Baxter apparently read MacGyver’s mind. “You’d need to outrun the wind itself to catch Massey now…”

Mac cocked his head, the thought of defeat suddenly giving him the answer. Massey was driving. That meant he was restricted by the road he was on, but if a person could travel overland, or as a bird might fly, they might just get ahead.

And if anything could outrun the wind, it was the mustang he was sitting on.

That just left one other small problem. If he could catch, or even get in front of Massey, then how could he stop a truck with a horse?

Mac gently pulled on the stallion’s mane, and insanely it obeyed, doing a one-eighty so he could look around Baxter’s ranch for ideas.

Some of the hands were replacing fence posts that had supposedly been damaged by the horses. It was ironic, but Mac thought this might be the answer.

He let the horse trot over without dismounting. “Can you loan me that sack, and those short sections of post with the nails still in?”

The cowboy scowled and it looked like he might actually refuse until his boss stepped in.

“Give him what he wants,” Baxter grumbled. “Any man who can tame a damn mustang like that deserves even my respect.”

MacGyver was tempted to admit that he hadn’t “tamed” anything, and that maybe the horse simply sensed his great love for nature and animals. But then there really wasn’t time for conversation, not if he wanted to catch up with Massey.

The ranch hand eventually passed him the sack with the short posts dangling from the end, and Mac managed to balance it in front of him. Keeping it there one-handed was going to be fun while at a gallop, but he’d do it, for Billy, and for everyone else Massey had wronged – including the herd of mustangs.

He tipped his head to Baxter in a silent thank you for his help, and then gently kicked the white horse into a canter that quickly developed into near flight.

MacGyver had ridden some fast animals in his time, but this stallion was up there with the best of them, even though it hadn’t been officially broken.

Deep down, he still couldn’t believe how it was behaving, but then he learned over the years that some things tended to defy logic.

The horse whinnied as if it knew what he was thinking, its legs skimming over the ground like it was some sallow phantom.

They reached the top of a brow and in the distance MacGyver could see the brush fire still burning. Below and to the right was the road that led to the highway.

And on it, Massey’s truck careered over the blacktop, his maniacal driving suggesting he knew the chase wasn’t over.

Mac nudged the stallion’s side again, asking it for more speed and hoping it had the stamina and was willing.

The downhill gradient seemed to help, and they were soon passing Massey and heading out to where the road snaked in front of him.

Massey went out of view as he drove between two outcrops of rock, and Mac guessed he had about two minutes to make his move before the killer emerged the other side.

Pulling up the mustang, its coat glistening with sweat and its nostrils snorting with exertion, MacGyver slipped down and took the sack he’d brought.

Taking his spoils into the center of the highway, he tugged out the nail-filled posts and laid them out, spikes facing upwards.

It would be a strange kind of justice if it worked; because Massey would be caught by the very wood he had sabotaged to look like the mustangs had caused damage.

As the last of the posts were laid out, Mac heard the roar of a motor being pushed to its very limit. The truck was screaming as Massey floored the gas and steered out of the bend.

By the time Massey had seen the posts in the road, it was all over – his front tires torn to shreds by the sharp spikes.

Enraged, Massey continued to gun the gas, trying to drive the 4x4 on its steel rims.

Sparks danced from the road as the metal grated on its surface, but without rubber to give traction, there was no real speed either.

Massey gave in a hundred yards down the highway and jumped from the cab.

But he hadn’t finished, not yet.

Pulling a revolver from his belt, he fired repeatedly in anger, without even really taking aim. Curse words spat from his mouth as he pulled back on the trigger again and again until the gun was empty.

He still pulled on the trigger, the empty chamber clicking around and around as if he were in some hypnotic trance.

Mac waited until he was sure he didn’t need to dodge any more slugs and approached the old man. He was about to ask Massey to give him the gun, and use the clichéd “it’s over” speech, but Massey had other ideas about that too.

As MacGyver got close enough, Massey tossed the Colt at him, and it was all the troubleshooter could do to evade being hit by the thing.

Using Mac’s maneuver to his advantage, Massey took a swing at his foe, narrowly missing as MacGyver ducked sideway again.

This time, Mac swung a punch of his own, catching the old-timer square on the jaw.

Massey slumped back with just the one blow, his age making his fighting skills less than a match for MacGyver’s.

Mac sighed and shook his hand, his knuckles tingling from the punch. He looked at Massey’s prone form out cold at the side of his disabled 4x4, and then realized he may have a transport issue.

Spinning around to where the stallion should be, he found empty space.

The horse, it appeared, had a sense of humor, and had trotted off into the distance. It was now grazing happily, but looked up to stare as it sensed his gaze.

Mac threw his arms up in the air. “Hey, how the heck am I supposed to get home without you?” He asked the nag, even though it couldn’t answer.

The stallion shook its head, flowing mane billowing in the wind, then it reared on both hind legs like a famous movie horse, whinnied, and then bolted over the nearest ridge like the wild thing it was.

MacGyver’s face changed from a frown to a smile as he watched it go, and was thankful to hear police sirens in the distance.

It had been a long and very weird day out of the office.

* * * *

Phoenix Headquarters
Sometime Later…

MacGyver strolled into his old friend Pete Thornton’s office and waited for a reaction. Pete was honing his senses – or so he insisted, and was convinced he could recognize a person with their “scent.”

To add a little fun to the proceedings, Mac had just borrowed a squirt of Nikki’s favorite perfume and was now grinning as he wafted it around the room with his right hand.

Some people would probably think it was a cruel trick to play on a blind man, but Pete wasn’t the sort to consider himself disabled by his affliction, and Mac knew he’d not take offence. In fact it would be part of the challenge.

