Free The Heart of the Lone Wolf by Montgomery Mahaffey

for this post, which nobody else can do. I’m not one to tell him he can’t have the chance.”
    As usual, Papa was right. Only an adventurer could handle the wild gray colt.
    There was nothing that horse could do to keep the Trainer off his back. He bucked, swerved, reared, and broke out into a run only to stop suddenly. The Trainer fell to the ground or soared towards the sky time and again. But he’d somersault in the air or through the muck, only to get back on his feet, ready to spring and go at it again. Two weeks passed before the colt stopped fighting him, but his ears flattened every time the Trainer was on him. It was a month before he could coax a bit between his teeth. But once the Trainer had him harnessed in a bridle, the colt was his.
    The boys who worked in the stables were often scolded back to work because they could never resist the sight of the Trainer at his work. As much as I disliked him, I couldn’t resist watching either. Now I was also jealous because I wanted to ride that colt.
    It was six weeks after the Trainer came when the accident happened. The irony was that I was riding the gentlest horse in the stables that day. I was feeling out of sorts and the head stable hand mentioned that the black and white mare could do with a run outside. So I agreed to take her. I remember she was going no faster than a canter along the peach orchard at the edge of the fields, the manor and barn neither near nor far, the riding ring in the foreground where the Trainer worked with the colt. I saw he still hadn’t gotten a saddle on its back. The trees were starting to bear fruit and I remember the light aroma of unripe peaches when it happened.
    I didn’t understand what was going on, only that my horse stumbled and nearly tripped. I almost fell off when she stepped out of rhythm. But out of habit, I fought to keep my balance and stay on. That was a mistake because the fall wouldn’t have been serious if I’d simply allowed it. I didn’t know a feral dog had taken up chase after the mare and nipped at her heels. I sensed the animal’s fear, but I couldn’t will her to do what I wanted. The horse’s pace became erratic and I couldn’t figure out where to lean to keep my balance. I felt it when the mare’s fear escalated into panic. Then I realized I had nothing to hold onto except strands of mane.
    Everything happened so fast that I can’t recall all of it. I remember farmers rushing towards me from the fields and hearing a familiar voice shouting at me to jump off the mare, but I couldn’t move. Nothing like this had ever happened to me before. When the horse reared, I held desperately to those coarse hairs of mane. That voice was still shouting at me to let go and fall, but all I could think was that I had to stay on the horse. Somehow I managed to.
    Next thing I knew, I heard a loud blast. The mare’s panic exploded and she threw me to the sky. She knocked the breath out of me, and pulled my fingers from her mane with a buck of her hind legs. I was flying. There was a moment of euphoria as I rose to the blueness of a clear day. Then I felt myself fall and the terror returned. I closed my eyes to my coming doom, but I remember I never screamed.
    The impact was not what I expected. I expected crushing pain when I hit the ground, but what I felt was hard and soft, both a warmth and a strength. I didn’t realize I was pressed against flesh and muscle and bone, not even when his arms squeezed me close. I kept my eyes shut because I was afraid I would hurt if I opened them. The sensation of spinning confused me, my legs still soaring through the air while my torso was secure. His breath blew against my ear the moment I heard the beat of his heart, its rhythm strong and steady. Then I knew somebody had caught me. The momentum of spinning slowed down until my feet touched the ground. My legs, hips, back, and head melted against solid earth when he laid me down.
    Then I heard that voice as he shook me