by Vicki Tharp
“I’ll drive,” Boomer said. “I’m sober. You know I haven’t had a drop since this morning.”
“Okay.” Sidney reached into her front pocket, but she hesitated before handing them over.
“It’s not like I have to have a drink.”
“Okay.”
“And this isn’t like an alcoholic saying he doesn’t have to have it, because it’s not and I don’t.”
“Okay.”
“Would you stop saying okay?”
“Maybe you should stop protesting so much.”
He eyed her. Her gaze remained steady. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen eyes so green before. Greener than a pasture after a spring rain. Soft and lush and—
“So, are we going or not?” she said.
“We’re going.” Maybe he would need that drink after all if he kept thinking about her eyes.
They climbed into the truck and he started the engine. The breeze blew dust through the open window. The burro who murdered his hat stood at the fence line, snaking his head through the bars and pawing at the lower rung as if he wanted to go with them.
As Boomer slowly pulled away, he watched the donkey in his side mirror. The animal followed as far as his fence allowed, then it started braying and hee-hawing and throwing itself at the bars, becoming more frantic, more panicked the farther away they got.
The trailer swayed from side to side. One of the horses in the back whinnied and kicked the side of the trailer with a resounding clang.
Then the donkey shrieked.
The bray slammed into his eardrums, piercing and high-pitched. It shot him straight back to the streets of Iraq, to the screams of his teammates as the enemy mowed them down.
He stomped on the brake and shifted into park. Sidney slapped a hand on the dashboard. His adrenaline surged, his breath came in short bursts, and his heart pounded as he watched the donkey pace back and forth, back and forth. He shifted into drive again, but that shift, that click, sounded so final.
It sounded like he was leaving a man behind.
Irrational. But that didn’t make the thought any less real.
He shifted two more clicks—into reverse this time—and backed up to the chute. He turned to Sidney. “Wait here.”
“The trailer’s full.”
“He’s little.”
“Four horses. That’s what we were told to get. That’s what we got. Not four horses and a smart ass.”
He rubbed his face with his hands, eyed his flask Sidney had tossed onto the dashboard. “You really want me to leave him?”
“No.” She picked up his hat from the cloth seat between them and fiddled with the mangled brim before looking back at him. “You think Mac will be mad?”
As he stepped out of the truck, he said, “Only one way to find out.”
CHAPTER THREE
Sidney slipped into her robe, padded down the concrete center aisle of the quiet barn, and headed back to her room. An orange tabby cat lay sprawled across a hay bale, lazily flicking its tail. All the horses were out in their pastures tonight, except Eli. He had a run off the backside of his stall, but she hadn’t had time to find him a turnout paddock so he could be out with the other horses.
She stopped at his stall and scratched his soft nose through the bars. Unimpressed, he pawed at the wooden door.
“Tomorrow,” she told him. “I promise you can run your heart out.”
He thunked his hoof against the stall door again and pulled a hard, angry bite of hay from his hay bag.
She shuffled past and made it to her room before hearing the rattle of metal behind her. “Don’t even think about it,” she called out, but even as she said it, the latch on the stall door clicked free. This was a relatively new barn. The latches were supposed to be horse-proof.
Horse-proof and Eli-proof were not the same thing. Eli could have given Houdini pointers.
Her horse wedged his nose between the bars on the door until he could slide it open enough to stick his head through the opening and slide the door back. He squeezed into the aisle and walked over to her, the clomping of his hooves echoing through the building.
The front barn doors were open. If he went through, he could potentially find his way to thousands of acres of open range, because, just like how the latches on the stall doors were nothing more than an interesting puzzle for him to figure out, fences were just an obstacle course.
Teaching him how to jump had seemed like a good idea at the time.
She wasn’t worried that he would run off. Normally he was perfectly happy with his pasture mates, but when he decided he wanted to be with her, short of putting him in a straightjacket, there was very little she could do to stop him.
He lowered his big, blocky head and sniffed the pockets of her robe. Shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she didn’t have any treats, reached out, and sniffed again. Then he raised his head and stared at her, like he was trying to hypnotize her or do the Vulcan mind meld without hands.
Which was nonsense. Star Trek was way before his time.
Not that she had any delusions he wanted to know what she thought. He only aimed to implant one word into her brain—treat.
She found a treat. After he’d eaten it, he blinked and blinked at her, then sighed and looked over his shoulder as if looking for another horse to confirm how dense his person was.
“Okay, okay, you win,” she said. “Wait here while I get dressed.”
She came out in her jeans, boots, and a hoodie, sans bra—it had been a long day and she wasn’t putting it back on for her horse—glad the hoodie was big enough to hide the important bits.
She got another treat from the feed room, then walked over to the hay bale and straddled the cat with her feet. She looked back at Eli. He was still standing by her door, his bottom lip hanging loose.
“You coming or are you sleeping?”
Blinking, he blew out a sigh, stepped over to her, and stretched his front legs out to lower himself a few inches. She grabbed a fistful of mane, swung her right leg back and forth a couple times, and then threw it over the top of his back. He straightened after she settled, then reached his head around for another treat.
