by Nancy M Bell
Laurel glared at him. Little friends? Who does that jerk think he is?
“I’m not coming, Mom said I could stay at Laurel’s tonight.” Carly stuck her chin out in defiance, but her knuckles were white where her fingers gripped the reins.
“News to me. Dad expects you home for supper and we need to get moving.” He reached over and snatched at her horse’s reins near the bit. The mare threw her head and backed up a step.
“Chance! Quit it!” Carly put Laurel and Sam between her and her brother.
“Quit being stubborn, fer Gawd’s sake. Dad told me to bring you home and I’m damned sure not risking having him rip me a new one if I show up without you.”
“I’m not going,” Carly insisted. “I texted Mom and she said it was okay. Check with her if you don’t believe me.”
“Your funeral.” Chance shrugged. He turned his gelding away and then pivoted back. “You better come with me or Mom’ll get the worst of it for not running it by him first.”
Carly hesitated and looked from Laurel to her brother and back. “Maybe I should go on home…”
“It’s up to you, but you know you’re welcome anytime, day or night.” Laurel wished her friend would stand up to Chance more often but knowing Mr. Cullen’s temper she understood Carly’s concern for her mother. I’m so lucky Daddy isn’t like that. Not that Mom would put up with crap like that for a minute.
Chance pulled his horse around. “I’m goin’, you comin’ or not? You gotta come home sometime, no point putting it off by hiding at the Rowan’s.” He kicked his gelding into a jog.
Carly stared after him for a moment. “I should go,” she mumbled, hiding her face from Laurel. “If Dad is in a mood, me not coming home will only make it worse. Sorry, Laurel. Thanks for the offer, though.” She nudged her horse past Coll. “Wait up, Chance.” The dust rose and hung in the still air as she loped after her brother.
“Man, that’s tough,” Coll remarked. “I think I have it bad sometimes because my parents are gone, and I’ve got no brothers or sisters, but at least I have Gramma and Sarie. I guess I’m pretty lucky compared to Carly…or Gort.” A frown creased his forehead.
“Have you heard from him and Aisling in the last couple of days?” Laurel set Sam in motion and Coll took his place by her side.
“Email, this morning. Why, haven’t you heard from Ash lately?”
“Couple of days ago, now she’s working full time for the summer at the Minack Theatre, she’s pretty busy.”
Coll grinned. “She still seems to find time to hang out with Gort.”
“I’m gonna ask Dad about using Gramma Bella’s money to buy some land to start a reserve for the wildies when we get home,” Laurel changed the subject.
“Do you think he’ll listen?” Coll glanced over at her.
“Worth a shot.” She shrugged. “He can only say no and if I don’t ask I’ll never know.”
Chapter Eleven
“Absolutely not, Laurel,” Colt Rowan’s tone brooked no argument, not that Laurel paid any attention to that.
“But Dad, it’s my money. Gramma Bella left it to me,” she protested.
“In trust, Laurel. In trust until you’re mature enough to make responsible decisions,” Anna reminded her.
“At this rate you won’t see that money until you’re ninety,” her dad growled. “A reserve for those damned wildies. You know the kind of trouble that would cause with the neighbours?”
“I don’t care about the neighbours! I care about those horses. They aren’t hurting anything and it’s not their fault, they have to live somewhere.”
“Not everyone would agree with that, and you know it,” Colt said bluntly.
“And I don’t care if everyone would agree or not,” Laurel tried to keep from shouting. Yelling at Dad never got her anywhere except grounded.
“Laurel.” Her mother raised an eyebrow in warning.
She shoved down her frustration and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but Dad, this is really important, and I know Gramma Bella would approve. Or I could sell the house in Bragg Creek…” Laurel trailed off at the thunderous expression on Dad’s face.
