The Community Issue

“They’re athletes. Bred for this kind of work.

They don’t know any different.”

“My dog felt like a sibling. I don’t think I’ll ever feel more devastated by anyone’s death.”

“How old are they?” The horses ran through the fields and forests like children. Then again, so had Tate and he was fifteen when he passed.

Jessa looked away from the river and over to him. “That’s why I like riding. When I’m out in nature, away from any civilization, I feel like she’s still with me.”

“Not sure” Jessa shrugged. “Most of them were here before I was born.”

Thomas looked out to the river. A doe and her spotted fawn were crossing the shallow rapids further upstream from them. Jessa began picking up flat rocks and trying to skip them downstream.

“You know, they say this intersection of the river causes animals to live longer. We have some horses here that are older than any I’ve heard of.”

“Like how old?” Thomas wasn’t sure if she was messing with him.

Jessa shrugged. “Probably an old wives’ tale.

The Montana air’s just good for them.”

“I’d give anything for a magical river like that.

My dog died less than a year ago.” Tate was the only one who ever fully understood Thomas.

How it felt to be alone, carted back and forth from one home to the next. If he told his parents he had felt close to his dog in a way he’d never feel with them, they’d think he was crazy.

Now all he had was himself.

“My dog was killed by a mountain lion when I was young. That’s why my dad hates them. And they’re dangerous around horses.”

“I’m sorry.” He wondered if Jessa had felt the sheer pain he had.

“It was a long time ago.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get over my dog’s passing.”

“As they say, time heals most things. Besides, they really are just old fleabags when you think about it.”

35

“I can see that.” Every time he’d seen an animal, or particularly intricate tree that morning, Thomas’s thoughts had turned to his deceased pet. “If that mountain lion hadn’t killed her, I wonder how long she would have lived?

“I imagine the oldest dog ever. She used to love to swim in this river.”

Still, Thomas couldn’t tell if this was her typical playfulness or if this tiny part of the Montana wilderness really did have extraordinary powers.

After resting for a while longer, they led the horses down to the river for a drink.

“You ready to cross?” Jessa smiled once they were both back up in the saddles.

“Here? Now?” Thomas felt himself missing the solidity of the earth below.

“Don’t worry, these horses cross all the time.

And they know how to swim if anything bad happens.” Without waiting for another response, she began to lead Sentinel through the bubbling water. Landlocked followed close behind.

The horses’ shoes made pleasant clip-clop sounds on the rocks as they trudged through the depths. Eventually, Thomas had to lift up his boots from the stirrups and place his feet high on either side of the horse’s flanks so that the freezing water didn’t touch him.

They reached the muddy edge of the other riverbank. Sentinel moved to begin climbing toward the tree line again, but Jessa pulled back on the reins and frowned down at the mud.