Forbidden Spirits

by Patricia Watters

  He'd never been in a relationship before because eventually she'd learn about his problem, and he couldn't imagine a woman staying with him after that, especially a college-educated woman like Rose, but he'd never had a woman react to him the way Rose did either, and that thought seemed to dominate his mind.

  There was still the issue of his opening fissures in the rock floor of the spring and Rose's opposition to it because of a belief in non-existent spirits, but he was sure they could reach a neutral position on that once he solved the mystery of the sounds, which should come sooner, rather than later, because he'd recently bought a used gas-powered rock drill that he'd located on the internet, and it was on its way to the ranch.

  Another week and he should at last satisfy a curiosity that had dogged him since the first time he heard the voices in the mountain. But for the moment, his attention was more focused on how to get something going with Rose than worrying about the source of the sounds. He just hoped he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself in Rose's mind when he tried.

  ***

  Rose stood in front of the reconstruction of a pit house—a primitive dwelling that was dug into the ground, with posts to support the roof—while explaining to several visitors, and a couple of ranch guests, what it was like for the early Indians who'd lived in such structures, when she saw a big truck with a long horse semitrailer pulling into the ranch, with Tyler's truck right behind. On seeing Tyler step out of his truck, her heart started hammering.

  All her best intentions had gone awry when she left Jack and Grace Hansen's house after watching the video of Tyler with his horses. From that time on she found herself daydreaming about searching for basket-making materials at the location where she'd been before and accidentally finding Tyler working his horses, or she'd fantasize about driving with him to the coast and watching him run the horses in the surf, but to do that they'd have to leave the ranch long before daybreak in order to get there by sunup, which led to thoughts of spending the night with Tyler in the pasture with his horses while sleeping under the stars.

  Apparently his house was up there somewhere too, and now she wondered what kind of place he'd live in. After hearing Maddy's comments, speculation ranged from a large box with a window, to a camper on the back of his pickup, to a small travel trailer, to a cabin with no electricity, like the one up in the mountains where family and guests stayed at times. She could imagine Tyler living that way...

  "I'm a scout leader," one of the visitors cut into Rose's thoughts. "How would I go about scheduling a field trip for my troop?"

  Rose forced herself to divert her attention from what was going on at the semi with the horse trailer to what the woman was saying. "A field trip?" she asked, having missed the beginning of the question.

  "For my Brownie scouts," the woman repeated. "I'd like to schedule a visit."

  "We can block off a two-hour period any Monday or Tuesday, and the girls will have a chance to try their hands at weaving simple baskets," Rose said. She couldn't help looking beyond the woman when she saw Tyler leading the first of his horses out of the big rig—the beautiful dapple gray lead horse with the dark mane and tail she remembered as being named Luna, maybe because she was more like a dark moon. The mare was close in appearance to the other lead horse, the one the announcer referred to as Stardust, except that Stardust's mane and tail were light gray, almost white…

  "Do you have a special group rate?" the woman asked.

  "A what?" Rose replied.

  The woman looked at her, curiously, and Rose decided she'd better pay attention to what was going on at the museum and ignore Tyler and his mares, so she turned her back to Tyler and focused on the woman and attempted to answer all of her questions, and those of the other visitors. By the time the visitors were leaving, which coincided with closing time, the big horse rig had left and Tyler was standing in the clearing in front of the lodge while talking to a small gathering of ranch guests. His horses stood behind him, none of which appeared to be wearing any tack except halters.

  As she was looking his way, Tyler waved off the guests and started walking toward her across the clearing, six horses trailing along with him, which sent her heart skittering and her breath quickening. Fortunately, Tundra was penned up in the yard behind Marc and Kit's house so she didn't have to face the embarrassment of him growling when Tyler would approach, and Tundra would have definitely growled because all the usual female reactions were in full force.

  "Are you finished for the day?" Tyler asked, as he approached.

  "Yes," Rose replied, while trying to dismiss all the flutters and flurries, which was impossible because Tyler had the most appealing look on his face, with an engaging smile on his lips, and a little twinkle in his eyes, like he was glad to see her too.

  "Maybe you could drive my truck up to my place while I bring the horses," he said. "I'd give you a ride back here afterwards."

  On hearing Tyler's suggestion, Rose's heart skitters of moments before changed to heavy thuds. For the past three days she'd had ridiculously silly fantasies about being with Tyler in various scenarios, but now all she felt was trepidation. She had no idea why she felt that way, only that she did…

  "If it's a problem I'll take the horses up and come back for my truck later," Tyler said, when Rose seemed to be standing and looking at him, tongue-tied.

  Rose drew in a long breath to calm things, and replied, by way of an explanation for her mindless behavior, "No, it's fine. I just wanted to make sure there were no visitors here," which made no sense because she hadn't even looked around so see if there were. Her attention had been entirely focused on Tyler, and she sensed, from the way he was looking at her, with the subtle hint of awareness in his eyes, that he knew.

  "Do I go first or do you?" she asked, determined to turn her attention to the task of driving Tyler's truck up to his place.

  "I'll go first with my mares, and you can wait ten or fifteen minutes and follow," Tyler replied. "Can you handle a one-ton truck?"

