The Fault In Reality

Chapter Fifteen

A green hill stretches high out of the otherwise flat landscape, neatly snipped through with a single path. The dirt laneway courts the base of a corral, where a seemingly countless sea of fur coats writhe. Their muddied fur is long and tufty, and they twist themselves around each other like serpents. Every now and again a high keen slashes through their shuffling.

I cannot bear to watch these horses, stuffed in this hold with no room to breathe, awaiting their deaths. Some of them even seem to be of fancy breeding, but it's carefully hidden under the blood and dirt.

"Well, this is it." says my father, crinkling a map against the steering wheel.

But there's no trailer or truck in sight. My heart is beating so fast it's painful. Where is Devany?

I flick at the door handle and it falls open. The sky overhead is an ugly blend of grey and gold, with a storm set firmly in the steely horizon. Then I catch sight of the curve of a felt cowboy hat, and I nudge my father. He follows my stare to the man's face, currently folded in pain and frustration. A tattered lead rope stretches taut between a pinto and him, while the frightened horse rises onto its haunches and mauls the air under its rolling hooves.

A whip flashes through the air with a crack, and the pinto drops down with a helpless squeal. The man raises his hand again, ready to deal out another lash..

But I'm already there, my knuckles flushing white as I yank the whip out of his grip and hurl it into a nearby tangle of brambles.

"Hey!" yelps the man in surprise. His surprised expression quickly deflates into one of pain under my fist. He doubles over, clutching at his nose, and the pinto bolts away. The man surfaces from his sputtering with a bloodied nose and a face like thunder. I give him my most ugly look.

"You lied," I hiss. "You're no horse owner, you're a kill buyer, you disgusting little -"

"Era!" my father yanks me to face him. He's not smiling. With a painful jerk at my arm, he pulls me behind him just as the man lunges towards me.

"Your daughter will pay for what she's done," the man roars in fury, "and you can bet on charges of assault!"

"Just as you can bet on charges of fraud. I want my horse returned, immediately." My father's voice is grave and threatening, and paired with his steely eyes and pale-pressed lips, he looks unquestionable.

"Not a chance!" the man ducks his head to spit at the ground, then curls his lips into an ugly smile. "I bought that horse, he's now under my name. Unless you'd care to add embezzlement to your growing list of violations - I suggest you leave. Now."

My father narrows his eyes.

"Yes, I'm sure the police will be very interested to see the condition of these horses." He gestures to the distant figure of the pinto, and the corral stuffed with horses.

I glance at the latter, and my heart almost stops.

There he is.

Devany paces the length of fence, keening softly under the racket. I can definitely make out some fresh welts and scrapes scattered over his flank, not to mention the distinct russet crusting on his leg - blood.

His eyes lock onto mine, and he freezes. His ears go still in the midst of their infinite swiveling, his nostrils engulf the breeze. He arches his neck and gives a cry too human sounding for me to ignore.

I leave the two men to argue and creep up to the fence. A halter and lead are hanging crookedly on the precarious hold of a post. I take it in trembling hands and reach out to Devany. He presses desperately towards me, but suddenly a horse wheels between us. I get pinned ears and a snap of teeth in retaliation to my outstretched hand.

"Move on," I whisper, casting a worried look over my shoulder. The man's face has gone purple, and my father looks equally enraged. Neither has noticed my absence.

The horse in front of Devany throws a kick at a nearby grey, who nips at the rump of a muddied chestnut. They jostle each other in the confines of their corral, and try as I do I can't find Devany's black coat among the sea of brown and white.

Just as I think I've lost him, he appears between the ribs of two skeletal mares. I stretch through the rail and hold out the halter. Devany practically pushes his muzzle through the straps, and with practised movements I buckle it up.

Now for the hard part. Heart thudding in my chest, I swing the lead rope at the horses around us. They skitter away from it as though it's aflame, parting a path for Devany. With gritted teeth I tentatively duck into the chaos and urge Devany to the far side gate.

Muddy coats and jutting bones press around us. Several times something grazes my arm or legs. I try my best to ignore it all, and focus in one my one task: getting Devany to the gate.

In seeming slow motion I finally come in range of the latch. It slips loose with a rusted squeak, and then the door opens. Devany lunges through, and it's all I can do to dig in my heels and avoid being curled over his velvet shoulder.

As soon as we're free of the corral, Devany slows. He drops his head and shudders, as though he can't believe the horror of it all.

"Neither can I," I whisper. The horses behind us graze against the threshold of their prison. Then, as though finally realizing their freedom, they surge forwards.

"Hey!" yells the man. I don't stop to find out the extent of his wrath. My legs streak out beside Devany's own as we run, run past the truck and down the lane. I barely notice my burning lungs, or the pain of my cuts. We're two fugitives in the eyes of all but ourselves, and somehow that is enough.