“Mac, is that you?” Pete was smiling smugly. “That’s kind of a girly aftershave for a guy like you…”

MacGyver rolled his eyes and dropped heavily into the chair in front of Pete’s desk. “Did Nikki squeal on me?”

Pete chuckled. “And here’s me thinking you were getting in touch with your feminine side.”

As he talked, Pete shuffled carefully through some papers on his desk with his fingertips until he came to a paycheck. He offered it over to MacGyver. “You’ll find this includes a healthy bonus for services rendered. You definitely earned it on this one. We had no clue it would be anything more than a little conservation work.”

“You mean a murder or three.” Mac looked at the check and his eyes widened slightly. It was way more than he’d been expecting, difficult assignment or not. “So what’s happening to Massey?”

“Well, he’s been arrested and will stand trial for both the deaths of his wife and her lover, and of Billy. There’s no statute of limitation on murder.” Pete shook his head. “You have to wonder why, when he could have simply gotten a divorce.”

Mac shrugged. “I guess some people don’t see any other answer other than violence.” He noticed several letters from the Bureau of Land Management on Pete’s desk and sat forward, suddenly concerned about the horses he’d tried to save. “Any news on the mustangs?” he asked casually.

Pete sighed. “We have a problem. The horses have been moved to Phoenix land, but the Bureau of Land Management has finally stepped in.”

“Why am I sensing that’s a bad thing?”

“Because it is,” Pete admitted. “The Bureau is insisting the horses are sold to private individuals. There is apparently an over-population issue with wild mustangs, and they don’t want it perpetuating by letting them roam free, Phoenix land or not.”

MacGyver balked. These horses deserved to live and have their freedom, and red tape was going to take it away. “It’s crazy!”

“I know, and truth be told I think the Bureau simply doesn’t like it that Phoenix made them look bad with this whole situation. But that’s my unofficial take. The official one is that policy dictates that the mustangs are sold in situations like this.”

“There must be something we can do? Cant you pull some strings with your connections in the government?” Mac knew if Pete could, he already would have, but he had to ask – they had to have some kind of option.

Pete sounded just as frustrated. “I can’t change the law, and this particular one has been in existence since 1971.”

MacGyver looked at the paycheck in his hands, and the hefty bonus that went with it.

I’m freelance…not technically on the Phoenix payroll.

“Pete, you don’t actually employ me, right?”

Pete wasn’t sure where this was going. “Well, you have a contract, but I don’t actually recall you ever signing it and giving it me back after that Christmas party at the hospital…”

Mac smiled. “See, I knew there was a reason I didn’t put my name to that thing. That makes me a private individual, not part of Phoenix. And that means I can buy the horses and put them where I please. Somewhere safe maybe, like the Phoenix conservation area?”

Finally the penny dropped and Pete smiled too. “Hey, I like your thinking. I think I can arrange something along those lines.”

MacGyver handed his check back over the desk, letting Pete feel it with his fingertips. “I think you’re going to need this to make the purchase.” He stood up and turned to make for the door.

Pete apparently heard his footsteps and called after him. “Hey, I thought you went out there to save those horses anyway, not the other way around?” He was grinning as he spoke.

Mac didn’t turn back, but couldn’t resist a smile either. “Maybe,” he confessed, his mind filling with images of the white stallion. “Maybe…”

And with that he was gone, heading back outside to his bike to go take a look at Sam’s new apartment.

If it was anything like its new owner, Mac expected the place to be messy – on a grand scale.

But then, thinking about it, he did tend to hoard things too. Hockey games, hockey shirts, hockey sticks, ski poles, cowboy movies, pen knives, Harry’s pickup, Harry’s car…

Mac smiled. Hmn, maybe it’s hereditary?

* * * *

Phoenix Foundation Local Reserve
Nevada

MacGyver leaned on the white fence post, a bunch of paperwork clasped in his hands that said the herd of mustangs was now his. It had been a tricky deal, as the Bureau really hadn’t wanted them all to go to one person, but as always Mac and Pete had pulled it off.

Now, as he watched, the group ran free, the lead mare guiding them across the landscape as the sun began to set over the horizon.

It was like a scene from an old western, and one that he was glad to have been able to make happen.

In the distance, the stallion stood proudly watching over the other horses. He was well back from them, but close enough to join them if he perceived danger.

Hopefully, MacGyver would never be thought of as that to these mustangs. Not after what they’d been through together.

As Mac watched, the stallion started to canter towards him until it was just a few feet away.

It snorted, whinnied, and then slowly dared to walk up to the fence where he stood.

Large, intelligent eyes stared into MacGyver’s like the horse was baring its soul to a friend. Then, unexpectedly, it nuzzled Mac like they had been horse and master for years.

But MacGyver would never consider himself that.

He loved these horses, yes, but they were meant to be wild, and free, and that was the way he wanted it to stay.

Mac smiled and offered up an apple to the stallion. “I guess I should say thanks, huh, fella?”

He rubbed at its nose, and it gently took the fruit and then bolted, kicking its rear hoofs in the air like a playful youngster.

“You’re very welcome,” MacGyver called after it with a smile.

The horse slowed, turned to glance back, and then began to gallop over the horizon as the sun finally dipped down and was gone.

The rest of the herd stirred, and with the mare at the helm they too kicked into a gallop and vanished into the enveloping darkness of the soothing night sky.

MacGyver drank in the fresh air and the gorgeous view for just a moment longer, and then turned to climb into his newly repaired Jeep.

A thirty-year-old murder had finally been solved, the mustangs had been saved, and Mac was feeling like maybe he’d done one small deed towards the bigger picture of saving the planet from its worst enemy – man.

The End