Sunrise Canyon

by Janet Dailey

  He seemed to be prodding her, looking for a sore spot. Refusing to give him the satisfaction, Kira answered calmly.

  “Unfortunately, the program’s expensive. Right now, while it’s new, we can only afford to take students whose families can pay. Later on, if we can expand our services or get some government funding, we’re hoping to include some low-income kids. I’ve stayed up nights writing grant applications. So far, nothing’s come through.”

  “I see.” He fell silent, his hands resting on his knees. In the stillness, the rise and fall of his breathing mingled with the cry of a circling hawk.

  Kira shifted on the rock. She was about to get up, make some excuse and leave, when he spoke again.

  “So what is it with the horses?”

  Kira settled back into place. At least it was easy to talk about her work. “There’s a lot to it. The students choose a horse and work with it every day, taking care of it and earning its trust. If they can do that, they eventually get to ride it.”

  “And that’s therapy?” He picked up a pebble and tossed it down the slope, startling a flock of mourning doves into flight. “Sounds like more bother than it’s worth. Why not just get the kid a damned dog?”

  “Dogs are too easy. What you get from a horse, you have to earn. The horse doesn’t care who you are, only how you behave with it. That’s the therapy—creating trust, creating cooperation, learning to get along, to be relaxed and peaceful and follow the rules. I’ve seen it work with these kids, time and time again.”

  She met his skeptical gaze. His eyes were the color of black coffee, brimming with hidden secrets. “Do you ride?” she asked.

  “Hell, no. I’ve never been on a horse. I don’t even like them.”

  “Why not? There has to be a story behind that.”

  “Maybe.” He tossed a pebble down the canyon, watching as it bounced out of sight. “If there’s any kind of story, it goes way back. My father was a rodeo cowboy, and not a very good one. I couldn’t have been more than three or four years old when I saw him get bucked off an outlaw bronc that damn near trampled him to death before they pulled it away. He was in a lot of pain after that. Couldn’t work. Got into heavy drinking, beat on my mother and on me—she let him. The state finally took me away and put me in the foster system.”

  Kira knew he’d had a rough childhood. Wendy had told her that much. But she’d never heard the details. “What happened to them—your parents?”

  He shrugged. “My mother’s long gone. My father was in prison, last I heard. It’s not like we’re close.”

  “I’m sorry.” Kira might have said more, but she sensed that this proud, wounded man wouldn’t welcome her sympathy. She rose, glancing at her watch. “Time for my students to start the day. I need to be getting back.”

  “So do I. Dusty promised to put me to work. I just hope it doesn’t involve the horses.”

  He stayed a few steps behind her as she wound her way along the narrow trail. At least they’d gotten off to a decent start this morning. But she doubted it would last. There were too many memories between them, too many painful truths left unspoken.

  “I have one question,” she said. “If you’d wanted to be here, you would have shown up a long time ago. How did my grandfather get you to come with him? I can’t believe it was easy.”

  His chuckle sounded more cynical than amused. “Easier than you think. He paid the fine to bail me out of the Coconino County Jail. I owe him a thousand dollars.”

  Kira stifled a gasp, then shook her head. Why should anything about this man surprise her? “He told me you were working in a garage,” she said.

  “I know. But why lie about it? It is what it is.”

  “What did you do?” She paused, turning back to face him.

  “Punched a smart-ass college kid in a bar. Cracked his jaw and knocked out one of his front teeth.”

  “Why? What did he do?”

  “Made a comment about our troops. When I told him to shut up, he took a swing at me. I swung back. Direct hit. If I had it to do over, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “Even if it meant going to jail?”

  “Believe me, there are worse places to be than jail.”

  They were walking again, moving steadily up the trail, toward the ranch. The rising sun flashed above the crest of the mountains, flooding the land with light. In the valley below, a road construction crew, widening a narrow highway, had already started their workday. Muted by distance, the drills chewed into the rock, boring holes for the dynamite that would be rammed deep and detonated.

