Wild Hearts (31 page)

I concentrated on rubbing my filly's withers with the currycomb and watched over her shoulder as Logan continued to talk to his filly and grin as she listened to his commands. She was feisty and one of Logan's favorites. A week ago, she had almost kicked Logan when he'd tried to brush her flank. Now she got excited when Logan brought the brushes into the pasture. She was one of the first horses to trot up to us. I released my groomed filly into a side corral and helped Logan pick a few burrs out of his horse's tail.

My favorite, whom I had named Frogger, looked at me from across the pasture, pricked his ears toward me, and pawed the grass. He was just a bit older than the weanling fillies, and his bay coat shone brilliantly in the sun. He made me smile and he knew it. Frogger took two steps in my direction and let out a shrill neigh. That was one technique he used to get my attention. Another was pacing along the fence line and following my every move with his giant brown eyes.

“Hi to you, too!” I called to the colt. “See you later.” Logan and I laughed when Frogger shook his head, sending his mane flying. “Sorry if you don't like it,” I told him. “Go eat!”
Frogger stood still and watched me work on the filly for a few more minutes before he lowered his head and went back to grazing.

A car roared up the driveway. I squinted to look past the barn and then I saw
it.
Black. SUV. Our Explorer. For a second, I thought that I was about to drop to the ground. I carefully untied the filly and slipped the breakaway halter off her head. She shook out her mane and lowered her head, taking a giant mouthful of grass.

Part of me wanted to hide. I looked around and it was too late. I was in the tiny corral just off to the front of the stable. The Explorer slammed to a halt, the driver's door opened and slammed shut so hard that I thought it rattled my teeth. Dad's face was already crimson as his shoes pounded against Pam's driveway.

“Brie,” Logan said, jogging up to me. “Let me go talk to him. I'll explain what we've been doing.”

“No,” I said. Then Dad would yell at Logan. “I'll do it.”

Dad marched up to me and gripped the wooden fence with his hands. “What the hell is going on? I went to Watson's and Amy was working,” he shouted. The vein in the center of his forehead pulsed. “I was about to get her fired when she finally told me where I could find you. This place is far from Watson's—where you said you were going to be.”

My chest ached for Amy. I'd never be able to apologize enough for what my dad had likely said to her.

I couldn't even explain this away. “Dad, I have a lot to tell you. First, as you've probably guessed now, is that I've been seeing Logan.”

“Since when?” Dad's voice rose with every word and the sun appropriately blazed behind him.

“Since you told me not to,” I said.

“That's where you've been? With him?” Dad sputtered.

“Sir,” Logan started, “it's not—”

“Shut up!” Dad interrupted.

I stepped away from Logan and faced Dad. “We haven't been doing anything wrong. We captured the mustangs and brought them here so they'd leave you alone, Dad. When we can, we come here and groom them. That's it.”

“I don't care what you do with these horses,” Dad said, his tone scaring Logan's filly. She shied and pulled on the lead rope. Logan whispered to her and stroked her neck. “You've been with
him
. Your mother and I told you to stay away from him.”

“The horses needed us,” I said. “Aren't you happy that we took them away from your job site? Logan and I want to gentle as many of the horses as we can. We want to hold an adoption event and find them homes by next summer.”

“Next summer?” Dad asked, shaking his head. His volume level hadn't dropped at all. “You're not going to be near him”—he jabbed his finger toward Logan—“next summer. I can't believe this. Everyone here said to listen to the BLM. Looks like you both broke some major rules. Once they find out—”

“They already know, Dad,” I said. I heard desperation creeping into my voice.
Pull it together, Brie. Don't get emotional now.

Dad let out a half laugh and folded his arms. “Well, it's clear that the people here all stick to their own—I should have thought of that. No wonder I didn't get a call back from the BLM; good old Jack's son was working against me.”

I felt as though I had gotten the wind knocked out of me. It was kind of like how it felt to be ice-skating one second and on my butt the next.

“Dad! We're trying to do something really good here! The statistics about mustang survival rates are scary. When their roaming lands are developed, they're shot or starved or shipped off to a totally new, foreign place. Don't you get it?
You're
the one forcing these horses to move, just like you're going to make me move!” I screamed the last sentence. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck. My head pounded and I choked back my nausea. I'd never yelled at Dad like this. We'd fought before, but nothing this intense.

Dad jerked his head back. “You stand there and say that to me when his father tried to make me lose this contract? This is such a betrayal, Brie.”

