True Love Was Born in a Stable

Dakota Territory 1866

Seren sighed contentedly as she drove back towards the barn. Today had been a good day, mostly because she had gotten to drive her favorite pony, Pebbles, all day while making deliveries for her elderly neighbor, Tim.

She had walked most of the day so as not to overburden Pebbles with a heavy load. No doubt the freshly canned produce they had been hauling was heavy enough, but now that their small wagon was empty, Pebbles had no complaint about carrying Seren in the cart if it meant they got back to the old, well loved barn, and Pebbles’ grain, faster.

Pebbles had chosen to stay at a steady trot most of the way back, but now as they approached the old barn Seren pulled her up to a walk before stopping to get out and lead Pebbles inside.

“Hello girls!” Seren called out to the two other ponies in her barn, Old Paint and ladylike Peaches. She knew they would be upset they didn’t get to come along on the deliveries this time, but with a broken team pole on the other wagon; she had been forced to use the smaller single hitch wagon until the team pole could be fixed.

Strangely enough, the other ponies did not welcome her back with their shrill whinnies like they normally did. Instead, all three ponies seemed to be fixated on the loose pile of straw in the barn, and it wasn’t because they were hungry.

Seren silently signaled Pebbles to stay where she was, a flick of the pony’s ears the only indication that she acknowledged the command, while she quietly stocked over to the hay pile, grabbing a nearby pitchfork as she did so.

There, sleeping on the side of the haystack was a young man dressed in black

Fear gripped Seren’s heart. She was not expecting company and the man was dressed too fine to be one of her neighbors. She was suddenly very aware that she was very much alone out here on her farm.

Seren steeled her spine and prodded the sleeping figure with the sharp prongs of the pitchfork, “Get up, slowly.”

The man was awake in an instant, hat falling from his face and his hand dropping to the gun at his belt.

Just as quickly, Seren had that same hand pinned to the straw between the prongs of her hay fork. “I said slowly,” she gave a twist of the fork forcing him to release his hold on the gun.

“You’re a woman,” the man stared at her in astonishment.

“How kind of you to notice. Now, who are you and what are you doing here?”

“My name is Samuel Christiansen, miss, and if you will allow me,” he slowly reached up with his free hand to pull back his suit jacket to reveal a silver star pinned to his vest, “As you can see I am the newly appointed sheriff of this part of the territory.”

Seren let out a snort, “And why exactly would the new sheriff be sleeping out in my barn? More than likely you shot the poor man that belonged too and just wearing it to trick anyone you come across.”

“Now look here lady, I’ve been chasing around a gang of horse thieves for three weeks and lost the posse I was riding with two days ago. I’m tired. I’m hungry. And the last thing I need on God’s green earth is some rustic pony girl accusing me of murder!”

He grabbed onto the shaft of the pitchfork and wrenched it away from his hand only to have Seren spin it around with practiced ease and clock him across the side of the skull.

She watched him for a few moments but the man didn’t stir, cautiously she went forward to make sure he was still alive. Thankfully he was, and Seren worked quickly, using one of Pebbles’ reins to tie his wrists to one of the posts in the barn. Unharnessed Pebbles from the wagon, and turned her loose with the other ponies, promising them she’d be back later with some treats.

Outside the other end of the barn she found a tall buckskin gelding with a black mane and tail hitched to the rail. She swung up into the saddle, ignoring the too long stirrups and the way her skirt bunched up above her knees, and turned the strange horse towards Tim’s. If anyone knew if there was going to be a sheriff coming to their part of the territory it would be him.

Halfway there Seren caught sight of three riders cresting a hill. She pulled her horse to a stop and watched them approach at a gallop. They were only a half mile away when Seren knew that something was wrong. Their horses were rangy and winded yet still the riders took to them with spurs and whips. They also did not appear to be dressed like the man tied up back at her barn, or the sensible clothing of a ranch hand. No, these men screamed outlaw, cattle rustler, and horse thief. Worse yet, she was riding the horse of the man who had been relentlessly chasing them for weeks!

She spun the horse around and dug her heels into the buckskin’s side urging him into a canter. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to push the horse into a run but she knew that she needed to save his energy until the end to make a last sprint.

The outlaws followed at her heels all the way back to her barn never dropping more than a half mile behind her despite their exhausted mounts.