“The market is terrible right now, you wouldn’t get half what that property is worth. And don’t forget those people we rented to have a lease. It’s just not possible, Laurel. You’re not a little girl anymore. It’s time you gave up all these romantic notions you have about those horses. They take grazing land the ranchers around here need to make a living.”
“The discussion is over. Period,” he added when she opened her mouth to protest. Colt Rowan shot a look at his wife before he stalked out of the room.
Laurel winced as the sound of his office door slamming echoed down the hall. “Mom?” she appealed to her mother.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I agree with your father on this.” Anna smiled and gave her head a small shake. She cast a worried glance toward the hall where her husband disappeared. “I think your father could use a coffee.” Anna busied herself at the counter brewing a fresh pot.
“What are you going to do?” Coll’s voice was barely a whisper.
“I don’t know,” she wailed. “The cull is in two days and we still don’t have a plan.” Laurel stormed out the back door onto the wide porch. Moonlight flooded the landscape, far off a pack of coyotes howled, and the night wind carried the faint sound of a horse’s whinny. Bracing both hands on the railing she glanced sideways at Coll who came to stand beside her. “I just can’t let them round up Coal and all the others. It’s so not fair!”
“Is it really so bad?” Coll took a step away and crossed his arms. “I mean, won’t some of them get bought by regular people or those special interest groups…”
“Maybe, but most of them will go to the meat buyers. It’s not just about buying the horse, it’s keeping and managing them. They call them feral, but really those horses are as wild as the deer or the coyotes. The stallions will all get gelded and we’ll lose their genetics.”
“Your dad told me the horses are mostly ones that ran off or got turned loose years ago by people who didn’t want them anymore.” Coll attempted to defuse her anger, but she wouldn’t hear it.
Instead, Laurel shook her head violently. “So not true. There’s a group up by Sundre who are co-operating with someone interested in equine conservation and a guy from Texas A&M who specialized in genetics to do genetic profiling. There was a study done in BC with the Chilcotin wild horses that scientifically proved they were descended from an ancient Russian breed.”
“How can they tell that?” Coll came to stand beside her, covering one of her hands with his.
“Hair samples. They collected like a hundred different samples and tested the DNA. I didn’t understand it all and never read the whole report. But enough to know the Alberta government is full of crap and just siding with the ranchers who vote for them.”
“Did you hear back from either of the two groups you contacted for help?”
“Save Alberta Wildies had some good advice and some of them might come down for the cull as objective observers. The other group wasn’t interested.”
“I hate that the summer is almost over, and I have to go home soon.” Coll kissed the top of her head.
“Me too. At least it’s not until after the cull starts.” Laurel sighed and leaned against him. “I just can’t bear the thought of Coal in captivity and losing his herd. They’re like family, you know? Some of those babies will only be a few months old and lots of them get hurt real bad every time there’s a cull. Makes me so mad I want to spit nails.”
Her phone beeped, and she yanked it from her back pocket. “It’s Joey. He says his dad talked to the band council tonight, but he doesn’t know what they said yet.” Laurel bit her lip.
“Let’s hope it’s good news.” Coll wrapped his arms around her. “Does he say if he’ll hear anything tonight?”
Laurel skipped her thumbs over the keys and hit send. “Let’s see.” She tapped her finger on the
side of the phone until it beeped again. “No news.” Laurel sighed and slid the phone back in her pocket.
“Laurel?” Anna Rowan stepped out the kitchen door.
“Mom, did Dad change his mind?” She turned, blinking at the backlit image of her mother.
“You should know better than that, sweetie. When has your Dad ever changed his mind when he was that adamant?” Anna shook her head and moved to stand by the railing with the two teenagers.
“Never.” Laurel kicked a post in the railing in frustration. “We can’t just let them destroy those horses’ lives. They deserve to be free, not penned up and separated from each other.”
Coll moved away from Laurel a bit.
“Life isn’t fair, Laurel. You know that. There are some things we can change and some things we can’t. Remember the talk we had about picking our battles and deciding which ones we have a chance of winning.”
