“Tell us about Chiquita,” Conner prompted. “Where did you get her?”
“Had her parents. Grandparents and great-grandparents, too. They came with the ranch when I bought it.”
“You aren’t from here?”
“West Virginia born and raised. Moved my wife and boys out here in the mid-fifties, I guess it was. When I bought that place, there wasn’t so much as another shack for twenty miles.”
Mr. Edenvane’s ranch was on the east side of the McDowell Mountains, near the Verde River. Chiquita had traveled far in her wanderings.
He took another sip of his drink. “I was told by the man I bought the place from that he traded with the Pimas for the horses. In those days, mustangs were still roaming all over these parts. About the time I bought the ranch is when they disappeared for good. Or so the stories go.”
Something in his tone made Dallas curious. “You believe differently.”
“I saw them. Horses. Plenty of times.”
Dallas scooted to the edge of her seat cushion. “Tell us about it.”
“In the mountains. Along the river. On the reservation. Always a small herd, six or eight head. They’d come to my ranch when water was scarce and vegetation lean. After they busted down my fences enough times, I started putting hay out for them. Be gone the next morning, every last stalk. They disappeared about ten years ago.”
“Only ten years ago?” She turned to Conner. Prince wasn’t much younger than that.
“Bud Duvall has a story like yours,” he said.
“I know him. A cattle rancher. His son owns that rodeo arena.”
“Bud and his father rescued a small herd when he was just a boy,” Conner continued. “They kept the horses, incorporated them in their breeding stock. That had to be...forty years ago.”
“Lots of ranchers did back then.”
“But you saw horses more recently.”
“Don’t know where they went. I guess too many houses being built for their tastes. Except for your stallion.” He nodded at Gavin. “I’m willing to bet he’s from that herd. The last one.”
The room went utterly quiet.
Gavin rubbed a knuckle along his jaw. “There’s no way to know for certain.”
“Have Prince DNA tested.” Everyone looked at Dallas. “There are plenty of horses here on Powell Ranch related to the original wild mustangs.”
“How much can the DNA test tell?”
“Ask Dr. Schaeffer.”
“Can you call him?” Sage suggested. “It would be nice to find out while Mr. Edenvane and Marjorie are still here.”
Gavin took out his phone and placed the call. While he waited to be put through to the vet, everyone chatted softly. Dallas smiled hopefully at Conner, who squeezed her knee.
“If none of the horses here are a match,” he said, “we might try some of Clay’s. He has a few older head that his father owned.”
“Dr. Schaeffer, thank you for taking my call.” Gavin explained the situation to the vet. They spoke for several minutes, Dallas hanging on every word. “Yeah, we could probably take the samples, save you a trip out here. Sure thing. I’ll hold.” He covered the mouthpiece. “He’s checking with the girl at the front desk to see if the lab has sent the colt’s DNA results yet.”
Sage stood. “I’m going to put Milo down for a nap. Can I get anyone a refill on their drink or a snack?”
Everyone was fine. In Dallas’s case, she was too nervous to even think about eating. Conner must have stopped caring about keeping their relationship under wraps, for he took her hand firmly in his.
It felt nice. Right. The way it should be.
“Yeah, Doc.” Gavin straightened. “I’m here.” His broad grin conveyed the good news that the test results were positive. “Thanks for your help. See you on Friday.”
He hung up, and the room erupted in laughter and hugs.
“Chiquita’s colt really is Prince’s son.” Dallas couldn’t get over it.
“I figured as much the moment I laid eyes on your stallion.” For a split second, Mr. Edenvane’s face was that of a young man.
Dallas longed for her camera.
“Grandpa never got over losing Chiquita,” Marjorie said. “I’m so happy with the way things turned out.”
Mr. Edenvane raised his glass as if to toast. “She’s a fine one. You’ll enjoy riding her once she’s healed. Has the smoothest gait of any horse I owned. Like riding a bike.”
“This is going to make an incredible new ending for the book.” Dallas jumped to her feet. “We need more pictures. Mr. Edenvane, would you and Marjorie be willing to pose for me?”
The elderly man was pleased to oblige and, Dallas thought, flattered. She promised to send him and his granddaughter sets of the pictures. Gavin promised them each copies of the book when it was published.
The mood was exuberant after that. It had taken a year, but Prince’s origin was close to being determined.
Conner watched while Dallas took Mr. Edenvane’s photograph on the back patio. She realized there would be no more working with him after today.
She was a little sad to see the project wrapping up. She consoled herself with the knowledge that every time she looked at the book it would be a reminder of these last wonderful weeks and the events that had brought her and Conner together.
* * *
“YOU GOING TO TELL ME what’s going on with you and Dallas?”
