Sticking his fork into a roasted potato, her father groused, "Well, I hope they don't think they're staying on Farrell Ranch property." He glared at Neil, who had built his own home overlooking the creek several years before, as if challenging his son to defy him.
Before Neil could say a thing, however, her mother returned, "Don't you be making decisions for us, Charlie Farrell. I'll be welcoming my niece into this house, if you please, whether or not you're here!"
Kate went wide-eyed. She'd never heard her mother speak to her father so bluntly before, practically ordering him to accept her niece or leave the house. Her father' face suffused with color.
"A fine turn of events!" he muttered, standing. "Where's your loyalty, Rose?" He didn't wait for an answer, rather threw down his napkin and stalked out of the room without ever having touched his food.
The discord between her parents made Kate lose her appetite, as well. "Mom, Keelin and her husband could stay with me at Doc's place."
"I don't need you to play peacemaker, Kathleen." Her mother's eyes went all teary. "I'll be standing by my word, but thank you."
Neil said nothing, merely poked at his food aimlessly. He'd always hated arguments, too.
Kate tried to smooth over the tension in the room. "So, Skelly is getting married today." Having been entertained with several of his disastrous dating stories – neatly embellished, she was sure – she'd wondered if he would ever get serious about any woman. "I'm happy for him."
"Tis more than time if you're asking me," Rose said of the nephew she'd never met. The topic seemed to chase away her sadness, at least for the moment. "He and Keelin are both thirty-three... your age."
Kate recognized that tone of voice. Dryly, she reminded her, "I've been married."
"I know the Catholic Church frowns on divorce, but people can make mistakes and shouldn't be punished for them by being lonely for the rest of their lives."
The family having alternated attending both Catholic and Methodist churches in respect to both parents' beliefs, Kate had never defined herself as one or the other. Religious tenet wasn't what made her reluctant to think about a new relationship. She was only hoping her mother wasn't saying that she had made a mistake by defying her brothers, because as she got older, Rose mourned her family's loss aloud more and more.
But all Kate said was "I'm too busy to notice my lack of a social life."
"So I've heard." Her mother's pretty face tightened into disapproval.
"Heard what?"
"About your going over to the refuge to volunteer yesterday. You could use your spare time to develop a personal life. More than one available man was looking your way in church this morning."
"When they should have been paying attention to someone far more important than me."
Her mother took a deep breath. "Don't get involved with him, Kathleen. Please. He broke your heart once."
"She's not going to get involved with Chase Brody again, Mom," Neil interrupted. "She's too smart to make the same mistake twice. Right, Kate?"
"Right," she said, even as Chase's dark image came clearly to mind.
Thankfully, her mother dropped the issue and began talking about her bridge club. A safe enough topic. Unemotional. And Kate wouldn't have to say a thing about driving out to the refuge when she left the ranch.
Half-listening, having recognized the fact that Skelly and Keelin were only a few weeks older than she, Kate thought of Moira's letter.
Within thirty-three days after your thirty-third birthday – enough time to know what you are about...
The McKenna Legacy at work?
A chill shot through her.
With her inexplicable ability to communicate with animals, she wasn't pragmatic enough to disbelieve the sometimes mysterious workings of the universe. According to her mother, she'd inherited the touch from her Irish grandmother.
But could Moira McKenna really reach from the grave to shape events in the lives of her descendants?
Kate figured she didn't have long to find out.
"WHY ARE WE TAKING the truck instead of horses?" Kate asked Chase a few hours later as they sped across the refuge, leaving a cloud of reddish dust behind.
They would take a headcount as they drove west to the far reaches of the property, the area where Doc had been killed. Nathan and a volunteer were covering the eastern portion of the refuge, while Merle and a second volunteer had been assigned the north pastures, where they'd finished repairing fence that morning.
"First of all," Chase began, "we'll get from point to point faster."
"Not if the mustangs hide in some narrow canyon."
