by Sandy Nathan
“Let’s go back to the others. Bud, I’m so sorry you’re having such a bad time. But we love you. You’ve done more than anyone could, healing Sam and working so hard. You’ve saved our lives. Come on …” She held out her hand to him and pulled him up.
“Can I hug you? I need a hug,” Bud said.
She nodded and they embraced. He kissed her cheek, just as Sam walked down the path.
62
“Oh, Sam, I’m not gettin’ fresh with your wife.” Bud let go of Grace and turned away. “I’m just havin’ a nervous breakdown.” He pulled out a hankie and wiped his eyes. “I miss my family so much and I don’t know how I’ll get home.”
Sam hugged him. If he had found Wesley with his arms around the lady, he would have attacked him. Wes had been chasing after Grace almost the entire time they had been back. Bud was a different story.
“I don’t know how you can get home, Bud,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, Sam. I appreciate th’ sympathy. I think I’m going to take the equine therapy approach to going plum out of my mind. I’m going to go for a ride. Want to ride with me? I’ve got that stallion I been training ready for you to try.”
“OK.”
“I’m going to give this to Jeremy,” Grace held up the flash drive, “and see if he can do anything with it. Bud, why don’t you tell Sam what you told me?”
“Sure. An’ you tell Jeremy. I think we should keep it at that, just the four of us. It’s too chancy to get people’s hopes up.”
“I agree. Let’s see if Jeremy can get a show ready for us this evening. We can broadcast your photos against the rock wall above the cliff.”
Sam sat at one side of the circle where he could watch everyone. By the time Jeremy got everything set up, the moon glowed over the plains. Wolves and coyotes howled, but no one on the ledge paid much attention to them. Sam searched people’s faces, while the others concentrated on Bud and his picture show.
The lady was sitting next to Lena, chatting away. Wesley walked over to her, smiling like a rabid coyote. He started to sit down next to her, but she got up and moved next to Sam. He patted her knee as she sat down on her log and tossed Wesley a triumphant glare. Wes glowered. Sam felt his breathing quicken. When would he call him out? He’d taken more than any husband should.
His ancestors rose inside him, roiling and roaring, warning him day and night. Telling him to keep sharp. Sam knew what happened with the first Sam Baahuhd and his wife Emily. Theirs was a love story for the ages, but it wasn’t perfect love. He knew the danger other men could pose in a small group of people. The strain made him sharp and anxious. He felt like he did when he drank the coffee and the caffeine made him shake. He couldn’t get away from the feelings. Or Wesley. Or her.
Sam had watched Wesley stalking her for almost two years. She did nothing to encourage him. But she didn’t slap him or yell at him or tell Sam to kill him. Suspicion nipped at him, clawing its way through his soul. First, over Wesley. Then it spread to Henry. And even James. She was good friends with James. He was gay. Sam was getting crazy.
If he could get rid of Wesley, things would be much better. He’d call him out. The two of them, someplace quiet and out of the way. Down by the sawmill maybe. The supernatural Indian warrior might discover that the underground held a few secrets of its own. If he was soundly beaten, Wesley would leave.
“Sam, pay attention to what Bud’s saying,” Grace whispered, nudging him. He turned to the picture show.
“This is my wife, Bert. That’s short for Roberta,” Bud stood up as Jeremy projected images he’d taken from the flash drive on the wall of the big cave. Everyone stared, enthralled. “Isn’t Bert just the cutest thing? I love that little space between her front teeth. That knocked me for a loop when I met her.” The image of a round-faced, brown woman with the warmest smile covered the wall.
“An’ here are my kids, Buddy, Les, and Allie.” In the next photo, the woman was joined by three adorable brown kids, two teenagers and a girl about six. All had the little space between their front teeth. “It’s a good thing I like that space, because the orthodontist wanted a lot of money to get rid of it.” More images filled the wall: the older kids playing baseball. The little girl dancing in a tutu. All of them playing in the snow. Riding horses.
Wesley got up and moved to the other side of the lady. “I can see better here,” he stage-whispered. Sam felt like belting him. He was pushing too hard. The lady pulled toward Sam.
