Today, the BLM rounded up huge herds of mustangs, especially in Nevada, Wyoming and Montana, and sold them to the highest bidder. Many ended up going to factories to fill dog food cans. Other luckier ones, like the mustangs they rode, were bought and cared for. These were later sold to people who appreciated these incredible animals, whose background blended with the rich history of the West.
Most mustangs were small and Sunny was the standard fourteen hands tall. Ziggy, the grulla dun that Cav rode, was the exception, fifteen hands tall, heavily muscled and a lot more active than Sunny. Lia was glad to have quiet Sunny to ride.
According to the map she carried, there was a small stream on the other side of the wooded hill. Jack had told them there was a nice place to have a picnic near the banks of the river, where the horses could also drink. The sunlight danced between the leaves, dappling her and Sunny as the mustang gingerly moved up a slope to the top of the hill. Cav rode up to Lia with Ziggy.
“We need to ride that way,” he said, pointing in the direction of the still unseen stream. He sat in a comfortable slouch on his mustang.
Lia smiled, thinking that Cav would make a great cowboy with his rugged good looks. True, he didn’t have a real Stetson on his head, but he still had that outdoor look she loved so much. And she loved him for this thoughtfulness, leaning down and rubbing Sunny’s dampened neck. “Every minute in the saddle just makes me happier than the last minute,” she confided, giving him a tender look of thanks.
Cav’s heart expanded fiercely with love for her, seeing how much the gift of riding a horse once again, brought out in Lia. “It’s not far now,” he’d said. They had been riding a good two hours, moving deeper and deeper into the hills thick with trees. The sun was overhead and she knew it was near noontime. Cav had placed their lunch in the large saddlebags behind Ziggy’s saddle, and Lia carried the water bottles in Sunny’s leather bags.
“This is really nice,” he murmured, giving the place an appreciative look.
“It’s a lot like where I grew up,” she said, turning. “Well, not exactly like this,” and she gestured to the trees. “My Dad’s farm is on flat land, mostly sandy soil and there aren’t many trees. A good half of Oregon is Great Basin land, dry and desert-like.”
“That’s interesting,” Cav said. He liked the bits of information that revealed more about Lia. He had found that each weekend with her was like opening up a treasure chest—her gift of herself—to him, whether she realized it or not. And every weekend had yielded a new jewel about this woman he loved.
There was a sweetness to waiting for her to open up and trust him fully. Cav could see Lia struggling sometimes, and knew it wasn’t about him, but rather about putting her trauma behind her. He warmed with the realization that his support was helping her get there sooner. And God, how he anticipated the day when Lia could entrust her broken, scarred body to him, walk into his arms, and stand proud and naked before him.
That would be the day they’d both celebrate her last day of imprisonment. The past would no longer hold her captive.
And then?
As he followed Lia and Sunny down the other side of the hill, Cav smiled to himself. Life was never easy. Some days were better than others, and his idea to bring her out to this horse rescue facility had been one of his better ideas. He’d never seen Lia so lively, so spontaneous, and smiling so often.
He was a patient man, which was a good thing. Cav wanted to give her the world, but he knew he had to pace his desire against her inner growth. He could relate to her struggle—all he had to do was look at his own background and his emergence from his own toxic past, with the help of Chief Jacoby. And Lia. Cav never forgot that she was also healing some of his deepest, oldest wounds by simply being herself around him. She was a gift to him but didn’t realize it. Yet.
The weekends he’d spent with Jacoby’s family had taught him more than any book could have. It was then that Cav realized that having a family could bring pleasure, not always a promise of pain and suffering.
And he wanted the same for Lia and himself. He enjoyed watching her ride Sunny. Just the way her hips swayed back and forth in that saddle made him ache to take her. He himself wasn’t much of a rider, not like her, but he could appreciate her straight back and her proud shoulders drawn back in perfect riding form.
There was no question in Cav’s mind that Lia loved to ride. And he loved to see her happy.
At the small, clear stream, they dismounted. Cav allowed the horses to have their fill of water. Lia helped him to remove their bridles and hang them over the saddle horns. Each mustang had a nylon halter on, and she tied the rope to a low limb beneath a spreading elm tree. She then showed Cav how to loosen their cinches so the horses would get some relief.