Wild Hearts

by Jessica Burkhart

  My chest ached for Amy. I’d never be able to apologize enough for what my dad had likely said to her.

  I couldn’t even explain this away. “Dad, I have a lot to tell you. First, as you’ve probably guessed now, is that I’ve been seeing Logan.”

  “Since when?” Dad’s voice rose with every word and the sun appropriately blazed behind him.

  “Since you told me not to,” I said.

  “That’s where you’ve been? With him?” Dad sputtered.

  “Sir,” Logan started, “it’s not—”

  “Shut up!” Dad interrupted.

  I stepped away from Logan and faced Dad. “We haven’t been doing anything wrong. We captured the mustangs and brought them here so they’d leave you alone, Dad. When we can, we come here and groom them. That’s it.”

  “I don’t care what you do with these horses,” Dad said, his tone scaring Logan’s filly. She shied and pulled on the lead rope. Logan whispered to her and stroked her neck. “You’ve been with him. Your mother and I told you to stay away from him.”

  “The horses needed us,” I said. “Aren’t you happy that we took them away from your job site? Logan and I want to gentle as many of the horses as we can. We want to hold an adoption event and find them homes by next summer.”

  “Next summer?” Dad asked, shaking his head. His volume level hadn’t dropped at all. “You’re not going to be near him”—he jabbed his finger toward Logan—“next summer. I can’t believe this. Everyone here said to listen to the BLM. Looks like you both broke some major rules. Once they find out—”

  “They already know, Dad,” I said. I heard desperation creeping into my voice. Pull it together, Brie. Don’t get emotional now.

  Dad let out a half laugh and folded his arms. “Well, it’s clear that the people here all stick to their own—I should have thought of that. No wonder I didn’t get a call back from the BLM; good old Jack’s son was working against me.”

  I felt as though I had gotten the wind knocked out of me. It was kind of like how it felt to be ice-skating one second and on my butt the next.

  “Dad! We’re trying to do something really good here! The statistics about mustang survival rates are scary. When their roaming lands are developed, they’re shot or starved or shipped off to a totally new, foreign place. Don’t you get it? You’re the one forcing these horses to move, just like you’re going to make me move!” I screamed the last sentence. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck. My head pounded and I choked back my nausea. I’d never yelled at Dad like this. We’d fought before, but nothing this intense.

  Dad jerked his head back. “You stand there and say that to me when his father tried to make me lose this contract? This is such a betrayal, Brie.”

  “Betrayal? Don’t you get it? It’s not about that! I’m sorry about Jack, but I can’t control him! Neither can Logan. Logan’s amazing, Dad. You would know that if you gave him a chance.”

  I hated fighting, but I wasn’t backing down. Logan stood still behind me and his breathing was heavy. He grabbed my hand from behind and squeezed it.

  “I’m not discussing this anymore,” Dad said. “Let’s go. Now.”

  I released Logan’s hand and ran to the Explorer, jumped into the backseat and slammed the door behind me. Dad couldn’t do this. Not after the hours Logan and I had put into outlining every detail of how we would care for the herd that the BLM had entrusted with us. I’d make him understand. This couldn’t be it. Logan called out something to Dad, and Dad turned back. Tensing, I put my hand on the door handle, ready to jump out and stop Dad from yelling at Logan. Logan started to talk, but I couldn’t hear a word. He gestured toward the barn and pointed to the horse pasture. Dad didn’t say anything—he just stared. Logan stopped talking and Dad headed for the driver’s seat. He got in and jammed the key into the ignition. Logan unclipped the lead line of his filly, and she trotted off to rejoin the herd of young horses. He stood there and watched as Dad turned around the SUV.

  He tore down the driveway and jerked the steering wheel as we turned out onto the main road.

  This fight hadn’t been about Logan and me. It was because Dad hated Jack. But I didn’t say a word and we spent the entire car ride in silence.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Go slower and get there quicker.