“Betrayal? Don't you get it? It's not about that! I'm sorry about Jack, but I can't control him! Neither can Logan. Logan's amazing, Dad. You would know that if you gave him a chance.”

I hated fighting, but I wasn't backing down. Logan stood still behind me and his breathing was heavy. He grabbed my hand from behind and squeezed it.

“I'm not discussing this anymore,” Dad said. “Let's go. Now.”

I released Logan's hand and ran to the Explorer, jumped into the backseat and slammed the door behind me. Dad couldn't do this. Not after the hours Logan and I had put into outlining every detail of how we would care for the herd that the BLM had entrusted with us. I'd make him understand. This couldn't be it. Logan called out something to Dad, and Dad turned back. Tensing, I put my hand on the door handle, ready to jump out and stop Dad from yelling at Logan. Logan started to talk, but I couldn't hear a word. He gestured toward the barn and pointed to the horse pasture. Dad didn't say anything—he just stared. Logan stopped talking and Dad headed for the driver's seat. He got in and jammed the key into the ignition. Logan unclipped the lead line of his filly, and she trotted off to rejoin the herd of young horses. He stood there and watched as Dad turned around the SUV.

He tore down the driveway and jerked the steering wheel as we turned out onto the main road.

This fight hadn't been about Logan and me. It was because Dad hated Jack. But I didn't say a word and we spent the entire car ride in silence.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Go slower and get there quicker.

“Are you and your dad talking yet?” Amy asked. It was four days after the blowup at Pam's, and I was outside getting the mail when Amy called.

“Not a word,” I said, pausing by the red mailbox. “He won't even look at me and I'm afraid to bring it up. I don't know what kind of magic my mom worked on him so I can keep my phone, though.”

Amy sighed. “Don't question it. At least we have that. He
will
change his mind eventually, won't he?”

“I don't know. He's pretty stubborn. My mom's mad, too, but at least she's talking to me.”

“Well, Logan and I are keeping the horses fed and groomed, don't worry. I have to say it one more time: I'm so sorry that I cracked, Brie.”

“Stop apologizing—please. I would have done the same thing. I'm grateful to you for being there now and helping Logan when I can't.”

I so wanted to be there! It was torture to tear myself away from the horses and from my daily visits with Logan. But Dad had stayed tough and showed no signs in relenting. Logan had wanted to come over and talk to him, but I knew that wasn't the right way to handle Dad. Any apologizing had to come from me.

“Don't worry, Brie,” Amy said. “We're taking care of things now, but we'll help you figure out a way to convince your dad to let you see Logan again. Want to IM later and figure out something?”

“Definitely,” I said. “Maybe around nine?”

“Perfect. Talk to you later.”

I pocketed my phone and shuffled back up the driveway. I put the mail on the counter and went upstairs to my room. Flopping on my bed, I tried to think of something to say to convince Dad to let me see Logan. He had every right to be pissed that I'd lied to him, but he wasn't giving us any credit for doing something good. He had to change his mind.
But what if he didn't?

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

It's the man who's the cowboy, not the outfit he wears.

“Are you and Dad speaking yet?” Mom asked me over breakfast. I was getting ready to go to work with Dad.

“Nope,” I said.

“I'm not happy with you, either, Brie,” she said, frowning at me. “I wish you'd trusted me to tell me what was going on. You
were
trying to do something good.” We were in the kitchen, Mom slicing a banana into her oatmeal.

She was right. She'd never given me a reason not to trust her. “I'm sorry I lied about where I was. I should have told you. But is there any way Dad will let me see Logan?”

“I don't know,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No, it's okay,” I said. “I need to do it.”

With that, I left the kitchen and headed for Dad's room. He was banging away on the keyboard and barely looked up when I entered the room.

“Dad . . .”

“I'm working,” he said. “What?” Great. This was going to go so well.

I stayed in the doorway. “I'm sorry I lied. I shouldn't have, but it was for the horses and—”

Dad waved his hand in the air and slid the keyboard tray away from him. So he wasn't going to even let me explain. “Do you know where I was yesterday afternoon?”

“No.”

“I went to see Jack McCoy.” Oh, God. Jack was already injured—my eyes scanned Dad for any visible signs of an earlier fight. Signs that I could have missed yesterday. But he looked fine. “He told me what you and his kid have been up to,” Dad continued. “He even offered to take me to see the horses. He said some lady named Pam was keeping an eye on you guys?”