  “How’s your cabin? Is it all right?” Kira asked, making small talk.

  “It’s amazing. When I think of the old-time stars that have stood in that shower—”

  He broke off as the booming roar of a dynamite blast echoed up from the valley. “Incoming!” he shouted. “Get down!” Diving for Kira, he shoved her to the rocky ground and flung himself, spreadeagled, on top of her. Facedown, she spat dirt as she thrashed and struggled, pinned under his solid weight. As she fought to get free, she could feel his heart pounding against her back, racing as if in terror.

  Suddenly the truth hit her. Having dealt with veterans suffering from PTSD, it was something she should have already known.

  Jake was trying to shield her with his body. He was trying to protect her.

  At once, she stopped fighting him and willed her muscles to relax. “It’s all right, Jake,” she said in a calm voice. “There’s no danger. It’s just the men working on the road. They’re blasting the rock with dynamite.”

  He was still for a moment, as if weighing what she’d said. As the crisis passed, she became aware of his warm, masculine weight pressing down on her, the hardness of his body, its pressure against her hips. Then the breath eased out of him. He rolled off her and, with a muttered curse, sat up.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked.

  “No.” Kira scrambled to her knees. She had a skinned elbow and a cactus thorn pricking her leg, but she couldn’t let that matter. “You scared me at first, but then I realized you were trying to protect me.”

  “Protect you from a damned silly noise. Booyah!” He pushed to his feet, his expression dark. “I shouldn’t even be out here with you.”

  “It’s all right.” Standing, Kira brushed herself off and plucked the cactus thorn out of her jeans. “The cook should be here by now. Let’s go back and get some breakfast.”

  “You go back. I need a minute.” He motioned her away. “Go!” he growled when she hesitated. “Damn it, don’t mother me! I just need to be alone.”

  Kira left then, striding up the trail, her mouth fixed in a taut line. It didn’t matter, she told herself. Jake wasn’t her patient. He wasn’t even her friend. The last thing he wanted was her sympathy, let alone her help. Well, fine. If he wanted to be ignored, she’d be happy to accommodate him.

  The ranch was stirring to life. Consuelo’s car was parked outside the kitchen. Paige was in the yard, tossing a stick for the dog. As Kira came through the gate, she saw Dusty on the porch, a worried look on his face.

  “Is everything all right?” Kira asked.

  “I was just wondering if you’ve seen Jake? He’s not in his cabin.”

  “I met him on the trail. He’ll be showing up soon.” Kira mounted the steps. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea having him here. You know he’s got issues. And he doesn’t seem to want any help.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “I didn’t have to.”

  Thrusting his hands into his pockets, the old cowboy gazed toward the gate. “Well, now that he’s here, I can’t just throw him off the place for no reason, can I? Jake must’ve had some god-awful experiences fighting for his country. He deserves a chance—or at least some patience and understanding.”

  “Fine. But he’s your rehabilitation project, not mine. I’ve got my students to worry about—and Paige.” Kira strode off toward the cabins to make sure her charges were getting ready for breakfast.
Her grandfather was a wise old man, but he was wrong about Jake. All her instincts told her, war hero or not, the man was trouble.

  * * *

  Jake had walked back down the trail to where he could look out over the valley. From here he could see the construction crew working on the road, their massive earthmoving machines made as small as toys by distance.

  The dynamite blast had flung him back to Afghanistan and the roar of exploding mortar shells that the Taliban had fired onto their patrols. In the moment, the memory—the fear, the need to protect—had been absolutely real. And in that moment, when he’d flung Kira to the ground and held her down, he’d made a fool of himself. But it wasn’t going to happen again. He wouldn’t let it.

  For a few minutes, he watched the men work, listening to the whine of their pneumatic drills as they bored into the rock. Knowing they were there, and that they’d be blasting, would help him control his reaction when it happened again.

