Mounting Danger

by Karis Walsh

  Cal drove through the streets of the city. The lights and traffic slowly fell behind as she got deeper into the countryside. Dark expanses of prairie land opened up on either side of the road, making Cal feel isolated in the protective bubble of her car. She had been hoping to convince Rachel to play. To put aside her naturally serious nature and accept the terms of a fun sexual tryst. And she apparently had. Today Rachel had been chewed out in front of her team, and she had told Cal she was only sticking around until she finished this job. Then she’d move on. Tonight Rachel had wanted a chance to forget. Wasn’t that exactly the opening she’d hoped for? Why hadn’t she accepted Rachel’s invitation?

  Cal had expected to eventually overcome Rachel’s resistance, but what she hadn’t anticipated was Rachel’s influence on her. She had finally convinced Rachel to accept a no-strings relationship, but now Cal knew she wouldn’t be satisfied by one. Last week Cal had known exactly what she wanted. Polo. Freedom. Rachel. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rachel skipped her morning run. And when sunlight streamed through her open curtains, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled the covers over her head. Don was scheduled to feed the horses this morning, and Billie would be there in the afternoon. The animals had been training hard for a week and they deserved a break. She deserved a break. A day with nothing better to do than watch television and eat junk food. A day alone, without the rejection and pain and frustration other people caused.

  She was exhausted from the previous week, too. She had been so aroused by the thought of spending the night with Cal, so turned on by the imagined exploration of each other’s bodies. Unfortunately, Cal’s refusal hadn’t been enough to douse any lingering remnants of desire. Even though Rachel had fallen asleep that night without dinner, without doing more than pulling off her riding uniform and tossing it on the ground, she had spent a restless night plagued by dreams of Cal. And two more, since.

  Her cell phone vibrated its way along the top of the dresser across the room. Rachel growled and tucked a pillow against her ears, but the phone wouldn’t stop, even after it thumped onto the floor. She dragged herself out of bed and got on her knees to rummage under the dresser until she found the cell. Even though she cleared her throat a few times before answering, her voice came out in a hoarse croak.

  “Hello?”

  “Rachel, I need you at the barn. Hurry. Something’s wrong with Fancy.”

  “Be right there,” she said, suddenly wide awake and alert. She didn’t bother asking what was wrong since the use of her given name combined with the panic in Don’s voice was enough to make her move. The veteran police officer had seen his share of emergencies and trauma over the years. If he was this worried, then so was she.

  Rachel hopped across the room as she pulled up her jeans and crammed her wallet and gate card in a pocket. She grabbed the closest T-shirt she could find and tugged it on before jamming her feet in her running shoes. She didn’t bother tying them but ran out the door and down the hill with her laces flapping against her bare ankles.

  Thank God she lived so close. Within seconds of Don’s call, she was letting herself in the gate and running over to where he stood outside Fancy’s stall. He waved her over and pointed into the stall while she took a deep breath and prepared herself for whatever she was about to see. A broken leg, a dead horse, stuff oozing out of parts that shouldn’t ooze.

  She blinked a couple of times and ran her hand over her eyes. Fancy was standing in her stall and eating hay, looking as unconcerned about life as she usually did. She rested the tip of one forefoot on the ground. A little lame. No big deal. Rachel felt shaky with relief.

  “What happened, Don?” She tried to keep her voice calm, and to keep from throttling him for scaring her.

  “I don’t know. I took her into the arena after I fed breakfast. I was going to get her used to that baby stroller I brought,” he said. He gestured into the arena where a child’s toy stroller sat, abandoned, with a doll hanging over the side. Rachel wondered where this big tough cop had gotten the stroller. “She seemed fine at first, but then she started limping when I asked her to trot. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  “You probably didn’t do anything,” Rachel said. “Put her halter on and bring her out of the stall. I’ll be right there.”

  “Is it all right to move her? We won’t need to—”

  “She’ll be fine,” Rachel said. She put her hand on his shoulder, finally realizing how upset he was. For her, with years of horse experience, the sign of a sore foot wasn’t anything to panic over. Don probably only had vague references from movies and books to guide him. If the horse is lame, shoot it. “I need better light so I can check her hoof.”