“Sam, watch,” she whispered. “Take a good look.”
“OK. Here I get into shaky ground. When you work for Will, you gotta sign a contract saying you won’t mention his name outside of your closet. But I took some pictures, takin’ my life in my hands. This here is Will Duane’s Montana ranch house.” Many more images appeared, showing posh log interiors and spectacular decoration. Paintings fit for museums. Garlands of greenery. A Christmas tree.
“It was Christmas then. The house is twenty-five thousand feet, not including the guesthouses, of which there are plenty. He built the ranch before his financial disaster. This and his Woodside house are the only two he’s got left. He picked the two best ones, I’ll say. He hires the best architects in the world to build for him, or he did.”
“Sam, that’s where we would live,” she whispered in his ear, so quietly that only he could hear.
Sam squinted at the picture. The house was beautiful. Living there would be better than on a rock ledge. But it was impossible …
“Will’s real edgy about people, because with all that’s happened to him …”
“Can you tell us what happened, Bud?” Grace asked.
“About everything that can happen.” He gave them a brief rundown.
“That’s awful,” Grace said. “That poor man.”
“Yeah, really. The final blow was the financial crash of 2001 and the big one in 2008. But he’s recovered some, and realized that half of the fifty billion he once had is still a lot of money.”
When the show was over, people gathered around Bud. “I wish we could get you home, Bud.” “Those kids sure are cute.” “Something will come up, somehow.”
Grace and Sam got up to go to their cave. Wesley lurched forward and caught himself by grabbing the lady.
“I’m sorry. I’m a klutz. I apologize.” He stroked her clothing, smoothing it. He ran his hand over her breast, more than a little too slowly.
“Take yer filthy hands off o’ her,” Sam said, the Voice and the village speech bursting out of him. “Ne’er let me see ye near her. Y’ ken?” He stepped forward so he was inches from Wesley.
“Well, sure, Sam. I just tripped is all.” Wesley looked him straight in the eye.
Sam took the lady’s arm and headed for bed. He’d call Wesley out the next day.
63
Grace slipped down the cliff face. It was late afternoon. Mel was giving a math class to Sam and the others. Everyone else was busy or napping. This was a perfect time to ride the lovely mare Bud had trained for her. It was also an opportunity to get through something that plagued her about Belle. She never stumbled, reared, bucked, shied, or ran away. She was sure footed and had plenty of go, but she was easily controlled. The perfect horse, except for one thing.
Grace looked at the bruise on her forearm. Being bitten by a horse felt like being hit by a hammer. Pain and shock bundled together. Belle only did it when being bridled. She never did it when Wes or Bud was around. Only with Grace. She unrolled her sleeves and secured them around her wrists. The fabric might take up some of the force if the animal snapped.
“She’s got you buffaloed,” Bud had said. “Approach her like a warrior. An’ every horse got somethin’. Weren’t this, it’d be somethin’ else. Maybe worse.”
She was a warrior. Why couldn’t she master this horse? She caught Belle and tied her halter rope to a fence post. A post, not a rail. “A horse can break a rail if it pulls back, but ain’t likely to pull out a post,” Bud had told her. He was the g
uru of horses.
She groomed and saddled the mare expertly. Grace unbuckled the horse’s halter and slipped her nose out of it, buckling the halter around her neck so she could bridle her.
Grace pulled in a deep breath as she picked up the bridle. OK. Showtime.
“That’s a girl,” Grace stood erect, projecting as much authority as she could. “We’re going to do this.”
Belle’s teeth snapped as they closed on her shirt’s arm. That good old Russian commando fabric didn’t tear. It didn’t shield her much, however.
“OK. That’s it. I’m putting this on you if it’s the last thing I do.” She clenched her jaw in determination, taking the top of the bridle in her right hand and raising it up the front of the horse’s head. She held it in front of Belle’s ears. She’d slip the strap behind her ears once she got the bit in her mouth.
