A/N: Guys, I really have to apologize. I get carried away and excited and I post before I should. I promise, I will do a better job with the rest of this story.

THIS is what chapter 3 SHOULD have been. SMDH (original Ch3 text is in italics, because I love rubbing salt into my own wounds)

I'm going to stop being so damn impatient with the rest of this, I swear.

Like The River Running Wild

Chapter 4: Fear Fell Apart

"Falling off will only hurt your body, and physical pain does not scare you. What are your tears falling for?"

"I don't want to fall off the damn horse, alright?! Jesus! What are you, some kind of red-skin psychotherapist now? Not everything is all deep-rooted psycho-babble bullshit. I don't want to fall off the fucking horse, ok!"

In the clumsy way a new-born foal stands for the first time, Vic hauls her still-shaking body up from the arena floor and moves swiftly towards Baby. Anger and fear and frustration boil through the pores in her skin. Who the hell does that old, shriveled-up Indian think she is? What the hell gives her the right to stick her fucking nose in?

The closer she gets to Baby, the more uneasy the mare becomes. Vic doesn't notice her pinned-back ears or the frantic way her tail swishes back and forth. She doesn't pick up on Baby's rapid breathing, too consumed in her indignation and panic.

Baby's neck stiffens when Vic pulls the quick-release; the horse stamps a hoof in the dirt and bobs her broad head up and down.

"What the fuck, Baby?! Stop it, dammit!"

The horse is pulling back against her; Vic tightens her grip on the reins.

Baby pulls harder, Vic counters with a snapping jerk downward and the mare reacts.

For the first time in Sarah Two Feather's memory, Baby spooks. Bounding backwards, she pulls Vic violently off her shaky legs, red dirt flying around them like rusty snowflakes.

The reins pull friction burns across the palm of her hands and Vic cries out in pain, dropping the leather straps. Once free of her anchor, the mare stops her evasion, chest heaving, nostrils flaring and eyes trained on the woman crying in the dirt.

She's losing her shit again.

Or still...

Fuck, she can't remember being this unhinged since the night she told Walt she had killed her daughter. At least that had been in front of someone she knew wouldn't judge her. Someone she trusted. Someone she loved more than any other living being.

Now she is lying in the dirt like the piece of shit she feels like, wailing and gagging in front a Cheyenne woman she barely knows. A Cheyenne woman who, Vic suddenly realizes, is kneeling in front of her, the velvety suede of her skirt pulled tight over her knees, tucked behind and covering her moccasin boots.

With a gentle hand, she pushes the splayed strands of hair from Vic's face. The tears just won't stop and her heart hurts and all she wants to be held. For something to fix the shit that seems to stay broken inside her.

Sarah slides her hand under Vic's head and gently lifts her from the dirt, laying it across her bent legs. The two women settle, Vic's tears running trails down the buckskin dress to the earth underneath them, the old woman smoothing more hair from Vic's face. Neither woman speaks. There is only the sound of Vic's quiet weeping and Baby's gentle breathing.

With a start, Vic realizes she's nearly fallen asleep in the damn dirt. How long have they been there? Christ, what kind of a disaster has she turned into? She tries to raise off Sarah's lap and feels the woman put the slightest bit of pressure across her shoulder, holding her in place. There is a strange sensation inside, a safety in the woman's kind embrace Vic has only ever felt with Walt; she abandons her escape and relaxes again.

"Why can't I get on my horse, Sarah?"

The old woman continues to stroke Vic's hair. Where Indian wisdom has confused and frustrated her before, Vic now finds herself eagerly awaiting her new friend's insight. The woman obviously has a better handle on the bat-shit-crazy woman laying in her lap than Vic has had recently.

"Because you do not trust her yet. And you will not trust her until you accept that you cannot control her."

Vic stares at the dark trails in the suede and dark circles in the dirt, reading the tear stains like tea leaves. How she couldn't see it before will probably always piss her off. Or maybe Sarah has reached inside her and flipped something over. Whatever the hell just happened, Vic can finally put a name to the pain.

"Everything I've been through. Every single bad thing I can remember. I couldn't stop any of them from happening. I had...I had no control."

A/N: Chapter 5 may be the last one, but I promise to make up for all everything. Just hang with me.