Free Wild Hearts by Jessica Burkhart Page A

the
worst
luck with every plant on the planet. I don’t want that to rub off on you.”
    Logan laughed. I liked it when he laughed. “I’ll take my chances. We’re planting peas, potatoes, spinach, and radishes.”
    â€œThat’s
insane
! Wow.” I shook my head. “I love fresh veggies. You’re going to regret that you gave me that list. I’ll eat all your harvest before it gets to the market.”
    â€œIf you can eat eight acres per vegetable, then they’re all yours,” he said. “You—” He stopped mid-sentence.
    â€œWhat’s—” I started, but Logan pressed his pointer finger to his lips.
    Slowly, he got on his knees and peered down the gently sloping hill.
    There was the sound of approaching thunder and the ground hummed. Both things I hadn’t forgotten from yesterday.
    â€œThe mustangs are coming?” I asked. “Are they your surprise?”
    â€œYes,” Logan said. “They’re on their way. They usually come from the top of that hill.” Logan pointed to a small hill that leveled off into a long stretch of plain.
    I looked behind us at the ATV. Surely we could scare off the horses and get away on it.
    â€œUm, I didn’t get a chance to tell you,” I said, whispering very fast. “But I’ve already seen the horses. They came onto my dad’s property and almost ran me over.”
    Logan turned his head toward me. “They almost
ran you over
? How close did you get?” He sounded wistful. As if he wished he had been there.
    â€œClose enough that tails stung my face; some were inches away when they swerved and avoided running into me.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Logan said. He reached over and touched my knee. “I know them. The horses. I’m sure they weren’t trying to hurt you.”
    â€œI don’t think they were at all,” I said.
    â€œThe herd never comes this way,” Logan said. “Don’t be worried.”
    The rumble’s intensity increased. I shot Logan a smile, nodding. Horses burst over the top of the hill. A robust chestnut led the way and the herd stayed tight together.
    â€œThe winds are in our favor today—they won’t smell us and disappear.”
    â€œLook at all those colors,” I said. “The lead chestnut is stunning.”
    â€œYou’ve been around horses?” Logan asked.
    â€œI took lessons on and off as a kid,” I said. “I think they’re pretty majestic animals.”
    Logan’s gaze flickered from the horses to me. “Then you get it.”
    â€œWhat?” The lead horses began to slow from an energetic gallop to a lope. Finally the herd broke apart and the horses trotted to what seemed like favorite areas.
    â€œYou understand why I love them,” Logan said. “You’ve trusted a thousand-pound animal with your life.” He turned his gaze back to the horses. “Look at them.”
    The horses halted almost directly in front of us—there was only about a football field of hill and plain in between us and the horses. I watched foals frolic—letting out shrill little neighs andplay-fighting each other. Most of the horses grazed and a few knelt onto the grass and rolled onto their backs, long legs kicking in the air as they wiggled on the ground.
    I didn’t know if a minute or an hour had passed when I caught myself looking at Logan. He was completely lost in the herd.
    â€œLogan,” I said. “What’s going to happen to them? I mean, am I going to see you at my dad’s site with other protestors?”
    Logan looked at me. “No,” he said. “The sheriff made it clear to everyone who was at your house that if we protested again there would be trouble. There’s nothing we can do to stop your dad. Plus, that’s the wrong place to put our energy—or so I’ve told my dad. We need to think about how to help the