Page 21 of Before Their After

“Can I come?” my sister asked from the top of the steps, a cheerful grin matching the sparkle in her eyes.

I glanced between her and the rest of my family. When we were little, our cousin would drag us out of the house for the day. We’d spend the day outside playing and wandering her neighborhood. It’d been fun, always felt like an adventure of sorts. Those kinda memories couldn’t be formed out on the ranch. It was always just us.

When we got older, we learned the reason for spending those countless summer days outside. Uncle Harris had … momentswhen struggling with his PTSD became too much. He needed quiet some days, and having a house full of kids didn’t help. Now, there were six of us in a four-bedroom house with no one to interact with but each other. Nowhere to be alone except out there.

“No,” I grumbled. Family was everything to me and there was a time when I’d lost them. James’s death had done a number on us. It was an accident, but that hadn’t stopped his words from haunting me every day.

You better pray you get a hold on your anger, or one day you’re gonna find yourself swallowed with regrets.

One slip up. One bout of anger. And I’d had to face the reality in his words. It was my fault he’d taken a hoof to the head. My fault my family had to make the decision to let James go, to come to terms that living through a tube would have made him miserable.

My father had mastered the art of quiet anger. The kind that kept you in control. His temper was short, but the way he released it was calculated. I didn’t know why I was angry all the time. Just knew I was more at ease when I was out with my horses. It helped me sift through the hard shit. The guilt.

“Yes, you can,” my mom challenged. She set a bowl down on the counter with raised brows. “Seth, take your sister with you.”

Reina had made her way down the steps, an eager smile plastered across her pale skin. I ruffled her hair as I strode by. “No can do, Ma. See you later.”

I had to get out of here. Things had been tense at the house the last few days. Hunter was oddly quiet and had disappeared into our room the moment our father dismissed the table. Reina, never one to miss a beat, did her due diligence, taming the quiet with empty chatter. Our father too, though his topics had a way of silencing her.

Rounding the corner of the house, an arrow pierced the wind, skimming the side of my ear. I huffed a sigh, whirling on my boots. Reina stood on the porch, her long brown hair blowing across her reddened face. She nocked another arrow in defiance. I grinned, tossing a waved goodbye before mounting my horse and riding away.

There was something to be said about Montana air. Even in chaos, it brought peace. Helped me strengthen my weakening facade. The world around me was undisturbed, beautiful, skies so blue and vast that it shut out all the pain and suffering that lay beyond our lands. It was why I came back after James. I could run, but I couldn’t hide from the love and safety I felt on our land. Without the horses I raised and the family I held dear, this was home. Always would be. Didn’t need much more than that.

A hawk soared above me, unusual since the change in climate we’d faced since the world ended. The usual frigid air had caused most birds to fly south permanently. It’d been rather warm lately. Well, warm considering the weather we typically got most days. Rolling hills closed in on the open sky as I lay back on Freedom, legs dangling over his broad back as he grazed lazily on the grass in the field.

I’d hated the name my sister had given our little runaway, but it’d soon grown on me after a late night of searching for him. Reina’s sing-song voice asking ‘Where’s our Freedom?’as she helped me search and avoid our father’s wrath at the missing stallion had been one of my core memories with her.

Our father had warned me to fix his stall for over a week since he’d first gotten out. Despite chasing after him damn near each night, fifteen-year-old me had been too hardheaded to listen.Too stubborn for my own good. Always had been. James and Hunter told me I was on my own after the second night, but not Reina. Never Reina. She always had my back, regardless our differences.

“Can I interest you in an evening hunt?” Hunter’s voice broke the sound of nature as it cut into the walkie at my hip.

I reached down, unclasping it and bringing it to my lips with a smile. “Ain’t that something. Came out your room with daylight to spare. With you? No thanks, better off with Reina.”

“You say that like she’s not the best shot in the family.”

A clipped chuckle escaped me as I paused, considering my answer. “Yeah, don’t let her hear you say that, though. She’ll never shut up.”

Reina, for as much as she yearned for the city life, was terrifyingly accurate with a bow and arrow. Since she was a six-year-old, annoying little girl tagging along on our hunts, she’d bring in the biggest game. A fact that irritated our father, expecting more from his sons. Hunter and James had always been the better brothers, refusing to hang their head in shame over the fact that their little sister had bested them. Congratulating her as if our father wasn’t offering them a glare promising punishment later. It was fine. That glare meant little for them. They could get away with it. They weren’t the family disappointment.

“You know what?” Hunter said. The static picked up, muffling his words. “I’ll ask her instead.”

Reina’s sense of direction was less than impressive. Not to mention she couldn’t swat off a fly without hurting herself. She couldn’t fend for herself even if she wanted to. She may annoy the hell out of me, but I’d imagine a life without her would’ve been pretty bleak.

“Nah, I’ll be back before dinner. We can leave after we eat.”

Hunter’s response never came. I clipped the walkie back onto the waist of my pants, slapping the side of Freedom. The sun cast long shadows across the open field as I guided Freedom through a series of barrel maneuvers. His body was sleek, strong. Riding him felt good, like I was floating through the clouds.

The level of fluid precision we moved with as a unit gave me the false sensation that we were one. Freedom’s hooves thundered against the earth from the cloverleaf pattern of barrels we weaved in and out of. Dust kicked up around us, stinging my eyes as I leaned into each turn, urging Freedom to pick up his speed. There would never be a barrel race again. The need to push for tighter turns and quicker transitions was a fruitless effort besides the pent up aggression it released for the both of us.

Freedom’s muscles rippled beneath his glossy coat, his nostrils flaring as I slowed us to a gentle canter after a few intense rounds. “Good job, buddy,” I murmured, gently patting his neck.

The sharp crack of gunfire echoed across the field. Birds erupted from the nearby trees, taking into a frantic flight. “Hunter?” I asked into the radio, my blood running cold.

Silence was a blessing in my life. It wasn’t often I got to experience it in my home. This silence, however, was the most torturous echo of nothing. It was loud, damning. Freedom lifted his head, ears pricked forward and muscles tensed. Reluctantly, I raised the walkie again, begging for a response. “Hunter, you good, man?”

My fingers tightened around the reins. Freedom’s muscles bunched as he leaped into motion, not needing further instruction on what to do. A heart beat pounded in my ears, the throb in sync with the rhythm of hooves. It took me a moment to realize it was mine. The once serene field that lay milesaway from my home blurred around me, the only focus now on reaching my family as five more shots fired into the air.

Won’t Look Back

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