Wander

It was 6:30 a.m, the frosty air excited Angie as she tacked up her horse for the morning wrangle. A dirtied floral bandana keeps her daisy dipped hair off her face as she paces the barn floor, ignoring her coffee cup. Donnie was running a little late but she knew he would come as he always does. Donnie is frequent at the barn but this would be his first time wrangling. The faint sound of weathered cowboy boots confidently strolling across the gravel and into the barn alerted Angie that Donnie had finally arrived. Donnie’s tousled black hair was slicked back under his felt cowboy hat. If it weren’t for his matching vest and jeans, Angie wouldn’t have noticed the five o'clock shadow crawling across his sun soaked face. He tips his hat in Angie’s direction. They share a quick “Mornin” and Angie points out Donnie’s horse. Although Donnie looks the part he couldn’t be farther from a cowboy, though he wanted to be one. As Donnie fumbles with the tack, holding the bridle upside down, Angie chuckles to herself. Donnie looks up at Angie with a hesitant smile, she promptly walks over. Her rusted spurs jangled as she lightly stomped her numb feet, encouraging them to regain feeling. Angie walks Donnie through how to tack up. While giggling through her words she guides his gloved hands while her worn ones bear the cold. The horses patiently wait but not without the occasional snort or swat of a fly. Finally they were ready to ride. Angie helps Donnie mount up and adjusts his stirrups, she has no problem moving his leg where she needs it to be. Donnie looks at her with bashful cold cheeks and a sheepish smile as he quietly thanks her.

The morning dust is kicked up as the horses' uncaring hoofs tread over the barely there trail. It’s silent besides the rhythm of squeaking tack beneath the riders’ seat. They’re listening. Carefully. The neon red sun illuminates the tips of the willows with a golden hue. The valley is a glowing, warm stillness that even a photo can’t capture. The sun is breaking through the clouds, officially making its entrance for the new day. The horses are getting excited and let out a shrill whinnie that echoes throughout the seemingly empty valley. This is shortly followed by the scattering sound of hooves and cowbells; the herd has found them. The wranglers move to the side and yell “Get up!” and follow the horses down the trail, loping now to guide them to the pasture gate. Stragglers try to duct into the willows but Angie won’t allow it, she’s racing next to the wild bunch as they kick trying to deter her efforts. Donnie is trotting behind her, bringing up the rear all while observing the controlled chaos that’s unfolding before him. Angie turns around with a wicked grin, “How fun is this!” Donnie laughs at the ground then flashes his honey hazel eyes back at her. Angie blushes but doesn't let him see as she too is now looking at the ground, the ground is very interesting you know. “Alright now that the main herd is in the first pasture we need to find the rest. They’re hiding on the ridgeline most likely.” Donnie nods in agreement though he truly has no idea what she’s talking about. They carry on down the trail, rounding the corner that further reveals the valley and all its hidden beauty. A mule deer and her fawns can be seen up ahead on the trail, the pair stop and watch blissfully. Accompanied by the occasional tail swish and the slight trickling of a creek, shaking leaves seem to harmonize in the breeze. “Keep your eyes peeled for the black and white paint, bastard’s always there with his little crew.” Sure enough the wranglers’ eyes wander up the ridge and see the trio of missing horses. “They’re as old as dirt and won't walk in the ring but will climb a damn mountain to avoid going into the corral.” Angie explains. It’s at that moment Donnie realizes they’ll have to climb the steep ridge to push the horses down. Donnie furrows his brow in disbelief, assuming Angie would be doing this herself. Angie shakes her head in disagreement and motions him to follow her. “Keep your body and hands forward, heels down, eyes up, chest open and don't fall off.” Donnie’s eyes widen in disbelief, he truly thinks this will be the death of him. They climb the ridge from the back, trampling over fallen logs from the fire that consumed the valley years ago. Donnie’s horse takes full advantage of his naiveté and drags him through every tree on the trail; pine branches promptly smacking him in the face. “Don't let the horse boss you around!” Angie hollers from the top of the ridge. A few moments later a now disheveled Donnie reaches the top, his stoic felt hat now crooked and dusted with pine needles. Angie explains how they'll push the horses from either side, down the ridge and towards the trail. Donnie, wanting to redeem himself from his clumsiness, confidently pushes the horses just like Angie said. “Good, good just like that! Lean way back.” The two encouragingly cluck at the horses. Finally, the geriatric trio moseys on down to the trail where they inevitably trek into the pasture.