  "Sure," Rose said. "My dad had me driving his around the farm when I was twelve."

  Tyler smiled in a way that had Rose's heart revving up even more, then he turned and launched himself onto Luna's back, and sitting on her instead of standing, said to Rose, "I'll be heading up the road behind the stable, the same road you took when you found me with my mares. The road dead ends at my place. Plan to stay a little while though. I'll need some time with my ladies before I drive you back. The truck key's in the ignition."

  Tyler apparently gave Luna directions because she turned and headed across the clearing toward the stable, with the rest of the mares keeping a leisurely pace, tails swishing, heads bobbing, like they were enjoying the outing, which they probably were. After being penned up in a horse van for a thousand miles they were undoubtedly as anxious to be with Tyler as he was to be with them. It was all a puzzle to her. But as she watched them, she couldn't help feeling that same sense of wonder that a man could sit on a mare, with no reins, while giving directions that were too subtle for any observer to detect, yet all six mares knew exactly what Tyler was asking.

  It wasn't until she was walking toward Tyler's truck that she began to feel a growing unease with the thought of being at his place, completely alone with him and without Tundra as a distraction or an excuse to leave, if she started into her usual round of physiological responses. It was almost pathetic the way she reacted, and she made the determination to control her errant responses by concentrating on everything she did not like about the man.

  CHAPTER 6

  As Rose approached Tyler's truck, she noticed Tyler's grandmother standing just beyond it while watching Tyler and the horses as they headed up the road behind the stables. When Maureen saw her coming, she smiled and walked over to meet her. "Tyler must have recruited you to drive his truck up to his place," she said.

  Rose nodded. "When I didn't see anyone around I wondered how he'd manage, but seeing the way his horses trail after him everywhere, they probably would
have followed his truck as well."

  "They would have," Maureen said, "but Tyler's been separated from them for three days, at least while they were on the road, and I know he just wants to spend time with them. Sometimes I think they're more family to him than we are. Don't get me wrong. Tyler loves his human family, but those horses are his family too. He'd lay down his life for any one of them."

  Rose watched Tyler and the horses as they continued up the road. "He does seem especially attached to them," she said. "My family has always had horses, and I love my big sorrel gelding, but none of us connect with our horses the way Tyler does with his. He's an unusual man."

  "Yes, he is," Maureen replied, "but he's also a very complex man who stays to himself, so he's not easy to understand. His horses understand him though. To them he's not such a mystery. But to those who don't know him he can be perplexing."

  Rose puzzled over that, just as she'd puzzled over Maureen's comment at dinner the week before. "I don't mean to pry," she said, "but the other night you commented that Tyler barely made it through high school and that he's finally at peace with himself. Is it something the family can talk about?"

  "It's not a dark secret, just something Tyler's sensitive about," Maureen replied. "When he was in third grade he was diagnosed as dyslexic. He had a terrible time learning to read and write, so he went through school being told he was stupid, even though he's very intelligent. He just couldn't learn the way other kids did because his brain is wired differently."

  "I'm embarrassed to say that I know next to nothing about dyslexia, even though my mother's a grammar school teacher," Rose said. "How is his brain different?"

  "Dyslectic's think in pictures instead of words," Maureen replied. "Verbal learners like you and I mentally make sentences in our heads, word by word, but non-verbal learners like Tyler, think in three-dimensional, multi-sensory images that change and grow as the thought process adds more information. Because thinking in images is so much faster than verbal thinking, internal dialog in dyslectics is subliminal. The problem comes when they read or hear abstract words that don't form images, words like, or, as, and that. Without pictures to process, what they read or hear loses some of its meaning, causing confusion and frustration. "

  "It doesn't seem to affect Tyler in any way," Rose said. "If you hadn't said anything I never would have known."

  "Outwardly, you wouldn't know," Maureen replied. "A person's self-image is a private thing. But in Tyler's mind he's still trapped in a world that views him as stupid. Learning that his struggle processing language isn't lack of intelligence has taken him most of his life, and he still hasn't accepted who he is."

  "Which is a pretty amazing man with an ability to communicate with horses," Rose said.

  It came to her that maybe Tyler's passion to solve the mystery of the voices in the spring was his means of proving to the world that he wasn't the slow, stupid boy he'd been labeled in school. "Is he able to read okay now?" she asked.

  "Yes, just slower than most," Maureen replied. "Grace worked tirelessly with him when he was growing up and gradually it helped develop the part of his brain that had trouble processing words, but one of his biggest problems was with non-literal language like jokes, and wisecracks. Those never registered, which often made him the butt of jokes in school. But he never had to worry about any of that when he was with his horses because their communication was honest, non-verbal, and loving."

  Rose visualized Tyler in the meadow interacting with his mares, and again marveled at the extraordinary communication between them. She also wondered when it all started. "I assume he's been involved with horses from an early age," she said.

