Aura And The One Hundred Thirty Two Horses

My adoptive father, Rhett Callahan, was the biggest rancher in the entire statea true land baron of the West.

The day he found out I was the lost heiress, he held me close, his eyes full of the vast, quiet sorrow of the plains.

You listen to your new parents, little Aura, hed rumbled, using the nickname only he used. The people in Manhattan are sharper than your old man, a rough-cut cowboy. Theyll mold my Nu-nu into a delicate little princess.

I nodded, trying to be brave. I hauled the cooler filled with the prime, dry-aged beef hed butchered himself and stood at the gates of the Prescott estate in Greenwich, Connecticut.

When Evelyn Prescott, my biological mother, saw me, she wrinkled her nose.

Jonathan Prescott, my biological father, scowled.

Skylar Prescott, the girl who had taken my place, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at my chest and sneered that I was a savage from the sticks.

My new parents ordered the housekeeper to use a scrub brushI swear, it felt like steel woolto scour the smell of the range off me. They forced me to sit through endless etiquette lessons and kept me hungry, claiming it would make me "delicate."

The Prescott world was nothing like Id imagined. My eyes stung, and I finally sat down in the attic room theyd given me to pen a frantic letter.

A week later, Dads reply arrived.

The measly Prescott Industries? Your Abba could buy and sell them for a coffee tab with the longhorns I own. Do not suffer their foolishness, Aura. Your Abba will be there in three days!

1

Skylar snatched the thick envelope from my hand, the rough texture of the paper crinkling under her perfect grip, and then she slapped me. Hard.

This time, I remembered Dads words. I wouldn't stand for it. I clenched my fists and focused my eyes, locking onto Skylar like a lone wolf tracking a weak calf on the open range.

My gaze made her skin prickle. She clutched the letter, taking a hesitant step back.

What are you doing? This is the Prescott house! If you dare to touch me

Warm-up complete.

I slid my right foot, dropped my center of gravity, and put all my core strength into my arms.

With a yelp of pure panic from Skylar, her body traced a sharp, clean arc in the air before hitting the antique Persian rug with a sickening thud.

A perfect, textbook hip-toss.

Jonathan and Evelyn rushed in. Skylars expression twisted into a caricature of pain faster than a spooked mustang.

Mom, Dad, I only asked what Autumn was reading! She just she tried to kill me!

They automatically ignored the bright red print of Skylars hand on my cheek.

Autumn Reed Prescott! Were those etiquette classes completely wasted? You resort to such crude violence against your sister?

My blood-stained year of experience in the Prescott house told me one thing: the more I argued, the more severe the punishment.

I stayed silent, staring at my worn boots.

Skylar wasn't done. She dramatically waved the letter.

Look, Mom, Dad! She got a letter from her savage father!

My heart squeezed tight. If they saw Dads proud dismissal of their "measly" empire, their fragile upper-class egos would shatter.

Jonathan and Evelyn squinted at the rough, looping script, which was written in Dads private ranch codea language only we spoke. They couldn't decipher a word.

They tossed it to Skylar, who claimed to know "simple Western dialects."

Skylar read the characters, her voice dripping with venom. Her poor adoptive father is clearly after the Prescott fortune! Hes telling her to steal as much cash as she can!

That was it. My dad was the largest landowner and stockman in the state, a bona fide hero of the range! He would never be reduced to a common thief!

Youre lying! I managed to choke out half a word.

Smack! Jonathans palm slammed across my face, the impact sending a ringing echo through my ears.

Havent you disgraced us enough? A Prescott heiress acting like some common brute who throws people around. You'll skip dinner tonight. You can spend the evening kneeling in front of your sisters room.

They guided a tearful Skylar away, their voices thick with exasperation and disappointment.

Theyre the same agebarely ten. How can their personalities be so different? Evelyn sighed.

If the whole adoption scandal hadn't been picked up by the news, damaging our stock, I would never have brought Autumn back.

Honestly, I wish shed just been lost forever when she wandered off at six months.

As they comforted each other, Skylar twisted her head around and gave me a wicked, triumphant smirk.

In this house, I was Autumn Reed Prescott. Only Dad called me Aura.

I sucked in a shaky breath, my fingernails digging hard into the soft flesh of my thigh.

Dad said girls raised on the range don't cry easily.

