PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
He watched the horses through the snow, Winston whining at his feet. This was the life he’d wanted: his own man, beholden to no one, but not like this. He’d been lost when Sandy died, not sure he wanted to go on, but what then would happen to Denny and the other horses? To Winston?
“Come on, boy. Let’s get the stock in the barn. Ain’t got enough sense between’em to get outa the snow.”
The air outside hung fresh and clean and crisp, scented with pine needles and the growing storm. He stepped into the pasture, horses raising their heads to watch him come.