A mile from the old barn Seren urged the horse faster into a gallop, never bothering to even pull the racing horse to a stop before the entrance, leaping instead from the horse’s back and hitting the ground hard and rolling an ankle but continuing to run anyway, latching the barn door shut behind her and racing to do the same to the rest of the entrances and windows.

She just finished closing the last of the windows when a bullet ripped through a seam in the wood inches from her hand.

The scream stuck in her throat as she heard the men pull up their horses a few feet from the barn moments before Paint let out a shrill whinny followed by the sound of a man’s groan.

“Could you raise them to scream any louder?” Samuel grimaced as he pulled himself up by his restraints, “My head’s killing me, and I think your ponies might just finish the job girl.”

“No,” Seren said pulling out her knife and cutting him loose, “that would be the men outside.”

As if on cue a voice from outside yelled, “Come on outta there Christiansen! Or send out the woman if you’re not man enough to face us yourself!”

“Over my dead body Morgan!” Samuel shouted back wincing at the pain it caused him.

“Fine by us!” the men laughed.

“Get down!” Samuel lunged at Seren knocking her over as gunfire erupted overhead. “Is there another way out?”

Seren glanced over to the other side of the barn, “There might be a line of fire from the loft but any other way they would be on top of us in an instant.”

“Do you know how to shoot?”

She nodded.

“Good, go and get my rifle from my things by the hay pile and then go up to the loft. You should be safe there while I distract them.”

Seren crawled on her belly until she reached rifle amongst his things, then crept towards the ladder and started climbing awkwardly with the gun in one hand.

“Is that all you got Morgan?”

“Open the door and find out Christiansen! Or should we just light the barn up and smoke you out like the rat you are?”

Seren’s face went pale in fear as her eyes met his.

“Alright Morgan, I’m coming out.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Morgan said, a snear in his voice, “Send the woman out first. Been a while since the boys and I have had any fun.”

Seren’s eyes flew wide with panic while Samuel’s grew dark with rage.

“Like I said Morgan, over my dead body!” he roared and flung open the barn door open and fired at the trio, a six-shooter in each hand.

The outlaws returned fire over the sound of horses screaming in panic.

That’s when Seren got an idea.

She dropped down from the ladder and ran to the stall where her ponies were kept and flung open the door causing all three of them to charge through the opening and barrel out the barn door as if they had been shot out of a cannon.

The result was utter chaos.

One of the outlaw’s horses took off running, terrified at the mere sight of the little horses. Another followed suite, but not before throwing his rider half out of the saddle and dragging him behind.

There was only Morgan and his black mustang left. The saddle horse spinning and rolling his eyes in panic as Peaches and Pebbles raced circles around him in their excitement.

Somehow Seren’s old pony Paint managed to get under the scrawny black horse and kick him repeatedly, causing the mustang to rear up and over backwards, landing on top of his rider’s leg with a sickening crunch.

Still enraged that this black brute was on her farm, Paint lunged forward, biting the gelding on his haunches and sending him lurching upright and after his companions as fast as his weary legs would take him, Morgan clinging to the saddle and a broken leg. Peaches and Pebbles chasing behind them for good measure.

It was all over in an instant. Seren and Samuel stood in the barn door entrance in disbelief until Seren remembered to call her ponies back, setting aside the rifle she had still been carrying. Each one of the ponies had a look of excitement from the game they had just played, even grumpy old Paint.

Seren was petting and kissing each one when Samuel cleared his throat, “Not to be too forward miss, I’m sorry I never did ask you your name.”

“It’s Seren, Seren Morris.”

He nodded, “Miss Morris, again not to be too forward, but I think I’m in love.”

“Mr. Christiansen I hope I don’t need to unleash my ponies upon someone for a second time today…”

“No, no, that will not be necessary Miss Morris. I only meant that I have a newfound admiration for your ponies, and I’m sorry that I insulted you over them earlier this afternoon.”

“And I’m sorry that I hit you with my pitchfork, so we’ll call it even,” she returned his smile before herding her ponies back into their paddock. “Would you like to come inside so that I can patch up your head Mr. Christiansen? I imagine that you’ll still have quite a day ahead of you finding your men and tracking down that Morgan fellow again.”

“Call me Samuel. How could a man possibly say no to you Miss Morris,” he held out his arm which she happily took, a slight blush spreading across her cheeks.

“Seren will do just fine, Samuel,” she said as they walked out of the barn.