Mark put the car in gear and turned the wheel sharply to the left, the passenger’s side tires climbing the sandy berm on the side of the road as he made his u-turn. He stopped the car a few hundred feet back the way he’d come and banged his hand on the steering wheel. “Damn it, Jeffery. Don’t be such a bloody coward!” He pulled another u-turn and set off on the final kilometre to Rancho Azteca.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The sun had been up for an hour when Sandra led La Tormenta from the paddock. She was a solidly-built grey mare, still dark and dappled at seven years old, and Sandra’s favourite mount at the ranch. The past two days had been grounding, helping Sandra reconnect with that inner peace she’d come to value so highly. When she’d called, Alejandro was quick to welcome her to the ranch for a few days, fitting her in between clinics.
Rancho Azteca had two main streams of business, breeding fabulous horses and offering riding and horsemanship clinics. Almost ten years earlier, Sandra had seen Alejandro give a western dressage demonstration at an equine expo, and when she saw his brochure pinned to a board in La Paz she could hardly believe her good fortune. That was during her second visit to Baja and she’d managed to grab the last spot in one of his clinics that year. She’d returned for a week each of the last two years and this year’s stay was scheduled for mid-March. Alejandro was a gifted horseman and an even more gifted teacher. His clinics were small, just eight students, each paired with one of his Azteca horses. He would work with each person individually as well as conduct group sessions and, no matter what the level of the student, each one took something away from six days under his guidance.
The year before was the first time Sandra had come to the ranch outside of a scheduled clinic. She’d registered for a February session and, at the end of the six days, Alejandro invited her to return for some one-on-one coaching. It had been a rewarding experience that she’d hoped to repeat and she was feeling fortunate to be sandwiched into his busy winter schedule this year, especially at a time when she needed a place to regroup.
La Tormenta raised her head and nickered and Sandra looked up to see Alejandro walking toward the barn, his white cowboy hat dangling from his hand. He was not a tall man, but he walked with authority, giving the impression of a much larger person. This was one of the keys to communicating successfully with horses, projecting a larger self than your physical size when you needed to. He smiled as he approached, his teeth bright against his brown skin and dark moustache. Sandra had thought him handsome when she first met him and as she got to know the inner workings of the man, he only became more attractive.
“Buenas días, Sandra. You are out earlier even than yesterday.” He walked up to La Tormenta and stroked her shoulder. The mare turned her head toward him, curving her elegant neck around her trainer.
Sandra continued grooming the grey horse. “She loves to be brushed so I thought I’d give her a little more spa time before our morning lesson.”
“And this in addition to the thorough grooming she will no doubt have after the ride?”
“Of course.”
Alejandro chuckled as he continued to caress the mare. “Suerte chica. You are a lucky girl, Tormenta. You will gleam like the sun by the time señora leaves us.” He turned to Sandra. “She is still for sale you know. And she likes you, which is very important to me.”
Sandra continued to brush the mare’s legs from her crouched position. “I know she is. I saw her listed on your website. But it’s a very long ride home.”
Alejandro laughed, a deep sound that seemed to come from his very core. “Not to worry on that account. I have muchos amigos who would be happy to deliver her to Alberta for you. She does not enjoy the heat so she would like it in Canada.”
“I’m betting she doesn’t like the cold either, at least not the kind of cold we get. Poor girl would be looking south at the first sign of Canadian winter.” Sandra rubbed Tormenta’s neck as she stood up. “Wouldn’t you, beautiful?”
“For the first winter, perhaps, but they are extremely adaptable, our equine friends, and you need a mount of your own. It has been how many years?”
“I put my old gelding down five years ago.”
“Then it is time. Think about it. I will give you a very, very good price.” Alejandro looked at his watch. “See you in the arena in twenty minutes?”
