Native Wind

by A. M. Burns

  After two circuits around the post, the stallion stopped and looked at Trey. The white still filled his off-colored eyes. It was obvious that he’d figured out what Trey was trying to do. Sweat glistened on the dusty coat. The horse sat back on the rope and jerked his head from side to side. The post groaned as the rope tightened, but everything held. Trey continued to walk the horse around until it only had inches between it and the post. As they circled the pole, he continued to talk softly and steadily, trying to convey through his voice what he couldn’t through his magic.

  “Halter!” he called as he laid his hand on the heaving neck. Being able to make physical contact, he projected calm and understanding to the horse, hoping it would relax at least a bit.

  Josh appeared at his side with the halter. “Wow, that was great.”

  Trey took the halter. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Shaking his head, the stallion tried to avoid having the halter slipped around its head. Trey moved as fast as he could and got the leather secured and tied the lead to the iron ring hanging just under the horse’s jerking head.

  He put his hand back on the heaving neck. “Calm down, big fella, just relax. This ain’t hurting you.”

  “Get the saddle and blanket together,” he said slightly louder.

  “Right back.” Josh hustled off to the fence. Trey didn’t divert his attention from the horse as he worked on calming the beast. He looped the lead rope over the muscular neck and let it dangle on the near side. The lasso and the center post still held the horse secure in the middle of the corral.

  A cock of the stallion’s ear told Trey Josh was coming back with the saddle. The man walked around the far side of the horse. “Here you go.”

  Without taking his eyes off the stallion, Trey reached to take the saddle from the cowboy. The cinch was caught on the horn, and the stirrups were up on the seat. It was a heavy saddle padded with thick wool.

  “Okay, big guy, let’s get this done.” He carefully lifted the saddle up and settled it on the horse’s back. The stallion tried to sidestep, but the lasso held him tight to the post. He was so tight against the pole that he could barely move his hindquarters. When he tried to buck, he couldn’t move his shoulder up either. Only his rump rose. He shook as he came back down. Trey dropped the cinch off the far side and reached under to bring it around. The stallion struggled and tried to step on him. Trey moved out of his way with the latigo only part of the way through the cinch buckle. As soon as the stallion moved away from the post, he pulled hard and tightened the saddle down.

  “There we go. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He rubbed the sweating neck and took up the lead rope.

  “Josh, can you undo the lasso when I get on?”

  “I think so,” the cowboy replied.

  All his attention focused on the horse, projecting as much calm as he could through his hands and his voice, Trey grabbed hold of the saddle horn and jumped aboard. This was the most dangerous part. All it would take is him losing his seat and coming off the horse the wrong way, and the stallion could easily kill him. He knew he was a good rider, but even good riders could end up under a horse’s hooves and be done for. The stallion quivered violently but otherwise didn’t move. Trey managed to get his feet into the stirrups at the same time Josh pulled the lasso loop over the horse’s head.

  The paint stallion knew he was free of the rope and the post. He ran straight for the men leaning on the fence. Martin jumped back and fell hard into the dirt. The stallion slammed into the fence. The wood bowed but held. Trey clung to the saddle horn. He didn’t try to do anything else at first. Then the horse bucked. It flew into the air and came down hard. Trey relaxed, willing his body to flow with the motions of the horse, but it still jarred him each time the big paint came down. With a flash of brown hat, Josh jumped out of the corral, but Trey hung on as the stallion stopped bucking and then raced around the limited space. Sweat sprayed everywhere as he ran. He scattered the mares several times until they just fell into running with him. Every so often he’d buck again, trying in vain to dislodge Trey, who held on. Keeping his mouth closed, Trey didn’t talk for fear of biting his tongue at some point when the horse landed hard, but he kept projecting calm and acceptance. It was the wildest ride he’d ever been on, but eventually the stallion slowed down to a walk.

