Must Love Horses

by Vicki Tharp

  Jenna’s face went white, and Boomer jumped off the bed and sat her in the chair before she fell. “Look at me,” he said.

  When she finally did, her eyes were glassy and she was blinking furiously to keep the tears from falling. It squeezed his heart. Jenna wasn’t a crier.

  “I’m going to get him back. I promise,” Bryan said.

  “W-what…how…”

  Boomer grabbed the other chair, turned it around, and sat down. He crossed his arms over the back and told her the truth. When he’d finished, she remained quiet, as if she were still processing all that he’d said. Then her color went from Wicked-Witch-white to ruby-red. If she hadn’t been so young, Boomer might have thought she was stroking out. Jenna stood abruptly and strode to the door.

  “Jenna. Jenna!”

  She stopped with her hand on the door latch, but she didn’t turn back.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To find my horse.”

  * * * *

  Everyone had saddled up for the search. Alby and Santos, Hank and Mac, Dale and Lottie, and of course Jenna and Sidney. With so much ground to cover, they would have to split up to search effectively with their time constraints.

  The Lazy S was a working ranch, and even though the horses were valuable, there was too much work to do to waste valuable man hours for a couple thousand pounds of horse flesh. As it was, Alby and Santos were working on their one full day off for the week. They weren’t required to come, but they had, and Boomer owed them one for that.

  At the stock pond, where the horses had been stolen, it had been easy to pick up the trail. Then, sometime after noon, the hoofprints disappeared at a river crossing. It was rocky on the far side, and even though they rode up and down the river, they couldn’t find where they’d come out.

  They dismounted by the river to water the horses and eat lunch. The sun was high, and sweat ran down Boomer’s back in rivulets. As he came out of the saddle, he landed hard on his prosthetic, jamming it into the end of his stump. Damn. His vision blurred. He grabbed on to the saddlebags to keep the pain from driving him to his knees and concentrated on the simple task of unpacking his lunch. At the bottom of his saddlebag he found his painkillers and tossed one between his molars and chomped down.

  “I don’t think you’re supposed to chew them like candy.”

  Boomer jumped. He hadn’t heard Sidney walk up behind him. “Hasn’t killed me yet.”

  He’d meant it as a joke, but Sidney wasn’t laughing. Or smiling. Or looking amused in any way. In fact, by the way the pulse kicked in her neck, he guessed she was on a fast slide from frustration to seriously pissed. Well, she wasn’t his keeper. Or his wife, or even his girlfriend, so he tried not to let it bother him. Even though it gnawed at his belly that it did.

  “Something you needed?” he asked. He pulled a swallow of water from his canteen and washed down the bitter taste of the pill—and the sour taste of his harsh tone—from his mouth.

  “No. I was…”

  He raised an impatient brow at her.

  “No,” she amended simply, then turned on her heel and walked back to the others.

  Fucking smooth, man. She hadn’t deserved that.

  Boomer sat on a large rock a few yards away from the others to eat his beef sandwich while he waited for the painkiller to kick in and level out his pain and his mood.

  “So, what now?” Jenna asked around a bite of apple.

  “We split up,” Mac and Boomer said in unison.

  They smiled at each other. Boomer liked being back in sync with Mac. A strand of their old bond grew stronger. Boomer looked down at the ground, a little embarrassed by how good that felt.

  Mac said, “Hank, Jenna, and I will head south and follow the river. Dale and Lottie can follow the river north.”

  “Santos,” Boomer chimed in, “you and Alby head northwest toward the box canyon. Sidney and I will head southwest toward Dead Man’s Pass, where Bill saw riders the other day.”

  Sidney frowned. “I thought I’d go with Alby and Santos.”

  “You’re with me,” Boomer said, short and clipped. The issue wasn’t up for discussion. Technically, he was still her boss, and he wanted her with him. If she went with one of the others and something happened to her, he’d never be able to forgive them, or himself.

  Sidney’s frown deepened and she cut him a look that slashed at his authority the way a machete slices through the brush, but she kept her opinions to herself. Smart girl.