  “Are you and your dad talking yet?” Amy asked. It was four days after the blowup at Pam’s, and I was outside getting the mail when Amy called.

  “Not a word,” I said, pausing by the red mailbox. “He won’t even look at me and I’m afraid to bring it up. I don’t know what kind of magic my mom worked on him so I can keep my phone, though.”

  Amy sighed. “Don’t question it. At least we have that. He will change his mind eventually, won’t he?”

  “I don’t know. He’s pretty stubborn. My mom’s mad, too, but at least she’s talking to me.”

  “Well, Logan and I are keeping the horses fed and groomed, don’t worry. I have to say it one more time: I’m so sorry that I cracked, Brie.”

  “Stop apologizing—please. I would have done the same thing. I’m grateful to you for being there now and helping Logan when I can’t.”

  I so wanted to be there! It was torture to tear myself away from the horses and from my daily visits with Logan. But Dad had stayed tough and showed no signs in relenting. Logan had wanted to come over and talk to him, but I knew that wasn’t the right way to handle Dad. Any apologizing had to come from me.

  “Don’t worry, Brie,” Amy said. “We’re taking care of things now, but we’ll help you figure out a way to convince your dad to let you see Logan again. Want to IM later and figure out something?”

  “Definitely,” I said. “Maybe around nine?”

  “Perfect. Talk to you later.”

  I pocketed my phone and shuffled back up the driveway. I put the mail on the counter and went upstairs to my room. Flopping on my bed, I tried to think of something to say to convince Dad to let me see Logan. He had every right to be pissed that I’d lied to him, but he wasn’t giving us any credit for doing something good. He had to change his mind. But what if he didn’t?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  It’s the man who’s the cowboy, not the outfit he wears.

  “Are you and Dad speaking yet?” Mom asked me over breakfast. I was getting ready to go to work with Dad.

  “Nope,” I said.

  “I’m not happy with you, either, Brie,” she said, frowning at me. “I wish you’d trusted me to tell me what was going on. You were trying to do something good.” We were in the kitchen, Mom slicing a banana into her oatmeal.

  She was right. She’d never given me a reason not to trust her. “I’m sorry I lied about where I was. I should have told you. But is there any way Dad will let me see Logan?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said. “I need to do it.”

  With that, I left the kitchen and headed for Dad’s room. He was banging away on the keyboard and barely looked up when I entered the room.

  “Dad . . .”

  “I’m working,” he said. “What?” Great. This was going to go so well.

  I stayed in the doorway. “I’m sorry I lied. I shouldn’t have, but it was for the horses and—”

  Dad waved his hand in the air and slid the keyboard tray away from him. So he wasn’t going to even let me explain. “Do you know where I was yesterday afternoon?”

  “No.”

  “I went to see Jack McCoy.” Oh, God. Jack was already injured—my eyes scanned Dad for any visible signs of an earlier fight. Signs that I could have missed yesterday. But he looked fine. “He told me what you and his kid have been up to,” Dad continued. “He even offered to take me to see the horses. He said some lady named Pam was keeping an eye on you guys?”

  “Yes,” I said quickly. “That’s where I had been going almost every day. She’s a retired veterinarian and she helped us with the horse
s.”

  Dad nodded. “Jack and I”—he cleared his throat—“agreed that you kids were wrong for sneaking around. You shouldn’t have lied.”

  I shifted from foot to foot. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  Dad shook his head and rested his chin on his hand. “Something could have happened. Those are wild horses and you could have been kicked or trampled and I’d have no idea where you were.”

  I just nodded. He was right.

  Dad tapped his pen on the table. “Jack’s upset with Logan, too. He thinks he should have known better, especially since he knows accidents happen around wild horses.”

  My shoulders sagged. “Okay,” I said in a whisper and turned to walk out of his office.