  “Good boy,” Trey heaved, his own breath coming in shorter gasps than he’d realized. “That’s a really good boy.” He reached forward and rubbed the horse’s mane, brushing some of the sweat off. The stallion still shivered with each step it took. Finally it turned and looked back at Trey sitting astride it. The wild fire was gone from its eyes. Trey sighed to himself as he felt something deep inside him break. He’d never broken a horse before; he’d always gentled them. He laid his hand on the heaving neck. “I promise you, when this is all over, we’ll find your wild spirit again.”

  “Excellent, boy,” Martin said from the other side of the fence. “That was some of the best ’stang breaking I think I have ever seen. What do you think, boys?”

  “That was great,” Josh said.

  “Something to see,” the older, taller one said.

  “So, Trey McAlister, I think you have a job,” Martin said. “Unsaddle him, and we’ll go back to my office and discuss the particulars.”

  Trey angled the stallion over to the fence. The horse’s head hung low, almost to its knees, as he swung down from the saddle. He ran his hands over the wet shoulder as he undid the cinch and pulled the saddle off. After setting the saddle back on the top rail, he went to remove the halter.

  “Leave that on,” Martin ordered. “That way you don’t have to get it on him again tomorrow.”

  Trey frowned but reached under the horse’s chin and undid the lead. He hated leaving a halter on a horse. It was too easy for one to get caught up on something if the horse tried to scratch its head on anything. A quick glance around the corral didn’t show anything he might get in trouble on. With a final pat, he jumped up on the fence before landing next to Martin.

  “You know, Trey, if you can do that with every horse you meet, we might be able to make some money bringing in some of the wild horses around these parts. The other ranchers would appreciate that. Means more grass for cattle.”

  “Yes, sir,” Trey said with a heavy heart. He’d accomplished his goal of getting a job at the Dabinshire ranch, but what kind of damage had he done to that magnificent stallion in the process? With a final look at the horse standing there, its sides still heaving and its head hung low, he shook himself and wished Gray Talon was around to take him away from this. A sad sigh escaped him as he followed Martin back to his office.

  21

  A MASSIVE shake racked Gray Talon as he resumed his human form. Something in his scalp itched.

  “If I got fleas from being a dog, I’m going to be really upset,” he said, scratching his head.

  “So how long can you stay in an animal form?” Sarah asked. She sat heavily in the chair next to the door of the hotel room she’d taken.

  “As long as I need to. There are legends that some of the first multiple forms actually mated with animals and bore children with them, and that’s where the two-forms come from.”

  She pulled off her boots, letting each one hit the floor with a resounding thud. “But you can assume many shapes. Are the rules different for you?”

  Gray Talon laughed. “You whites are always trying to apply rules to everything. Some things in life don’t need rules, and the People are one of them.”

  “So you don’t really know, do you?”

  He ignored her question. Gray Talon found Sarah a nice enough woman, but like many women, particularly the few white women he’d ever met, she was nosy and full of questions as opposed to just accepting life as it was.

  “Why did you turn your attention from the rancher to the railroad man?”

  “Easy, Dabinshire is a widower and a local.” She tossed her hat onto the neatly made bed. “If he was interested in finding
female companionship, he would’ve done it by now. He’s attractive enough and a good catch. I figure he’s not looking for anyone.” Her rough fingers ran through her brown hair. “Walfred, on the other hand, is married, traveling, and not very attractive. The odds are he’s open to a bit of female companionship, particularly if it’s someone his wife will never meet socially. Having a lovely woman on his arm will bring his esteem up with the other men. So he’s the one to go for. He’s also likely to be invited out or may even demand to go out to Dabinshire’s ranch to see how the metal men are made before he invests his money in them. I play my cards right, we can go along, look pretty, and see and hear things that they won’t stop to think twice about saying in front of a dainty little woman and her pet poodle.”

  It all sounded very complex. Gray Talon couldn’t imagine why the whites were so devious. Why not just be straightforward with things? “How did you come up with this idea?”

  “Like I said before, I read. That and my father wanted to make sure that all of his children knew how to do business, just in case we found ourselves alone. Even us girls wouldn’t get taken advantage of by anyone.”