  “Lotta ground,” Dale said.

  Hank gathered up his trash and combined it with Mac’s. “And daylight’s wastin’.”

  “Everyone check their radios and their weapons,” Mac said.

  “Lock and load, people,” Boomer piped in, giving Mac a fist bump. “And keep an eye on your six.”

  * * * *

  Late that evening, on a log across Boomer’s fire from the others, Sidney sat in utter disbelief. Nine people searching all day, and besides some hoofprints, they’d found…nothing. Up the river, down the river, up to the pass, and down to the box canyon, what they’d found was exactly the same.

  Big.

  Fat.

  Nothing.

  It was as if the horses had evaporated off the face off the earth. The day had been hot, but not that hot. Her jeans were still damp with sweat, though her T-shirt hung on her shoulders, dry and stiff.

  The temperature had dropped with the sun and she needed the heat from the fire to keep her warm, though the flames did nothing to warm the spot in her chest where hope lay dying and cold revenge threatened to crystalize the blood in her veins. If she ever got her hands on the men who stole Eli she’d…

  She didn’t know what she’d do. Hopefully, Bryan would be there with her to make it slow and extra painful. A shame that vigilante hangings were frowned upon these days.

  That’s if the bodies are found.

  Ugh. She needed to get some sleep if thoughts of torture and murder were sounding like viable options. But she didn’t want to go to her room and be alone, and she wasn’t really in a mood suitable for company either. So she stayed in her spot, downwind of the fire, the breeze sending the smoke around her.

  She caught motion out of the corner of her eye and refocused her attention from the dance of the blue-orange flames to Bryan as he braved the chasm between them and held out a beer.

  “I’ve had one, thanks.”

  He plopped down beside her and put the beer in her hand. “Drink.”

  “It’s not going to bring Eli back.”

  “No. It’s not,” he said evenly. “But it makes it not hurt so bad. At least for a while.”

  “The hurt, the worry, the missing him…it sucks big bad donkey balls, but as horrible as it is…” She popped the top, aware of the irony of what she was about to say along with opening that beer. Then she looked him square in the eye and said, “Feeling is part of being human. Feeling is what makes you know you’re alive. Feeling isn’t something you should have to hide from.”

  Like the feelings you have for Bryan? Should you hide from that? From him? She mentally slapped at Practical Sidney to shut her up.

  “No, it isn’t,” he agreed, his voice level, more reasonable than expected, then he leaned in toward her like he had classified military intel to sell. She smelled the hops on his breath and the dust and smoke in his hair. “But sometimes, I’m all too human and a little too alive.”

  He was sitting close. So close that his thigh rested against hers even though there was more than enough room on the log for two or three other people. His body heat seeped through her jeans, reminding her how having him at her back the night before, surrounding her with his heat and strength, had brought her some much-needed comfort.

  While Practical Sidney tried to convince herself of all the reasons she should build a taller, wider, more impenet
rable wall, Impractical Sidney wanted to slap a muzzle on her sister and throw her to the wolves.

  He slid his hand over hers, intertwined their fingers, and rested them on her thigh. “I have my faults, Sidney. And Mac would be ecstatic to give you the extensive list if you ask her, but giving up, giving in, admitting defeat, isn’t one of them. We didn’t find the horses today, but that doesn’t mean we won’t find them the next time we go out, or the time after that, or the time after that. You can count on me. I owe you that much.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” She squeezed his hand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I’m also stubborn, and like to argue like a lawyer, so we can, A, sit here and argue the intricacies of fault all night, or, B, we can relax and enjoy our beer and the fire and the stars and our friends. Up to you.”

  “I’ll take option C.” Funny how Impractical Sidney sometimes sounded a whole lot like Regular Sidney.

  He smiled. It was as warm as the fire and sweet as molasses. “A woman with a plan. Tell me about it.”

  “It’s better if I show you.”

  Sidney glanced across the fire at the others. No one paid them any attention so she leaned in and laid her lips on his.