  Rachel hurried into the tack room where she had stored the farrier tools Nelson had brought when he delivered Bandit. She wasn’t skilled enough to shoe the horses, but he had taught her the basics so she could handle any emergencies at the ranch. She ran her hand down Fancy’s leg, feeling some heat in her pastern before she lifted the mare’s hoof off the ground. She straddled the horse’s leg and used a pair of hoof testers to press against the sole and walls of the hoof. She inched around until the pressure she applied made the mare jerk her leg in response.

  “She probably has a stone bruise. Turned into an abscess. I’m going to take this shoe off, and we can soak her hoof until we get the farrier to come take care of her.”

  “She’ll be okay?” Don asked, stroking Fancy’s neck.

  “She’ll be back to normal in a week or so,” Rachel said. She didn’t think it was much of a reassurance since Fancy’s normal wasn’t the epitome of equine behavior, but Don seemed relieved by the news.

  Rachel loosened the clinched nails and gently eased the metal shoe off Fancy’s hoof. She used her hoof knife to scrape at the sore area, but the abscess wasn’t close to the surface yet. She’d let the professional Cal had recommended dig a little deeper and relieve the pressure in Fancy’s hoof. She stepped away and placed the horse’s hoof back on the ground. “Take her back to her stall, and I’ll be right there.”

  Rachel put a bucket under the hot tap in the tack room. While it was filling, she got a carton of Epsom salts and poured a few handfuls into the bucket, stirring with her hand to help them dissolve. She had bought the salts, along with bandages and ointment and other first aid items, the day after she had taken over for Alex. He had been very organized and had bought the highest quality bridles and saddles the unit’s grant would allow, but he had overlooked key items. Rachel had been surprised to see the lack of basic health care and training supplies. But the mounted division had still been fairly new, so maybe he hadn’t gotten them yet.

  She turned off the water and hauled the heavy bucket into Fancy’s stall. She let the mare sniff suspiciously at it before she set it on the ground. “The heat and salts should help draw the abscess closer to the surface. Then it’ll either burst on its own, or the farrier will be able to cut into it and drain the pus. She’ll feel a lot better once that happens. We can soak her for about twenty minutes or so, a few times a day.”

  Rachel kept chatting in a low voice as she eased the mare’s leg into the bucket, interspersing her instructions with words of encouragement for Fancy. The mare jerked her leg free a couple of times, but Rachel kept putting it back in place, pressing on the horse’s shoulder to shift her weight. Eventually Fancy seemed to decide she liked the warm water, and she stood quietly. Rachel stayed close to her side, rubbing the mare’s withers.

  “You said she had a stone bruise. Is that common?” Don asked, speaking for the first time since he had brought Fancy back to her stall.

  “Happens all the time,” Rachel said with a shrug. “Since our horses will be going over all sorts of terrain and won’t spend their time in soft arena footing, I’m going to have the farrier put pads under their front shoes. They’ll protect the soles in case they step on a rock or something sharp. He’ll also weld some Borium on their shoes. It’s a meta
l alloy, and it’ll give them better traction on slick surfaces like pavement.”

  “They were slipping all over the place when we were at the service. Scared the hell out of me.” He paused and seemed to consider his next words carefully. “Hargrove said you’d never worked with a mounted unit before, so how do you know all this?”

  For once, his questions seemed to be triggered by genuine interest and not angry defiance. Rachel brushed her fingers through Fancy’s mane, untangling a small knot. “My parents had a ranch in eastern Washington. In Cheney, near Spokane. My dad did all the shoeing since we had so many horses, and he taught me a lot about the anatomy of horses’ hooves.”

  “What about this Borium stuff? Not much pavement on a ranch.”

  Rachel made a show of looking out of Fancy’s stall as if to check for eavesdroppers before she answered. “I was a junior rodeo princess when I was in high school. I led the Founder’s Day parade. And if you tell anyone about that, I will shoot you.”