  “Brie.” I stopped and turned around. “We also agreed that you and Logan were doing something good. You—in a very wrong way—were also trying to help get the horses off my job site. What kind of dad would I be if I didn’t let you try to—what is it—calm a few . . .” Dad shrugged and I laughed. I reached his desk in three big strides and went behind it to hug him. He squeezed me tight, holding on for a beat before letting me go.

  “It’s called gentling,” I said, still laughing.

  Dad gave me a half smile. “Gentling, right. As I was trying to say, I’m not going to be the guy to tell his teenage daughter not to help creatures in need.”

  “Really? Dad!” I jumped up and down, then hugged him again.

  He held me at arm’s length and looked me in the eyes. “No more lying. None. You can still do this, but if you lie again, you’re done. As in, no leaving the house until college.”

  “Promise!” I hugged him again and skipped to the door. “Thanks, Dad. And I’m sorry about lying.”

  “I know you are. Now get back to work and stop moping.”

  I ran down the hallway and took the stairs two at a time. I had to call Logan and Amy. The town meeting was happening in a few days and we had a full presentation to prepare!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Dudes dress up, but cowboys dress down.

  The afternoon of the town meeting, Logan and I braced ourselves for opposition—Dad’s hotel had gotten a handful of people on his side—horses be damned. Together, we walked inside the meeting room. I half expected Dad to change his mind and forbid me to go, but he didn’t. Logan and I had spent the last couple of days practicing our pitch and we had it down. The meeting started at six thirty and we were one of the first inside the old-fashioned schoolhouse building.

  Logan and I moved the podium to the front of the room and grasped our note cards. We’d memorized the pitch, but I worried nerves could cause a brain freeze.

  As half the town trickled inside, Logan and I grabbed two wooden chairs near the front of the room. I rolled the note cards in my hands. Did the town come because of our idea or because they hoped to see Jack and Dad in a fistfight?

  “We’ve got it,” Logan whispered, squeezing my hand. “We can do this.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “Is your dad coming?”

  “Yep. Is yours?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I doubt it. He’d said he had to work.”

  Lost Springs’ mayor, Mr. Fletcher, took the podium and after a too-long speech about the town’s current waste problem from the loose goat herd, he opened the floor for new business. Logan and I stood and made our way to the podium. My mouth was dry and I wondered if people could see me shaking.

  “Good afternoon,” Logan said clearly into the microphone. “I’m Logan McCoy and this is Brie Carter.” He dipped his head toward me. “We’d like to take a couple minutes of your time to propose a plan to preserve the town’s spirit and charm, and to help animals in need.” I listened to Logan say his part of the speech and he sounded so poised. He knew every word of the pitch. “You know what,” Logan said, stepping to the side of the podium, notes in hand. He tore them in half and dropped the pieces by his shoes. I clutched my papers, glad that I hadn’t let Logan hold them.

  “I was going to stand up here and tell you a crafted answer about why you should okay this. But I realized that if I love the mustangs as much as I claim to, I certainly don’t need to read a rehearsed statement off a sheet of paper.” Logan paused, looking down. Then he looked out across the room. “These horses have touched my life in a very personal way. When my mother walked out on my family and me, I was in a bad place. And so were my dad and little brother. I’m sure that most of you have seen me going back and forth between home and Watson’s or home and WyGas on a gelding that looks as though he’s calm enough to be a lesson horse. He was actually from a mustang herd a few years back. My dad saw that I was struggling without my mom. He gave me LG as a foal, and I didn’t want to, but I instantly fell for him.”

  I took over.

  “With the town’s permission,” I said, “Logan and I would like to hold a fundraiser at the end of July. As Logan mentioned, Pam Caldwell has donated her land as their permanent home. But as you know, keeping a herd is no easy task. All proceeds from the fundraiser would go toward the housing, feeding, and vet care of the herd of mustangs. Logan and I have been working with them for several weeks, gentling the younger horses. Many of them have shown so much promise in the short time that I can’t imagine how well they’ll be doing a year from now.”

