Wild Mustang

by Jane Toombs

  “A challenge. He’ll never get any mares otherwise.”

  “You mean he’ll try to take them away from the black stallion?”

  Shane nodded. “He has to fight him and win first.”

  “Is that the only way a bachelor can ever get a mare?”

  “Usually. Once in a while a mare will stray away from a ranch and hook up with a bachelor. And occasionally one’ll get stolen from a harem by a sneaky loner.”

  “You mean the mares aren’t loyal to the stallion who keeps them in his harem?”

  He shook his head. “The poor guy is kept busy rounding them up. The more he collects, the harder he has to work to keep them all together.”

  “I take it a harem of women is not your ideal.”

  He slanted her a look. “One woman at a time is sometimes too many.”

  Laura decided not to touch that one. “Should we take camping gear tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Best to. The herd may travel a distance between when you saw them this afternoon and tomorrow morning. Or we may not even spot them.”

  She wouldn’t admit it to him for the world, but she was looking forward to that night camp. They needed to be alone, without Grandfather or Sage. As Shane had said, they needed to talk. And what else did they need?

  Her body had told her what she needed quite clearly when she was wrapped in his arms on the couch earlier today. Laura sighed, feeling as though she’d been caught up in an unexpected torrent that was rushing her along a course she could neither predict nor change.

  She found it frightening, but at the same time exhilarating—even if she didn’t know where she’d wind up.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When they rode out the next morning rather late, Laura thought Shane seemed preoccupied. Which was okay with her, since she herself had more than enough to think about.

  She was beginning to realize there was not going to be an easy way for her to ride off into the sunset. She couldn’t bear to hurt Sage, for one thing. The girl really did need her. Glancing at Shane, she wondered how he felt about her leaving. As for her, part of her insisted it was the only way to avoid disaster, but, just the same, she no longer wanted to go.

  She did have to finish documenting the condition of the western herds for the grant, which meant temporary stays in other states. After that, though—what?

  Though she knew hearts didn’t grow lighter or heavier, the sensation in her chest felt very much as though her heart was heavy. As if matching her mood, a cloud slid over the sun, making Laura look up at the sky.

  “I thought you told me it didn’t rain in the summer here,” she said.

  “Hardly ever does.”

  “Those look like rain clouds to me.”

  “We do get clouds, but it’s so dry this time of the year that they dissipate.”

  “Well, okay, but if this was back east, we’d be heading for a thunderstorm.”

  “The mountains shape our weather. Most of the rainfall is on the California side. We get only what manages to make it over the peaks.”

  “You know, I never thought I’d come to appreciate this high desert country.”

  “So you told me before.”

  She shot him an annoyed glance. She might be repeating herself, but he didn’t have to remind her.

  To her right a covey of quail fluttered up from the sagebrush, landing almost immediately to hurry away on foot from the horses, their topknots quivering.

  “It’s amazing to me how many birds and animals live around here,” she said. “It doesn’t seem like there’d be enough to eat. And please don’t point out who eats who.”

  She watched a reluctant smile tug at his mouth. “You don’t want to hear about the food chain?”

  “Supermarkets are food chains as far as I’m concerned.”

  That brought a chuckle from him. “Was it about here you spotted the bachelor herd yesterday?”

  Laura nodded, pointing. “They were headed that way.”

  “In a hurry?”

  “No, just sort of ambling along. That one white stallion really stands out.”

  “He’s smaller than the rest. Might be some Arabian blood showing up like it does from time to time.”

  As they rode on, she realized Shane had been right about the clouds. They were thinning rather than thickening. Dissipating, as he’d said. He should be an area weather expert—after all he’d lived here all his life.

  Roots. Somehow she’d failed to put down any, not even at her childhood home. Was it because they’d moved after that October?

  Pushing that thought from her mind, Laura focused on Shane again and found him looking at her. “Grandfather dreamed last night,” he said. “I heard about it this morning.”