Grace held the bit by the left shank. “Open up. Come on, Belle. Don’t do this.” The mare clamped her teeth shut and refused to open her mouth. Grace tried pushing the bit into the crack where her lips met in front, and then using her fingers to push on the side of her mouth behind her front teeth. That’s where the bit would rest; horses had no teeth there. She was furious. All she could say was that Belle’s current tactic was better than being bitten.
“Need some help?’ Wes had approached silently, startling her.
“Yes. She won’t open her mouth.”
“You’re doing OK. The saddle’s on fine.” He tightened the girth. “We’ll check it again before you get on.
“Just keep going. If you don’t quit, you won’t fail.” He stood to her left and behind her, close to Belle’s head. “Push against her cheek where she doesn’t have teeth.”
“I already did that.” She did it again and the mare merely tossed her head. Grace stood awkwardly, the top of the bridle in her right hand, her arm stretched to the horse’s ears. Her left hand hovered in front of Belle’s mouth, holding the bit.
Wes stepped closer. She could feel his body heat and the energy that he had used to do all those amazing things coursing through him. She felt a little dizzy. She turned and saw his white teeth as he smiled and the precise sculpting of his face. She felt his charisma. He was irresistible.
“Keep going; you’ve almost got it. Take your thumb and put it in her mouth, right there by the corner.”
“I can’t. She won’t open her mouth.”
“OK, I’ll help you, but you have to do it,” Wesley stepped behind her, reaching around her back with both arms. He put his right hand over hers on the top of the bridle. His left hand covered her left over the bit. Wes guided her thumb and forefinger to a place where she could push against the horse’s teeth. The mare opened her mouth. Wesley pulled Grace’s right hand up so that the bridle went over Belle’s ears and the bit slipped into her mouth.
His arms were spread around her and his body was plastered against her back. Neither of them moved.
She couldn’t breathe or think. She had that melting feeling, that “Here we go” feeling, that dissolving of will she knew so well.
She leaned back against him, feeling his hard, compact frame quivering. Feeling more than that. She felt his bulge. She was light-headed. Her face turned toward his without any conscious thought. His lips were soft and lustrous. An instant more and their mouths would …
“NO!” she shrieked, darting under Wesley’s arm. A dozen heads appeared at the top of the cliff, looking for what was wrong. Grace tore up the ladder.
She ran into their room and threw herself on their bed, curling up on her knees, wrapping her arms over her head.
“Oh, no. Oh, no.” She rocked and keened, tears dropping on their bedcover.
“What did he do, lady?” Sam’s voice startled her. “Did he hurt you?”
“Oh, Sam. Oh, God. I can’t believe it.” She pulled away. “I’m so sorry. I never want to do anything to come between us.”
“What did you do?”
She told him.
“You didn’t kiss him, or touch him?”
“No, but I felt that feeling. Oh, God. I never wanted to feel that again for anyone but you. I’m so happy with you, and then out of nowhere, I’m feeling …
“I thought I wasn’t like that any more.”
“You didn’t do anything, lady.”
“I don’t want to be the way I used to be. Oh, Sam.” She threw herself at him and hugged him. “I was an immoral woman, Sam. I was a terrible person.”
He sat next to her. “Did you go looking for him?”
“No. I didn’t see him at all.”
“Do you think about him?”
“No. He’s pathetic.”
“You’re not in love with him?”
“No! I’m in love with you. When I felt that, that’s why … I’m so terrified. What if I destroy everything? Us!
“Oh, Sam. Tie me up so I don’t do bad things. Tie me up!”
He petted her and stroked her hair, kissing her streaked cheeks. “You’re afraid.”
“I’m terrified—of myself.”
Sam picked up the Book from his side of the bed. “Lady, don’t be afraid. Ye said ‘No!’ so loud it frightened the kiddies. And ye ran to me and told me. A person can feel things, but doesn’t mean you have to do anything.” He smiled at her.
“Who knows, maybe some day, some lass will make me,” he made a gesture indicating an erection.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “I never want any other women around you. I couldn’t bear it.”