  Maureen nodded. "Jack's kids all grew up on horses. With Jack, learning to ride came just before learning to walk. Jack got Caesar for Tyler when Tyler was seven. He was a small horse about thirteen hands, and he was Tyler's playmate. By the time Tyler was eight, he and Caesar were inseparable. No one was surprised to look out the window and see Tyler sitting or lying backwards on him, or hanging onto his side, or riding standing up." She let out a little chuckle. "It's ironic that his first horse was named after a Roman general."

  Rose felt a flurry of excitement as the image of Tyler driving the horses around the arena, while dressed as a Roman soldier, filled her mind's eye. But she still couldn't help imagining him as an Indian in buckskins, with his long hair trailing behind, and shirtless except for a buckskin vest, with the overhead lights reflecting off what she imagined to be a very muscular chest…

  Finding her mind wandering into dangerous territory, she drew her attention back to Maureen's comment, and said, "So, when did Tyler begin Roman riding?"

  "Around twelve," Maureen replied. "He saw a Roman riding performance at a rodeo and wanted to do it too, so Jack got him Gypsy, one of the mares he still has. Tyler harnessed Gypsy and Caesar together, and with one foot on each, began cantering around the ring. When he started jumping from the ground onto their backs while they were cantering, then standing on them and riding backwards, Grace started worrying that he was going to get badly hurt, so Jack sent him out to learn vaulting from a dressage instructor, and although dressage wasn't for Tyler, he practiced his vaulting movements every day. Jack bought Tyler's third horse when he was fourteen, so Tyler had a threesome. Everything else he does with horses he picked up on his own, which baffles a lot of horsey people who don't understand a man who can communicate with horses, but not so well with people. Sometimes I wonder if it could be genetic."

  "Then there are others with dyslexia in the family?" Rose asked.

  "Not dyslexia," Maureen replied, "although it can run in families. I'm talking about the way Tyler communicates with horses. My grandfather on my mother's side was full Nez Perce, and my mother talked about how he could read horses by looking at their expressions, which is what Tyler does. But my grandfather was also a very spiritual man." She looked thoughtfully at Rose, and said, "I've always felt that an Indian woman would be good for Tyler because she'd be well grounded in the thing he lacks most."

  Rose wasn't sure whether the comment was aimed at her in particular, or at Indian women in general, but it did explain the disconnect between Tyler's deep, almost transcendental alliance with his mares, and his denial of things of a spiritual nature—he couldn't grasp the concept of spirits or angels because he couldn't visualize them, and verbal explanations made no sense. She also realized that what Tyler lacked was the very thing her own mother warned her against.

  "Well… I'd better get Tyler's truck up to him," she said. "Thank you for giving me a better understanding of him."

  Maureen reached out and patted her hand. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it, and if he allows you into his heart, I think you'll find a man worth loving."

  Rose had no idea how to respond, but it didn't matter because Maureen had already turned and was walking off.

  As Rose started up the road to Tyler's place, she wasn't sure what to do with all the information she'd just absorbed, nor could she predict how she'd react to Tyler when she saw him. Things were different now. She was still in awe of what he could do with his horses, but she was uncertain how to interact with a man who'd suffered deeply all the time he was growing up, yet whose presence brought flutters to her chest along with a plethora of other reactions.

  The road continued to climb gently, and not long afterwards she passed the place where Tundra had turned into the woods. A few hundred feet further, the road made a sweeping turn around a stand of timber and came to an end in a clearing with a wide area of gravel for parking. She pulled the truck to a halt beside a huge horse trailer. It wasn't a fancy show trailer, but a practical one, the kind she'd seen at rodeos when participants arrived with multiple horses. Parked beside that was a two-horse trailer, and about twenty feet beyond both stood a stable with a lineup of doors that led into a fenced-in pasture. Not far from the stable was a pole barn filled with bales of hay, but she saw no sign of a house.

  A section at the rear of the stable jutte
d out, but it didn't have enough windows in it to represent living quarters, so she assumed it was where hay and grain were stored. On the opposite side of the barn and toward the front stood a huge round tank, about six feet high, that appeared to be an above ground cistern for catching rainwater off the roof, because a network of gutters converged into a single downspout that fed into the tank. Not far from that was a vegetable garden surrounded by a high welded-wire fence, undoubtedly to keep the deer out, so Maddy's joking about the way Tyler lived appeared to be true. But now she was more curious than ever about his living quarters.

  She looked to where Tyler was standing in the pasture with his mares. It was almost comical the way all six horses stood facing him, like Tyler was a teacher having a conversation with a lineup of students. It appeared as if he was telling them something, and they continued to stare at him with interest—eyes alert, ears twitching with the sound of his voice, heads bobbing on occasion—like they understood what he was saying, and maybe they did. It was all alien to her, communicating with horses the way Tyler did.

  She climbed out of the truck and was leaning against the door, arms folded, waiting for Tyler to finish his conversation with his horses, when Tyler turned and motioned to her, and called out, "Come on in here. I want to introduce you to my ladies."

  Rose didn't know what to make of it. It was like Tyler was inviting her into his closed little world. "Are you sure they won't be jealous of someone being around you and act on it?" she asked, while walking toward the gate to the pasture. Tyler's mares were definitely not the usual ranch herd, nor was Tyler an ordinary horseman. He was the leader of the harem, and the mares could resent any intruder.