  “One of what Sage calls his true dreams?”

  “He thinks so. In his dream Coyote was trying to get into the house. He would have—the doors were wide open—if the palomino mare Grandfather saw in an earlier dream hadn’t chased Coyote away. This was not a coyote, you understand, but the Trickster himself.”

  She nodded. “I think I’m supposed to be the palomino from that earlier dream, but I don’t understand either that dream or this one. Or for that matter, the last dream I had.”

  “I’m not too sure about Grandfather’s Coyote dream myself. He assures me it’s a good omen. I hope so.” The grimness darkening his last few words made her stare at him.

  Was Shane’s heart heavy, too?

  “Coyote was in that piece of wood you were asking me about awhile back,” he said. “I let him loose.”

  She knew he was talking about his carving, but didn’t see what that had to do with Grandfather’s dream.

  “And I also finally saw what was in an odd-colored chunk I collected a couple years ago,” he went on. “Could never make it out until yesterday.”

  “Does that happen often? That it takes years for you to tell what you want to carve out of a particular piece of wood?”

  “Once in awhile.”

  “I’m afraid you having had to shepherd me around has put you behind in your carving.”

  “Some,” he admitted.

  His answer wasn’t exactly to her liking. What had she expected him to say? she asked herself. That being with her was worth it?

  He checked his horse as he examined the ground, so she slowed, too.

  “Some mustangs passed this way,” he said. “Could be the bachelors.” He scanned the sweep of land.

  She followed his gaze and saw nothing moving. Certainly no wild horses.

  “Best to keep fairly close to the stream,” he said. “We’ll be camping near it tonight if we don’t locate the herd in the next couple of hours.”

  She glanced up to check on the clouds. Still there, but now with gaps in between. Overhead, a hawk soared in a thermal, spiraling higher and higher.

  “I never understood how hawks can possibly spot prey from way up there,” she said.

  “I thought what eats what was taboo talk.”

  She made a face at him.

  He grinned at her, the weight in his chest easing some. The solid conviction that if he didn’t pull it off tonight it’d be too late, had plagued him since late yesterday. That was one of the reasons he’d spent half the night carving. For what he’d seen in that strange-colored chunk was part of his scheme, and he’d needed to finish carving the animal in order to put it to use.

  What if his plan didn’t work?

  Shane shook his head. It damn well had to. Otherwise they’d both lose their chance to stay together.

  A while later they stopped to rest their horses and have something to eat. They were on their way again when he was alerted by a faint sound carried on the wind that had risen, as usual, in the afternoon. Shane halted the gelding and swiveled his head from side to side, trying to pinpoint the sound.

  “Do you hear anything?” he asked Laura.

  She tilted her head to listen, then frowned. “Did someone—something—scream? It sounds pretty far away.”
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br />   “Stallion challenge,” he said. Satisfied where the noise was coming from, he prodded Cloud into a trot. “Stay behind me. We may have to stop in a hurry.”

  The screams grew louder as they approached a rise. He slowed the gelding as they climbed, halting him short of the crest and dismounting. “Do what I do,” he told Laura. “Our horses won’t spook them, but we might.”

  He led Cloud at an angle up to the top, using the horse to conceal him, just as the mare blocked most of Laura. Below them he saw one of the most dramatic of all mustang scenes. Beside him he heard Laura draw in her breath.

  The black stallion, ears laid back, snorting, faced the bachelor bay stallion with the white flank spots. Off to the side the mares, several foals and the yearling, huddled together awaiting the outcome. There was no sign of the other bachelor stallions.

  The bay, his ears flat against his head, screamed, and, baring his teeth, rushed toward the black. The black whirled and bumped against his side, staggering him. Then the black rose on hind legs and struck at the bay with his forelegs. He connected and the bay gave ground.

  Swinging around, he did his best to kick the black. The black slid around and bit him in the neck.

  “Oh my, he drew blood,” Laura whispered.

