“I forgot how amazing this is,” he tells Robbie, leaning over to rub Dusty’s neck when she comes to a stop of her own volition beside Poco. Poco turns his head enough to brush his muzzle against hers, and she pins her ears and responds with a snap of yellow teeth.

Robbie smiles at Lance and tightens his reins to keep Poco in his own lane.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because even though he rides this trail more days than not, he’s still amazed by it, too. “We’re almost there,” he adds, and feeds Poco some slack and clucks to him. But before Poco takes a step, Dusty shoulders past, apparently pulling seniority-based rank, and she and Lance take the lead for the last short stretch.

That change in position gives Robbie a view of Lance in the saddle, his posture tall and balanced, with that natural grace and sensitivity translating beautifully to horseback, even bundled in winter clothes.

Also, because of this rearrangement, he gets to see Lance react when they spill into the meadow and he sees the wild horses gathered there. All the bands have come together in the meadow, using each other’s bodies for shelter. They’re a hundred feet away, but all together, they seem to fill the meadow.

“Holy shit,” Lance breathes out. Robbie’s laugh startles a couple of the nearest horses, who apparently aren’t used to hearing Robbie laugh.

The snow has piled up so high where Robbie has the fiberglass posts and wire, they might try to walk over it, or fail to see the wires while they’re wading through the snow. Not wanting the fence to turn into a latent hazard, he decides to take it down.

“Can you hold onto Poco a minute?” When Lance nods, Robbie dismounts and hands Poco’s reins to Lance. Poco, seeing an opportunity and immediately taking advantage, bumps his muzzle against Dusty’s shoulder. Her eyes glow with the promise that later, when they’re back in their corral, he’ll pay for taking such liberties. Poco is cheerfully oblivious and does it again.

The mustangs quickly move away from Robbie as he comes closer, like a stream avoiding a stone. It’s not unheard of for them all to spend time together like this for an hour or two, but the way the snow is trampled down around the hay suggests they’ve been out here as a group for a while, probably since last night. He coils up the wire and grabs the slender fiberglass poles with the pliers he always has on his belt, wrenching them out of the frozen ground. It takes some time. Robbie knows that without the fence to stop them, the horses will destroy all the bales they can get at. All he can do is try to get back up here as soon as the snow starts to melt.

When he finishes, he walks back toward the saddle horses. Lance’s blue eyes are still wide and fixed on the scene around him, his chapped lips parted like he’s truly moved by the sight. Robbie takes Poco’s reins back and then looks at the herd, trying to see them through Lance’s eyes.