Conner looked Gavin directly in the face, and then turned away. He might as well be wearing a sign on his forehead. “We’re friends.”
“Like you and I are friends?”
“Sort of.”
“Except we don’t hold hands.”
“All right. It’s a little more than friendship.”
“A little? Ha! From where I stand, you’re in deep. Up to your elbows, if not your neck.
It was true.
“We had a date.”
“And?”
“And then another date. Dinner.”
“Did there happen to be breakfast in bed following the dinner?”
Conner refused to discuss the intimate aspects of his relationship with Dallas, even with Gavin.
The two of them were standing on the back porch. Mr. Edenvane and his granddaughter had recently left. Dallas was inside the house, playing with Milo while Sage readied the girls for a choral concert at school that evening. Gavin had lured Conner outside under the pretense of talking ranch business.
“What about her ex? Your old buddy? Does he know?”
“Not yet.”
“That’s going to be interesting.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you even thought about telling him?”
“I try not to.” Right or wrong, Conner was choosing to live in the moment. It was easier that way. The last six months had been the worst in his life, next to when his parents divorced. He deserved a few days, a few weeks, of happiness. “We’re not making any announcements yet. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t want people to know, you’d better keep your hands to yourself.”
Good advice.
“What changed your mind?” Gavin leaned against the patio wall and folded his arms over his chest. “Last you told me, you weren’t going to ask her out.”
“The Sonoran Bottling Plant board meeting is scheduled for tomorrow morning.” Conner hadn’t mentioned it to Dallas, in order not to worry her. “I should hear back
in the afternoon.”
“After you land the job, what then?”
“Dallas and I will talk. Get an understanding of each other’s expectations.”
“Better hurry. She’s a woman, she’s already forming expectations.”
“I will.” Conner pushed his cowboy hat back and rubbed his forehead.
When Gavin next spoke, his voice was less stern. “You have nothing to be scared of.”
“Wouldn’t you be in my shoes?”
“Hell, yes. But not because I didn’t have the kind of job I wanted. Great as Dallas is, she comes with a lot of built-in complications. Those are what would scare me.”
“Hear that sound? It’s my knees knocking together.”
Sage stuck her head out the door. “Dallas is leaving. Come say goodbye.”
Gavin pushed off the wall. “You need anything, a shoulder to cry on, a swift kick in the ass, let me know.”
“Thanks.” Conner managed a dry chuckle.
In the kitchen, Dallas was loading her camera bag and purse. “Hey!” She broke into a smile at the sight of him.
Seeing Sage’s raised eyebrows, Conner figured Gavin wasn’t the only one who’d figured out which way the wind was blowing.
“I tried to get her to stay for dinner, but she refuses,” Sage said.
“I have to pick up some prints and deliver them before five.” Dallas jammed more papers in her bag. “This is one of those clients you don’t show up late for.”
That gave her an hour, if she didn’t dally.
With no more reason to keep secrets, Conner said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Okay.” She smiled again, the familiar, I-can’t-wait-to-be-alone-with-you kind.
Conner’s gut knotted. He really should have that talk with her soon. Tomorrow. After he got the formal job offer from Sonoran Bottling. When he felt strong and confident and like his old self.
They had just reached her car when her phone rang. Fishing it from the depths of her purse, she checked the display and answered, a puzzled expression on her face.
Was it Richard? The guy had made a habit of calling Dallas a lot lately.
“Yes, this Dallas Sorrenson. How can I help you?”
Okay, not Richard.
“I did. I can. Absolutely, I will.” There were pauses in between each of her remarks. “Tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. No, no, I can look up the address. Oh, all right. It’s Dallas Sorrenson at Cox dot net. Great. Thank you so much for this opportunity! Uh-huh. See you then.”
She snapped her cell phone shut, her face aglow. “That was Channel Three. They want to interview me for their noon edition of the Arizona Today show.” She threw her arms around Conner and squeezed tightly.
“About Chiquita?”
“Yes. Also about my volunteer work at the animal shelters and the mustang sanctuary. Apparently, when they heard Chiquita’s story, they researched me. Channel Three researched me!” She squealed. “This is an incredible break. For the shelters, the ranch and for me.”
“You deserve it.” He drew her to him for a quick kiss on the lips. “You’ve worked hard. For a long time. Your photographs are the kind that inspire people.”
“It’s really not that big of a deal. The entire world doesn’t watch the noon edition of Arizona Today.”
“Don’t sell yourself or this opportunity short.” He tilted her face to his. “Who knows what will happen? You could become the next great documentary photographer. Another Dorothea Lange.”
“True.” The glow returned, coloring her cheeks an appealing shade of pink.
“What me to go with you?”
“You’d do that?”
“Sure. Gavin will give me the time off.”