  “They both mean business.”

  “One wouldn’t actually kill the other would he?”

  “It’s been known to happen,” he said. “Usually the loser backs off in time to save his life.”

  Laura grabbed his hand and hung on. “I don’t want to see this, but I can’t look away,” she said.

  The stallions’ screams pierced the desert air as they lunged at one another, kicking, biting, and slamming into each other. Just as it seemed clear the bay was losing, Laura pulled her hand away and pointed.

  “Look over there,” she told him.

  Shane did. On the far side of the group of mares, the white stallion had appeared from nowhere and was quietly separating a pinto mare from the rest. As the gap widened between her and the other mares, she turned and obediently trotted off with the white stallion.

  By the time the fight between the two stallions wound down the pair was almost out of sight. The bay, clearly defeated and not wanting any more punishment, sidled away. The black kept feinting at him until finally the bay whirled and trotted off, leaving the black still head of his harem. He immediately rounded up the mares, and chivvied them off in the opposite direction.

  “That was the most awesome sight I’ve ever watched,” Laura said.

  “Not much beats a fight between two stallions.”

  “The black didn’t seem to realize his harem had been reduced,” she went on. “The nerve of that white stallion sneaking off with one of those mares while the bay was doing the fighting. It doesn’t seem fair that the white got a reward while the bay got nothing but a bunch of cuts and bites.”

  “Haven’t you heard the old saying—all’s fair in love and war? The direct approach isn’t always the most effective.”

  Laura remained silent as they eased back down from the rise and remounted. As they rode away, she said, “That’s the slant the Paiute stories take, isn’t it? Indirect. They cloak proper behavior and advice in tales.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Will the bay rejoin the bachelor herd?”

  He nodded, glad she changed the subject. The time wasn’t ripe for the telling of tales. “The losers usually do,” he told her. “Horses are herd animals. Safety in numbers.”

  “But the white stallion and his mare are on their own, making three herds now, right?”

  “You got it.”

  “I’d like to catch up to the bachelor herd so I can make sure the bay wasn’t seriously injured,” she said. “Is that possible, do you think?”

  “They’ll likely head for water. We’ll camp and try.”

  “Good.”

  Exactly the way he felt. He needed that night camp.

  By the time he located a suitable site near the creek, the clouds had mostly dispersed, leaving a few that promised to make the sunset spectacular. He hadn’t brought the tent since she hadn’t used it since the first camp-out. Laura was as basic a camper as he was, something he never would’ve believed at their first meeting.

  Come to that, he never would’ve believed he’d one day be inviting Jennings to his place. Goes to prove a man doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does. Grandfather always said a person who stopped learning was one of the walking dead.

  Shane knew who had made him learn. Laura. She was responsible for changing his outlook, for teaching him how to love. Now it was his turn to teach her, if he could, that to love doesn’t bring disaster.

  “I’ll never forget seeing those stallions fight,” she said over their evening meal. “I didn’t realize horses could inflict so much damage on one another.”

  He shrugged. “Men fight over women—why shouldn’t stallions fight over mares?”

  “I’m talking about wild mustangs,” she said. “Men are supposed to be civilized.”

  “We try to be, but most of us are as wild at heart as those mustangs. Once in a while that wildness cuts loose.”

  “When I first met you—” she began, but didn’t finish.

  “What about it?”

  “Um, well, I compared you in my mind to the black stallion.”

  Her words both startled and pleased him. “And now?”

  “At least you don’t have a harem,” she said, smiling. After a moment or two she added, “In a way, though, you possess the same free spirit. I envy that.”

  “What if I were a black stallion,” he said, “and you were the dream palomino mare. Would you be willing to roam the desert with me, the two of us galloping in the wind together?”

  “In a minute,” she said. “Because if I were that palomino, I’d be as free-spirited as you, with no doubts and no fears.” She sighed. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful?”

  He nodded.