  “You do realize that the young woman that Dabinshire is passing off as his daughter is really the dragon’s daughter, don’t you?”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I thought there was something odd about her. Her eyes didn’t look right.”

  “And she had blue hair and smelled like a lizard. I wish I could remember what the dragon smelled like when Trey and I met her ten years ago.”

  “What was she like?”

  Gray Talon shrugged. “Trey only recently recalled his memory of meeting her. I was going through the trauma of learning I could shift to multiple shapes and can’t remember much.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll try to learn more at dinner tonight. I heard Walfred invite her too. I should pretty up a bit.”

  “Good. We have a couple of hours before your dinner with Walfred. I’ll fly out to camp and inform Trey of what we learned today. I’ll be back before dinner.”

  “We can hope that Trey’s day was as productive as ours,” she replied.

  AFTER SPENDING the morning as a dog sniffing around at ankle level, being able to open his wings and fly felt great to Gray Talon. Cheyenne quickly fell away, replaced by the prairie. To the north and east, the rock wall stood out as a scar against the landscape. He angled north. A golden eagle in the Wyoming skies was nothing new. Most of the animals below him didn’t even bother to look up as he soared high above them. He shook again, still feeling irritations against his skin. Then he angled his flight toward the butte where their camp rested.

  Below, a horse and rider kicked up a small cloud of dust heading toward the butte. He recognized Trey, even in the white clothes he was still getting used to and riding the bay horse they’d taken from the outlaws. Gray Talon swooped down to fly alongside the horse and rider. The beast sidestepped, nervous about the large bird flying next to it. Even several feet away, he felt the calming energies Trey poured out as he got the horse back onto the narrow trail that ran up to their camp. His partner flashed him a weak smile. Gray Talon loved seeing Trey smile, but he felt there was something wrong. Did Trey fail to acquire the ranch job?

  Copperpot appeared, standing in the mouth of the cave at the base of the butte. Having seen the more recent models, Gray Talon could tell there was a lot more craftsmanship that went into their friend. He wondered how it was seen as a failure and flawed by McNair. Shifting back to his human form, he landed next to the construct.

  “Ah, Master Gray Talon, you and Master Trey have returned. Where is Mistress Sarah?”

  “She’s staying in town for a while,” Gray Talon said. He stepped toward where Trey swung down from the horse. “I’ll be rejoining her in a few hours.”

  “So the demonstration today was a success?” Trey asked. A note of sadness colored his voice.

  “That’s right. The team of construction constructs managed to lay a stretch of railroad line without a problem, and they did it quick.” He caught his partner in his arms before he could tell him about finding the dragon’s daughter. Trey collapsed there. “So what happened at the ranch?”

  Trey’s strong arms wrapped around him and hugged him tight. “I got the job.” His voice was a harsh whisper.

  Gray Talon ran his hand down the long blond hair, trying to provide some comfort. “So what happened?”

  “I had to prove my skills at riding by breaking a new stallion they had just caught. He was such a magnificent horse. A gorgeous paint. Since I couldn’t use my magic, I had to do it the way the whites do it.” Trey stopped and swallowed hard. “By the time I was done, his spirit had broken too. What did that horse matter in all this?” He sobbed, and warm tears washed down on Gray Talon’s buckskin shirt. “I wish we could just call the tribes together to ride in and stop the metal men and find the dragon’s daughter.”

  “I think I may have seen her,” Gray Talon said softly.

  Trey jerked away from him for a moment. “What do you mean?”

  “Dabinshire had a young woman with him this morning. She was tall and delicate. He indicated that she was his daughter. Her hair was blue and her eyes were gold. I think there was something wrong with her, because she didn’t move much and never said a word.”

  The darkness and sadness fled Trey’s blue eyes. “They might have her under a spell or have locked some part of her away, like with Copperpot’s soul. If he’s taking her out, that means she’ll definitely be around the ranch. Maybe I can get to her that way. Did he say her name?”

