' movements, glancing at the two other equines accompanying Ace, Tempest, and Monty. They two, were also far along in training and ready for adoption. Spotting the flamboyant black and white color of the pinto, I couldn't help but shake my head at the memories of the first day I laid eyes on the boisterous mare. Sky was definitely a lively one needing to go to a home with a busy job involved. My mind flashed back to the BLM corrals of that chilly, November day.

The desert floor had been crested with a thin coat of frost. My boots crunched against the frozen earth and my breath fogged. As I walked to the corrals, I tightened up my heavy coat, trying to keep the heat from escaping and the cold entering. I made my way to the small crowd of people; the local vet, two BLM employees, and my step-mother, Bryanna.

"What have we got here?" I murmured calmly, peering through the bars of the pipe fencing. The pinto was wild; kicking out powerfully with her hindquarters. With a loud crack, she nailed the wooden section of the fence dead on. As she picked up her clever head, her one ice blue eye caught mine and I felt an unspoken dare in her gaze. Lifting my chin, I regarded the frisky mare carefully before gently pushing away from the fence. I turned towards the small group, stuffing my hands in my coat pockets.

"Ok, let's get her in my trailer. And the sooner the better." I smiled knowingly at Bryanna, knowing she wanted to be out of the cold as much as I did. Jogging, I headed towards my Ford pick-up, getting in and starting the engine. Maneuvering through the few corrals, I backed the trailer towards the pinto's pen, angling the trailer to perfection by the gate. Hopping out quickly, I nodded my head at the two men already opening the gate. I squeezed through the small opening they had created to where I was in the corral with the Mustang.

She glared at me with wild eyes, pawing the frozen ground. I watched her unspoken, but understood, body language. She wanted out, but not into the dark mouth of the trailer. The mare wanted to be free of the binds of the coral, wanted to be out running the range. The range, I noticed, had not been kind to the mare. Scars from various attacks littered parts of her body and her jagged hipbones gave the pinto a skeletal appeal. One of the men had entered the piped coral with me and he slowly started moving behind the mare, murmuring quiet words of comfort to the barren equine standing poised in the middle of the pen.

I followed his lead, slowly unfolding my arms from my sides and spreading them like eagles' wings. The mare snorted in surprise as we closed in on her and she stiffly moved forward towards the opened trailer. She gazed behind us, wanting to be in that part of the coral, not between us and the trailer. As the frigid wind gust through the fences, the pinto bolted, breaking past us two humans. Sighing, we went back to the beginning, getting the mare so close to step into the trailer, before she shied. After what felt like many hours, the Mustang finally leapt into the trailer. Brianna strode forward and closed the trailer door, latching the bolts. Rubbing my hands together to try to gather some warmth, I nodded my thanks before driving home.

Looking at Sky now, it seems almost impossible to believe how much she's changed. A wild trace still exists in the mare but also a kinder side. My eyes then went to another bay, though much larger than Ace. Royal is a beastly Mustang, with broad shoulders and a good hip. The gelding is excellent at cow work and takes his job seriously, which I hope will interest a few ranchers around here. They are still dubious about the heart of the Mustang. Royal was bitter when he first came to me last year, but compared to the others, he had been ridden a few times before. The bay is now a touch softer and easier to handle but I've been looking for a specific home for him; a home where he can work underneath a cowboy's hands and feel like a needed, wanted partner.

I smiled as I watched the playful horses frolic but as my gaze went down to my watch. I could feel my eyes widen and I cursed under my breath. I was going to be late! Pushing off the fence, I sprinted to the barn, quickly forking some hay into a wheelbarrow and pushing it to the pasture. After the feeding was done and the horses were munching happily on the sweet hay, I booked it to the house. As I shoved open the door in a hurry, I kicked off my boots and whipped of my hat. As I went down the hallway to the shower, I began to shed my dusty clothes. Thank God I live alone. I could not, would not, be late to Jake's promotion ceremony.

Alrighty, here is my first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. All reviews are greatly appreciated! Also, I'm open to any ideas so please let me know! ;)