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The two that stuck with him the most, of course, were those of his parents. They’d been so very different. His father, cut down doing the thing he loved the most—riding a bull—had at least died in a way that was heroic, in some way.
His funeral had been almost defiant. Dwight had bit his thumb at his advancing years, had tried to conquer a beast of a bull that had proved too wild, even for him. At his funeral they’d drunk, doing what they could to present a celebratory front, doing what they thought their father would have wanted. Playacting.
His mother’s funeral, though… that had been horrendous.
Martha hadn’t died doing what she’d loved. No. She had died of grief. And the bottle. Her funeral felt like an open wound, a scream that not even the most sensitive words of the local pastor could silence.
This funeral, Thunder’s funeral, surely wouldn’t affect Trent to the same deep level that his parents’ had. But it was raw. Painful.
Guilt is a rattlesnake, and it felt like there were serpents everywhere Trent looked.
Takis stepped forward, a somber expression on his usually jovial face. As he cleared his throat, the murmurs hushed, and all eyes turned to him.
“Thunder was more than just a horse,” Takis began, his voice thick with emotion. “He was a symbol of strength, resilience, and untamed spirit. We’ve all felt the impact of his presence here at Littlecreek Ranch, and we will never forget him.”
They were out by Martha’s field. They’d discussed where would be the most appropriate place to bury Thunder. Out by the flowers, people had decided.
A few members of the crowd wiped away tears as Takis spoke, but Trent could only stare at the casket, thinking about the last time he’d seen Thunder alive. He wondered again if he could have done something differently to save him, but now it was too late. Thunder was gone, and there was nothing left but memories.
He felt Patti, clinging to his arms. Poor thing had been inconsolable all day. At least he was with her. That was the important thing. He squeezed her arm and stroked her gently.
Chuck spoke now, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he looked out at the gathered crowd. “Thunder was a wild one when he first arrived here at Littlecreek,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “Untameable, or so we thought.”
Trent glanced over at Millie, who was crying softly, her shoulders shaking. He knew she had shared a special bond with Thunder, and his heart ached for her.
“Then, one day,” Chuck continued, “Millie climbed up on his back for the first time.” He paused, wiping away a tear before going on. “And something magical happened. That strong, wild horse responded to her tenderness, her gentle touch. It was as if they had known each other forever, like they were two halves of the same soul.”
As Trent listened, he felt his own eyes filling with tears. He remembered that day well, how Thunder’s wildness had seemed to soften under Millie’s loving care. Even though the horse had been the strongest and most powerful on the ranch, Thunder had also possessed a tender, sweet heart.
“Thunder will be sorely missed,” Chuck concluded, his voice breaking. “But he’ll live on in our hearts and memories.”
They lowered the casket into the ground. Takis had spared no expense for this one, sensing that it had been important for the morale of the ranch to give Thunder a proper send-off.
Each funeral attendee took turns throwing a little of the Montana soil onto Thunder’s coffin. It was a simple gesture, but as he and Patti did it together, Trent felt its power.
Rest well, good friend, under the sweet soil of your home.
It was moments later, that Trent felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Excusing himself, he glanced at the screen.
It was from an old friend, Glen Packard. Glen had been Trent’s favorite professor at college, but now the older fellow worked at the lab in Butte where Trent had been sending the samples from the animals. Professor Packard was one of the wisest, kindest men Trent had ever met. One of the smartest, too.
Trent’s eyes widened as he read. “Need to speak with you urgently,” the message read. “In person. Please come to Butte as soon as possible.”
A chill ran down Trent’s spine. He turned to Patti, his voice thick with emotion. “I have to go to Butte, Patti. Something’s come up.” He showed her the message and explained who Glen was.
“What do you think it is?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his heart heavy with worry. “It must be to do with Thunder’s results. I can’t for the life of me think what would need an in-person meeting, though. Whatever it is, I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Patti screwed up her lips and gave him a serious but kind look. “I know you will, Daddy. I trust you. I’ll miss you, though. Especially at the wake for Thunder.”
“Raise a glass of juice for me, sugar lump.”
*
Patti’s heart ached as she watched Trent mount his horse, the urgency in his movements betraying the gravity of the situation.
She hated being away from her Daddy, even if it was for a super important reason.