  Don gave a snort of laughter. “Hard to imagine you a princess of anything. Did you have to wear some sort of dress and tiara in the parade?”

  “Chaps and a cowboy hat,” Rachel said. After a childhood spent moving from school to school, rarely having the chance to make friends and fit in, her nomination for the rodeo court had been an embarrassing but touching honor. It had been the first time she had felt accepted, and it was a confirmation of the benefits of following Nelson and Leah’s rules. Proof that she had finally turned her life around. “But I’ll admit, my outfit had its share of fringe and rhinestones.”

  Don laughed. The sound startled Fancy, and she lifted her hoof out of the bucket and leaned back, but Rachel caught her foot and moved her into place again. She automatically started murmuring softly to the mare, like Nelson had taught her, until the mare settled down again.

  “Just a relaxing day at the spa,” Rachel said as she rubbed the mare’s shoulder. “Don, do you think you’ll be okay here if I go back to my place and take a shower?” And brush her teeth. And put on some underwear. “I can come back later this afternoon and do another soak.”

  “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” he said.

  Rachel brought a bucket so he had a makeshift seat while he soaked Fancy. She let herself out of the stall again, but he stopped her before she left.

  “Thank you, Sarge,” he said, before he leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes as if he was about to take a nap.

  Rachel paused, speechless as the gruff old cop gave her his acceptance with his use of the casual title. She hadn’t done anything more than put Epsom salts into a bucket, but she had managed to earn Don’s approval, his acknowledgment that she was this unit’s leader. She quietly latched Fancy’s stall door and headed home. She ran a hand through her hair, still spiked from sleep, as she walked up the hill to her apartment. One little victory, after a mountain of defeats. She’d take it and be grateful.

  *

  Cal arranged the double set of reins in her left hand and wrapped the mallet’s strap around her right wrist, grasping the handle securely in her palm. Roman, usually calm and unruffled, danced onto the polo field as if he sensed Cal’s seething energy. All afternoon, she had been playing even more like a fiend than usual, driving her team from her 3 position and stealing the ball time after time from their opponents. She had barely slept for days, far too conscious of what Rachel had offered and what she had refused, and with every hard smack of stick against ball she hoped to ease the pressure building inside her.

  Her aggressive play wasn’t giving her the release she so desperately needed—only another invitation from Rachel, accepted this time, would have been strong enough to shatter her tension—but the positive result of Cal’s running about was the very one-sided score, and she and her team rode into the fifth chukker six points ahead. She wheeled and spun on Roman, breaking up the other team’s scoring attempts and sending the ball downfield to her own offense. Her aim was accurate even though she could feel the anger reverberating through her arm every time she connected with the ball. She was angry at herself for insulting Rachel by turning her down, and probably for other things she really didn’t want to think about. At all.

  It took almost all of five chukkers, but slowly a new sort of anger filtered into Cal’s consciousness. She sent the ball rocketing to her number 2, Tabitha, and watched as the less experienced player fumbled for control as the ball came in hot. Cal glanced around the field, finally breaking out of her fog of sexual frustration. She had been dominating the defense and hijacking plays that should have belonged to Crystal, and she had been overpowering her two offensive teammates with shots that were too difficult for them to handle.

  Although she had initially taken the job with the police unit because she’d wanted a chance to seduce Rachel, over the past week she had gradually started to feel the same loyalty to the unit and drive to make them succeed she knew Rachel felt. She had been attempting to create partnerships between horse and rider and among the riders in the mounted division, but she had forgotten to apply the same lessons with her own team. She had been running around today like a whirlwind, and she couldn’t figure out whether she was chasing something or trying to run away.

  When the chukker ended, Cal rode off the field and dismounted, handing Roman’s reins to Jack in exchange for Casper’s. The young gray gelding reacted to her emotions just as Roman had, but instead of simply getting revved up like the more experienced horse, he was already breaking out in a nervous sweat. Cal took a deep breath and settled her thoughts before she mounted him. She was unaccustomed to having doubts, to questioning her life’s path, but she couldn’t deny her confusion. She had been following the steps along her career with unwavering confidence, but Rachel had her wondering what she really wanted. Last month, winning a place on the Virginia team would have been her answer. Now she wasn’t sure.