“Lady, I don’t want anyone else. Only you. You have not done anything bad; that is what I wanted to say.”
She turned around and saw Jeremy in the doorway.
“Mom, are you OK?”
“Yes, I just got scared, that’s all.”
“What happened?’ He came over to her.
“I thought I’d ruined everything. I thought things were going to be like they were with your father. I don’t want to raise a baby in that kind of a marriage.” She turned to Sam.
Sam and Jeremy stared at her.
“I just thought that … with the baby coming …” she explained.
“The baby coming?” both men said at once.
“I didn’t want to tell anyone until I knew for sure, but I’m almost three months late and I think … I want everything to be perfect”
Sam hugged her. “Ah, lady. I’m so happy.” He kissed her, and then looked up at Jeremy. “Jeremy, could you get Lena to stay with her? I need to do something. I need your help.”
64
“Look, Sam, I’m sorry. I need to get laid, that’s all,” Wes backed away. He was still by the horse corrals.
“You must leave,” Sam said, towering over Wes. He didn’t yell at him, punch him, or blow up. Didn’t use the Voice or his Power, either. “You must leave, now.”
“I’d love to leave. Nothing would make me happier than leaving. But how?”
“You will talk to the golden planet. You will ask them to take you and Bud.”
“OK. I’m all set up and ready to broadcast.” Jeremy had a computer out with a powerful camera and heavy-duty lights. “We’re live to the goldies whenever you’re ready.”
“I can’t possibly go on camera,” Wesley objected. “I’m not dressed. My hair isn’t right. I don’t have any makeup …”
“I’ll handle that,” James stepped forward.
A bit later, Wes was combed and jelled. His lips were even more lustrous than usual. His hair gleamed. His eyes were softly outlined. His pectorals and rock-hard abdominal muscles glistened with oil and James’s special ointments.
Wes stepped in front of the camera and took over the golden planet. He was shirtless, glistening, and unbelievably attractive.
“Hi. This is Wesley Silverhorse. It’s great to connect with you folks from the golden planet. I haven’t had the chance to talk to you directly. I understand some of you are fans of my work.
“Boy, I love that. Everything I do is for my fans. You guys,” he touche
d his fist to his chest and teared up, “really give meaning to my life.
“I’d like to tell you about a jam I’m in—well, Bud’s in it, too. You know, we came here to help our friends out here on the cliff. We fought and won the battle for the underground. You got terrific footage of that, I’m sure.
“We did the job, and now we’re stuck. We could live here forever, happily, with our friends, but I got to thinking of my fans.
“In Hollywood, if you miss four days of shooting—well, three, really—you’re toast. No one will hire you again. Poof! There goes your career.
“That’s the situation I’m in, folks. I’ve been gone a long time. Almost two years. You’re probably noticing that you can’t get some of those Wes Silverhorse movies you used to love any more. That’s because I didn’t make them. I got waylaid out here and never got back to finish my life. All the movies I would have made from the time I left until I die don’t exist.
“I’m asking for your help. Can you send me back to Will Duane’s Montana ranch, where we were shooting when you picked us up? Just take me back there, and I’ll kick butt and make you more exciting movies than you can imagine.” He smiled seductively.
“Oh, and one thing,” he leaned forward and stroked the side of his head. “I’ve got some gray hair and a few wrinkles. Maybe you could handle those, too? For my fans. And here, too …” He grabbed the skin under his chin. “It’s a little loose.”
Bud shoved into picture, hair sticking out wildly and looking desperate. “I’m Bud Creeman, the Horse Manager. You probably have seen some of my tapes from workshops and seminars, telling you how to handle your horse.
“My tips work on other animals, too. Like báslikays and those big Lhasa Apsos I understand you all have. My techniques will shape ‘em up fast. I’d like to go back with Wes so I can make some more of those tapes for you. I got some great ideas for new seminars, like teaching beauty queens and movie stars about horses. You’ll love ‘em.” He was sweating.
“Please, I really miss my family, and by the way, could you bring all these people,” he turned around and made a sweep with his arm, indicating the community, “with us …”