Wynna meets her master

When she could bear the silence no longer, Wynna said softly, “Anson.”

Anson grunted.

In truth, the only silence was between the two of them. They were surrounded by the sounds of the stables and of summer twilight. There were the sounds of horses, cats, and far-​​off barking dogs; the sounds of crickets and barn-​​swallows; the rustling of wind in the trees; and there was the laughter of the men outside, and the clanking of the heavy iron horseshoes they tossed in their game.

But Wynna and Anson were the only people in the barn, and they sat hidden from view on sweet-​​scented bales of fresh hay, alone in their silence. Wynna was normally a chattering, gossipy girl, but she did not know what to say to Anson, and it made her anxious and uncomfortable. Even when he was with her, he often seemed far away.

But she was tired of chasing after Oswald of the Birch Hill Farm. It would have been a fine thing to have been Wynna of the Birch Hill Farm, but Oswald was too busy chasing after that slutty little tiler’s daughter who had been leading a good many of the boys a merry dance that year.

But Anson had never fallen into step behind her, and that fact only proved his worth in Wynna’s eyes. He could see through the wiles of such a minx. It didn’t stop him from falling for other girls, but he always came back to Wynna in the end. That had to mean something, she thought. Didn’t it? She thought it did.

The problem was that he always left her again after a while to chase after another one. That was what she could not bear. And yet she always took him back.

But on this evening she had come back to him.

“What are you thinking?” she asked him.

Anson grunted again and mumbled, “I don’t know.”

Wynna ran a hand down his forearm. He had beautiful, incredible arms. Anson had a talent for breaking wilful young horses, and she knew the strength of his arms came from wrestling with their heads.

She also knew what his talent was: Anson was a born master. Just as one wolf in a pack always dominated the others, so was Anson such a man. Wynna, who ascribed her own submissive nature to the horses he broke, imagined that they struggled with him only to increase their delight when they surrendered to him in the end, by making it seem a relief to give in.

All through the months she had spent with Oswald and his friends, she had still come often to hang over the fence and watch Anson as he worked with the animals. What a contrast with polite, hard-​​working, lukewarm Oswald! Anson’s green eyes would be hidden to all but the horse beneath the deep scowl of his brows. He would spring lightly on his long legs as if the horse were his partner in a dance, and his arms would move like the snap of whips. He was as beautiful as the horse he sought to master.

Wynna knew he never paid any attention to his audience, but somehow she knew that he knew she was there. On those occasions his patience would be less. On those occasions he would show the horse who it was that led the dance. He would intimidate the horse into making a misstep, and he would show the horse that the horse was fallible but the man was not. He would show the horse that the man was not to be questioned.

Or so she had understood it. She had also understood that the lesson was not only for the horse. She had understood that he was, for the first time, jealous of her. His jealousy was like a new power in her hands, but Wynna did not know what to do with this red-​​hot, trenchant possession. She was amazed she had been able to forge such a weapon, but she only wanted to give it over again to Anson, who knew how to wield it, and trust he would not wield it against her.

“I missed you,” she murmured.

“You didn’t show it,” he said sullenly.

“I thought you didn’t care about me.”

“I don’t know what you thought, but it didn’t require any thinking to see that you don’t care about me.”

“That’s not true!” she protested softly.

“You don’t show it.”

“I will now.”

He only snorted his disbelief.

Wynna crept closer to him and laid her hand on his arm. “I never cared about any of those boys. I was only lonely for you.”

“You had me, didn’t you?” he snapped.

“You were walking out with Ana when I started talking to those boys.”

“I don’t remember,” he muttered.

“You’re always going after someone else,” she whined.

“I always end up back here with you, don’t I?”

“But then why do you go out with them?”

“Do you have to ask?” he said darkly.

“Oh, Anson! But those are bad girls.”

“I know. But that’s not what makes them bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know the difference?” he sighed. “They go out with any boy who gives them presents. They don’t care about the boys. And the boys don’t care about them.”

“Oh.”

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Wynn?”

“Yes!”

“Does it make you any badder when I kiss you?”

“No.”

“Does it make you any badder when I touch you here?” he asked and laid a hand on her breast.

Wynna gasped. It was not the first time he had done so, but never before had it come so unexpectedly. “No…” she whispered.

He reached around her and pulled her up onto his lap with his strong arms. “Does it make you badder when I hold you like this and kiss your neck until your heart starts to pound?”

“No,” she squeaked.

“That’s the difference.”

“What is?”

“It’s because I care about you. I don’t care about those other girls. But they’re all I have.”

“But I care about you too.”

“I don’t believe it. You only want me so you have somebody to dance with.”

“That’s not true at all! I care about you. I love you.”

It was not the first time she had said it, but he had never echoed it, and so it had been many months – over a year perhaps – since she had last dared to say the words.

Anson squeezed her and pressed his lips against her throat. “I don’t believe it. I wish it was true anyway. I think I’ll pretend it is.”

“It is true!”

“It’s a merry dance you’re leading me, girl, that’s all,” he murmured. “You only want someone to dance with.”

“No! No!” she whispered anxiously. She had to make him believe. “I love you! I swear!”

He slowly slipped her off his lap again and began to rise. Wynna clung to him in her panic that he would leave her, but in the end he only tipped her backwards so she lay on the bales, and he moved over her. From where she lay she could see up beneath the scowling brow and into his green eyes. For the first time she was seeing what only the horses ever saw, and she recognized, as they did, her master.