A Knight's Vow

Is there another life?

Shall I awake and find all this a dream? There

Must be, we cannot be created for this sort of suffering.

-Keats

America

The morning was picture perfect in its glory of a sunrise, colors striking across the land as if shot from a kaleidoscope, immersing the grounds in a breathtaking glow. Dew sparkled like diamonds as the sun hit, burning the morning fog slowly away. The backdrop of regal mountains presented complete silence, as if they, too, foresaw something momentous was about to happen.

At the moment, twenty-eight-year-old Katrina Lawson—Kit to family and friends—lay stretched out on her stomach, overlooking the large herd of horses grazing on the plateau. Her focus trained on her now four-year-old stallion, Ares. Three and a half years ago, she’d had him flown in from Denmark and released him to run with the horses her parents raised. Now, it was time to get him back. He was her pride and joy.

One of her dreams had always been to show and breed Friesians. Now, with Ares, she had a chance to make her dream a reality. The fact he had been raised running throughout the mountains only added to her desire. She’d wanted her horse to be mountain raised as her parents’ Morgans were. At intermittent times over the past years, she’d roped him to make sure he knew her scent. Then, she released him, again.

Kit slowly backed up and rose before mounting her cutting horse. Another fine example of horseflesh, his burnished coat shone, a magnificent blue roan Morgan gelding. He was quality proof of her parents’ stock. She rode around, blocking the herd’s escape and went in at a run.

As Kit had expected, Ares came to defend the herd. While he wasn’t the herd’s top stallion, she understood this group of horses well enough to understand how he would react. Her stallion would face the threat while the leader would guide the mares somewhere else. She’d had utter confidence he would assist in protecting the herd. She released a well-aimed rope to land around his strong neck. With only a slight amount of strain on her part, she had him where she wanted him. After waiting for him to begin to accept the rope and ensuring he wouldn’t attack her gelding, Kit returned to the ranch her prize in tow.

When she rode into the main part of her parents’ ranch, Kit saw her parents standing by the corral where Ares was going to be housed until he was at least green broke. Her mother, Halla Ebony Lawson, who’d taught her the martial art, capoeira, from the time she could walk, and her father, Kevin Victor Lawson, who’d placed her on the back of her first horse.

Her parents had an extremely successful business, and she had grown up with unconditional love and support from them both. Her heart swelled as she saw them waiting for her, pride evident on their faces at her accomplishment.

She released Ares in the corral and left, closing the gate behind her, then dismounted with a smile on her face. Clapping her on the back, her father met her gaze. Love and admiration swam in eyes of quicksilver—ones that were mirror images of her own. “Well done, baby girl.”

He took the horse’s reins leading him away, leaving her alone with her mother. Kit looked down into soft doe brown eyes.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Kit asked, even though she knew the answer.

Ares was coal black and shone like he had just been polished, giving off a bluish hue in the late morning sun. His muscles flowed with precision with each move he made as he pranced and snorted around the enclosure. His unhappiness obvious to all who laid eyes upon him.

“We’re so proud of you, Kit honey. He’ll be a great horse for you. Just look at him, so proud and so strong. He’s so full of spirit.” Wistfulness spilled from the gentle voice. Her mother hadn’t been able to ride as much as she once had. Kit understood it was hard since her parents dealt with the selling and exporting of horses and cattle all over the world. Plus, her mom loved to ride.

****

Kit stared at where she’d hung her linguistics degree on the wall of her temporary room. Eventually, it would be on the wall of her office in her home, but that was currently being built, so she was staying with her parents until the construction had finished.

Stepping close, she readjusted it then again moved back. Languages had always been a love of hers. History also held some interest, so Kit had studied Latin, Gaelic, Russian, French, Spanish, Italian, Swahili, and Greek. Between her parents, they could speak most with her, as well. Now fluent in eight languages, as well as English, she was content. She grinned. For the moment.

Kit was a daydreamer. That was part of the reason she was so interested in the Friesian. The breed, in her eyes, was so beautiful. She stared out the window at Ares. Her horse fit perfectly into the scenery of those very daydreams. She often found herself lost in thought about knights and the code of chivalry. Unfortunately, these days, one did not come across too many true gentlemen. In her experience, chivalry had long since died.

Over the past few months, she and Ares had worked together many hours a day. They’d arrived at the point where she could run in a direction, and with only a whistle, Ares would come after her. When he arrived beside her, she’d grab his mane and swing up on him without him slowing. Then, they would keep on. She grinned, recalling how she’d acquired an uncommon number of bruises while she was learning that maneuver.

Everything she had heard and researched about Friesians was true. There was not a more loyal and friendly breed of horse, in her mind. Although, her parents would probably disagree since they raised and bred Quarter horses and Morgans on the sprawling Wyoming ranch, along with cattle.

She jogged down to the first floor to swipe the saddlebags she’d packed for her camping trip in the mountains. She’d decided to enjoy some alone time with Ares. After a fond farewell to her parents, she swung up on Ares and rode out.

She made camp by a mountain stream and let Ares roam free. She had no fear that he would try to leave, so he didn’t need to be hobbled. For a stallion, he was amazingly calm and loyal. Sure, others may argue her position on that, but while they were allowed their beliefs, she, too, was allowed hers.

She made a fire and got comfortable. While her dinner cooked over the fire, she moved to the meadow where she did her evening workout of capoeira. When that was done, she fed herself, made sure Ares was set, and climbed into her bedroll. With him near, she felt safe, for Ares would let her know if anything came close to camp. She fell asleep as the fog rolled into the valley.