by Karis Walsh
“Chicken pot pie?” Rachel asked hopefully. The frozen versions never measured up to her mom’s home cooking, but most nights they were all Rachel felt capable of making.
Nelson laughed. “Of course. And you remember the best cure for saddle sores, don’t you?”
“A sweaty saddle pad,” Rachel grimaced as she quoted her dad’s favorite saying. His answer to most problems was to tell her to ride until she and her horse had broken a sweat. They had traveled for miles across the sagebrush-strewn pastures and pine forests around Cheney, alongside crystal-clear, ice-cold lakes. And he had been correct every time. Her bad memories, her teenaged angst, her inexplicable anger, they had all faded as she jogged and loped for hours. Working out her tension, her emotions that were too intense for her young self to handle. She had substituted long runs in the park since moving to Tacoma, and now she had horses to ride again. But she didn’t think her current problems could simply be trotted away.
“Let’s get this fellow out,” Nelson said as another impatient bang from the horse’s hoof echoed through the yard. He walked to the back of the trailer and unlatched the door. “His name’s Bandit.”
Rachel grabbed one side of the ramp and helped her dad lower it to the ground. Nelson whistled softly as he approached the horse and rubbed the gelding’s neck before untying him and leading him out of the trailer. Rachel stood back and appraised the horse. Very nice. His liver chestnut coat, dappled from good care and careful grooming, shone in the sun. He was muscular and tall enough to accommodate Rachel’s legs, but he had a lightness about him that promised speed. Long forearms, short cannon bones, a good slope to the shoulder. She stepped forward to run her hands over his legs and check for bumps or old injuries like Nelson had taught her, but the gelding pinned his ears flat against his head and tried to bite her.
Her dad reprimanded the horse with a short tug on the lead rope. “No!”
Rachel raised her eyebrows in surprise. Nelson never accepted anything but respectful behavior from his foster kids or his animals. He was never cruel, but he was very clear about the rules on his ranch. Rachel hadn’t expected any horse he brought her to have behavioral problems.
“So, when you said he needed a tune-up…”
“He’s had a tough go in life,” Nelson said with a shrug. He clucked to the horse and started walking him around the arena to work out his kinks after the long trailer ride. Rachel followed after them.
“And?” Rachel prompted. The gelding barged into Nelson’s space, but he calmly elbowed the horse back into line.
“Don’t really know what happened, but I recognize the signs of abuse when I see them. He changed hands a few times that I know of over the past year, and his last owner called Doc Grady. Wanted him to put the horse down, but you know what a softy Doc is. He wanted to give this big guy one more chance, so he called me.”
Yes, Doc Grady was a softy, but Nelson was worse. Rachel felt her chest tighten at the story. She felt sorry for the horse, but she also recognized the similarities with her own history. If Nelson hadn’t been such a sucker for hard-luck cases, who knew where she’d be now.
“So you’re pawning him off on me?” she asked, but with a smile. Bandit might have been out of place in his previous homes, but here he’d be just one more misfit in a whole group of them.
“Thought you two might understand each other,” Nelson said. He patted the horse’s well-muscled neck, and Bandit pinned his ears again. “It’ll take some doing to gain his trust, but once you do you’ll have a hell of a partner. Bet he’ll take a bullet for you.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Rachel said. She sighed. A unit that hated her, an emotionally challenged horse, and forced contact with Cal. Great. At least Cal seemed to like her—although too much for Rachel’s comfort—but every relationship in Rachel’s life had grown far too complex. Nelson seemed to think she and Bandit would be good for each other, but Rachel wanted easy. Simple. Fate seemed to have other plans.
She got an armful of hay out of the feed room while Nelson settled Bandit in his new stall. They leaned on the door and watched the horse alternate between eating and glaring at them.
“I think he might be happier if we leave him alone while he eats,” Rachel said. “And I could use some lunch, too. If you don’t mind a short walk, there’s a place next to the ferry landing that serves a great salmon.”
“Perfect,” Nelson said. He hung Bandit’s halter and lead rope next to his stall.