  “He didn’t, but we’re going to see her tonight. Sarah is supposed to have dinner with Walfred—one of the railroad men—and Dabinshire. McNair and the daughter will be there. Maybe we will find out her name then.”

  Trey frowned. “Be careful. There’s a good chance she may be able to tell that you’re not really a dog. Hopefully she won’t tell anyone if she does, but we won’t know until after you meet her.”

  His partner’s worry triggered a concern in Gray Talon. It was a possibility they hadn’t stopped to think about previously. “Will she be able to sense your magic if you meet her on the ranch?”

  “We won’t know until that happens either. Did she seem like she’s working with them?”

  Gray Talon shook his head. “Like I said, she actually looked like she was in some kind of trance. More of an automaton than Copperpot here. Less personality too.”

  “The dragon of Bald Peak seemed more animated than that. That definitely sounds like a spell or charm of some sort. Did you notice any kind of jewelry on her?”

  “No, but then she was in one of those long prairie dresses, complete with bonnet. I wouldn’t have noticed her hair if a strand hadn’t fallen out from under the bonnet while Sarah carried me.”

  Trey cocked an eyebrow. “Sarah carried you?”

  “Small dog.”

  “Oh yeah, forgot about that part.”

  Gray Talon scratched his head again. “If I got fleas from that whole thing, I’m going to be angry.”

  “Fleas? Really?” Trey chuckled, the last of the stress leaving his face. “Well, I know of a few plants we can rub all over you if we need to.”

  He frowned at his lover. “I don’t think we have time for you to be rubbing leaves all over me.”

  “WOULD YOU like me to carry you?” Sarah asked as they descended the stairs to the hotel’s dining room. Gray Talon growled his decline of the idea. She giggled. “Very well, then, just stay close.”

  She paused at the landing, and he circled her feet nervously, looking for any of the people they were supposed to be meeting. The lobby was full of people, mostly out-of-towners who hadn’t left that afternoon after the metal men finished building the stretch of track.

  “Ah, my dear Sarah, please, come join us,” Walfred called out before Gray Talon could spot him.

  “Cornelius, there you are,” Sarah said and headed for the man.

  “I hope y
ou had a lovely afternoon, my dear. The accommodations here are almost as nice as some of the midlevel establishments back east. After standing out on that dreary platform all morning, I needed to make use of them.”

  Sarah took his arm and patted his pudgy fingers. “I totally agree. So have Mr. Dabinshire and Mr. McNair arrived yet?”

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the floor. Gray Talon saw one of the constructs walking toward them with McNair, Dabinshire, and the dragon’s daughter. Another construct followed behind them.

  “Ah, there they are now,” Walfred replied. “Ronald, Mr. McNair, so good of you to make it.”

  “You had already left this afternoon before my crew finished the tracks,” McNair said as the other two men shook hands. “I wasn’t sure you enjoyed our little demonstration or not.”

  Walfred shook McNair’s hand. “I do apologize for my quick departure. The air out here gets to me so quickly. I just had to get inside. I assure you, I was very impressed with the display. But please, let’s go get our table and we can talk more.”

  Sarah politely cleared her throat as her hand settled onto the railroad man’s arm again.

  “Oh, how thoughtless of me. Gentlemen, may I introduce my companion, Sarah Daily. She just arrived this afternoon. Sarah, may I introduce Ronald Dabinshire, his lovely daughter Daphne, and Justin McNair. He is the inventor of these most magnificent metal men.” Walfred gestured to the construct. Gray Talon kept a wary eye on the metal legs, trying to make sure they didn’t step on him. Being so small was a distinct disadvantage.

  “Didn’t I see you in the crowd this afternoon?” Dabinshire asked. “You’re the one who stopped Cornelius from falling down the steps.”

  “That was me.” Sarah chuckled. “Always trying to make sure Corny doesn’t hurt himself, don’t I, Corny?” She smiled at the railroad man and patted his arm.