Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
The one I need to see is going to be down by the tree.
As I descend, I tell myself I have it wrong.
I do not.
I find the village mayor’s chestnut gelding lying in the soft grass. His eyes are closed, his nose deep in the fragrant blades, his body at ease.
It’s as I saw when I looked into his eyes in the Lake of Lost Souls.
Falling to my knees, I bury my face in the springy mane and wrap my arm around his neck. He’s still warm, but he is no longer living, and I pray that he’s gone somewhere where there are no more saddles, no more bits and reins, no more burdens to carry. I feel responsible for this, for driving him so hard when that skystalker came at us, for making him cross that stark, waterless landscape in the heat, for taking him so far away from everything he’s ever known.
I cry for other reasons, too, and it all blends together—
“Oh, no. Oh, mistress, I am so sorry—I just let him out.”
Sniffling, I wipe my face and look up. Then do a double take. It’s the maid—except … not. The dark hair is long and braided on two sides, and there are freckles dotting her face. Instead of felt skirting, this girl is dressed in work pants that hitch up over her shoulders and barn boots that come to her knees. Her voice is different, too. Deeper.
“It’s all right.” I run my hand down his still side. “It was his time.”
“I swear, mistress, I cared for him as my own—”
“I know you did.” I offer her a smile and then glance around, watching the other steeds run. “And what a beautiful place for one’s heart to stop. Surrounded by what a horse loves most … freedom, sun, grass.”
The girl clears her throat. “I accept responsibility. I shall make this right—”
Putting up my hand, I shake my head. “Not to worry.” I feel for Mare’s coins, which are back in their travel pocket, as I’ve come to think of it. “Are there any horses for sale, then?”
Not that I know how to use the gold. At least I have it, though.
As the girl looks out over the pasture, I continue to stroke the gelding. Even though he’s gone and he wasn’t really mine, it seems beyond disrespectful to arrange for his replacement with his body still warm, but with what happened in the night, there’s an urgency I must operate under.
“We sold your husband the last of the ones available earlier. He told us to leave the chestnut for you.”
Ducking my eyes, it’s a moment before I can speak. “That was very kind of him—”
“Oy! What are you on about!”
A man comes rushing down the slope. He’s older than middle-aged, and has the ruddy complexion of either a drinker or someone who works outside. Perhaps both.
Before he can go after the girl, I get to my feet and stand off at him. “My horse was old and too well used, which is my fault. There is naught that she did wrong, and I shall not have an accusation in that vein.”
He stops by the girl, and in the pause, my heart cannot take any more cruelty—
The stabler removes the wrinkled hat from his sunburned, bald head, and he puts a craggy hand on her shoulder. “Aye, she would sooner hurt herself than offer ill care to any animal.”
My eyes sting and I have to blink in double time. “He was a very good horse.”
“I’m sure he was.” The stabler glances around the field. “We’ll see that he gets a fitting burial.”
“I have money to pay for his board and grain—”
“Your husband already took care of all that plus the next week, so we shall owe him recompense. Where is he now, then?”
“He’s departed ahead of me.” My chest feels so hollow, especially as I lie, “I, ah, I’m meeting up with him. I need to buy a horse, too, but I understand there are none for sale—”
The girl turns to the man and starts to speak in a language I’m not familiar with. His eyes grow large, and when she goes quiet, he puts his cap back on and looks out across the field.
I glance in that direction.
That beautiful golden stallion is galloping along the fence line, and the speed with which it travels is breathtaking.
“Can you come back in an hour,” the stable man says gruffly.
I think of Lena and Ronl.
“Certainly.” I look over at the maid’s twin sister. “And I’ll figure something out, somehow. Don’t worry about me if there’s none to be sold.”
The stable girl is staring out over the field, her eyes on the stallion.
“You come back then,” the stabler tells me. “We just need a little time.”
“Again, it’s not your worry—but I will take his tack.” Glancing down at the gelding, grief pierces my heart. “Please treat him well. He was very good to me.”