“See you soon, buddy,” Rachel said to the gelding. He pinned his ears and bared his teeth at her. Yeah. Love you, too.
Chapter Six
Cal parked by three police vehicles and got out of her car. The morning was cool, with a misting summer rain, and Cal reached into her backseat and pulled out a yellow umbrella before walking toward the arena. The officers were already there, watching her. Rachel stood a little apart from the others, and her horse looked as grouchy as she did. Cal paused to catch her breath before she joined the group. She had seen Cop Rachel and Cowgirl Rachel, and both were sexy. Mountie Rachel was incredible. Dark blue breeches with a gold stripe down the side, emphasizing her long legs. Tall black boots so shiny Cal could probably see her reflection in them. A fitted navy top that enhanced everything Rachel’s regular uniform had tried to hide. Cal had wanted to get Rachel out of the other outfits she’d worn. She wanted to rip off this one with her teeth.
Cal hadn’t been able to get Rachel out of her mind since their polo match. She hadn’t had so much fun on the practice field for ages. At times, she worried her obsession with Rachel might be a detriment to her focus on polo, but after a long schooling session with her mother on Sunday, Cal had changed her mind. Thinking of Rachel, planning exercises for her unit, planning various seduction scenarios, had helped her keep her cool while she performed drill after drill under Cecilia’s critical eye. The confirmation of Cal’s acceptance on the East Coast team had only made her mother more determined to whip Cal into shape. Playing with Rachel and the mounted version of the Keystone Kops should prove to be exactly the sort of stress relief Cal needed.
As long as she kept her cool and didn’t drool all over Rachel’s nice new uniform.
Cal forced her attention to the other officers. She had already seen the other horses and riders on TV, but then she had been torn between laughter and disbelief. Now they were her students, and she sized them up quickly. One Thoroughbred, a pinto, and two quarter horses. All reasonably athletic looking, except for the heavy, spotted mare with the sullen expression. It’d probably take a firecracker under her tail just to get her into a trot. And judging by the straight line of her shoulder and her long pasterns, her trot would be hell to sit. The riders didn’t look any easier to handle as they sat watching her with stubborn expressions that were easy for Cal to read. They expected her to prove herself before they’d listen to anything she said. But she wasn’t about to defend herself or her credentials to them. All she needed to do was prove how little they knew, and they’d be damned sure to listen to her, then.
She tapped the umbrella on the ground like a cane as she walked into the center of the arena. Rachel’s short dark hair was curling in the light rain. She sat relaxed in her saddle, with one hand on the reins and the other resting on her thigh. Cal turned away from her and faced the other three. She wasn’t sure she’d make it through the lesson without needing to stop and hose herself down.
“I’m Cal Lanford,” she said with an easy smile. No one returned it. She leaned on her umbrella. “Rachel asked me to help out for the next month, getting you ready for the Fourth of July celebration.”
She saw fleeting changes in the expressions of the officers when she mentioned Rachel’s name. Cal paused. She had thought everyone was irritated by her presence. Maybe they were angry with Rachel instead. For replacing the sergeant they had recently lost?
“From what I saw of the horses during the service, we have a lot of work to do. At least you’re actually on the horses n
ow. I want to help you learn how to stay on.”
“We already know how to stay on,” the man on the pinto said with obvious contempt in his voice.
“Oh, really?” Cal asked. She lifted the umbrella and opened it in one fluid motion, aiming it at Rachel because she was the one most likely to be able to survive Cal’s demonstration. All four horses spooked as the large yellow monster sprang to life right before their eyes, but Rachel’s mount reacted most violently since Cal opened the umbrella right in front of his face. He spun away and ran a few strides with Rachel clinging to his side. She managed to pull herself back into the saddle and bring him to a halt.
