Free Heart of the Country by Rene Gutteridge

could see her atop Lady, blazing through the fields, racing Daddy. She was looking back at him, laughing, racing Lady harder.
    Olivia and I would cheer, one of us for Momma and one of us for Dad.
    I followed him through the empty barn out into the pasture, where the horses must’ve been. “Silver,” I said, smiling as we approached him. He was standing in some mud, twitching his tail. He used to be a beautiful white, with a hint of gray undertone that caused him to shimmer. He was dirty white now. I couldn’t go all the way to meet him because of the mud. Didn’t stop Dad, though, and he looked behind me like he expected me to be there, then noticed my shoes.
    “Where’s Lady?” I asked, glancing down the fence line.
    “Lady died. Couple of winters ago.”
    A hard knot formed in my throat. Dad didn’t look at me but instead seemed interested in the graying sky. He then gave Silver a hearty pat-down. “Silver over here’s been hanging tough, though.”
    “Liv and I always said he was the son you never had.” I smiled and looked at the horse. He looked so old, so worn out. Lonely. He blinked at me and I wondered if he remembered me. My smell. My voice.
    “Has anyone taken him for a ride recently?”
    Daddy didn’t answer, but he looked at Silver and the answer was obvious. “He’s still got it in him.”
    “Let’s saddle him up, then.”
    We started toward the barn. I noticed just then how the paint was peeling and how the equipment wasn’t tidy like he’d kept it before. It was sort of a picture of my dad’s life. Maybe mine too.
    “You’re not going to ask me why I’m back?”
    “We don’t have to talk about anything. Ever. If you don’t want to.”
    I nodded, helped him with the saddle, and appreciated more than ever this simple man. It was perhaps his simplicity that drove me away, at least in part. He didn’t grieve like me, and I couldn’t ever get him back where I wanted him. But now I appreciated it because I understood the complications of life more than ever. I’d learned more of its complexities and its deep disappointments. I had a better grasp on heartbreak.
    Silver without Lady was like Daddy without Momma. Watching that lonely old horse being saddled up for the first time in who knew when caused the threat of tears. Daddy buckled and strapped, seemingly not having missed a day of it.
    “He’s all yours.” He pointed to my feet. “Except you’re not gonna go far in those. Heck, you might just impale his sides if you’re not careful.”
    “My riding boots still in there?”
    “’Course.”
    I hurried to the barn, slung off my shoes and found the boots in one of the storage closets. They still fit perfectly. I marched toward the horse, my boots plodding through the mud.
    I stroked him on his jaw, where he liked it the most, and patted him hard against his still-muscular frame.
    “Don’t worry. He remembers you.” Dad helped hoist me on. And it was like riding a bike. “I guess you’ll be staying for dinner?”
    I nodded.
    “I just have some TV dinners around. Maybe we’ll go get some fried chicken, okay?”
    “Sure.” I winked at him. “I promise. I’ll be home in time for dinner.”
    He snorted. “Yeah, where have I heard that before?” He slapped Silver on his hindquarters and the horse leaped forward. We were off to the fields.
    I sank low, let my hair come undone, let the wind snap at my face.
    “Whoa, buddy,” I finally said to Silver, pulling up on his reins. We were walking along a line of trees. The sun was setting and I loved how the light filtered through the trees, streaming through the gaps and illuminating patches of dying grass. Fingers of heaven.
    The warmth of the sun saturated my skin, and I turned toward it, closing my eyes. I missed him. I missed his touch already. His lively eyes and killer grin.
    “. . . it works great until the music stops.”
    Out in this part of the country, people lived by faith alone. They had to. The soil of the