by Linda Conrad
"You're sure Jake said I wouldn't be allowed to help out with the roundup?" she asked Gray, who assisted as she adjusted her saddle.
Gray had been by her side constantly for the past ten days. Of course, for most of that time, she'd been asleep or at the doctor's office, having the remainders of the sutures pulled from her healing skin. But regardless of where she'd been for all those hours and days, he'd stuck with her … just as he'd promised. This was to be her first day on horseback since the incident.
Gray shook his head. "No, Abby. You know the doctor doesn't want you overexerting yourself until you have the plastic surgery on your face."
Her gloved hand immediately flew to her left cheek, to the worst gash from her encounter with the barbs. She was much happier when she could forget about it. But now, with Gray watching her closely, she remembered how angry the red mark looked in a mirror as it streaked across her face.
It was at times like these that she almost wished she had let the sheriff put his guard on her, instead of having Gray constantly by her side and witnessing her ugliness. But that weak wish only lasted a moment.
She wanted to look good for Gray, a feeling she'd never experienced before. The ugly scar across her cheek bothered her, but it didn't seem to bother him too much. If he could ignore it, so could she.
Besides, she was more than a little taken with Gray and wanted to keep him by her side so she could continue to drink in the way his jeans clung to his thighs … and the way his muscles strained the sleeves of his shirt. When she'd been resting at home, struggling to sleep through the hazy pain, she'd remembered his tenderness and the way he'd worked so quickly to not only save her life but the life of her horse. He'd been careful and sure, if a little cranky. The doctor told her that he'd probably saved her from any worse scarring.
The memory of his golden skin, gleaming and slick in the hot sun, came back to tease her. Even with all her pain and fear that day, rusty shreds of the memory of his tenderness—and the naked muscular arms he'd bared to bind her wounds—gave her enough of a thrill to distract her through the worst of times.
Gray spoke and brought her back to the present with a jolt. "Let's just stay with our plan today," he said. "We'll take a nice slow ride over to the Skaggs Ranch, check on the mustangs, and then I'll take you to visit my lodge for a picnic lunch. Okay?"
Abby nodded as she adjusted her seat astride the mare. Dang. It was good to be back in the saddle. Even if it was only for an easy, morning ride.
As she and Gray rode toward his stepfather's ranch, Abby tried to find a way to make the time seem less tiresome and thought of some questions she'd been meaning to ask. Since the doctor insisted they walk their horses instead of taking her usually faster gait, she figured this might be a good time for her to talk to him without interruption.
"Uh … tell me more about the mustangs. I heard you say they belong to you. I don't understand. I thought they belonged to your stepfather, Joe Skaggs. That he must've inherited them from your mother."
Gray lifted his work hat and shoved a hand through his hair. She saw that he'd been letting his hair grow. The thick, black strands curled around his ears and had already started to lengthen down his neck. A little itch started to grow in the base of her spine, and she turned her head to find something else to stare at.
"Mustangs are creatures of the earth and the Great Spirit," he told her in a deep, quiet voice. "They cannot belong to any man. We can adopt them, take care of them, help them survive in the wild if we wish, but no one can own such a wild and free thing."
She swiveled slightly to find his eyes, needing to see the expression on his face. But he'd replaced his hat, and the brim cast a dark shadow over his eyes.
"Unfortunately, white men believe only in the power of possession," he said in a gruff tone. "So, legally, I suppose, the answer to your question is, yes, the herd belongs to me."
He looked out at the open range in front of them—at the scruffy brush, the gnarled mesquite and the small dots of a few tall oaks in the distance. "My mother left them to me in her will. She'd told Joe Skaggs when he married her that the mustangs must stay in the hands of the nemene. That my father had wanted me to be their caretaker when she could no longer manage."
Gray shrugged his shoulders. "I guess my stepfather wasn't altogether happy about not keeping control of the herd. He'd been made trustee of my mother's estate but that wasn't enough. He petitioned the court to change the terms of the will, but he didn't get very far, even though I couldn't afford a lawyer to represent my interests. Made my life miserable for several months, I can tell you, and just after I'd buried my mother, too."
"Oh, Gray, I'm sorry. But why did he want control of the herd so badly? They're lovely, free-spirited and basic, but…"
"Yeah, I know. There doesn't seem to be much money involved in raising mustangs." He hesitated, looked over toward her, then turned to the front again and continued. "Except, people in the know understand that a few rich gentleman ranchers like having exotic animals to show off to all their friends … and are willing to pay big bucks to own them."
He took a breath, and it hit Abby what he'd said. "You mean like Cinco, don't you?" She felt the flare of anger flash over her like a sudden rainstorm. "I'll have you know that Cinco is not a 'gentleman' rancher. He works hard. We all do. He just does his work mostly from a desk, that's all."
She tried to breathe evenly, counting to ten in silence.
"And Cinco bought that new medicine-hat mustang as a favor to a friend," she blurted fiercely. "An old buddy of his had gotten himself into deep debt, needed to sell off the bulk of his stock. Cinco was afraid that the mustang might be sold to the wrong type of person so he bought it himself. He thinks it's a beautiful animal. So do I."