She gently squeezed with her calves and he started forward. “It’s late, so we’ll take a quick spin around the property, then I’m going to bed.”
He didn’t bother replying.
They stepped out into the night. The chill was heavy in the air, but Eli beneath her was all the heating she needed. The moon was up and almost full. With her legs, she guided him between the paddocks and over to the holding area for the mustangs, and then she relaxed into the gentle sway of her horse’s body.
All the horses in the mustang pen ran to the other side when she approached, except the donkey. He trotted over to them and stuck his nose through the bars to sniff Eli. They blew into each other’s noses the way they do—the equine version of sniffing butts.
So much more civilized.
The donkey nipped at Eli. Eli nipped back. Then they stared at each other until one of them won, and then the donkey dropped his head and started grazing again.
Eli turned to go without any prompting, bringing her by the trailers and her dead truck, down past the hay barn, then back up past the big house. The back porch light was on, but the rest of the house was dark.
They ambled by, heading down the two-track dirt road toward the cabins. She passed the empty foundations with two huge piles of lumber, which must have been the delivery Bryan had mentioned that morning.
She smelled smoke in the air. The scent grew stronger the farther down the road they went. Then they came over a rise and she caught sight of the campfire in front of one of the cabins. Eli headed in that direction, because where there were people, there were treats.
“Pull up a log,” Bryan said as she got closer.
She
just wanted to get Eli back to the barn and settled, and then crawl between the sheets. She heard laughter, and two men walked up out of the shadows behind her. One was Santos.
“Señorita!” Santos called out. “Come have a cerveza.”
“It’s kinda late.”
“Never that late,” the other man said. He was tall and lean and came at her with his hand outstretched. “Alby, ma’am.”
“Sidney,” she said taking his hand.
“I won’t let ’em get outta line,” Alby said with a broad grin on his face. His eyes sparkled in the firelight and his blond whiskers practically glowed.
“One beer,” Bryan said as he popped the top on a fresh can and held it out to her. The plop-fizz made her mouth water.
Santos reached out to tap Eli lightly on the butt to encourage him forward, but Eli was already moving.
Eli loved his beer. Maybe as much as Bryan did.
She swung off her horse and managed to grab the beer before Eli could. She poured a taste into her cupped hand and offered it to him. After he’d slurped it up, she sent him a few feet away, wiping her slobbery hand on her jeans as he started munching on the grass.
Bryan was sitting on the ground, his back against a large log, his legs stretched out before him, his prosthetic propped up beside him. She took an empty spot next to him. Santos and Alby opened their beers and settled on the second of four logs surrounding the fire. The flames burned high, but the cool air at her back kept her from overheating.
“He’s not gonna run off?” Alby tipped his can toward Eli.
Sidney shook her head as she swallowed the cold brew. The first sip out of the can was always the best. Eli had better appreciate that she’d given it to him. Though the second sip wasn’t so shabby either.
“You boys run into any trouble out there today?” Bryan asked Alby and Santos.
“Saw something a little loco,” Santos said. “Up by that box canyon. Three sets of tracks in the mud by the creek. Two shod, one not.”
“Two riders and a donkey, I reckon, by the size and shape of the bare hooves,” Alby said. “Ain’t no one been up that way since before the rains last week. Least ways not from the S.”
The S being the Lazy S ranch, Sidney assumed. “Could it have been someone from one of the neighboring ranches?”
Alby shrugged. “Eh, maybe, but don’t see no reason why they’d be hauling a pack animal with ’em.
“See anything else?” Bryan polished off what looked like his fourth can, according to the pile of empties by the cooler, and helped himself to another.
Sidney wasn’t even a third of the way done with her first one, which included what she’d given Eli.
She tried not to judge. This was his off time, after all. Wasn’t any of her business. Her business was the new mustangs, and her new job. Nothing else.
“We didn’t see nada,” Santos said. “No trash, no campfires, no cut fences.”
“Makes my skin crawl,” Alby said. “After what happened two years ago, I don’t like seein’ evidence of nobody on this land ’cept us.”
“What happened?” Sidney asked as she sunk down onto the ground so she could lie back against the log and rest her head. “This what the sheriff was talking about this morning?”
Both Santos and Alby’s faces hardened and the men looked to Bryan. Sidney did also. He drew in a deep breath and blew it out. Then he told her about some trouble on the Lazy S that involved revenge on the part of the previous foreman’s ex-wife and the old sheriff who had loved and enabled her. Thanks to Mac and Bryan, and their military training, it had ended with only one person wounded and several sitting out the next few years in jail.
“Sounds like everyone is lucky to be alive.” Sidney shivered. “So, that’s how you know Mac? You two served together?”
“Yep,” Bryan said, too quick, too casual, too nonchalant. He rubbed at the end of his stump. There was a whole lot more to the story about how he’d lost his leg, but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t pry.
Everything got quiet and awkward. Bryan’s gaze locked on the fire. Alby stared down at his beer. Santos eyed the thick blanket of stars above and said. “Best be turning in, amigos. See you mañana.”
Alby jumped at the opportunity to leave. “Wait up.”
