She snatched her windbreaker from the coat hook beside the door
to the garage and stepped outside into the evening's coolness.
She wandered down the sloping hill to the high, solid gate. She
stepped through the gateway and hiked down the trail to the edge
of the pond with its narrow dirt path.
Eventually, if she followed it, the path would lead her to the
horse stables. Sometimes she rode Mighty Boy along here, circling
the entire pond and back around to the stable, passing her own
home on the way. Quickly and steadfastly she strode through the
twisted, tree-lined path in the moonlight. The stables lay a
half-mile ahead.
It was supposed to have been her night to celebrate the memories
of her marriage, but now she found herself thinking about the
scene that had taken place in Mighty Boy's stall the other day.
For better or worse, she had stopped him. She had admitted to him
that she and Matthew were having problems, but they were still
married, and even though she had desperately wanted him to go on,
she said she could not let herself be with him. He had released
her, and assured her that it would not happen again. Unless, he
said, she came to him. Since that day she had not gone back to
the ranch.
She slowed for a moment, then stopped. She absently stroked her
left hand with her right hand as she examined her present state
of mind.
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