The sky was loaded since before dawn. Thick clouds covered the hills, and a thin drizzle fell on Heartland as if time itself knew what was ahead.
I didn't sleep that night.
I stayed awake, watching the attic ceiling as if the lines of a destination that I already knew were written there - and that I was desperately trying to change.
At 5:40 a.m., I went downstairs in silence. The ranch was still asleep. Jack snored in the ground floor room. Amy was quiet. And Marion, as always, was already up.
In the kitchen, she prepared coffee, her hair stuck in a hurried bun, her eyes tired, but firm. She wore a thick jacket and put on her boots like someone who had already been through everything - without knowing what awaited her.
- Ready for the road? - she asked.
I nodded. My muscles were tense. My heart was beating fast.
- You're going to let Amy rest today - I completed.
She looked at me for a moment. That look of a mother who perceives everything.
- You asked with so much conviction that I thought it was better to leave it.
Marion poured two cups of coffee. We drank in silence. The rainwater hit the roof insistently. Every drop felt like a reminder: the road is wet. Be careful.
Spartan was a show apart.
Black as the night, fierce eyes, indomitable spirit. Even injured, he struggled in the corral as if he knew that something bad was about to happen. He trampled the floor, pulled the leash, snorted loudly.
- He was never easy - said Marion, pulling the rope firmly. - But today it's worse than usual.
- He feels it.
- What do you feel?
I looked into her eyes. The answer didn't come out. I just walked next to her towards the trailer.
Putting Spartan inside the trailer was a tense task. The horse neighed, turned around, hit his head against the sides. But with patience, and maybe because he recognizes me - even without knowing from where - we did it. He came in. Reluctantly, but he entered.
Marion closed the back door with a snat and turned to me, taking a deep breath.
- If he continues like this on the road, we'll have problems.
And I knew we would have. Because I remembered. I remembered the speed. From the curve. From the rain. From the sound of metal being crushed. From the silence afterwards. And of the absence.
Marion's absence.
We left shortly after 6:20 am.
The way to Hudson was long, and the rain made everything slower. The dirt road to the main highway was slippery, and the trailer swayed every meter. Back there, Spartan moved all the time. The sound of the hulls against the floor of the trailer echoed like a hurried drum beat - as if he wanted to get out of there at any cost.
- He doesn't stop - I murmured.
- You're struggling more than you should - said Marion. - This can pull the trailer in a curve.
I swallowed dryly.
She was right. And I knew exactly which curve.
Twenty minutes later, already on the wet highway, the world seemed to become more and more familiar. The trees, the fences, the small puddles of water accumulating on the banks. It was like living a memory in real time.
And then, ahead, the curve.
Light descent. Fine Garoa. Asphalt shining like glass.
- Slow down - I asked. - This part is dangerous.
Marion was already reducing. But back there, Spartan gave a kick. Strong. The trailer swayed sideways.
- He's throwing himself! - she said, holding the steering wheel tightly. - If he unbalances more...
Another kick. Stronger. The trailer pulled the car. The rear skidded on the wet track.
- MARION!
She tried to correct, but the steering wheel turned too hard. The car slipped. The trailer turned violently. And then, everything happened in a single second crushed by the impact.
The sound of the metal. The breakage of the glass. The dry snap of the bodywork being bent.
The darkness.
When I opened my eyes, there was smoke. The sound of rain. And the smell of wet earth mixed with blood.
- Marion?
I turned around with difficulty. The driver's door was dented. Marion was lying against the steering wheel, her forehead bleeding, her eyes closed.
- Marion, talk to me!
I tried to pull her, but the belt was stuck. I got out of the car through the broken glass on the passenger side. I cut myself on the shoulder, but ignored it. I turned the car to her side, opened the door hard, tore the belt.
She was still breathing. But weak. Very weak.
- Stay with me... - I whispered.
A loud sound made me turn around.
Spartan
The trailer was on the side, but it was still moving inside. It hit the metal wall with the hooves. I snavered with despair. An animal sound that doesn't want to die.
I ran to him. The door was twooed, but I managed to unlock it. When I opened it, I saw his eyes. Full of fear. His hind leg was bleeding - the wound had opened.
- Calm down. I'm here.
I grabbed a rope, tied it to the sill and made strength. He hesitated. But he recognized me. Or felt me.
With a lot of cost, I managed to get him out - half jumping, half stumbling - and tied him to one of the broken fence posts on the side of the road. He limped, but he was alive.
I ran back to Marion. I knelt next to her, wet to the bone.
- Help... I need help...
There was no one around. Just the noise of the rain and the hooves shaking the floor.
I took the phone out of my pocket. Wet. But it's still working. I called the ranch.
Jack answered.
- Jack... it's Ty. There was an accident. Marion is hurt. The road... the curve before the forest...
His silence on the other side was short.
- I'm going.
I hung up. I came back to her. I held your hand.
- You're not leaving. I swore I was going to stop it. I'm here. Stay with me. Please.
She modied her fingers. But he didn't say anything.
The rain continued. And there, in that curve, on that road forgotten by God, I understood that fate can even change...
But he doesn't change for free.