Running Wild

the fuck?” Seamus asked the field around him, but nothing answered him except the soft afternoon breeze rustling the overgrown grass. He considered chasing after the man, but he didn’t think he’d keep up with that pace and those long legs.
This disappearing-and-reappearing act of Ri’s was a tad disturbing. Though maybe with the answers Seamus had given him, Ri had left for good. Funny thing was, Seamus couldn’t decide if it would be a relief to have Ri gone, or if he would be disappointed.
Despite his best intentions, he was intrigued.
Chapter Two
    Seamus spent the next two days feeling on edge. He toyed with the idea of calling someone, sounding them out on their thoughts about this man called Ri and his two mysterious appearances. When Seamus was feeling fanciful, he imagined that Ri had arrived by some kind of portal and departed the same way, leaving no trace that he’d been here. Except what was left in Seamus’s memory.
    Which freaked Seamus out a little. Because it reminded him of the nightmarish time when he’d been chased by thugs in the middle of the night and escaped on a horse. Or, he thought that had happened but hadn’t been able to convince others. Zachariah had refused to talk about Seamus’s arrival beyond the bare minimum of showing up one morning in his backyard. And once, while completely smashed, Seamus had been coaxed to describe the night to thenboyfriend Pete, who’d proceeded to laugh like Seamus was hilarious—which had segued into a yelling match and on to make-up sex, never to be referred to again.
    Okay, so Pete had never been the most sensitive person in the world, but Seamus hadn’t presented the story in the right light if he’d wanted to be taken seriously. He could call up Pete—he was in law school, he was always happy to hear from Seamus—and ask him what he thought of the grandson angle.
    But he didn’t pick up the phone, didn’t want to talk to Pete and close the distance he’d worked hard to create post-breakup. Instead he waited to see if Ri would show up again.
    Ri didn’t but Zachariah’s “other” grandson made an appearance that evening as twilight hit. The horse announced his arrival with a loud neigh.
Seamus almost dropped his glass. The neigh came a second time, demanding an audience. It was how the horse used to summon Zachariah, and Seamus got hit with that grief. He kept thinking he and Zachariah hadn’t been close, that he’d come to terms with the old man’s death. Then the grief would surprise him. This animal could never understand that the human it was asking for was gone.
Seamus pulled himself together and trudged outside.
The horse stood closer to the house than usual, ears forward, body alert, tail high, anticipating human interaction even though it was wild.
He felt like he was slumping his way over. Zachariah should have been here. Not him. The horse always shied away from him. It was going to toss its head and run, and Seamus would be left here depressed that he couldn’t comfort a horse.
But Black stayed still. In fact, the horse seemed very interested in him.
Seamus walked closer and stopped. Zachariah had always let it make the final steps before contact, and Seamus followed his example. A soft nicker preceded the horse’s approach, and then he started blowing and whuffing all over Seamus, reminding him of the night Black had rescued him. The memory felt so real, here and now, with Seamus the center of its attention.
The trembling began inside, and Seamus couldn’t stop it. His entire body shook as the horse inspected him and seemed to try to comfort him, touching his soft nose to Seamus’s hand and standing right beside him. Experimentally Seamus leaned on its shoulder. It was the first time they’d had physical contact in seven years. Odd that. Seamus wondered how old Black was. It didn’t look much older.
He drew in a deep breath and spoke, despite the uselessness of speech. “Zachariah’s dead. I’m sorry I can’t make you understand that. I’m sorry you’ll never know. And I’m sorry I didn’t visit him last year. I got too busy with work and a new boyfriend, not that that worked out, and… Well, they’re all poor excuses.”
The horse gave a full-body sigh.
“I’m glad you’re still fine. Zachariah worried about you. That someone would take a shotgun and shoot you as a nuisance. Which seems crazy to me.” Seamus stroked that strong, dark neck. “How can something so beautiful be a nuisance? You