Gray turned, and she knew he was studying her from under the hat's brim. "Yes, I believe you do."
He hesitated one more second, as if trying to decide what to say. "I've allowed my stepfather to sell some of the ponies to a few special people, and we've sold the mustangs' services in stud a few times, as well," he finally admitted. "But as far as I'm concerned that's only a temporary measure. It enables us to raise enough funds for Joe to pay down his debts and to keep the mustangs healthy.
"As soon as I can save enough up for range land of my own, the herd and I will be moving far away from Joe Skaggs. I want the mustangs to be free-roaming the way nature intended … and not used for some white man's pleasure. I may allow them to be shown for instructional or historic purposes someday. But they should forever be available for all people to enjoy, not just a few."
"They're that important to you?" she probed somberly.
"They are that important to the nemene. Mustangs are our heritage. Throughout history we've been known as Lords of the Southern Plains, renowned for our skilled horsemanship. Comanches were the first people to learn about horse breeding, they were the first and best horse traders in the West and, because of the mustangs, nearly invincible warriors on horseback."
Cinco had been right, she thought, when he'd predicted that Gray would eventually leave the area in order to be with his tribe. Hadn't Gray just said that he would be moving far away with the herd as soon as he saved up enough money?
"The history and fate of the nemene and the mustang are intertwined," Gray added after waiting a beat. "It is the will of the ancient elders that I am to be their caretaker and bring this herd back to its great numbers, relocating them to their original homeland."
"Well, I guess I understand that," Abby told him. "I know what it feels like to love a horse so much that it becomes the most important thing in your whole life. To help bring a horse's foal into the world. To have a horse as your only friend and companion day in and day out. And even to have a horse give his life for yours."
She was riding Patsy again today, and she remembered how the mare had gone above and beyond her duty when they'd saved Gray from the dry wash. Abby reached over, gave the mare's neck a few pats.
Gray nodded.
"You understand part of it. Enough to know that I cannot go against who I am. I must see to it that the mustangs are free to range on the ancient hunting grounds. Some things are expected of me, and I must live my heritage."
They'd arrived at the gate between the Skaggs and Gentry lands, and Gray dismounted to lead both horses through to Skaggs property. Then they rode along in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, their own backgrounds.
When Gray slowed his mustang a little while later, Abby looked up to see a four-sided enclosure with a thatched-style roof and cowhide outer walls. It didn't have windows, but the roof did have a pipe that looked as if it might be connected to a cooking stove.
"Oh. A modern teepee?" Abby wondered aloud.
"No." Gray advised. "It's called a lodge."
She wanted to see the rest of this wondrous structure, wanted to see for herself how it was made. "We're going in, right?"
Gray slid off the back of his mustang. "Yes. You need rest now."
His words irritated her a little. She should know best what her own body needed. He didn't have to tell her what to do or when to do it.
But as he left his mustang and moved toward her, the irritation fled and was quickly replaced by admiration. His loose and lanky build, his back straight and strong, gave him such a natural manner, as if he'd been carved right out of the earth and still belonged to it.
How could she stay annoyed with such a fantastic human being? He was beautiful, strong and honorable … and he loved horses. It was really too bad that he didn't understand her love and need for the land. Too bad he wouldn't be around so she could admire him for the next twenty or thirty years.
Gray wasn't too sure about bringing Abby to his lodge and this far away from the main house. But he was following Cinco's instructions and staying off her normal haunts on Gentry land. Abby's brother had made him promise to guide her to places that she seldom visited—in order to throw off any stalker that might know her habits.
He watched Abby as she started to swing her leg backward over the horse, readying herself to dismount the way she always did. But she hesitated in midswing and winced.
"Hold on," Gray scolded her. "Let me help you down."
The expression on her face at his words told him everything. She was in pain but furious with her body for betraying her. Well, he would help her—no matter what she wanted.
"Sit still a moment and let the pain ease," he told her as he stepped up directly beside her horse.
When she'd stopped fidgeting, he began to speak to her in soft, caressing tones—the same as he would an injured pony. "Breathe, princess…"
She looked at him sharply and he felt himself smiling at her spunk.
"Yes, I'm sure you know how to breathe the same as I do. But you weren't just then. You were holding your breath, holding in the pain instead of letting it go." He reached over and gently put a hand on her arm, hoping to give her some quiet strength.
Abby's lips curled in a near smile, but instead of it making him feel more relaxed that her pain had eased, he felt his own body tensing in response. Maybe he should heed his own words of caution.
"Take a moment and concentrate on taking even breaths. Your lungs will expel the pain, if you give them a chance to do their job," he explained. "Close your eyes and think of the cleansing, healing air moving quietly in and out of your body."
She did as he'd asked, and he watched her face for signs of stress. Instead of paying attention to the little lines of tension around her eyes, though, he found himself watching her long, sable eyelashes softly floating against her freckled cheekbones. He wanted to touch the same place that those lashes touched. Wanted to kiss the tender skin of her lids, the strong jawline—even the jagged scar that marred her features.
Suddenly it wasn't soothing that he wanted. He wanted to bring those features to life with desire … with ecstasy.