Bryan half grunted a reply.
“Good night,” Sidney called out after them.
The wind shifted, swirling smoke in their direction. The fire now burned low, so the smoke wasn’t bad enough to make her move. Eli edged closer, nosed through Bryan’s empties, then stretched his neck out and scruffed Bryan’s short hair with his lips. Eli stood there with his face a few inches from Bryan’s cheek. The damn horse always knew when someone was upset.
The fact that the man smelled like a microbrewery probably didn’t hurt any either.
“Guess I’m calling it a night too.” Sidney finished off the last of her beer and stood. Already feeling a slight buzz. As small as she was, she made for a cheap date alcohol-wise. “You good?” When he didn’t answer, she nudged him in the thigh with the toe of her boot. “Hey, you all right?”
He blinked as if bringing her into focus. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” If he’d been a dog, his lip might have raised in a half snarl.
She raised her hands, taking a step back.
“Sorry.” He blew out a breath and pushed himself up, balancing on the one leg. “I’m good. You need a leg up, or are you walking back to the barn?”
“I’ve got it,” she said.
She clucked to Eli and when he stepped over to her, she tapped him on his front knee with the edge of her boot. He folded his legs beneath him until he was lying on his chest. She grabbed a handful of mane, straddled him, and clucked again for him to rise.
“Impressive.”
“He’s that nerdy kid in elementary school who skips grades and graduates with a PhD before he’s twenty with an evil plot to take over the world.”
Bryan’s lips twitched. About as much of a smile as she would get tonight. “Not your average horse.”
“Not even close.” She gave Eli a squeeze and he stepped forward. “G’night.”
“Yeah,” he said, but he didn’t look her in the eye when he said it. Like good nights were elusive for him.
“Those tracks Santos and Alby saw, should I be concerned?”
She waited for him to dismiss her fears. Her stomach flopped when he took a beat too long to say, “I doubt we have anything to worry about.”
* * * *
Lucky. That’s how Sidney would describe landing a job training horses. And the facility. Holy cowboys. What the Lazy S had built was ideal for the mustangs. A large paddock with a gate leading into a fifty-foot-round pen, both with six-foot-high fencing to keep the wild horses from jumping out if they got spooked. Which was easy for them to do before they learned to trust.
Around midday, Sidney headed over to get Eli so he could help her cut the last mustang from the herd and get it into the round pen for its first lesson.
Eli must have been content with the bag full of hay and the trough of water beneath a man-made shelter, because he hadn’t bothered untying himself to find something better.
She freed him, tightened the cinch, and climbed into the saddle. She’d saved the buckskin mustang for last. The one the burro had attached itself to. The one for whom the burro had made her job difficult.
Once inside the mustang paddock, she cut the buckskin from the rest of the herd, but getting it through the other gate and into the round pen without the donkey was impossible. After wasting fifteen minutes trying to separate the two of them, she finally drove them both into the round pen and slammed the gate closed.
She’d worked two horses together in a round pen before, but not a horse and a donkey—both of which were wild. She would have to be extra vigilant to stay out of striking distance
.
After returning Eli to his hay, she picked up her lunge whip and climbed over the top of the pen. The horse was running the perimeter, trying to find a way back to the rest of the herd. The burro tried to keep up.
By the time they’d finished their lesson she’d panted and sweated as much as the buckskin and the burro.
Of all the horses she’d worked that morning, the buckskin was the wariest. Sidney smiled as she pulled her Astros baseball cap off and wiped the sweat from her brow, determination running thicker than blood through her veins. This guy was going to make her earn his trust and earn her keep. Bring it on.
If she’d wanted easy, she’d have married a prince.
When the buckskin came toward the center, toward her, she backed away a few more steps, standing relaxed, relieving the pressure with her calm body language. The horse and donkey stood still, staring at her, their sides heaving, their nostrils flaring, but the buckskin was licking his lips. The first sign she’d seen of him relaxing.
She waited until their breathing slowed, teaching them that if they looked at her, they would get rewarded with no pressure. It was a start. Teeny tiny, but a start.
The buckskin raised his head and sniffed the air seconds before boots scuffed in the dirt behind her.
“Hey.”
She recognized Bryan’s deep timbre without looking over her shoulder.
“Just finishing up. Man the gate so I can get them back into the paddock.”
He walked around the pen, four large, wary brown eyes watching. When the gate slid open, the buckskin took one moment to calculate the risk of running past Bryan with the reward of being back with his herd. The herd won.
The burro followed at a walk. He stopped at the gate. Bryan pulled a treat from his pocket and held it out. The burro sniffed the air, then he eased a couple of steps forward, then another and another, and giraffed his neck all the way out, his body and legs leaning back, ready to flee.
Donkey stole the treat then disappeared through the gate.
“He likes you.” Sidney closed the gate. “I couldn’t get within twenty-five feet of him.”
“Maybe it’s my hat he doesn’t like then.” He removed his hat and messed with it again. He’d managed to get the shape closer to normal, and as tall as he was, the hoofprint on top of the brim was hardly noticeable. At least for her.