It was a small house. More akin to a cottage with a sturdy picket fence in front that bloomed with the stubborn vine of an heirloom Morning Glory each spring. By May, the first seedlings would be seen poking their heads from the cold compacted soil, heedless of any snow or frost that dared to give it challenge. By mid-May the fence would be completely hidden behind a thick blanket of green heart-shaped leaves and deep blue trumpet shaped blossoms. But right now it was early January, and the small yard was still asleep beneath the evening’s recent blanket of snow.

Samantha De La Croix stood in the protective shadows of her darkened front porch, staring intently at the bare picket fence as she sipped her cup of coffee. If she followed her usual routine she’d be locking up the cottage at the end of March and turning the keys over to a property management company in town. By April she’d be working again in Colorado, catching up with family and friends. If she followed her usual routine she’d be preparing to cut any lingering ties before she moved on and start getting her house ready to be inhabited by vacationing strangers once again. But tonight Samantha had suddenly realized that this year she would be able watch as her garden was taken over by a rogue botanical mutation and that she would, in all likelihood, plant several rows of corn along the side yard in late spring. Like her Morning Glory, she was putting down roots and was going to stay here in Stowe, Vermont.

Her decision surprised her, even though she’d been feeling the pull to settle in somewhere for the past couple of years. She’d somehow always assumed that she’d eventually go back to Colorado for good one day, perhaps even marry and perhaps start a family of her own. The notion was always vaguely distant, like a ship far off on the horizon. But this night as she stood in her bathrobe and warm buckskin slippers studying the night clouds rolling thick and heavy above her, she realized that it had been meant for her to settle in Vermont all along. She wasn’t quite sure exactly what was destined to happen, but her heart was suddenly hopeful and the notion to stay was cemented after awaking a few moments earlier from an extraordinary dream.

It didn’t seem fanciful, despite the little voice in the back of her mind that tried to goad her into recanting.

Hopeless, foolish romantic, it chided.

Her back bristled at the notion and she took in a deep breath of frigid night air. Standing taller, she squared her shoulders and stubbornly set her jaw. “Go away. Lot of good my listening to you has done.”

A pickup with a bad muffler drove by, startling her out of her thoughts. Fighting back a shiver, she turned and went inside where it was warm. Flicking on a small lamp near the couch, she took a good look around her living room. It was cozy; decorated in more feminine version of southwestern style, with lots of lacy pillows and several well worn quilts draped across the backs of a couple of overstuffed reading chairs or folded neatly in a faded turquoise pie safe with tin punched doors. A wide coffee table made from the door of a cast-off old cupboard held a stack of fashion magazines. Along the fireplace mantle was a weathered tin star that she found one afternoon while junk shopping, surrounded by various family photos and three very old kachina dolls; Morning Singer, Eagle Dancer and Crow Mother, her most treasured possessions. Hanging just in front of the fireplace was a small dreamcatcher she’d made as a child. The leather was coming loose along a couple of spots of the circular frame and the feathers had borne their share of wear and tear over the years, but she was always comforted by its presence. The memory of her dream echoed back through her consciousness and after throwing another log onto the dying fire she turned out the lamp and snuggled back into her bed to consider its meaning.

The dream had started simply enough. In it, she had been walking through a thick tangle of woods, making her way towards a clearing in the distance. She had been walking for miles, steadily climbing higher as the air grew colder, her legs aching as she drew nearer the top. As the woods began to thin the terrain became rockier, she heard the roaring of a river in the distance. Off toward the east the sun was rising and her dream self wondered how that was possible, for hadn’t she been walking in daylight for hours? She’d recalled the sun shining through the tops of the trees as she made her way up, feeling its heat through the dappled openings in the thick canopy of overhead branches.

But the sight was glorious. The sky erupted in a blanket of coral and aqua, drowning out the far off tinkling of the stars with a symphony of trumpets all calling out in one bright exalted sigh. Looking behind her, the forest was no longer visible and she found herself standing high on a mountaintop, surrounded by glistening snow. Then the snow began to melt, wildflowers sprang up from the cracks and crevices and birds began singing. Overhead, a red tailed hawk soared.

Then she heard it; an unmistakable neigh that called out in defiance followed by the sound of hoofs pounding, growing louder as the sun climbed higher in the sky. Her heart beat faster as the hoof beats drew nearer, then another sound called out in answer; the smaller neighing cry of a younger horse. Turning quickly just as the sun reached its zenith, her eyes beheld a great cream colored stallion, nodding and shaking his head in challenge as his eyes rolled back in his great handsome head. His hoofs dug at the ground, scattering thick clumps of earth about him, and as they fell back into place great red wildflowers sprung up all around her.  

