Chapter 2 The Horseman
Evan stepped out into the crisp morning air, the sun’s warmth a gentle blessing on his back. Even in the cool dawn, the blackbirds were already in full, cheerful song, their chorus erupting from the aspen trees near the spring. The sky, an impossible shade of blue, dipped to kiss the tips of the pine and fir-covered ridges that framed the valley. The sage, still glistening with dew, released its earthy fragrance, adding to the rich tapestry of sensory delights that embraced his mountain home.
A series of soft nickers greeted him from the pens near the barn, his horses anticipating their breakfast. He tossed a couple of forkfuls of hay to each, then leaned against the top rail of the corral fence, his gaze sweeping over the pasture and the surrounding ridges. His spirit felt light. He reached down to scratch the belly of Sam, one of his border collies, who shadowed his every move. Lucy, Sam’s sister, nudged his hand away from her brother, demanding her share of attention. These two were his constant companions, trotting faithfully alongside him on horseback, their keen eyes tracking his every shift in the saddle.
His morning chores finished, he ambled back to the house. A mug of coffee warmed his hands as he fried bacon and a pair of over-easy eggs. Breakfast was a brief, solitary affair, followed by cleaning his dishes. He lingered on the porch with another cup of coffee, savoring the unfolding Rocky Mountain dawn, taking in the gentle stirrings of birds, squirrels, and other small creatures that formed a soothing symphony. From the timbered ridge to the south, he heard the distant whistle of a bull elk, punctuated by a few low grunts.
Having finished his coffee, he returned inside to rinse the pot and cup, setting them to drip-dry. The task complete, he gathered jerky, cheese sticks, and a can of juice from the refrigerator, stuffed them into a cloth sack, and headed out the door.
In the corner of the pen, a four-year-old gelding basked in the sun, appearing to slumber after a hearty meal. Evan, however, knew better. He entered the pen, bridle in hand, and was met with a disgruntled glance and a flick of the gelding’s ears. “Heeeeeyyyy,” Evan rumbled, his voice a low growl. “No way to greet me. Come on now.”
The gelding turned, but his mood remained decidedly foul. Nevertheless, he would be bridled, saddled, and ridden. Evan began the familiar process, carefully slipping the bridle over the horse’s head and buckling the throat-latch. “Not so bad of a morning, bud,” he murmured, patting the gelding’s neck and shoulders before leading him toward the barn.
Once the horse was saddled and his lunch secured, Evan swung into the saddle. Setting out at a ground-eating trot, they left the ranch yard and turned onto the road. His eyes immediately caught sight of the fresh tire tracks etched into the dirt. He didn’t recall seeing anyone travel this way, but then he remembered riding in from the east the previous night, not reaching the road until well after dark. The tracks continued past his house, heading west. He was also headed west, with a puzzle he felt compelled to solve laid out before him.
The dry earth yielded another quiet surprise when he topped a gentle rise, revealing the distinct imprint of boot tracks. He halted his mount, studying the tracks in the dust. They suggested some hesitation, like someone walked to the crest, turned back, then returned to the viewpoint before pivoting once more. The size of the impression suggested they belonged to a woman. A flicker of curiosity, tinged with unease, spurred him onward, his gaze now fixed on the road ahead.
After topping another rise, he saw it, a car, impossibly bright and cherry-red against the muted blues and grays of the sagebrush landscape, sitting squarely in the middle of the track. He followed the boot prints, noting where they became frantic, a dance of uncertainty, before abruptly vanishing. A small patch of crushed sagebrush nearby confirmed his suspicion: someone had stumbled, fallen from the road, and into the sage alongside it.
The mystery deepened when his eye caught a glint of something lodged in the dark rocks, the broken heel of a woman's shoe. "Well, I'll be," he murmured, a wry smile touching his lips. "Thought I'd seen it all."
His two dogs, a blur of eager energy, had already surged ahead, drawn by the anomaly. They circled the car, their noses glued to the ground, a symphony of sniffs and whines as they pieced together the aromatic puzzle.
The gelding reacted differently. As Evan brought him closer, the horse coiled with tension. The sight and scent of the strange out of place object were too much. He snorted, his breath misting in the air, and began to sidestep the impassive car. Evan worked to soothe him, his voice a low, steady murmur, his spurs a gentle invitation to move forward. The gelding moved in fits and starts, his legs stiff, his nostrils flaring as he tried to reconcile the incongruous presence before him. "Easy there," Evan coaxed, his hand resting reassuringly on the horse's neck. "It won't bite."
Slowly, cautiously, the gelding edged forward, his innate curiosity battling his ingrained fear. He lowered his head, tentatively sniffing the cool metal of the trunk. The snorting subsided, replaced by a more rhythmic breathing, though his muscles remained taut.
He was just beginning to relax, coming to grips with his discovery, when a cascade of clothing erupted into the air from the back seat of the car.
The sudden, unexpected movement struck the gelding like a physical blow. He spun violently to his right, plunging into the dense sagebrush alongside the road. Reacting to the sudden presence of the gelding in the brush, a startled sage hen burst from the undergrowth, adding to the chaos and a surge of primal panic. To the young horse, the entire world transformed into a hostile attack from a strange predator. His first instinct was the need to be free of the extra weight on his back; the traitorous man who had led him into the perceived ambush. A terrifying frenzy of bucking, kicking, and panic erupted from deep in his core as he fought to dislodge the perceived source of his distress.
Evan had anticipated the gelding's initial spook near the car; it was a common enough reaction for a young horse encountering the unexpected. He had braced himself, remaining secure in the saddle as the horse spun away. But the subsequent explosion of bucking and plunging was another matter entirely. For a moment, Evan lost his seat, his rear end coming clear of the saddle leather, but with practiced strength, he reasserted his position, clamping down with his legs and pulling the gelding's head up to disrupt his momentum. The horse dodged and weaved, but eventually, broke into a frantic gallop across the sage-dotted landscape, adding a wild display of lunges and kicks. Beside the gelding and his rider, Sam and Lucy bounded through the brush, their barks adding to the chaotic scene.