by Jade Carr
"Yeah." Ahote smiled. "Holy shit."
His grin transformed him from a sober man into a carefree child and warmed her heart. There was the Ahote she remembered. Smiling back, she punched his arm, then wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. He seemed softer than before. She frowned a bit. Well, why not. They were both sneaking up on thirty. Even this close and giving Ahote attention, the mare didn't acknowledge her, nor did she take her attention off the distance.
"I saw the race," she said as he gave her a one-armed hug. "I've never seen anything like it."
"Yeah, well."
Okay, she'd knocked him off balance with her sudden appearance. She couldn't expect a detailed explanation. Just the same, she didn't like his reluctance to talk to her. Clutching his free hand, she stepped back so she could study him. He was maybe three inches taller than her five foot five, about average for a Hopi but short for a Comanche.
Comanche? Where had that come from? She didn't have the answer but sensed it was important in some way.
"Are you going to make me ask?" Trying for a mock-stern look, she planted her hands on her hips. "Please, don't tell me you won her in a card game."
"No."
Terena watched Ahote as she thought about a time when he'd butted heads with his parents. Whenever the tension between them became too great—the parents who expected their son to follow their old ways and a young man eager to explore the new—Ahote would take off into the reservation. Sometimes she'd track him into the dry nothingness. When she caught up to him—and she always did—he'd respond in monosyllables, only gradually opening up about what was in his heart. As a result, she'd learned to be patient.
She nudged him. "Aren't you going to ask what I'm doing here?"
"Let me guess. You're doing a piece on ex-cons looking for ways to support themselves and decided to start with me."
"Stop it! Even if I was writing something like that, which I'm not, I'd never undermine our relationship. You're the closest thing I'll ever have to a brother. That's what I see. Not someone who spent time in jail because he couldn't stay away from a bottle."
"I'm not drinking anymore."
She gave him a bright smile. "That's wonderful. It's easier to ride this amazing creature"—she indicated the mare—"when you're sober."
"Even you could stay on Red's back."
"Hey, I'm a damn good horsewoman."
"So you say. Walk with me. She needs a little more cooling down."
Keeping pace with Ahote and Red felt like coming home. She'd matched her stride to that of countless horses, so she easily kept up. Eventually, that stretching and restlessness had taken her away from the reservation. She looked more closely at the horse. Like her, Red was a hybrid, a mutt. Her richly colored hair was rough and thick, her muscles tightly bunched instead of racehorse-rangy. No one had shod her, and Terena could see that she had little interest in humans.
"What is she? If I didn't know better, I'd say she's a mustang. She's too big to be a wild-range animal, but the rest of her—"
"She's what she is. My folks sent you, didn't they?"
They were beyond the last of the horse trailers with nothing except rocks and dirt ahead of them. She faintly heard sounds of another race was underway. Any other time she'd have been eager to get back to the stands, but right now, she was where she needed to be.
She sensed again that she was being watched.
Wondering if Ahote had picked up on the same vibe, she glanced over at him. He studied her with his head cocked. She noticed the dust in his unkempt hair.
"They want to hear from you." Determined to hold back nothing, she added that his parents had asked if she could check up on him. All they knew was that last week he'd bragged to a woman who'd once been his lover that he was planning to make some serious money racing a horse he'd been working with.
"Your folks can't haul you back to the res," she unnecessarily pointed out. "Besides, even if they could, they know you won't stay."
"Same as you. So you dropped whatever you were doing and came looking for me? I've seen your byline on a bunch of articles, so I know you no longer have to pimp for assignments. You've hit the big time."
She stepped in front of Red and stroked the mare's forehead, buying time to gather her thoughts. Now that she was facing Red, she noticed that the white marking on her chest bore a striking resemblance to an eagle with outstretched wings. Suddenly unnerved, she struggled to remember what they'd been talking about.
"I just finished an assignment, a pretty intense one with a lot of emotion coming from a lot of people. I needed a break."
"Got it. So you weren't just looking to give me a lecture when you checked out the area's race schedules?"
"When has a lecture ever worked for either of us? Besides, as soon as I saw you ride, everything else went out the window. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around what I saw earlier."
As if sensing she was being talked about, Red lowered her head. Terena stroked the animal's neck. Yes, Red's hair was too rough for any pampered racehorse and better suited for an animal that had spent its life in the elements. Not only that, the random bumps on Red's body were scars. Most telling, though, was that Red remained alert as a wild mustang would.
"Where did you get her?"
Instead of answering, Ahote ran his fingers through Red's mane. Then he rubbed his cheek against the side of Red's neck and muttered something that made Red's ears perk forward. Bit by bit, tension seeped out of her cousin.
"I've been on hundreds of horses," he said softly. "Rode every nag anyone paid me to. There's never been anything like her."
"Is she yours? You aren't riding her for her owner?"
"Hell, no." He grabbed a fistful of mane. "It's just Red and me. Has been ever since I got my hands on her."
Got my hands. "Why did you bring her here?" She indicated the small-town surroundings. "The winning purse can't be that much."
