by Leigh Bale
“Cade, can I speak with you alone for a moment?”
He turned, pleased to find Lyn standing close beside him, her brow curved in a thoughtful frown. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
They stepped outside, the afternoon sunlight shimmering across her golden hair. His gaze lowered to the pulse beating in her smooth, white throat. How he loved her.
“I...I want to apologize to you,” Lyn said.
He shook his head. “You don’t owe me an apology, Lyn. Really. It’s me who should apologize to you.”
“Yes, I do. I...I realize now how wrong I was about your physical therapy methods. I’ve been living in fear the past year. I’ve held on so tight to Kristen that I’ve almost strangled her. I didn’t realize how important it is to let her try new things and live and grow. You were right, and I was wrong. If it’s okay, I’d like to resume her physical therapy with you.”
Cade stared into her honey-brown eyes. A warm, tender feeling overwhelmed him. It must have taken a lot for Lyn to admit these things. And he admired her for pushing aside her fears and doing what was best for her child. No longer could he deny his love for her. And Kristen. If only he could break through the barriers guarding Lyn’s broken heart.
If only she could love him in return.
“Of course it’s okay,” he said. He touched her cheek gently with his fingertips, delighted when she didn’t pull away.
“And...” she swallowed hard “...it’s okay by me if you let her ride horses, too. You should know I’ve made arrangements with the BLM to buy Lightning from them legally as part of the roundup. Kristen can ride, as long as you keep a watchful eye on her. I don’t want her to get bucked off.”
His mouth dropped open in shock. He hadn’t expected this concession. Not at all. “That’s great. I promise to watch over her. I care about you both. Very much. No mustangs or roundups will ever change that, Lyn. Not for me.”
And he meant it. Though he loved the wild horses, he loved Lyn and Kristen more. He might not always agree with Lyn’s opinions, but he knew she’d tried to do right by the horses. Her professionalism and expertise would allow for nothing less. Because they respected one another, they could agree to disagree on many issues.
She released an unsteady breath and stepped back, seeming suddenly withdrawn. “Thanks, Cade. I really appreciate it. I’ll call your office on Monday morning to set up our next appointment.”
“That’ll be fine.”
Oh, couldn’t he say something better than that? She’d just agreed to let him be Kristen’s doctor again, complete with horse therapy. What more could he ask for?
Nothing, except her love.
As she walked toward the barn, he longed to call her back. To ask when he could see her again. Weekly therapy was fine, but he wanted so much more. He enjoyed being Kristen’s doctor, but it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. Not for him. He wanted them to be together every day. Like a real family. But that was just a dream. An illusion. Unless he could convince Lyn differently.
If only he dared tell Lyn his true feelings without driving her away again. But he couldn’t. Not unless he wanted to lose her for good this time. Weekly physical therapy wasn’t much, but he’d take anything he could get.
At least for now.
* * *
“I’ve made arrangements for you to return to Cade for your physical therapy,” Lyn told Kristen as they drove home an hour later.
A long pause ensued while her words sank in. Then—
“Do you mean it, Mom?” the girl shrieked.
Lyn nodded, keeping her gaze on the road. “Yes, I mean it. I’ve already spoken to Cade about it.”
“Oh, thanks, Momma. I can’t wait.” Jerking against her seat belt, Kristen leaned across the seat and hugged Lyn tight.
Lyn released one hand on the steering wheel long enough to hug her daughter back. She laughed, trying to focus on the dirt road and feeling as though a load of bricks had just fallen off her shoulders. “I thought you’d be pleased. Just be careful when you ride, okay?”
Kristen stared. “You mean I can ride horses again, too?”
Another nod. Another happy screech. Another tight squeeze.
“Oh, I’ll be so careful, Mom. I promise.” Kristen sat back and smiled wide, her slender body wriggling with delight.
“I’ve worked everything out with Dr. Baldwin. He’ll help you to be careful. And you’re going to play soccer again, too.”