“Okay one more group to go.” Angie sounds almost disappointed, she knows her time with Donnie will be coming to an end. Donnie excitedly agrees, he’s feeling comfortable with himself and Angie can tell. “This last group is made up of four mules and two horses. They get excited and kick but the horses will go after you so watch out”. Donnie’s eyes widen again and he asks if she’s joking. Angie reassures him it won't be too bad as long as he keeps his distance, she loves teasing him. They walk the trails, through the willows and up a small ridge to no avail. Just when it seems hopeless the familiar sound of cowbells leads the pair to their final challenge. They find themselves in a small marsh, uneven ground is a rider's enemy and the mules know it. Calmly, Angie walks her horse behind the small herd and instructs Donnie to stay to the side and block them from going further into the valley. The mule crew immediately picks up a trot but spreads out, half in the willows half on the trail. Donnie trots after the few on the trail while Angie maneuvers through the willows that whip at her face. Eventually she pushes the stragglers back on the trail but forgets about one spot where they could evade her. Right before they round the final bend, the trail splits. If the mule crew chooses the wrong path they’ll lose the wranglers with ease. Angie looks at Donnie with wild eyes and says “Lets ride!” Donnie insecurely trots next to her. Angie looks over and before she could say anything Donnie shakily says “I need to go faster, don’t I?” Angie nods in affirmation. They pick up the pace and finally break into a gallop. Donnie is bobbling in his seat but laughing in the sheer adrenaline of the ride, one hand on his hat and one on the reins. Angie is grinning from ear to ear making sure to look back and check if everyone’s following her. As the mules and horses kick and squeal they too pick up the pace, now tailing right behind Donnie. “Give’r a little kick!” Angie exclaims. Donnie looks determined now, he leans forward giving his horse her neck and she freely gallops with ease. If either of them were told that at 7:00 a.m they would be chased by a gang of stubborn mules down a red dirt trail, they would’ve said it was too good to be true. Finally they reach where the trail splits and Angie blocks off the only other exit, thus forcing the rest of the crew into the pasture with the herd. With cheeks red from the cold air beating against them, the wranglers and their rides let out a sigh but they're not done yet. They walk the rest of the trail, letting their horses’ heads hang low. “Angie”, she quickly looks up at Donnie, who snaps a picture of her on his beat up Kodak. She giggles, “What made you want to do that?”, “I don't know... memories.” Donnie cooly replies. They both blush, their cheeks red for a different reason now.

As the pasture approaches from around the bend, they see the horses have found the untrimmed grass more appealing than their dirt filled corral. Angie and Donnie silently trot up to the horses, pushing them towards their home. Donnie has a new found confidence that he quite likes, he shouts little quips at the horses to get them moving. Angie tackles some of the stubborn stragglers. A quick kick from a gelding almost knocks Angie off but she smacks the end of her rein on the brassy horses’ behind, making sure he knows who's boss. Finally the whole herd is in the corral. Angie swiftly swings her leg over the saddle and hops off. Although Donnie tries to mimic her, his belt gets stuck on the horn of the saddle. Panicking now, Donnie looks helplessly at Angie who contains her laughter at seeing a dangling Donnie on a not so amused horse. She helps him down and they quickly share a look. Praising their horses the sore wranglers begin to untack. Angie keeps an eye on Donnie but he doesn't seem to need much help, at least Angie will let him think this for the time being. They haul their heavy saddles into the barn, flop their blankets on the pile and hang up their bridles. Donnie leaves to brush his horse and Angie quickly adjusts the tack he thought he put away correctly, she smiles to herself. “Welp, that's it. How’d you like your first wrangle cowboy?” Angie asks teasingly. “I loved it.” Donnie bashfully replies. Angie explains, “I just have to fill the troughs but I’ll be done in time for breakfast, you don't have to stay. '' Donnie responds quickly, “I don't mind helping, I like seeing you in your element.” Angie’s dark blue eyes light up, “In that case, let's get to it then.”