“Jesus!” she yelled as she turned back to face Cal. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Cal didn’t answer, but she spun the umbrella in her hand and waited calmly while the four officers recovered. No one had fallen off, but the horses had scattered to the edges of the arena with their officers barely managing to stay in their saddles, let alone control their mounts. The pinto had headed back to the barn at a lumbering trot, and her rider was ineffectively pulling on the reins trying to get her to stop. He ducked as she went under the overhang and into a stall. Cal could hear him swearing before he finally reemerged and walked back to the arena.
“Hey, you were right,” Cal said when he made it back to the group. “You were able to stay on. But barely.”
“What the hell are you trying to prove?” Rachel asked, her face flushed and angry.
Cal dropped her friendly tone. “I’m trying to prove how fucking dangerous the four of you are. To yourselves, your horses, and the people who will be in your way on the Fourth.” She looked at each officer in turn, not surprised to see the change in their expressions. They had been stubborn at first, and then angry after Cal’s umbrella stunt. Now the surge of adrenaline was wearing off, and they were all a bit pale and shaky. Except Rachel. She still looked pissed.
“I’m one person with an umbrella. What if it rains on the Fourth? You’ll have thousands of these, opening unexpectedly. There’ll be baby strollers and running children. Fireworks and an air show. Smart-ass kids who think it’s funny to throw things at you or your horses.” She lifted the still-open umbrella, and the horses startled slightly at the sudden movement. “If you can’t handle this, how will you survive the night?”
Cal closed the umbrella. Point made, point taken. “I’m sure you focused on defensive driving when you learned about high speed pursuits. Well, today we’re going to start learning defensive riding. Tricks to help you stay on the horse no matter what happens. You don’t need to look pretty up there or have perfect form. You just need to stay on. You, on the bay, what’s your name?”
“Clark.”
“Okay, Clark, I’m going to shorten your stirrups a few inches so you’ll have a more secure base. The rest of you, start trotting on the rail.”
Rachel took a few deep breaths as she nudged Bandit into a trot. She could feel his tension through her legs and seat, and she knew her own fury wasn’t helping. She reached forward and rubbed his shoulder, murmuring quietly not only to calm him but herself, as well. She had spent the past couple of days working with the gelding, trying to establish some sort of rapport with him. She had soon noticed the signs of abuse Nelson had mentioned. Bandit was aggressive, but she was starting to see the fear behind his cantankerous exterior. He was honestly afraid of what she was going to do to him, and now Cal had come along and scared him even more. She was angry with Cal for her stupid umbrella trick, but she needed to control her emotions if she wanted to help her horse.
Once her breathing settled into a rhythm, she felt Bandit settle as well. He had been startled by the umbrella, but not hurt by it. And Cal was right—he would be exposed to scary new objects and unpredictable citizens every day. He needed to get accustomed to movement and color and sound, but more important, he needed to trust Rachel to take care of him no matter what happened.
Knowing Cal was right didn’t help. Part of her anger was because Cal had sauntered into the arena and gained the trust and respect of the officers within minutes, something Rachel hadn’t been able to do no matter how much she knew about horses, and no matter how many times she had tried to explain how unprepared the unit was.
Rachel tried to concentrate on Bandit as she ran through Cal’s drills. Twisting and contorting in the saddle. Learning to counterbalance and brace, like she had done when she’d first taken hold of a polo mallet and leaned so far to the side in order to swing it without hitting the horse’s legs. Rachel was grateful to have help and relieved that the other officers were so intently listening to Cal’s instructions, but she couldn’t fight off her hurt feelings. She had wanted to be the one to teach her squad. To earn their respect and attention.
When the lesson was over, she took Bandit to his stall at the end of the barn and tied him to the wall where she’d be able to groom him without getting bitten. The other riders kept their horses under the overhang, and Rachel could hear them asking Cal questions and enthusiastically thanking her for the lesson. It had taken Cal ten minutes to gain their trust and admiration. It had taken Rachel about as long to lose both things when she made the decision to have Sheehan arrested. She swiped the brush a little too roughly over Bandit’s back, and he raised his head and rolled his eye back to stare at her. She apologized and fished a smushed piece of apple out of the pocket of her breeches. He accepted the offering, nearly taking a finger as well, and she started grooming him again, but more gently this time.