“Really? Oh, I love you, Mom.”
This time, the hug didn’t end quickly. Lyn pulled over on the narrow road, wanting to share this rare affection with her child. Wanting it to go on forever.
They sat there for several moments with Lyn brushing her hand over Kristen’s long, soft hair. Lyn tried to absorb the emotions flowing through her, but just couldn’t contain the love she felt for her daughter. Thinking about the possible dangers involved, that old, familiar panic rose upward in Lyn’s throat, but she forced it down. She couldn’t stifle Kristen anymore. She had to let go, at least a little bit.
She must have faith.
“I’m so sorry I was hard on you, honey,” Lyn whispered before placing a kiss on Kristen’s forehead. “I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I was so afraid you might get injured. I thought I was protecting you. You see, I love you so much. After we lost Dad, I was so frightened I might lose you, too. And maybe letting you ride reminded me that Dad wasn’t here to ride with you.”
Kristen sniffled, her fingers coiled around the fabric of Lyn’s cotton shirt. “I know, Mom. I was afraid, too. That...that you didn’t love me anymore be-because Daddy died.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because it was my fault. If we hadn’t been going to see that horse Daddy wanted to buy for me, he’d still be alive.”
“Oh, no, honey. I’ve never thought that and never will. The accident wasn’t your fault. Not at all. I just wish I’d gone and bought the horse after the accident. We were thrown into a horrible situation, but your dad wanted that horse for you. So now I’m going to make it up to you. You need Lightning. We both do. To remember your father and how much he loved us both.” Lyn pressed her hand beneath Kristen’s chin and lifted the girl’s face so she could look into her eyes.
A giant tear rolled down the child’s face, and Lyn wiped it away with the pad of her thumb.
“I love you so much,” Lyn vowed. “Nothing can ever change that. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
They sat huddled together for several moments, the murmuring wind the only sound for miles around.
“I’ll always love Daddy, but I sure wish Cade could be a part of our family now,” Kristen said.
Lyn stilled, her mind frozen on that thought. It was too soon to love another man.
Wasn’t it?
“Cade will always be our special friend,” Lyn conceded.
“It’s not the same thing,” Kristen said.
Yeah, Lyn knew that, too. But she just didn’t know if she was ready for more.
“Come on. Let’s go home.” Lyn sat up straight and reached for the key. As she started the ignition, Kristen returned to her seat, her expression more serene. More secure and content.
Happy.
Lyn eased the car back onto the road, listening as Kristen chatted about the new soccer gear she’d need and her plans to help Dal train Lightning to stand at a tie beside the fence post.
A flutter of nervousness filled Lyn’s stomach. She knew she’d made the right decision to return Kristen to Cade and let her ride. For the first time in a year, she understood her child and felt close to Kristen. They’d reconciled and were mother and child, as well as friends, again.
But where did that leave Lyn and Cade?
N
owhere. Cade was Kristen’s doctor, nothing more. Lyn had too many obstacles in her life. Her profession. Her amputee daughter. Her broken heart.
Even if Cade were interested in her, Lyn couldn’t foist her complicated life on him. She didn’t need another love. She’d regained her faith in God. She had enough to fill up her life. Didn’t she?
So why couldn’t she stop thinking about Cade?
Chapter Thirteen
The day of the wild-horse roundup, Cade heard the whir of the helicopter before he saw it. And then the thundering beat of hooves sifted across the valley—a low pounding of the earth that seemed to keep time with the beat of his heart.
Sitting astride Flash on the top of a hill far away, Cade used high-powered binoculars to look toward the east. Lyn sat beside him on Apple, alternately gazing through her own pair of binoculars and snapping pictures with her camera.
Clouds of dust spread over the scrubby rabbit brush and sage covering the vast expanse of Secret Valley. The chopper lifted into the sky, sunlight glinting off its silver skids as it whipped dirt and gravel across the desert floor.