He placed his hat on his head and disappeared around the side of the barn, a deep nicker greeting him. That would be Caliente no doubt, his Andalusian stallion. They had a relationship like no other man-horse team that Sandra had seen and she loved to watch the two of them work. It was Caliente who had travelled around North America with Alejandro, giving demonstrations in liberty work and western dressage. She hoped she’d have a chance to see him work with the big, black horse while she was here. This afternoon they were planning a beach ride. Maybe Alejandro would ride him then.
She laid the saddle blanket on Tormenta’s back, followed by the western saddle. It was so much lighter than the one she had at home. She’d have to ask Alejandro where he got it. At fifteen hands, Tormenta wasn’t a tall horse, but it would still be a heave to throw her own thirty-five pounds of leather, fibreglass and silver onto the horse’s back. This saddle didn’t weigh more than twenty-five.
Bridle adjusted, hands gloved, helmet on head, Sandra led Tormenta from the hitching rail to the outdoor riding ring. Rancho Azteca had a small covered arena for when the weather was hot, but this morning it was pleasant even in the sun. The outdoor arena was edged with a rustic-looking post and rail fence, the desert providing the perfect sandy footing. She checked her cinch one more time before putting her left foot in the brass-clad stirrup and mounting. That first moment of sliding into the saddle, the smoothness of the leather against the back of her jeans, felt like coming home. Sandra settled into the deep seat and picked up her reins, the rawhide and leather poppers hanging down below Tormenta’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and let the mingled scents of leather, horse and desert embrace her.
***
Absorbed in her lesson, Sandra didn’t notice the man standing ringside until Alejandro was quiet for an unusual amount of time. He often paused his instruction to give students the opportunity to feel the work they were doing without interruption, but this pause seemed extraordinarily long. She brought Tormenta down to a walk before looking around the arena. He was by the gate at the far end, talking to a man in khakis and a white shirt. The man didn’t look like someone here to ride; maybe he was lost. As Sandra rode closer, recognition set in. No. It can’t be. Not here. Alejandro turned and smiled, waving her over. Yes, it was definitely Mark.
“Sandra, a friend has come in search of you.” Alejandro was smiling but confusion showed in his eyes.
“I see that. What a surprise.” She looked at Mark, forcing a pleasant expression on her face.
“Good morning. Paul mentioned you were down here doing cowboy dressage, something I’d not heard of, and my curiosity got the better of me,” Mark said, his eyes going from Sandra to Alejandro and back again.
Sandra couldn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. Why would he do this? Showing up at Mar Azul nearly every day was one thing but following her down here without an invite. What the hell?
“Don’t let me interrupt your ride. I won’t be a bother,” Mark said.
You have already interrupted and you’re absolutely a bother, Sandra wanted to shout at him.
Alejandro seemed to sense the awkwardness and spoke. “Well, back to work then, Sandra. You have thirty minutes yet to ride.”
As she rode away she heard Mark’s voice but didn’t catch the words. She turned her head to look at him. “Pardon me?”
“I said, lovely horse!”
“Yes, she certainly is.” Sandra lay her hand on Tormenta’s neck, hoping the smoothness and warmth would settle her jangled nerves.
***
She’d tried to remain focused on the balance of the lesson but was distracted, and the horse felt it. The latter pa
rt of the ride had been a sharp contrast to the first. She removed the halter from Tormenta’s head and watched her walk away to join the herd. The mare paused and pawed at the earth but decided against a roll, Sandra’s vigorous post-ride grooming enough to remove the need.
Sandra walked toward the barn to put away her gear and as she rounded the corner, there was Mark, leaning against the hitching rail. “Howdy, cowgirl.” He gave a slow wave.
“Howdy yourself, city slicker. Nice ranch attire.”
Mark looked down at his clothing. “Yes, I can see now that a white shirt was perhaps not the best choice.”
“Not to worry. It won’t be white for long.”
“I did bring a spare of a darker colour.”
“So you’re planning on staying, then?” Sandra heard the tension in her own voice.