  Even so, there were no guarantees. Any sound that might be mistaken for bombs or gunfire could be enough to throw him into panic.

  It was a hellish way to live. At least his body had survived in one piece. In that way, he’d been luckier than some of his buddies. But holding down the most menial job was always a problem; and the idea of an intimate, lasting relationship was a joke. What woman would stay with a man who had a way of jumping at shadows or waking up from dreams in a murderous rage?

  Or trying to kill himself?

  Jake had walked that dark line more than once. So far, he’d managed to stop himself before stepping over the edge. But the notion of ending the pain was still there, whispering like a seductress.

  Would things be different now if his wife hadn’t died?

  Remembering, he turned and moved back along the trail.

  The few months he’d spent with Wendy before his first deployment had been the happiest time of his life. During his first yearlong tour of duty, she’d been his rock. They’d kept in frequent touch by Skype, her face and her voice pulling him back from the nightmare of the war and reminding him of what he had waiting on the home front.

  When she’d greeted him at the airport, with their baby girl in her arms, and he’d held his family close, the horror had receded like the memory of a bad dream. Their time together had been bittersweet—fiercely tender, desperately loving, but marked by strain. The war had changed him in a way she couldn’t understand. But still, Wendy had stood by him, true blue. And when the second deployment had shaken him even more deeply than before, she’d been a call away, to anchor him to the things that were important—home, family, trust and love.

  He’d been nearing the end of that second deployment, ready to come home and heal in her arms, when he’d gotten word of the accident.

  Wendy’s death had shattered him. Granted leave to attend the funeral and make needed arrangements, he’d felt no attachment to any part of his home life. Even his daughter, a toddler who barely remembered him, was like a stranger. When Kira had offered to take the child, it had been all he could do to mutter a word of thanks and walk away. He’d returned to Afghanistan, finished his tour and signed up for another one. The war had become his world, and now there was nothing in this world to quiet the monsters he still carried in his head.

  The ranch gate was in sight now. He could hear the sounds of morning—voices, horses and the clang of the steel triangle that signaled breakfast was ready. Jake knew he should eat, but the thought of sharing a table with Kira, Paige and seven curious teens had killed his appetite. He’d just grab coffee in the kitchen and hope Dusty could find a way to keep him busy. If he got hungry later, he could go inside and make himself a sandwich.

  Coming here had been a mistake. There were too many shared memories, too many people who knew his past. And there was one little girl who’d be better off not knowing him at all.

  He would stick to his work, Jake resolved, avoiding Kira and her students, avoiding Paige. As soon as he worked off his debt to the old man, he’d be out of here. And he wouldn’t waste time looking back.

  * * *

  Kira forked hay into the outdoor feeders and filled the big steel trough with fresh water from the hose. Then she opened the stalls and turned the horses out of the barn, into the paddock. Soon the students would be coming outside to clean the stable. After that, Dusty would be introducing them to the horses.

  Dusty knew more about horses than anyone Kira had ever met. It would be his vital job to teach the students about horse handling, just as it was hers to deal with their personal issues and the therapy sessions. As a team, they worked well together. Neither of them could imagine doing the program alone.

  As the students headed to their cabins for a quick after-breakfast break, Dusty came out onto the front porch. Brushing the hay dust off her jeans, Kira joined him.

  “Did you ever find Jake?” she asked. “I didn’t see him come back.”

  “I caught him in the kitchen while you were at breakfast. He’ll be cleaning out that old shed behind the cabins, sorting things and separating out the junk. Somewhere in there, I remember a big batch of cedar shingles. After he digs them out, I’ll put him to patching the barn roof and maybe oiling it, too. That should keep him busy for a while.”

  “You may want to keep an eye on him.” Kira told Dusty what had happened on the trail when Jake had been startled by the blasting. “He practically tackled me. And he didn’t let me up until I explained what was going on. Oh, and he’s not much for horses, either. He says he doesn’t even like them.”

  “That’s what he told me. I’ll keep it in mind. Did you talk about Wendy, or about Paige?”