Cade liked this strategic position where they wouldn’t startle the horses, yet he and Lyn had an unobstructed view of the entire proceedings.
The chopper moved with slow purpose, invading the comfort zone of a band of mustangs. In response, the horses ran forward. To keep them from stampeding, the pilot pulled back a bit. In response, the horses settled into a gentle trot. Forward, backward. Working to keep just enough pressure on the horses that they’d move in the direction of the capture corral, without exhausting the weak and younger members of their band.
A shrill whinny, along with snorts and grunts, filled the air—a low commotion that grew louder the nearer the mustangs came to the pens, like the engine of a locomotive. The mustangs traveled the well-known path they usually took to water. They didn’t know they were in danger of being captured.
Not yet.
“That’s Beeswax.” Lyn pointed as a honey-colored palomino sprinted over the steep swell of rocks a quarter of a mile away.
The flock of horses followed, a mixture of duns and bays, some with jagged blazes down their noses. They were obviously related to one another.
Cade made mental calculations. Eleven, twelve, thirteen mares, Beeswax, another blue roan stallion and two young foals. Both of them colts. With creamy coats and long, firm legs built for running.
“I think we’ve got two separate bands of horses here,” he observed.
The horses trotted fast, the foals running to keep up. But not enough to endanger the babies by pushing them too hard. The fact that the colts never fell behind testified to the expertise of the pilot. He didn’t press the mustangs beyond their endurance, though Cade knew the horses ran harder as they neared the capture corral. That was when the chopper closed in to keep its quarry from turning back as they entered the wings of the trap. Young, weak or injured animals sometimes fell behind. That was what Cade and Lyn were here for. Outriders to help collect the stragglers.
The chopper worked the herd in an easy manner, which caused less stress on the mustangs. It wasn’t always this way. Last year, Cade had watched a helicopter drive several mustangs into the ground. Expectant mares miscarried, and healthy foals dropped dead of exhaustion. Just as Lyn had promised, it appeared this contractor was more humane, obeying the policies and not pushing the horses beyond their stamina.
“Even with the two herds meshed together, they all look strong,” Lyn remarked.
Resting one gloved hand on the cantle of her saddle, she gripped the reins in her other hand. Her voice sounded anxious, her eyes filled with urgency as she scanned the oncoming horde.
“Yeah.” Cade remembered that time on the mountain when Lyn had named each of the stallions for him. Beeswax was always agitated and into everyone else’s business. A serrated scar marred his hindquarters where a mountain lion may have clawed him years earlier. The mustang had escaped danger before. Would he do it again?
As Cade watched the proceedings, no panic set in. No breathless fear. No horrifying memories of war overwhelmed him. Just peace. Though he didn’t want the wild horses rounded up, he hadn’t seen any abusive treatment by the wranglers. Just lots of lean mustangs who needed food and water. And they’d get it as soon as they arrived at the capture corral. Like having your teeth drilled, this chore was something that must be done, but Cade didn’t have to like it.
The herd neared the trap where several trucks and spectators could be seen on the hill above the corrals. Cade could make out the wide girth of Billie Shining Elk.
“Is that—?” Lyn asked.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, let him watch. He won’t find anything wrong here.”
Cade hoped she was right. He’d defended Lyn and the purpose of the roundup. He’d never live it down with his tribal members if one of these horses was seriously injured or died.
The mustangs swerved in an effort to avoid the area inhabited by people, prompting the pilot to dip closer into the horses’ comfort zone. This spurred the mustangs to stampede toward the mouth of the trap where walls of burlap mesh had been attached to T posts. The solid cloth provided a calming effect on the running animals, blocking their view of possible escape routes, vehicles and people who might spook them into scattering. Signs of panic would be punctuated by wild running and self-destructive behavior. Fear would cause the horses to turn back, and the gathering process would need to be repeated—which wouldn’t do the tired mustangs any good.
But that didn’t happen. Not this time.