"Which would be more likely to happen if we ride out."
"I don't understand."
"How do you think these horses were gathered from federal land in the first place?" He shot a quick glance in her direction. "Helicopters spotted them and cowboys rounded them up into corrals. They have a definite aversion to anyone on horseback, as I know first hand. Several years ago, I hired some cowboys to move them from one pasture to another. The wild horses were panic-stricken. I never tried that again. Vehicles don't seem to be nearly as threatening."
Chase drove while she hung onto the clipboard and made notes about their infrequent sightings. The herd had really spread out in small bands of a dozen or fewer horses.
Leaving her with plenty of time to make mental notes on Chase himself.
Eyeing him surreptitiously, she started with his large, rough hands, long fingers comfortably curled around the steering wheel. No sign that he'd ever worn a ring of any kind. His sleeves were rolled to below the elbows, exposing tanned forearms that hinted at his strength. His loose chambray shirt barely camouflaged the upper arm and shoulder muscles that flexed and tightened when he shifted into a lower gear. She'd noted his hard jaw line before, if not the faint scar above his cheekbone that barely missed his eye and trailed into thick dark brown hair.
Nor had she realized how bone-tired he appeared.
But was the exhaustion stamped on his features the result of recent hard work and worry over the refuge, or was it permanent, indicative of a hard life?
What had happened to him after he'd slid into the night like a coyote? Kate wondered.
And knew she shouldn't want to know. Chase wasn't important to her any more. She'd gotten over him years ago. Long before Jake. That damned letter. She shouldn't have read it last night. All her thinking about Moira's legacy since had had its effect on her. No more, she vowed. She knew Chase Brody too well.
"Wild horses," he said, slowing to take another count.
Kate made some fast notes, including the lead mare's identification number, a freeze mark across her left hindquarter. She vowed to keep her mind where it belonged – on the horses.
They traveled along the flats until they reached a spot where Chase stopped the Bronco. They both stepped out. From nearby boulders of cinnabar and plumb, they peered down into a narrow, writhing ravine that had been gouged out by a spring-fed stream. A handful of wild horses were grazing out in the open. Chase used a pair of binoculars to search out others camouflaged amongst the rocks and trees. He was able to pick out two bands, again by identifying the dominant mares. She guessed he'd been around the horses long enough so that he'd memorized them from their colors and markings. Bays and sorrels, Pintos and Paints, buckskins and duns – the herd held every conceivable combination.
When they returned to the truck, Chase asked, "How many do we have so far?"
Realizing he sounded troubled, Kate quickly totaled the figures. "A hundred and forty-three. Is that very different than you expected?"
"There should be more than two hundred horses in this division of the property, and we're almost to the perimeter fence."
"But the herd moves around the refuge freely. Couldn't a few bands have relocated north or east?"
"Mother Nature made it practically impossible for them to pass from one section of the refuge to another. I mean, they can manage it in a few places, b
ut not without difficulty. Plus, we've added fencing to further divide the land."
Surprised, she asked, "Why?"
"Wild horses aren't really wild. They're feral. Their ancestors were domesticated animals set free to fend for themselves. While they've adapted, they don't roam like truly wild animals – wolves, for instance. Horses pick a territory and stay put. That means they eventually deplete vegetation and can even foul their own water holes. They're powerful grazers and the grass needs some time to rebound. So we instigate a migration of sorts, moving horses from one pasture to another. And in late fall when the tourists have gone, we move the whole herd to the other side of the creek for practical reasons. Easier for me to check on them and supplement their feed in the snowy months."
"You don't take care of the herd by yourself all winter?"
"Pretty much. The volunteers dry up and there's no money to pay hired help unless it's an emergency."
Soon they were driving along a flat dotted with sizable corrals, many of them in connecting configurations.
"This is the holding area where we originally brought the horses in," Chase said, slowing the truck to a crawl. "They'd been in feedlots so long, I couldn't see unloading them off trucks and letting them run free immediately. Who knows how many of them would have hurt themselves in their panic."