“He’d make a great polo pony,” Cal said. She was standing in Bandit’s doorway, leaning against the jamb with her arms crossed. “Strong, but not as bulky as a stock-type quarter horse.”
Bandit pinned his ears and snorted at the sound of her voice, giving his usual equine version of a scowl.
Rachel laughed. “Yeah, he’s got the looks. But not the attitude to match.”
“You suit each other,” Cal said with a smile. “You usually have your ears back when I’m around, too.”
Rachel was starting to recognize when Cal’s expression grew more intimate. The sexy way she’d look right before she’d initiate some sort of physical contact. Like a golden lion on the prowl. Rachel moved to the other side of Bandit.
Cal watched Rachel not-so-subtly put the crotchety horse between them. Cal liked a challenge. And Rachel seemed determined to be one. The only reason Cal was doing this mounted training was to get closer to her and to have a little fun in the process. She wasn’t going to get dragged into the mounted police drama unfolding in the stable yard, but she was too curious not to dig around a bit. She glanced behind her to make sure the other riders were out of earshot.
“So what’s up with you and your team? You’re their boss, and you’re obviously the most qualified rider here, but there seems to be a barrier between you and the rest of the squad. Is it because you replaced their old sergeant?”
Cal watched the tense lines form on Rachel’s forehead. She had seen them before. When Rachel had first asked her for help, when she had lost the polo match, when Cal had nearly gotten her tossed on her butt with the umbrella. Obvious signs of an unhappy Rachel. Cal didn’t want her to be unhappy, if only because Rachel wouldn’t be as easy to seduce if she was. “What is it, Rach?”
Rachel drew her brush over Bandit’s side in a long, sweeping stroke. She shrugged but didn’t meet Cal’s eyes. “I guess you’ll eventually hear about it anyway, so you might as well get my side. The whole department sees me as a sort of pariah these days. I’ve only been a sergeant for a few months, and on one of my first nights I made a decision that got another cop arrested.”
“Had he done something wrong?”
“It was a domestic abuse call,” Rachel said. She had shown up to assist the two officers on the scene because another cop was involved. If she only had been on any other shift, in any other sector, her life would be so different right now. “He shoved his wife. She didn’t have any marks and she said she didn’t want him to be charg
ed, but the law says the physical aggressor is always arrested whether the victim wants it or not. She and the other officers wanted to let him off with a warning.”
“Sounds like you made the right call,” Cal said. She wanted to touch Rachel. Take away the loneliness echoing through her voice as she spoke. “So why is everyone blaming you?”
Rachel took off Bandit’s halter, and he moved to the back corner of the stall. “He spread a rumor that I made the decision without enough evidence. That I shouldn’t have ruined his family’s reputation by letting this be made public instead of handling it quietly within the department. He’s from a long line of cops and he’s popular. Everyone had to choose a side, choose me or him, and I guess I lost. It’s not fair to use family connections that way. To think you’re better than other people, or above the law, just because you belong to some fucking dynasty.”
Rachel’s words stung, even though Cal knew they weren’t aimed at her. She was all too aware of how difficult it could be to live up to a family’s reputation. To be responsible for maintaining it. She had spent a few hours yesterday—in fact, she had spent her whole life—being told she was riding not for herself but for the Calvert and Lanford clans. If one shot sailed wide of the goal, she threatened the accomplishments of all her ancestors.
“It’s not always easy to live up to a family name,” Cal said. It was difficult, but it had to be done. Especially since she had been raised to believe it was her destiny to carry on, or surpass, her family’s fame in the polo world.
“Really? You’re taking his side?”
Cal started at Rachel’s furious voice. She had gotten lost in her own world and forgotten where she was for a moment. Rachel’s face was flushed and angry looking.
“Poor guy. He got everything handed to him. A career, promotions, friends. I’m supposed to feel sorry for him? Look the other way when he pushes his wife around? Sweep it under the rug like other officers had done over the years?”