He blinked back his growing needs and silently vowed to only consider her needs today. She faced her pain bravely and he needed to help her.
Abby was oblivious to his needs, thank the Powers that Be. Her eyes were closed and her tension lines had eased. The breathing exercises seemed to have done the job.
"Now relax your muscles, Abby. Start with your toes and feet. Feel the tension leaving as you concentrate on letting them go loose."
He watched her visibly begin to relax. Her shoulders eased and her chin dropped slightly.
"Good," he whispered. "Now your knees and thighs. Let them go. They need a rest."
Gray softly slid his arm around her waist. "Now your torso. Keep breathing. My arm will hold you upright, don't worry. Give your muscles a break. Give them a chance to breathe, too."
At last he felt her body slump as the stress of the pain finally worked its way out through her breath and through her pores. "Excellent. Stay relaxed a minute." He gently tightened his grip and eased her loose body off the saddle and into his arms.
But now that he had her there, he realized he didn't want to let her go. She was light as a cloud, soft as the morning mist. He had her pinned against his heart, and that's just where he wanted her to stay.
She tensed in his arms and opened her eyes. He'd apparently waited a moment too long to let her go.
"Gray?"
He eased her down his body and placed her on her feet. "Uh. Keep breathing and relax."
Gray thought that would be good advice to heed himself, if only he could start his heart up again. He hadn't needed a woman in a very long time, and had never desired one the way he did when he was close to Abby. This sudden desperation for her was beginning to be a liability. It was keeping him from doing his duty.
She looked up at him with those sincere green eyes. Her expression was dazed, stunned. Obviously, his passion had stolen into her body. He hadn't meant for that to happen. But apparently they were on the same shaky ground.
"Thanks … for the advice … and the lift off," she heard herself stutter.
What was the matter with her? She'd thought for a moment that he would be kissing her again. That he wanted what her body seemed to be craving. But now he stood there, looking at her so solemnly that she just couldn't be sure. Had she imagined something between them?
Abby knew she didn't have any experience with desire for a man. Hadn't ever thought she would, either. But she was sure that's what had been happening to her.
She wanted the slick feel of his skin against her fingers. Wanted to curl into his arms and have him hold her to his beating heart. Never before had she wanted a man, but she seemed to be frantic for this one.
The thing was, she just couldn't be sure he wanted the same thing she did. She mentally kicked herself for being so green.
"Let's go inside out of the sun." Gray's voice was a little hoarse, but she still wasn't sure what that meant.
He lifted a heavy-looking flap of hide and uncovered a huge archway, leading into the interior of the lodge. Abby peered into the darkness but found that, further inside, light from some source in the roof was illuminating the far corners of the room.
"Kick off your boots," he said as he tugged off his own. "Need any help?"
"I can manage." She pulled them off and left them by the entrance.
She moved under Gray's outstretched arm and strolled inside. The moment she'd crossed the threshold, she felt the change in atmosphere. Trying to remember what he'd told her, she took a deep, sobering breath. She drew the perfume of rawhide, leather and old campfire smoke into her lungs and immediately relaxed.
It felt like home somehow.
As she stood on the soft carpeting of hides, she noted that the one small room felt larger than it really was. But on the other hand, it didn't seem so large that it overwhelmed her. In fact, when she closed her eyes for a second, the impression she got was more like a cozy cradle, softly lulling the muscles of her body into comfort.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she saw that Gray had placed a small table and a couple of chairs next to an old stove. In a far corne
r sat a cot that was literally sagging under the weight of hides and fur. And in another corner an open bookcase held canned goods, water and other necessities.
"The place looks very comfortable," she told him, and meant it.
"It takes care of my needs," he said, sounding slightly proud of himself.
"You built all of this?"
He nodded and indicated that she should sit down at the little table.
"Well, I'm impressed." She eased herself into one of the chairs.
"While I was in college, I spent a couple of summers helping a group of tribal members build houses for some of their poorer neighbors," he said. "This lodge was no trick at all after that. As a matter of fact, I've been thinking of putting in plumbing. I'd be able to get the water from the spring in the woods behind here."
"Speaking of water—" she licked her lips, suddenly thinking how thirsty she'd become "—I could stand a drink."
"Hold on, my little princess. I'll bring you some."
Gray left the lodge, and within a few seconds, returned with the canteen and the bag that held a picnic lunch that Lupe had packed for them. "Guess I forgot that the body also needs food and water in order to heal."
He forgot because his brain had been otherwise occupied with looking at her body, he chided himself. The compact muscles in her thighs and her rounded bottom, gloved snugly in the thick denim of work jeans, had totally wiped away all his good intentions.
She smiled up at him and took a sip from the canteen. After she'd downed a couple of swigs, she handed it back. A few drops of the warm water remained clinging to her lips. Gray gripped the canteen with both hands to keep from reaching over and wiping them away with his thumb.
"Here," he mumbled as he turned away from the ripe vision of her lips. "Let me spread out the sandwiches and fruit we brought with us. Then I'd better go down to the spring and fetch some water. You'd be surprised at how crystal clear and cool the spring water can be."