"So you started by acclimating them to the area."
"Right. We'd leave a bunch in one corral. Then, when the horses seemed settled, we opened gates to the adjoining corral so they had twice as much room to move around. And then the next. Eventually we left the outside gates opened. They were so used to being confined that it took some of them days to work their way out."
Knowing that the infirmary was nearby, Kate looked around. A chill whipped through her even before she spotted the smashed planking.
"Doc... "
Chase stopped the truck some distance from the torn up rails. "That's where it happened," he said tightly. Using the binoculars, he checked out a nearby rocky area that led down to a ravine. "Well, I'll be."
"What?"
"Looks like they hung around. Sage and her band. Won't know if it's her for sure from here, though." He swung the Bronco around and drove as far as he could, braking before an incline strewn with rocks and boulders. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way."
Kate chose to leave her bag in the back of the truck so she wouldn't have to carry the weight down the steep trail unless absolutely necessary. She could always go back for it, but she was really hoping to find all the horses fully recovered so she wouldn't have to worry whether or not they'd made contact with any of the other bands.
Chase led the way, in one tough spot offering to give her a hand that she politely refused. He didn't say anything, merely quirked an eyebrow at her before going on.
And when they neared the bottom of the ravine, the wild horses drew closer to each other, ears twitching, noses blowing, flesh trembling, appearing ready to bolt. One horse in particular – a grulla -- danced and snorted her displeasure. The others looked to her, as if waiting for some predetermined signal.
"That's Sage," Chase confirmed, halting in his tracks. "We found them."
Kate squeezed by him. The momentary intimacy felt a little claustrophobic, and her throat tightened as she said, "Wait here while I get closer."
That he did what she asked without argument surprised Kate, but she immediately turned her undivided attention on the grulla. She gave the horse a whistle, the few notes distinctive and pleasantly musical.
"Sage," she called softly, carefully inserting her hand into a large vest pocket where she'd stuffed a big plastic bag filled with apple chunks. "Look what I brought you."
A half-dozen yards from the mare, she held out the sweet, but Sage merely rolled her eyes, squealed and stepped back. Kate stayed put, but continued trying to seduce the mare with more whistles and offers of the treat.
"Doc told me you liked apples. Mm, it's nice and juicy."
She continued to talk, mostly nonsense. Words in themselves didn't mean much to horses, but her tone and actions did. She whistled again, made herself as non-threatening as possible. When she noted the interest of a little black and white Paint to her left, she took a few cautious steps toward the spotted mare, her hand extended.
"Here you go, sweetheart. C'mon."
The mare moved closer, lipped the apple from her palm, then backed off.
Kate sneaked a look at Sage. The grulla's attention was fixed on her. Good. She coaxed another mare with a second wedge. Then a third.
And as she was able to step closer to the girls, she studied them. Bright eyes. Sufficient energy. No coughs. Seemingly healthy. They began crowding her, getting close enough so she could touch them.
Taking advantage of a level of communication that had always come naturally to her -- if one she couldn't explain -- she chose a buckskin, her gaze boring into the alert brown eyes. She inched closer, ran both hands up the mare's neck. Flesh quivered under her palms, but the animal didn't flinch. Murmuring soothing words, Kate closed her eyes and concentrated, reassured at her impression of well-being.
She connected with a second horse, and sensing the same, went on to the others, now walking among them almost as if she were part of the band. Her impressions were of healthy horses struck by nothing more serious than a little stress.
Except for Sage. The leader of the band remained aloof, her nerves seeming raw. The flesh along her spine shuddered when a fly landed on her rump.
"Hey, girl, I have a few more pieces of apple," Kate murmured, making steady eye contact and stepping softly toward the animal.