“But we do have a chance at this, Mom! We do. I found some land online, it’s near here. A couple of sections, native grass with some water. It’s perfect. And I could afford it if you guys would just let me use the trust fund…” She trailed off at the look on her mother’s face. “You just don’t understand.” Tears threatened to choke her, and she groped blindly for Coll’s hand.
“It wouldn’t work, sweetie. That’s a big responsibility for a girl your age, and what about the taxes every year.”
“I have it all planned out, though. I’m going to start a society to benefit the horses and raise money that way to pay for stuff.”
“It’s good you actually thought it through, but it’s not going to happen, Laurel. I’m sorry.” She squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “I’ve got some paperwork to take care of. Don’t stay up too late,” she paused, “and don’t mention this to your dad again, especially tonight.”
“Why does he have to be so stubborn? Why can’t he see things my way for once?” Laurel glared at her mother.
“Don’t be mad at me. It’s just the way things are, I’m not saying I don’t sympathize with the horses and I’m proud of you for being so passionate about helping them, but this fight is way too big for you. Let it go.”
Laurel bit her lip and held back the bitter words burning in her mind. Never. I’ll never give up on this. She waited until her mother shut the kitchen door behind her before dragging Coll off the porch into the darkness. She stopped outside the glow thrown by the house lights and tipped her head back to stare at the stars. The moonlight painted everything black and silver with shades of grey. A few deep breaths steadied her agitation and slowed her breathing.
“You okay?” Coll moved behind her and pulled her back against his chest.
She wrapped her hands around his where they rested at her waist. “Yes. No. I don’t know. We have to find a way to save Coal and his band,” she said fiercely.
“I don’t see how. We’re running out of options.” Coll kissed the side of her neck.
Laurel leaned into the caress and relaxed against his strength. “We just can’t give up. Even if I have to hold them off single handed…”
“That’d go over well. Your dad would ground you forever.” Coll tightened his arms.
“Why are people so mean? I just don’t get it.” She sighed. “My head says it’s hopeless, but my heart keeps shoving at me and insisting I can find a way.”
“Sometimes we have to listen to our heads and not our hearts,” Coll said softly.
“What do you mean?” She swiveled around to look up at his face.
He shrugged. “Like I know I have to go home next week, common sense says I need to finish my education, but my heart wants to stay right here and help you fight whatever battles you choose.”
“Dad says I’m always tilting at windmills,” she sounded aggrieved.
Coll’s laugh rumbled in his chest. “Like Cervantes Don Quixote. I can just see you sticking Cory Cullen with a lance from the back of a mule.”
“Huh! More like the back of a tamed wildie. That’d serve him right.”
“Remember what Sarie always says when you wish someone ill, the curse comes back to you. That’s why she always said ‘bless his heart’ when she said anything about how Daniel treated Gort.”
“Bless his heart, then,” she said. “His tiny black heart,” she added under her breath.
“I’m not sure that counts.” Coll chuckled before becoming serious. “Have you heard from Carly lately?”
“Nothing much, she texted she got home okay and Chance didn’t make trouble for her. But nothing else.”
The lanky Cornish boy glanced up at the moon looming large in the sky. “When do you want to go take care of those catch pens?”
“Tomorrow night.” Laurel looked in the direction of the silver black slash of the coulee.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? We managed it once, but what if they’ve got someone watching. We could get in real trouble…and your dad will kill me.”
“You don’t have to come if you’re too chicken.” Laurel whirled to glare at him. “I’m not just gonna stand around and do nothing while Coal and his band get their family torn apart.”
“Laurel be reasonable. I said I’d help and I will. I just want you to be sure and think this through. There’s gonna be consequences, whether it’s your dad or the police, we’re all gonna catch it.”
“I have thought about it. I’m not thrilled about getting in crap, but then I think about Coal and the mares and all those foals. Not to mention the other horses out there, and somehow it doesn’t matter what happens to me as long they’re left alone. Can you understand that?”