Then a young colt appeared; legs long and gangly with a coat a little lighter than his sire. A lighter patch in the shape of a diamond crowned his forehead. The stallion tuned and nipped at the colt as if calling him into place and the younger horse neighed in protest as he came to stand alongside him. He shook his head again and Samantha stepped closer, speaking in a soft sing-song tone.

“Easy you sweet handsome thing. I mean you no harm.”

The colt nickered and stepped forward, dipping his head and taking a few bites of the red wildflowers as he approached. The stallion didn’t move but watched as Samantha held out her hand and the colt nuzzled it in affection.

“My, you’ll be just as handsome as this big one some day.”

The colt snorted and pranced back a few steps and Samantha laughed. “Well, you probably don’t appreciate such comments right now, but I’ll bet your sire sure likes it when the mares look his way.”

The next thing she knew the stallion nudged up beside her. She could feel the strength of the great beast, knowing that he was capable of mortally wounding her if it took the notion to do so. But she made a gentle nickering sound of her own, a trick she learned as a child growing up around several work horses in her family’s stable. The stallion dropped his head and she scratched along his velvety soft ear, caressing it gently between her fingers before moving over to the other ear. The stallion snorted happily and nuzzled her shoulder, his green eyes shining in happy ecstasy.

The moments passed like hours as she caressed the stallion’s forehead, running her fingers through his thick tangled mane. It had been far too long since she’d allowed herself the luxury equine company; in her waking life she was always too busy to take the time for something that had once brought her so much pleasure. But here in her dream, she realized that she’d been denying a part of her waking self one of the truly magical pleasures that had been with her since early childhood.

“Oh, how I wish I could bring you both home with me.”

The air began to change suddenly and the stallion’s head shot up; his eyes rolled about wildly as the sky began to darken. It was then that Samantha realized that the beautiful colt had wandered away from them. A cry of anger from the stallion as he reared up on his hind legs and Samantha threw her arms up over her head, knowing what was to follow. But the stallion didn’t harm her.

Off in the distance she heard the now familiar cry of the little colt and the stallion screamed loud in answer, backing away from her and taking off the same way it had come. The wind kicked up and the sky grew darker, and as a bolt of lightning appeared overhead she awakened with a start.

She knew before she even crawled out of bed and put on her robe what the dream had meant. As she mulled the notion about over a cup of microwaved coffee, she recalled the words she exchanged with old Henry McDonald, homeless town drunk, while sipping hot coffee in a cold frozen football field this past Christmas Eve.

“You know me, Uncle. I like to keep moving.”

“You’re gonna stay this time.”

“No way. The new Sheriff is unbearable and there’s nothing to really hold me here after the winter.”

“He’s aware of your presence and he longs for your comfort. Only he hasn’t realized it just yet.”

“The Sheriff? If he had his way, he’d just as soon tie me to the dispatch desk.”

Henry waved his hand. “Not him. The other one. And you’ve noticed him too, but you’re too stubborn to let him see that you’re interested.”

“Now you’re talkin’ in riddles.”

Henry laughed. “I calls ‘em as I sees ‘em, kid. You’ll understand after you find the lost colt.”

It hit her full force as she stood out on her porch, taking deep gulps of cold air. Why hadn’t she realized it sooner? Had it really been so long since she’d felt this strongly about someone? It didn’t matter that she knew very little about him. She’d sensed his heart and soul this past Thanksgiving as surely as she tasted the bitterness of her reheated coffee.  She’d been aware of him from the moment he arrived in town and when he’d made the attempt to strike up a conversation with her she’d backed away. Why’d she do such a pickle-brained thing?

The answer was simple. She was scared. Yup, big bad lady cop was frightened by an achingly handsome who man had only been trying to tell her that he was interested in getting to know her better. She’d chased down fleeing criminals, grappled with belligerent revelers and had even kicked Sheriff Wade in the shin. She’d tried to deny it, but it was now unmistakably clear.

She was in love with Egan Walsh.

Samantha groaned for even considering such an outlandishly sleazy idea. Good grief, but she had it, BAD.  Slowly, she began to relax and right before she drifted back to sleep she could have sworn she heard a horse neighing somewhere in the distance.