  She helped him clean up after they finished eating and then they sat near the dying fire on sleeping bags, both staring at the red coals.

  If he intended to carry through with his plan, he’d better get to it before the fire went completely out. He rose, saying, “I’ve got something for you.”

  Retrieving the basket from his gear, he walked back to the fire and handed it to her. Laura took it, gazing questioningly at him.

  “You’re not to take the lid off yet,” he said.

  She examined the basket in the uncertain light. “It’s beautiful.”

  “My great-grandmother made it.”

  “And you want me to have this priceless basket?”

  “Yes. It has to be yours.”

  “I don’t know what to say—thank you seems inadequate for a work of art.”

  “Now that you’ve acknowledged this burden basket as yours, please hand it back to me.”

  When she did, Shane carefully removed the lid and set it aside. He reached into the basket, pulled his closed hand out and opened it over the coals.

  Laura, suddenly feeling as though she was reliving her strange dream, stared at him blankly. Though she’d seen nothing drop from his hand, she finally asked, “Did you throw something in the fire?”

  “Yes,” he said, repeating the action. “Here goes another one.”

  “There wasn’t anything in your hand,” she said, trying to remain logical, which was difficult with her dream closing in around her.

  “Ghosts are invisible.” Two more times he disposed of what she couldn’t see and felt sure he couldn’t either—neither of them could see. With the last, the coals sizzled and crackled as though actually consuming something, just as in her dream.

  “Now that all four ghosts are gone, it’s time for you to take out what remains inside,” he told her, handing the basket back to her.

  Warily, her gaze fixed on him, she thrust her hand into the basket. “Oh, there is something!” she cried, bringing it into view.

  There was just enough light left to
see the green of the carving as Laura held it in her hands. Shane wondered why, with the wood that odd greenish shade, he hadn’t seen that it held pamogo until last evening.

  “Oh, Shane,” she whispered, “you carved a frog for me.” Her voice broke on the last word and tears shone in her eyes as she cuddled the wooden frog to her.

  “It’s my gift to you. Now that we’ve disposed of the ghosts, you’re free to love Pamogo, your very own Paiute frog. As well as his carver.”

  Tears running down her cheeks, she laid the frog carefully back into the basket. He put the lid on the basket and lifted it away.

  “Let me hold you while you tell me what the ghosts of the past were,” he murmured, sounding more positive than he felt.

  He’d done what he could, the rest was up to her.

  Laura gazed at Shane through her tears. Tell him? How could she tell anyone? Yet hadn’t he burned her ghosts in the fire like in the dream Grandfather had told her to remember? Did she want to be Lonely-She-Walks for the rest of her life?

  She edged closer to him, and he pulled her against him, her back to his chest. The right position to tell him, she realized, because she couldn’t bear to look at him while she spoke.

  “It was Halloween,” she said, feeling a wave of fear pass through her as she conjured up that terrible night. “Nathan and I went trick-or-treating. We were supposed to stay together, but I hated feeling like a baby with my big brother having to take me around.

  “I saw some friends of mine across the street and, while Nathan was talking to a couple of his friends, I started to sneak over to join them. Before I got all the way across, a car stopped and a man called my name.”

  Laura swallowed before she could go on. “I knew all about strangers in cars, but he wasn’t a stranger, he was Daddy’s partner, the man I called Uncle Clint, the man who sometimes brought me treats and who told me how pretty I was. I liked Uncle Clint a lot. He wasn’t a stranger.

  “‘Laurie,’ he said. Nobody else called me that. ‘I’ve been looking for you because I have a real treat for you. Get in and you can have it.’ So I did.”

  She clenched her fists, forcing herself to go on, beginning to feel like the terror-stricken child she’d been then. “Uncle Clint drove off real fast, and he began saying all these strange things, like how I was going to be his little girl now and how I’d never see Mama and Daddy again. ‘Serve the bastard right,’ he kept muttering.