“Yeah, I can. Whatever happens we’re in it together.”
“Laurel! It’s late. Time for you to be in bed. You too, son.” Colt Rowan stood silhouetted in the kitchen door. “I was just turning out the lights when I saw you two out here. Your mother’s already gone up.” He stepped back, obviously waiting for them to come in.
“Night Dad,” she said on her way past him.
“Good night, sir,” Coll echoed behind her.
“See you both in the morning.”
The sound of the door shutting, and the lock snicking shut followed Laurel out of the kitchen. Holding hands, the pair climbed the stairs.
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything from Joey or Carly before morning,” she whispered when they parted at her bedroom door.
“Just don’t get caught sneaking around in the middle of the night,” he whispered back.
“Not sneaking, it’s my house.” She giggled.
“Your dad might not see it that way,” Coll reminded her.
“True.” Laurel turned her face up for his kiss. “Night, Coll.”
“Night, Laurie.”
Chapter Twelve
Lightning lit up the sky followed closely by the crash of thunder. Laurel rolled over and pulled the quilt over her head. Stupid thunder. Another crack of lightning sent her out of bed and to the window. Rain ran down the pane in huge black tear drops, turned suddenly into mercury when a fork of brilliant light split the clouds. Laurel blinked, momentarily blinded by the flash, and then peered into the storm. Maybe the rain will delay the cull. Probably not though. The river would be up and the prairie, softened by the storm, would make tracking the wildies easy.
She returned to her bed and leaned against the headboard, knees scrunched up to her chest with the quilt wrapped around her. In spite of her brave words to Coll, she was scared to death about what she planned to do. Dad would be furious, and the neighbours would hold him accountable for her actions. Laurel realized all of that and the thought of everyone being mad at her twisted her stomach. She swallowed hard to ease the knot forming in her chest. But when she thought about what was going to happen to the wildies her throat tightened. Laurel closed her eyes and remembered the times she’d watched the horses in their family groups and the foals playing with each other and then retreating to their mothers’ side. How can I just let it happen without even trying to do something to stop
it? She wrapped her arms around her knees. If things get too crazy here, if nobody will talk to me I guess I can always go live with Sarie in Cornwall. Mom and Dad won’t like it, but if I have to, that’s what I’ll do.
The wind-whipped rain slapped harder against the window the sound changing to a heavy tick, almost drowned out by another clap of thunder. Hail! Laurel untangled herself from the quilt and hurried to look outside. Pellets of soft slush stuck to the glass before sliding down and settling on the sill. She squinted into the night, hail swirled in the illumination of the yard light. The wind picked up, howling in the wires as if a million demented coyotes had their muzzles turned to the moon. The hair on her arms rose a split second before a huge bolt of lightning struck somewhere close by. As if spurred on by the electricity, the storm increased. Large balls of ice pelted down. The barley will be shredded. And the oats. The trailer, and most of the equipment, was in the machine shed, but the old pickup was by the barn. It was impossible to see what damage was being done through the white veil outside her window. The yard was covered in a thick coat of white and small drifts were building up against the porch.
“Laurel! Get away from the window.” Anna Rowan pulled her daughter back from the glass. “It should hold, but we’ve had broken windows before. You know better.”
“Sorry, Mom. I was just trying to see if the truck was okay.”
“The truck is the least of the worries. Your dad’s pacing and ranting about the barley and the oat crop. Unless by some miracle the storm misses it, the crop is ruined.”
Laurel nodded, her eyes still on the icy missiles hurling past the dark pane. “He was hoping it would make malt barley this year, wasn’t he?”
“That was the plan. It should have met the requirements and you know the price for malt is way better than feed.” Anna shrugged and hugged Laurel. “No use crying over spilt milk as my mom used to say. There’s not much we can do when the skies open up like this.” She gestured to the window.