"I have my reason. Look, Ter, it's better if you don't stick your nose into things. Let me enjoy this moment." He took a deep breath. "I never knew I'd ride a horse like Red. Everything I've gone through getting to this moment is worth it. I just…"
If anyone needed something going his way, it was her cousin. All right, so most of the twist and turns in his road had been by his own doing, but at his core, he was a good person.
"What happens next? I'm sure you want to get her into some big-money races."
"I do. I just—you look good." He brushed her straight, thick hair back from her temple. "Despite all those things I said about distancing myself from what the res stands for, I never did get rid of my Indian hair. Neither did you."
Where Ahote's hair made her think of a cave at night, she had reddish highlights in hers thanks to the father she had no memory of. She didn't try to fight her hair's straight-as-a-board nature. One benefit of the thick mass was that every man she'd ever slept with—not that there'd been many—had wanted to play with it. That had always been a turn-on.
Turned on? Yes, she'd been that, and not long ago.
It felt like she was being watched again. Judged. She stepped back from Red and looked around. The other riders who'd been cooling their mounts were far enough away that they weren't even a factor in what she was experiencing. She was hardly the sexiest woman on the planet; no reason for someone to be ogling her.
Her? Maybe she wasn't the one under scrutiny. Maybe Ahote or Red was. Yes, Red. The fastest horse this state had ever seen.
"What is it?" her cousin asked.
"Nothing. Just…"
"Don't give me that. I can still read you. What is it?"
"I'm not sure. I have the feeling someone's watching us."
"Damn! Damn."
"What?"
Nostrils flaring, Ahote rubbed his dusty forehead. "Don't ask, all right? Let's get Red in her stall. Shit. I wish to hell I could leave now, but…"
"But what?"
"The past. Something I have to deal with."
What was g
oing on? One moment he was on top of the world, thanks to Red's speed, and winning the race, the next he looked sick to his stomach. Terena watched as Ahote and the horse headed toward the stables with Ahote moving at a near trot while Red pranced and flung her head like a wild horse.
They were nearly at their destination when Terena noticed her cousin had a knife at his waist. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn't have caught her attention because Ahote often carried one, but he'd just raced. Surely the rules didn't allow for riders to carry weapons.
The small enclosure Ahote led Red into had been inhabited by countless horses during countless races as witnessed by the sagging, gnawed-on boards and jerry-rigged latch. Red didn't want to step out of the sunlight, and it took Ahote pushing on her rump while Terena pulled on her halter to get her into the enclosure. Fortunately, once that was accomplished, Red discovered the hay and water Ahote must have put in earlier. Watching Red eat while keeping an eye on what she could see over the half door, Terena was certain Red had started life as a wild animal. Her cousin had warned her not to probe, but curiosity was, in part, why she'd become a photo journalist.
"I'm surprised no one is trying to throw money at you right now," she told Ahote as they stood outside Red's stall. Tension still radiated off of him. "I'd think someone, or more than one someone, would want to buy her."
"They do."
"Are you thinking of selling her?"
"You've lost weight."
There it was, the deliberate subject change. Terena reluctantly turned her back on her cousin and studied her surroundings. She'd felt isolated and vulnerable when they were behind the racing area. It shouldn't be like that now with the long line of stalls stretching out on either side. Maybe the sensation was a repeat of what she'd felt while she'd interviewed people for her last article. She'd been an outsider that day, didn't belong, and couldn't possibly comprehend what the people had experienced when a tornado tore through their neighborhood, destroying not just houses but homes.
Not wanted.
But what if today's awareness had another source?
"How come you're so skinny?" Ahote pressed. "Something you have to do to keep your job? You know, the whole physical appearance thing?"
"You don't care about my weight, and neither do I. Cuz, you're so tense I can taste it. How did you wind up with Red?"
"Hell, you're asking if I stole her."
"Yes," she admitted. "I am."
"I didn't, damn it!" Ahote pushed himself away from the wall and wrapped his right hand around his knife handle. "I have more right to this horse than anyone does."
Studying him, she acknowledged that he hadn't answered her question. "I don't like us being at odds, but Red's one of a kind."
Ahote extended his left hand toward Terena but kept the other on his weapon. "Look, I'm hungry. Would you like to—"
A faint buzzing sound drew her attention to his right front pocket. He let go of the knife and freed a cell phone from his well-worn jeans. He squinted, trying to read what was displayed.
"Shit. Damn it, I have to take this." He strode away.
"No, I don't mind," she said, even though he was no longer close enough to hear. "Go on, abandon me. Leave me full of questions. I'll just keep Red company."
Before she could decide whether to go into the stall with the mare a new I'm under scrutiny sensation took a bite out of her. Keeping her back against the stable so no one could get behind her, she looked around again. Ahote was still putting distance between them, the phone now up to his ear. A few more strides and he'd be behind a large metal building marked Equipment which meant he wouldn't be able to see whatever happened to her.
Not that anything would, darn it. In addition to the horse stalls, there was an event structure between here and the racing arena, an impressive stack of hay bales under metal roofing, and a wooden corral with a couple of donkeys in it.