  I paused, looking back at Logan. He smiled and I turned my attention back to the crowd.

  “With Pam’s recommendation, Logan and I wish to hold a mustang adoption event a year from now. But first, in the immediate future, a fundraiser. It would be a weekend event we would publicize, coordinate, and run.”

  My eye caught on someone slipping in the back door. Dad. I wasn’t going to screw this up now, not with him watching. I took a breath and continued. “We’re not asking for funds from the city, we’re only asking the board to allow us to publicize the event around town. In addition to that, we would like permission to come back in front of you all a few months from now and discuss an adoption event. We appreciate you listening to us. Thank you for your time.”

  Logan and I headed back to our chairs. Gratefully, I slid into my seat and tried to gauge the mayor’s reaction as he waddled up to the podium.

  “Thank you, Mr. McCoy and Ms. Carter.”

  Please say yes! He had to agree. I grabbed Logan’s hand.

  “I read your proposal several times,” the mayor continued, “and I found no reason why you should not be able to hold your event. Does anyone object?”

  I looked behind me to see if any hands were raised. Seconds trickled by and no one raised a hand. Oh, my God, they were going to say yes!

  The mayor nodded to us. “You have the town’s permission. I think the cause is wonderful and if there’s anything we can do to help, please don’t hesitate to call my office.” Applause started in the back of the room and grew.

  “Logan!” I said, kissing him quickly. “We’re really doing this!” We headed out of the crowded building and ran into Jack.

  “Well done, son,” he said, his eyes saying everything he didn’t. Jack was dressed up, too, in khakis and a suit jacket. Damn, the McCoys cleaned up well.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Logan said, shaking his hand. “You interested in helping?”

  “Sure,” Jack agreed. “Let me know when the horses need shoes and I’ll get a buddy of mine to do it for nothing.”

  I tried not to explode with happiness. Logan told Jack he was taking me out for a celebratory dinner and I glanced around for Dad. Did he already leave? He must have stayed just long enough for the speech.

  I reached into my pocket for my phone to call Amy. She had to work and couldn’t come to the meeting. My pockets were empty. I must have left my phone inside.

  “I’ll be right back,” I told Logan as I hurried inside the empty building and looked around my chair for the phone.

  “Gotcha,” I said to no one when my fingers closed on the phone under my seat. I turned and almost smacked into Dad.

  “God! You scared me!” I said, trying to re
turn my heart to its normal rate. “What are you doing?”

  He took a seat and rubbed his forehead with his hand. His face looked like it did when he’d lost a big job a couple of years ago. “I’m sorry.”

  I sat in the row in front of him and turned to face him. But I didn’t say anything yet.

  He put his head in his hands for a second and then looked back at me. “I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time about this. Your mom keeps reminding me that you kids weren’t doing drugs or running around town. You were doing something good.”

  “I still lied,” I said.

  Dad shook his head. “Because of me. You lied because I told you to stay away from Logan.” He paused. Minutes ticked by before he lifted his head to look at me. “I told you not to see Logan because of my issues with his father. It wasn’t about not trusting you with a guy, Brie. I know that I can trust you to do what’s right for you.” He paused. “I wasn’t being much of a man. It was wrong for me to expect you to share my grudge.”

  I’d never seen him like this. Humble, apologetic. He’d never apologized to me like this.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m sorry, too. This was just the first time I’d ever felt like I was doing something that mattered. It was even better because it was something that I loved. The horses have nothing to do with you or Mom and it makes me feel like I have something to do. Something to contribute.”

  “You haven’t had many chances to do that, Brie. I know that. Moving doesn’t get easier when you get older. I’m glad to see you love something so much.” Dad reached over and put his hand on mine for a second.

  Our eyes met and Dad gave me a half smile. I wished Mom was here to take a photo. Dad was looking at me for once, not through me. We were talking about things that had nothing to do with Mom’s photographs or his business.