  “No, I thought it best to steer clear of emotional subjects. I suppose that’ll come in time, but I don’t think he’s ready. Frankly, neither am I.”

  “That’s fine. It’ll happen when it happens.” He glanced toward the guest cabins. “Right now, here come your students. Time to get to work.”

  Kira’s charges finished cleaning the stable, shortening yesterday’s time by almost a third. There was some complaining, but it was mostly hushed by other students who just wanted to get the job done. All to the good. They were already learning to work together, but they had a long way to go.

  Once Kira had collected the gloves and shovels, Dusty took over. After lining the students up along the paddock fence and inviting them to sit or stand, he began his basic horse lecture.

  “Today you’ll get to walk into the paddock, choose any horse and make contact with it. But before you walk up to a horse, there are a few things you need to understand.

  “First of all, horses can be dangerous. You approach an animal that weighs ten times as much as you do, an animal with hooves that can kick and teeth that can bite, you’d better know what you’re doing. And that’s why you’ll be given helmets to wear whenever you work with them, even when you’re not riding. Understand?”

  The students nodded in wide-eyed silence.

  “Second, when you’re around a horse, there’s one thing to remember. What that big animal wants most is to be safe. For the few million years horses have been around, they’ve been food for predators. That fear of being killed and eaten is hardwired into every last one of them, from a Derby winner to a Shetland pony. If anything scares them—a noise, a moving shadow, a person making the wrong move—the horse won’t take time to figure it out. He’ll take off running, or if he can’t run, he’ll fight. Keep that in mind. Your number one concern will be to make sure your horse feels safe.”

  A faint smile tugged at Kira’s lips as she observed her students. Dusty was a master showman. He had those kids in the palm of his hand.

  “There’s one other thing a horse wants. He wants to get along. He wants to know who’s in charge and to do what it takes to fit in and be comfortable. In that way, he’s not so different from you. Once he knows you’re his boss and understands what you want him to do, the natural thing will be for him just to do it. But we’ll talk more about that later.”

&nb
sp; As Kira stood by, watching and listening, she could hear the faint thumping and rustling of things being moved in the storage shed behind the cabins. Jake was hard at work and staying out of the way, which was fine. She knew he wanted to work off his debt to Dusty and leave. But what if it was Dusty’s plan to keep him on as part of the ranch family?

  And what about Paige? As her father, Jake would have custody of the little girl. If he wanted to take her, Kira would have no legal recourse except to let him—unless she could prove he was an unfit parent.

  If it came to a battle, things could get ugly. But whatever happened, Kira vowed, she wouldn’t stand for Paige being torn from her loving, secure home to share her father’s rootless lifestyle and endure his bouts of PTSD. She would fight Jake with everything she had.

  “Kira?” Her grandfather’s voice pulled her back to the present. This, she realized, was the point in his lecture where she would walk into the paddock and demonstrate how to approach a horse safely.

  “Yes . . . ready.” She walked to the paddock gate, opened it carefully and, after stepping through, closed it behind her.

  “That’s the first thing to remember,” Dusty said. “You close the gate. You don’t want to let the horses out. The second thing is to be aware of all the horses, not just the one you’re after. You don’t want to startle them. Make sure they all know you’re there.”

  Kira demonstrated by whistling, then speaking softly. The seven horses raised their heads and pricked their ears. “Read their body language,” Dusty said. “Look at the ears. They’re friendly and curious. If a horse has its ears laid back, that means it’s upset, and you should keep your distance. But these animals are all fine.”

  Kira chose a buckskin gelding named Buddy, who was standing a little apart from the others. Speaking softly, she walked toward it. “Remember what I told you,” Dusty said. “Always approach a horse from the left side, never from straight on in front, and never, ever from the back unless you want to get kicked. Horses have good eyesight, but they can’t see straight in front of their noses or behind their rear ends. You’ll always want your horse to know where you are.”