That night, I knelt outside Skylars polished oak bedroom door. My knees were starting to swell, and my stomach growled a miserable complaint.

A sliver of moonlight fell through the window, and a big, ugly whip scorpion crawled next to me.

I remembered being bored while watching the herd, and Dad teaching me how to find scorpions and race them. When that was boring, he'd teach me how to count our livestocka cow for twenty grand, until I reached thirty millionand then Id fall asleep, safe on his wide, warm shoulders.

Just two more days. I'd see Dad soon.

Drifting off, I gently cupped the whip scorpion and curled up, exhausted, by the door.

2

The next morning, Skylars piercing scream jolted me awake.

She was staring at the whip scorpion in my hand, her face paper-white, tears streaming down her face.

Autumn I didnt make you kneel! Why would you bring this this thing to scare me!

I saw the flash of cunning in her eyes and knew the performance was for someone else.

Sure enough, a dark shadow fell over me. A large hand snatched the insect away.

The next second, the whip scorpion was a two-part corpse on the polished marble floor.

Jonathan Prescotts face was grim.

Autumn, we have been too lenient with you.

Before I could speak, he waved his hand and summoned the head groundskeeper.

Bring Shadow over.

At the name Shadow, my pupils contracted, and an involuntary tremor ran through my body.

A smug smile played on Skylar's lips.

See, Autumn? Dad is just applying your rules. You can't accuse him of favoritism.

I instantly dropped to my knees, clawing at Jonathan's bespoke trousers.

Dad, I wasnt trying to scare Skylar! I know I was wrong!

He glared at me, annoyed, and kicked my hand away.

We gave you a chance! Skylar even hand-stitched you a welcoming doll, and you deliberately tore it to shreds and told her to get lost!

We assumed you inherited the superior Prescott genes and would adjust quickly, but its clear the rotten ideologies of your dirt-poor upbringing are ingrained in you!

The groundskeeper approached, respectfully leading a massive, heavily-muscled Rottweiler named Shadow. The mans face wore a sickeningly eager smirk.

I looked up at the dog. The last time, my ankle was shreddedthe tendons barely healed. A familiar, throbbing pain started in my foot.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony of the first day, when the Prescott family had collectively ripped apart any hope I had for a new home.

They had thrown away the special, cured side of beef Dad had prepared.

Skylar had brought the doll, pretending to be sweet, but the minute Jonathan and Evelyn left, she snatched the eagle feather Dad had tied to my belta mark of honor on the rangeand snipped it into tiny pieces with her scissors, calling me a country bumpkin.

I lost it. I tore her handcrafted doll to shreds.

When the Prescotts sided with Skylar, I protested.

Where I come from, adult grievances don't cross into the childrens arguments! We fight it out in the corral, and then its done! No hard feelings!

Dad had taught me that the vast land gave us the right to love freely and hate openly.

Jonathan sneered. Oh, you like to fight, do you?

He tenderly lifted Skylar, called the groundskeeper, and had me thrown into the kennel where Shadow was kept.

Jonathan and Evelyn had stood by while the dog tore at me for a full day and night. I spent half a year recovering in the hospital.

The groundskeeper gripped the back of my collar. Miss Prescott, lets go.

No matter how I thrashed, he didn't slow his pace.

Jonathan seemed deaf to my pleas.

I was suddenly weightless, falling into the kennel. Shadow, the Rotty, immediately bristled, bearing its teeth and issuing a deep, guttural warning.

I moved cautiously, playing a terrifying game of chase with the dog inside the chain-link enclosure for several dizzying rounds.

Skylar gave a fake, fearful yelp from outside. Shadow, startled and agitated, lunged. Its jaws locked onto my forearm. Canine teeth pierced skin, sinking into the flesh and tearing, hot blood spurting out. The intense pain nearly made me black out.

Skylar, spoiled and sheltered, had never seen real blood. She collapsed into Jonathans arms. Daddy, Im scared.

Jonathan tenderly covered her eyes. Its alright, my precious Skylar. Daddy is here.

Clutching my profusely bleeding arm, I felt a familiar haze of pain and delirium, and then, I heard Dads voice.

If the livestock goes mad, you tame it!

Abba, Im afraid.

Im here, Nu-nu. Dont be afraid.

Get on its back!

I spun around and scrambled onto Shadows back, clamping my legs tight around its torso.