  He pulled their linked hands to his chest, drawing her closer. Over the crackling of the fire and the murmur of voices, she didn’t hear him groan, but she felt the rumble against the back of her hand. It radiated up her arm and hijacked the express train to her girlie bits. Her nipples puckered and her panties got damp.

  Trouble, trouble! Alert, alert!

  Practical Sidney wanted to slap the panic button and order Sulu to throw up the defensive shields; Impractical Sidney wanted to whack that donkey on the ass and hold on for the ride.

  Before she made any decision, Bryan broke the kiss and rested his forehead on hers. “Sweet Jesus, you make it hard to be chivalrous.”

  “I don’t remember asking.”

  “Christ,” he muttered as he caught her bottom lip with his teeth and nibbled his way to her chin.

  Something rumbled in her chest, and it grew until it rang in her ears and her body practically vibrated.

  Jenna squealed and ran up the road. “Quinn!”

  “Saved by the Harley,” Bryan told her with a grin. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  They walked up the road with the rest of the gang to meet Quinn up by the big house. Dressed in all black, the bike’s headlight cast Quinn in the shadows. Black leather pants, black leather jacket, matte black helmet. Even the bike was black.

  Quinn killed the engine and the rumble in Sidney’s chest subsided. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his buzz cut. He looked like he should be the high school quarterback, not a helicopter pilot about to head off for his first deployment.

  Jenna didn’t wait for Quinn to climb off the bike before running into his arms. She hit him hard. Hank reacted fast, grabbing the handlebars to keep Jenna from knocking Quinn and the bike to the ground.

  “Hey, baby,” Quinn said with a laugh. “Happy to see me?”

  Jenna hugged him tighter.

  Quinn managed to put his kickstand down and drag his leg over the seat without dislodging Jenna. He kissed her on the cheek then held out a hand to Hank. He made his way around the semicircle of people.

  There were handshakes and manly hugs and lots of hard back slaps. Lottie wiped the tears from her eyes more than once and after saying her hello, Mac couldn’t keep her eyes off the bike.

  The bike was old. Sidney didn’t know how old. Prehistoric or sand scrolls or Mayan hieroglyphs old.

  Bryan wrapped Quinn in a one-arm hug. It was then that Sidney realized it was because his other hand was still holding hers. It had felt so natural she hadn’t even noticed.

  She released Bryan’s hand to shake Quinn’s after Bryan made the introductions. Quinn refused her hand pulled her into a hug instead. He was tall, but lacked Hank’s height and Bryan’s bulk.

  “You miss her, boss?” Alby asked Mac, who looked at the Harley the open, greedy way some women looked at diamonds.

  Mac shrugged, but slid her fingers over the handlebars, a reverent, soft caress.

  “An old friend?” Sidney asked.

  Mac nodded and smiled in a way that somehow looked happy and sad. “My grandfather’s bike. I gave it to Quinn a couple years ago, after spending a year of my life on the road.”

  Sidney gulped. “A year?”

  Mac nodded again. “Probably goes down as the single worst and best year of my life.”

  “Hop on,” Hank said. “See how she feels.”

  Mac didn’t hesitate. She swung her leg over and settled into the seat. She closed her eyes and sighed the way a person does when they slip on a favorite pair of jeans that hugged every inch of them like an old lover.

  “Hey, Mac,” Quinn called out. “Catch.”

  Quinn tossed her his helmet and she caught it and tugged it on. She flipped the visor up, the interior padding tight against her cheeks.

  “Hey, cowboy,” Mac said to Hank. “Wanna ride?” Her words came out in a low, throaty, suggestive purr.

  Sidney choked on air. Alby let out a sharp bark of laughter he couldn’t hide behind a fake cough.

  Hank’s grin slid across his face and his teeth flashed in the shine form the headlight. “Oh, hell yeah.”

  Mac straightened the bike and jumped on the kick-starter. The engine roared to deafening life as she blipped the throttle and gave it some gas. Hank grabbed the extra helmet off the frame, strapped it on, and hopped on behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist.

