Wild Horses Read Online Free PDF Page B

occasional whicker of a horse were the only music in Kai’s ears as he forced the prongs of his basket pick under a dark mass, liberating yet another clump of horse manure from loose sawdust bedding. He was careful shaking it, letting the clean grit fall through the gratings without dislodging his precious load. The pick was half-full before he upturned its contents into his ever-filling wheelbarrow. There was more to shoveling horse manure than met the eye; like any task, there was a way to go about it, and it had taken him three days before he learned to clean the stalls with quick efficiency. Horseshit was, according to Attila Keleman, mere stardust: it just happened to have been recycled through the rear end of a horse. If that opinion was good enough for his host and employer, it was good enough for Kai.
    His thoughts drifted to the events of the last week as he grasped the wooden handles of the wheelbarrow and lifted from his legs, pushing the load of manure to its pile behind the stables. The grounds were extensive and there was no end to the stardust production, and Kai was grateful, because that signified a semblance of job security. The main barn was an older structure with several attached outbuildings and a poured concrete floor, and that’s where the horses lived. Kai was impressed with Attila’s apparent wealth. Several paddocks were delineated in sturdy, white fencing, and there was an outdoor arena behind the new, wood-and-steel building where most students took their lessons. Attila’s single-story ranch house was down the grassy hill from the stables, and the pool out back was surrounded by landscaping. There was a large pond about a quarter mile from the house, and Kai knew that there were woods with riding paths beyond the pond. That’s where the wild, red stallion took him on his first ride, bareback and unbridled.
    Kai shook his head at the memory, got rid of the grin on his face, and assumed the expression of a penitent man who is atoning for his sins. He was prepared to work his hands bloody to retain his current position. It had been only one week since he had yielded to temptation and picked the pocket of a complete stranger. He didn’t know at the time that the cell phone he stole would connect him to the very man he worked for right now. It led him to a new way of thinking which had, ironically, started with the mobile phone owner’s text message.
    You are above such petty acts of thievery.
    That single sentence had been the last straw. Attila had flung it in Kai’s direction in his last-ditch attempt to retrieve his stolen iPhone and all the critical information it held, not realizing that he was texting a man who had been homeless for weeks, whose belongings were destroyed in a fire, and whose decision to pick a pocket was a humiliating act of a man at the end of his rope. The words stung what was left of Kai’s pride, sending him on a bicycle journey to return it.
    The sweltering heat of that day was still fresh in Kai’s mind. Back then, there was no way he was going to just walk up to the man he had wronged and return the phone—he was too embarrassed—so he hid in the tree line above the paddock, waiting for a good time to put the device somewhere both safe and obvious. He had a plan, but he didn’t expect to feel so fascinated by the horses.
    Kai dug the tines of his pick under another pile, suppressing a sigh at the memory of Vermillion and the easy way the red horse’s long legs ate up the ground under his gallop. The stallion was playful and curious as well as difficult to handle, and to everyone’s surprise, he bonded with Kai right away. Kai was now his special human, the one who was never kicked or bitten, the one who brought him apples and who spent time with him, helping him burn off excess energy. But Kai didn’t stick around for Vermillion alone. He would never forget the debt he owed a perfect stranger: a man who not only helped Kai in Kai’s moment of weakness,