More of his father’s words drift into his head. “People will tell you they’re ‘just horses.’ People are damn idiots, sometimes.”

Bandit’s winter coat is such a thick, luxurious black, she could be a streak of midnight sky left over from the evening before. It always surprises Robbie to remember that she’s one of the smallest of the mustangs, but standing there, facing him with her head raised and her dark eyes locked on his, she has the presence of a much larger horse. Her band seethes behind her uneasily. It’s been some time since Robbie has seen them, and he can’t think of when he was last so close. He’s relieved to see they all look fat, healthy, and well.

He doesn’t know why Bandit chose this moment to show herself to him. But she watches him for several long moments, steam trailing from her nostrils, which are frosted by her breath. Then, she turns and trots off, pushing her band down the bending path of ice and out of sight.

Robbie’s heart is full, and heavy. Maybe those two things are the same. What he knows is that he’s not going anywhere. And he suspects that Lance is going somewhere, and soon.

Robbie’s back at the house making the calf’s bottle when Danny calls. He turns off the water, dries his hands, and answers. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey. I just wanted to see how everything is going. Is he doing okay? It’s been a few days. Do you know anything about what happened?”

Robbie does his best to answer, but his tone is clipped. Danny must notice, because instead of firing off another string of questions, he’s uncharacteristically quiet. Robbie does nothing to fill the silence and make it easier. He doesn’t feel quite himself; it’s like he’s still drifting up the trail to the meadow, a part of him carried by each of the wild horses he walked amongst an hour ago.

“Is everything okay?”

Robbie doesn’t mean for his laugh to be quite so bitter, or to let the petulant words escape him. “Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

Robbie rubs between his eyes. “I don’t think I’m okay. I don’t know.”

Everything had been okay the day before. No, everything had been perfect. He doesn’t know how to talk to Danny about yesterday. It isn’t shame that makes him reluctant to confess what happened with Lance. He just doesn’t want to do it on the phone. Maybe he’ll never tell Danny at all. Maybe it will be a secret he keeps to himself. When Lance goes, maybe he’ll want to shelter the memories of that stolen time together, rather than sharing them with someone whose reaction might tarnish something he intends to cherish.

“Is it Lance?”

Trust Danny to be astute, but for some reason, his very valid question fuels Robbie’s bad temper. “What if I say no? If it doesn’t have anything to do with Lance, are you still going to care?”