Red whinnied, the sharp sound echoing. Terena understood that tone. The mare was agitated. Red pressed against the half door with her head out, staring to the left. Terena did the same. There wasn't anything out that way, just some rusted machinery surrounded by weeds and rocks.
And the two men walking toward her.
Chapter 3
Backing up and rearing, Red whinnied again. The scream-like sound seared Terena's nerves, but she couldn't tear her attention off the men. They were approaching with slow, measured steps as if giving her time to comprehend what was happening. When she'd seen them earlier, they'd been closer but surrounded by race-goers. Now, nothing stood between her and them.
She sensed their complex relationship in the space they kept between them. Despite that, they walked in sync, the slightly shorter man lengthening his stride to match the other.
What did their relationship matter? They were coming toward her, their stares intent.
Ahote was out of sight, more concerned with his damn conversation than her or his horse. He'd left her to deal with the powerful strangers alone.
Sudden anger washed away the fear she didn't want to acknowledge. This wasn't the Wild West. A couple of cowpokes couldn't march into town and take over. Take her.
Red's hooves tattooed the ground. "It's all right. You're all right," she soothed. "I won't let them hurt you."
Galvanized by her promise, she stepped into the sunlight and crossed her arms over her chest. The newcomers still walked in slow-motion with their arms by their sides, their body-hugging clothing revealing every move. Her throat dried, her nipples hardened, and her core heated.
Determined to get control over her misbehaving body, she pressed her forearms against her sensitive breasts and lifted her head so the breeze stroked her throat. She had only a few seconds before they came so close their energy touched her. Thankful for what little reprieve she'd been given, she closed her eyes and commanded herself to think like a rational human being. Unfortunately, the talking-to did little to reestablish her equilibrium. She opened her eyes.
Where were the men?
And where had the two magnificent stallions come from?
It couldn't be! The nearly identical four-legged animals didn't exist! Couldn't. The highly arched necks, hard-muscled chests, breeze-tossed manes, and long uplifted tails were her imagination.
No, they aren't.
She continued to stare. They weren't as tall as draft horses but close. The similarity ended with height comparisons because unlike a Percheron or Clydesdale, these creatures were built for speed, not pulling power.
Sunlight caressed the mostly black bodies and played up where black slid into copper on their bellies and flanks. Large pure white splotches splayed over their chests. Their ears pointed forward as if listening for any sound she might make.
The stallions' gait was an art form. They had high-striking front legs and unbelievably muscled hindquarters. Their nostrils flared as they held their heads high and proud. Long, thick erect cocks jutted forward.
"Oh shit. Oh shit."
The duo stopped, glanced at each other, reared in unison. She stared, uncomprehending, at prime horseflesh balanced on powerful back legs while their front legs stabbed the air. Their heads arched even tighter, making their necks bow and the tendons stand out. She waited for them to bellow like the aroused studs they were, but they remained silent. It was, she crazily concluded, as if they knew how to show themselves off to best advantage.
If only she had her camera with her.
If only this made sense.
Overwhelmed, she hugged her waist for comfort and closed her eyes. Maybe two seconds passed before she found the courage to open them again.
The stallions were gone. In their place were men again, their lack of expression unnerving.
"No." Her mind snagged on the white markings on the horses' chests. Should have paid closer attention. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, she was incapable of fully comprehending what she'd just experienced.
Or imagined she'd experienced.
That was it. She'd had a mind mel
tdown.
Red still moved about in her pen but seemed less agitated. Maybe the mare had locked into Terena's mind glitch and that was what had upset her. Well, it wasn't going to happen again.
Realizing she was still hugging herself, Terena forced her hands by her sides. With each step they took, the approaching men made an even greater impact on her system.
Comanche.
Was that what they were? Damn it, why couldn't she think? Besides, what did it matter what tribe they were members of?
The day wasn't that hot, mid-seventies with a nice breeze, but she was on fire. Praying she'd wake up from this crazy dream while reverently wishing she could stay deep inside it, she worked moisture back into her throat. The duo was no more than ten feet away.
"What do you want?" she asked. And how did you morph into stallions, if you did?
"Where is he?" the taller, slightly older man asked.
Ahote! Get back here. "Who are you talking about?" There was no denying their body heat or the hit-her-over-the-head sensual impact. Time needed to slow down. Hell, it should stop, so she stood a chance of taking in everything she was experiencing.
"We saw you embrace him. Who is he, your lover?"
"No." The speaker's tone revealed nothing of what he was thinking. Knowing they'd come looking for Ahote—and that they'd been watching her—had her even more off balance. But as overwhelmed as she felt, she wasn't about to put her cousin at risk if she could help it. "What do you want him for?"
"That's between us and him."
Her short nails dug into her palms. Behind her, Red's lightning-fast breath huffed in a way peculiar to mares in heat. What if Red had seen them in stud form?
"Wait a minute. If you've been watching us, you must have seen where Ahote went. Why are you talking to me?"
The speaker's mouth thinned, and he squinted, the gesture highlighting faint lines at the corners of his ebony eyes. God, but he had beautiful eyes, deep and full of layers she couldn't comprehend.
"You really have no idea why we chose to approach you?" He pointedly looked down at himself.