  But now Casper needed her to be calm and present. She was riding him in this single chukker for the experience—since her team was so far ahead—and a rough and fast ride might ruin the careful and positive months of training she’d put into him. And her team needed her, too. To be the leader they expected and deserved. She met with them on the edge of the field while they adjusted tack and drank some water before the sixth and final chukker.

  “Tabitha, I’d like to keep Casper out of the rough play, so would you mind playing Three?”

  Tabitha looked doubtful. “Even on Casper, you’re a better—”

  “Don’t think about how I play the position,” Cal interrupted, before Tabitha could fully voice her concerns about changing to the position usually held by the most experienced member of the team. “You’ve been Three plenty of times in practice, and you’ve done well. I’ll take the Four spot, so I’ll be there to help with defense. Crystal, you can take over as One, and Miranda, you’ll move to Two.”

  Cal turned Casper and rode onto the field before she could hear any protests. She had just rearranged the entire team, essentially giving each member but herself a promotion, and yet she finally felt able to take a deep breath and let the knots inside her stomach unravel.

  Because she had shaken up the roster, the first minutes of play were chaotic as each player struggled to adjust to her new position. Their opponents scored twice with little challenge. Cal kept Casper out of the worst of the melees, staying back and watching the team as a whole. She was vocal at first, encouraging and driving the team, but as Tabitha began to look more comfortable in her new position, Cal let her take charge.

  Although they didn’t score any more goals, they managed to hold the other team to only two goals, and Cal felt a rush of success as she rode off the field, smiling and laughing with her team. Casper had calmed down enough to make a few fast runs, and Cal felt happy with the way he had handled the bumps and jolts from other horses. Tabitha had stepped up as a leader—the position she’d need to fill once Cal left—and Crystal and Miranda had seemed to enjoy the change of pace. Most of all, Cal had felt a return of her old
equilibrium. She had ridden with nothing to prove, no need to show off or impress anyone. Just playing polo for the hell of it and loving every second. She was still missing Rachel’s touch and berating herself for saying no when her body was screaming yes, but she knew she’d survive. Polo had been all she’d wanted and needed until Rachel came along. Once Rachel was out of her life, polo would be enough for Cal again.

  *

  Rachel spent her day hiding out in her apartment. She walked across the street to a sandwich shop for lunch and saw Clark’s car in the police yard. She brought home a huge vegetarian burrito she was sure had more calories than a greasy cheeseburger, but at least the vegetables and beans eased her guilt. Her earlier satisfaction with today’s interaction with Don started to fade as she had to face the reality of her situation. One cop out of the entire department had given her a small nod of approval—and only when they were the only two people in the isolated stable yard. And she still had to work closely with Cal over the next three weeks. Cal, who had seemed interested in Rachel, but had rejected her offer of sex. Not the stuff of nightmares, but the stuff of very detailed dreams that left Rachel wet and longing when she woke up alone.

  Plus she had a team of mounted riders and horses that needed to be prepared for the Fourth. No matter how hard they worked, how hard they tried, there was a chance they wouldn’t be ready in time. She had wrenched some respect out of the other officers, but she couldn’t perform miracles.

  Rachel left her apartment in the early afternoon and walked down the hill to the police yard. The sight of the arena and parking lot helped buoy her spirits a little and assuage some of the guilt she’d been feeling after taking a morning off. When she had taken over for Alex, the stables had been neat and organized, everything in place and well documented. She might not have the organizational skills Alex did, and her lesson notes were scribbles on notepads and the backs of feed invoices, but she was proud of her yard. The arena was littered with disparate items. Tarps and banners and children’s toys. Helium balloons were tied to the pylons, and Billie’s bike and Don’s stroller were propped against the wall, under the barn’s overhang. Before, the stables had looked like a display, but now it was a working area.