  “Back in a bit,” Mac said. With a whoop they sped off, leaving a choking cloud of exhaust and dust that tickled the back of Sidney’s throat and burned her eyes.

  Sidney coughed and fanned her hand to dissipate the smoke. Everyone was chatting and heading back to the fire. Her eyes were scratchy, and she wasn’t sure the moisture in them was all from the irritating dust. Her heart ached, her body ached, and by the way her thoughts had easily drifted to murder and mayhem, her brain was little more than mush.

  She headed toward the barn. Crashing on her soft bed suddenly sounded indulgent and decadent. Her feet needed air and a massage. When Impractical Sidney pointed out there were other body parts Bryan would excel at massaging, she almost asked Bryan back to her room, but it showed how tired she was, because Practical Sidney barely had to fight for her to say, “I think I’ll head back to my room. Tell everyone I said good night.”

  Bryan snagged her hand. “One more beer?”

  Sidney’s chest tightened. If he’d asked any other way, she would have had a hard time refusing. He wanted her to stay, to spend more time with him and the group of people swiftly becoming her extended family instead of bosses and peers, but the way he’d phrased it was a bright, neon red sign flashing Danger! Danger! Danger!

  Bryan had a problem only he could fix.

  A problem he was willing to live with.

  A problem she wasn’t.

  * * * *

  Mac and Hank came back from their short motorcycle ride not long after Boomer had returned to the fire. He popped a pain pill into the back of his throat and swallowed it down with the last swallow of his beer. He crumpled the can and tossed it into his open cooler.

  Hank and Mac sat down on a log beside Jenna and Quinn.

  “So, Dad…” Jenna started.

  Hank chuckled, wrapped an arm around Mac’s shoulder, and whispered loudly, “This can’t be good.”

  “No, hear me out.”

  He groaned and Alby said, “Should we leave? I’d hate to see a grown man cry.”

  “Or I could shoot you now, amigo,” Santos piped in. “May be less painful.”

  Jenna gave Santos a playful whack on the arm. “Hush. You two aren’t helping.”

  “Maybe she wants the keys to your tru
ck,” Mac added helpfully.

  “Or to drop out of college and join the nunnery.” Boomer laughed.

  Jenna stilled and turned as pale as a nun’s habit.

  Hank stiffened and cut his eyes to his daughter. “Jenna.” It was a question, statement, and warning all neatly packaged into one tight little word. “What’s going on?”

  Jenna stared into the fire, unable, or unwilling, to look her father in the eye. “It’s what Boomer said.” Her voice was so quiet, Boomer barely hear her.

  “Madre de Dios. You want to be a nun?”

  “Don’t you have to be a vir—” One look from Mac and the rest of the word wedged in Alby’s throat.

  Jenna pulled a face.

  Hank looked murderous.

  Alby coughed. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  Lottie stood up. “Maybe we should take this inside.”

  Meaning a family conversation. Boomer couldn’t fault her for that. Even if Jenna was like a niece to him, it wasn’t like he was really family.

  “No, wait,” Jenna said. “This involves everyone, so everyone stays.”

  “Spit it out, baby girl,” Dale said.

  Jenna opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  With his arm around her waist, Quinn tugged her against his side. “You can tell us.”

  “Boomer was partly right. Not the nun part,” Jenna was quick to add, with a shy smile for Quinn. Hank looked like he’d swallowed antifreeze. “The college part.”

  The fire flickered and dimmed, as if the collective breath everyone held had sucked the oxygen from the state.

  Hank shook his head. “No.” The word was simple and flat and emphatic and brokered no argument.

  In the military that would have been that, but as Boomer stretched out his prosthetic and crossed his legs at the ankles, he was well aware this wasn’t the military.

  “Hank—” Jenna started.

  “So, now I’m Hank? What happened to Dad?” He didn’t raise his voice. He even had a bit of a smile on his face, but it was tight and controlled, and only a fool would think he was in any way amused.