The burlap walls directed the horses uphill into the wings of the main enclosure. Rather than stampeding the wild horses for hours to the corral, the contractor had set the apparatus up closer to the mustangs. That meant less wear and tear on the horses, which brought Cade a measure of relief.
Water and hay had been included within the holding pens, along with gates and alleys for working and sorting the animals. The steeper grade of the path slowed the horses as they entered the alley leading to the capture pens. The contractor had set up the pens just over the opposite side of the hill so the horses wouldn’t see them until it was too late. That meant the mustangs wouldn’t flee and have to be gathered a second time.
A white stock trailer had arrived at six that morning for transporting the captured mustangs to a holding facility near Reno. Two volunteer veterinarians and eight BLM, Forest Service and contract personnel bustled around the system of holding pens...until the horses came into view. Then they all stooped behind the burlap walls so the mustangs wouldn’t see them and bolt.
Near the entrance of the corral, a contractor crouched low, holding the halter of a pilot horse. All was ready.
“They’re almost inside,” Lyn said.
The horses sprinted across the valley, the chopper in hot pursuit, controlling the mustangs’ movements to keep them from turning back. A melee of muscle, steel and dust.
A mare broke off from the rest of the herd, falling behind. The chopper let her go, focused on the main herd, not wanting to lose the band. The mare turned back the way she’d come, staggered, then stood with her head down, blowing hard. Too winded to go on.
“That one will be for us,” Lyn said.
Yes. Provide care and retrieve any stragglers who couldn’t keep up with the main herd.
Billows of dust and gravel from the rotor wash struck the horses and wranglers hidden behind the burlap. Some men tugged bandannas high over their mouths and noses.
A blast of static came from Lyn’s hand radio.
“We got a mare fallen behind,” the pilot warned.
Lyn lifted the radio to her mouth and pressed the talk button. “Affirmative. We see her.”
But still Lyn waited, not seeming in any hurry to go after the winded horse.
“What are we waiting for?” Cade asked.
Lyn barely glanced his way. “If we ride in too soon, the mare will run again, even though she’s all played out. She’s frightened and alone. Possibly sick. I want to give her time to recover so we don’t end up with a dead horse on our hands.”
Now why hadn’t he thought of that? Lyn’s insight continued to surprise him.
As the mustangs entered the mouth of the trap, Beeswax bolted to the left, wheeled around and fled. He was probably trap savvy, which might account for his nervous, watchful manners.
At the top of the hill leading into the trap, a wrangler released the pilot horse and the stocky gelding ran in front of the band. The mares and foals hurried safely down into the corral. Two BLM employees jumped up from their hiding places and hurried to close the gate behind the mustangs.
Then the men backed off, giving the horses several minutes to catch their breath. Their sweat-dampened bodies steamed as they milled around the enclosure, but most of them began to settle down. Lyn gasped when the large blue roan stallion smashed his weight against the metal corral, fighting to break free.
“No, Brutus. Don’t struggle, boy. You’ll just hurt yourself,” Lyn whispered beneath her breath.
Brutus screamed in fury, and Beeswax responded in kind. Cade hadn’t recognized the stallions, but Lyn had. She knew all these horses by heart.
Beeswax stood off a safe distance away, head up as he watched his family’s capture. Calling to them. Stomping his hooves with impatience. Frustrated by his lack of control. Cade felt sorry for him. The stallion’s instinctual duty to protect his band had kicked into high gear, yet the stud could do nothing to save his mares.
Likewise, Brutus fought his captivity. Twice more, he slammed against the tall fence. The crashing sound stirred up the mares around him as they scurried to get out of his way. The men backed off, letting the stud cool down. Giving all the horses some space so they would relax.
Cade held his breath, hoping Brutus didn’t injure himself. In their fight for freedom, many horses broke their own necks. Thankfully, the holding pen provided enough room for the horses to move and avoid fighting. Especially since this was a mixed band.