Leaving a few yards between them, she held out her hand, determined to stand quiet for as long as it took. The mare eyed her, pranced a bit and trumpeted a warning. When Kate didn't back off, the mare rushed her. Aware that any animal could be dangerous when it felt threatened, Kate stood her ground. She didn't so much as flinch when Sage brushed her, the compact, muscular body barely making enough contact to be felt.
A thrill shooting through her, Kate turned square with the horse.
Sage vocally tried to spook her. Kate returned with the animal-pleasing whistled notes. Seeming unsure of what to think, the mare eyed her balefully and rushed her again... this time stopping directly before her. She snorted, her breath warming Kate's arm.
And then she took the treat.
"Thatta girl. See, I'm harmless."
Kate produced another wedge of apple and inched closer. Sage stood her ground for a moment, then dipped her head and took the second offering. With the third treat, Kate was close enough to touch the horse.
Already clearing her mind of anything extraneous, she slid her free hand forward even more carefully than she had with the others. She closed her eyes, concentrating on calming the animal, assuring her she had nothing to fear.
But her fingertips grazing hide-covered flesh produced an explosion of sound reverberating through her head...
. . . horses running... necks lathered, eyes wild, tails straight out... an inhuman scream... the sky forked with lightning... her body being jostled from every direction...
Panic like none she'd ever experienced before rocking her, Kate severed the connection and opened her eyes, reacting without thinking.
"What the hell!"
Sage squealed and threw up her head, then pivoted and took off, tail arched. She cut through her band, her renewed fear spreading like wildfire. The mares whirled around, one after the other, all leaving Kate in a cloud of dust and feeling as if she wanted to bolt, too.
"Hey, are you all right?"
Kate spun around, practically smacking into Chase. He grabbed her upper arms, steadying her. His hands on her flesh seemed natural. Remembered. Unable to be angry that he'd gotten so close, she tried to talk, to explain, but words seemed impossible against the pounding in her ears. Her heart was still beating far too fast, and Chase's touching her only complicated things.
"What happened?" he demanded.
So
mehow she found her voice. "I don't know. I saw... "
"What?"
What had she seen? "I'm not sure. Sage was so frightened. Hysterical."
Provoked, she suspected, by an unpleasant memory, more compelling and vivid than anything she'd ever tapped into before. She'd never been so afraid...
"And you somehow saw this?"
Chase's skeptical tone made her start. She'd momentarily forgotten that he'd never believed in her ability and had placed it in the same category as a child having an invisible playmate. Trying to explain anything to him would be useless.
Shaking off his hands, Kate regained outward control of herself. Inside, she was still quaking from the perturbing experience.
"The important thing is that the horses are all right," she said in a voice far calmer than she felt. "Healthy, I mean."
Chase stared like he could see right through her. But if he guessed she was holding back, he didn't press her.
Kate started up the incline, her mind whirling. What had she seen? All right, a memory. A terrible one. But of what? Running horses. Why should that be so frightening? A vague notion made her queasy.
What if she'd seen a stampede?
CHASE CURSED HIMSELF as he hurried to catch up to Kate, who was speeding up the hill like a rabbit with a coyote on its heels. Something weird had happened to her, and his big mouth had stopped her from telling him what.
He'd known she had a way with horses as she did with all animals, but he didn't remember ever seeing anything like this. Her power over the mares had been mesmerizing. She'd been mesmerizing, a thing of beauty to watch -- not her looks, which had matured from teenage-cute to womanly-striking, but the very depth of her fearlessness and spirit. He'd caught himself holding his breath as she'd made physical contact with one mare after the other, the wild horses crowding her as if they'd accepted her as one of them.
But when Kate had touched Sage and had reacted as if she'd stuck her hand straight into a fire, his gut had twisted and his chest had squeezed tight. Acting on instinct, he'd immediately raced to her rescue. Not that she'd needed deliverance. She hadn't been threatened with physical hurt. For a moment, though, she'd been vulnerable.
The McKenna Legacy Trilogy Page 43