Wrap your arms around its neck! You dont let go until it stops struggling!

I seized Shadows neck, pulling back with all the power I could muster.

Under the stunned stares of Jonathan and Skylar, the dogs violent struggle turned to whimpers, then a pathetic gasp, before it finally collapsed, foaming at the mouth.

Evelyn rushed over, muttering, What a sin, what a sin.

Jonathan just scoffed, spat out the word Crude, and stalked off, clutching Skylar.

I stood in the metal cage, covered in my own blood.

My last sight before passing out was Skylars face, a mask of pure, ugly defiance.

When I next woke up, Evelyn was crouched beside me, dressing the wound.

Half the muscle on my forearm had been ripped away; I was a hairs breadth from seeing bone.

She gently blew on the wound as she applied ointment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Why is this child so stubborn? Where did she get this temperament?

Mommy is so heartbroken for you. But Skylar is the only child Ive known since she was an infant. Listen to me, be a good sister to her, okay?

I reached out my small, bloody hand and hooked my little finger around hers.

Mom, I want my Abba.

Her expression instantly froze, turning cold. The ointment tube clattered to the ground.

Abba, Abba, its always your damn Abba! You are so ungrateful for the life weve given you!

She stormed out. The housekeeper cautiously inquired.

Mrs. Prescott, what about the wound

Its bandaged. The school gala is tomorrow, and the media will be everywhere. We cant afford any rumors of child abuse. It would be too much trouble.

I listened to the click-clack of her heels fading away.

3

The housekeeper applied some miraculous ointment that stopped the bleeding, then ordered the makeup artist to slather my face with unnatural rouge. I was stuffed into a hideous, frilly couture disaster, a sad attempt at a delicate princess.

I was compliant. Dad would be so happy to see me looking safe.

At the Charity Gala, my classmates whispered into their parents ears.

Thats the bumpkin who just arrived. She stole Skylars parents and bullies Skylar every day.

No class whatsoever. That blush looks like a baboons rear.

Good thing Skylars parents saw through her tricks. Skylar didnt have to turn into a poor orphan.

Was that really the truth? I watched as Jonathan and Evelyn crammed themselves into a single seat, preferring to hover over Skylar than give me a sliver of their attention.

Out of every child in the room, I was the only one standing alone in the center.

When reporters asked, Jonathan and Evelyn forced a strained smile. Shes not close with us. We respect her privacy.

The gala dragged on into the evening.

I bit my lip until it went white, my burning eyes fixed on the school entrance.

Abba are you going to break your promise to Aura?

On the stage, the Headmaster was thanking each corporate sponsor. The highest donor would receive the coveted Diamond Tiaraa social prize.

Skylar was ignoring me. She had worn the Tiara for three straight years, and this was her favorite moment of glory.

But today, after thanking Prescott Industries, the Headmaster paused, and the Tiara remained on the velvet cushion.

A flicker of annoyance crossed Skylars face.

Headmaster, where is my Tiara?

The Headmaster looked genuinely embarrassed.

This year, the largest corporate donation was not the Prescott family. It was from a private philanthropist named Rhett Callahan.

My stunned mind suddenly clicked, and a bolt of pure energy shot through me.

Its my Dad!

Every single eye in the crowded ballroom snapped to me.

What? I thought they said the Prescotts found this kid in a backwater town? How could he be richer than the Prescotts?

The kids just distraught from being neglected at the Prescott house. Shes probably making things up.

Skylar was furious at the sudden shift in focus. She charged at me, grabbing my ugly dress collar.

Autumn Prescott! Youre not just a nobody, youre a liar!

I am not! The Headmaster is talking about my Dad!

The rough tug-of-war ripped the delicate sleeve, exposing the horrifying, concave scar on my forearm.

A collective gasp swept through the room.

Good God! Has this child been abused at the Prescott house?

No wonder shes talking nonsenseshed rather go back to the country than stay here.

Cameras flashed furiously. Jonathan and Evelyn rushed over, and both slapped me.

It was bad enough that you tried to push your sister into a kennel! Now youre faking injuries for sympathy!

Im not faking Their own parents betrayal was a poison I couldnt combat.

Autumn Reed Prescott! Your father and I are taking you to a treatment center tonight to fix your twisted brain!

They grabbed me, trying to drag me toward the exit.

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