“I’d love for you to come with me.”
“I’ll pick you up at ten.”
He waited for her to suggest he meet her later that evening at her place and spend the night.
She didn’t.
“Great. Oh, gosh! I really need to get going. I can’t be late delivering those prints.”
Another quick kiss and she was gone, heading down the driveway to the road as if running a race.
Conner didn’t return to Gavin’s house or his apartment. Rather, he walked to the barn and straight to Chiquita’s stall. He liked that she had a name at last, and called her by it.
When he didn’t produce a treat, she ignored him. The colt, however, came over. Conner had been working with him every day, trying to get him used to people. As if sensing his mood, the colt rested his chin on Conner’s arm.
In his mind, he saw Dallas driving away. She wasn’t just heading to an appointment, she was heading to her bright, shining future. Ready to make her mark on the world.
He only hoped she wasn’t leaving him behind.
Chapter Fourteen
“Wow!” Conner gave a low whistle. “You look fantastic!”
“Not too pregnant?” Dallas stepped out onto the stoop, closing and locking her front door behind her.
“No one will notice.”
They would be too busy staring at her legs, which were showed off to their best advantage in a slim fitting skirt. The loose blazer she’d chosen to wear over the skirt mostly camouflaged her condition.
Personally, Conner liked her slightly protruding belly and thought it made her sexier.
“Thank you, sweetie.” Standing on tiptoes, she kissed his cheek and wiped off the lipstick smudge she’d left behind. “Sorry about that.”
He had half a mind to pull her into his arms and let her leave lipstick smudges all over his mouth. He waited too long. The next instant she was off, walking briskly toward the curb, where his truck was parked. He should have thought ahead and asked Clay to lend him his car again. Maybe Dallas didn’t want to ride to the TV station in his jalopy.
“I have some news,” she said when they were on their way. “The AAWA called after I got home yesterday. They want to use my pictures of Chiquita for their anticruelty campaign. Website, posters, magazines and newspapers. If the campaign’s successful, the ads could be picked up nationally.”
“Congratulations!”
“I’m glad some good has come out of that poor horse’s ordeal. Maybe the next person will think twice before abusing an animal. Or maybe someone will have the guts to come forward and report the abuses.”
To date, the authorities had no idea who had shot Chiquita or why, and they probably never would.
“There’s more,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
“What?”
Conner was happy to let her talk. It kept him from dwelling on the Sonoran Bottling board meeting that was probably taking place that very moment.
“I sold the picture of you and Molly. The one I took when we went on the wagon ride.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Found out right before you arrived.” She flipped the visor down to block the sun as they turned a corner. “Creative Marketing Associates bought it. They’re huge! And get this. One of their clients is Sonoran Bottling. What are the odds?”
Conner’s anticipation escalated. “Did they buy the photograph?”
“No, but wouldn’t that have been cool? An auto dealership did, that’s all I know.”
“Still, it’s good, right?”
“It’s great. People from all over the state are going to see my work. And your face.” She grinned gleefully.
His face in a magazine? Hard to imagine.
“The pay is good.” She cited the amount he’d receive for the model’s fee.
“That’s a lot. I didn’t do anything except stand there.”
“You got lucky. We both did. A photographer never knows which of their pictures will sell and for how much.”
“I’m not sure I feel right about taking the money. You’re the one who did all the work.”
“I wouldn’t have had a picture without you.” She laughed. “Maybe we should try again. Then we’ll both make a bundle and become famous.”
“That’d be the day,” he said drily.
“It could happen.”
Conner should be pleased. He certainly needed the money.
If only it didn’t come from Dallas.
“Hey, you.”
He glanced over to find her watching him.
“Anything wrong?” she asked.
She was floating on air. He didn’t want to do or say anything to spoil her mood.
“Just wondering what a TV set is like.”
“It’s not what you think. I went a few times with my mom when I was a kid. Sometimes she’d be a guest on one of the PBS shows. Usually having to do with the school or sculpting or an art showing.”
“Were you ever on TV?”
“No, and I’m a little nervous.” For the next few minutes, Dallas regaled him with stories of her mother’s experiences. Then her phone rang. “It’s Richard,” she announced, glaring at the display.
Conner tried to act as if he wasn’t listening to their conversation, which he was.
“I did. Thanks for stopping by.”
Stopping by? He’d been over to see her?
“No, I’ll definitely use it.”
Use what? Something for the baby? For her?
“I’ve been thinking. Haven’t decided yet.”
Thinking about what?
Conner wanted to but couldn’t shut off the questions, which kept coming one after the other.
“Can we talk later? This isn’t a good time.” She finally rolled her eyes, communicating her impatience and that she wished the phone call was over.
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