“Well ... I ... no, of course not. But your cowboy friend did invite me to stay for lunch. I hope—”
“Yes, Alejandro is a true gentleman. Excuse me. I need to put my things away.” Sandra pulled her saddle from where it rested on the hitching rail and stalked into the barn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Mark stood alone on the verandah of the ranch house surveying the setup of Rancho Azteca. The house was surrounded by horses, the split rail fences dividing the property into paddocks for the various groupings. The group closest to Mark appeared to be youngsters, their skinny necks and gangly legs reminding him of adolescent boys. There were five of them. The black one was determined to get a game going while the other four looked ready for a nap in the sun. He would trot into the group swinging his head in the air and then rear in front of one of the sunbathers. The other horse would flatten his ears, not joining in the game. The little black would then trot away only to return to his friends and nip one of his herd mates on the cheek.
Mark heard the screen door behind him. “He is a trouble-maker my Caballero, always trying to stir things up.” It was Alejandro.
“He certainly is. I wish I had his energy. I feel more like the other four, just wanting an afternoon nap.”
“Ah, but he has just one year and the zest for life we all do as boys. When he has to work he will appreciate his rest time.” Alejandro set down a basket of tortillas and a steaming bowl of some kind of meat. “Tacos de carne. I hope you are not a vegetarian.”
“No, not at all.”
“It is a simple meal but I am on my own here so we will have to manage. Have a seat.” Alejandro smiled at Mark, his perfect, white teeth lighting up in his dark face. Mark half expected a star-shaped glint at the corner of his mouth like you see when the cartoon hero smiles. And then there was that Mexican accent—all Ricardo Montalbán. No doubt most of Alejandro’s students were women.
“Am I late?” Sandra came around the corner from behind the house.
“Not at all.” Alejandro pulled out a chair for her. “Your timing is perfecto. As the Americans say ... dig in.” He made a flourish with his hands over the food on the table. “Ay! I am a terrible host. I have brought you nothing to drink. Para la bebida there is wine, cerveza, iced tea, and water, of course. Sandra, can I get you something?”
They both requested iced tea and waited in awkward silence until Alejandro returned. When he did, he stood beside the table holding the two tumblers of blue Mexican glass, each with a lemon slice on the rim. His eyes went from Sandra to Mark. “Everything is fine here?”
“Yes, fine,” said Sandra. She pulled the napkin from the plate and placed it on her lap.
Okay, so perhaps Paul had been right, showing up here was not a good idea. When lunch was over he’d be on his way and leave Sandra and her cowboy to whatever it was they had going on. He thought back to her lesson and how Alejandro had placed his hand on her knee when he went over to speak to her, his other hand stroking the neck of the horse. It seemed an intimate gesture from where Mark stood.
“So, Señor Jeffery ...” Alejandro started.
“Call me Mark.” He spooned the meat mixture into a tortilla, added what looked like a coleslaw from another bowl, and folded it in half.
“Sí ... Mark. How is it you know the lovely Sandra?” Alejandro took a bite of his taco and fixed his gaze on Mark.
“She is staying at Mar Azul, which is owned by a friend of mine.”
“Ah, Paul is a friend of yours! I have not had opportunity to meet him but Sandra speaks very well of your friend.”
“Yes, he’s a good fellow. We’ve known each other since we were lads.”
Sandra was quietly eating her lunch and sipping on her iced tea, her eyes travelling back and forth between the two men as they spoke.
“And what brings you to Rancho Azteca? You wish to ride?” Alejandro asked.
“No, no riding. I came to see how Sandra was getting along.” As the words left his mouth, Mark realized that checking up on a woman he hardly knew was not a good reason to show up unannounced. “And I ... needed to ... run an errand ... in Cabo ... and so, here I am.” He flashed a look at Sandra and took a large bite of his taco, chewing rapidly. “Mm, very good,” he said, mouth full. It was a fair question; just what was he doing here at Rancho Azteca?
“Cabo?” Alejandro laughed. “I am not exactly on the way, unless you were planning to drive that expensive car around the cape, and I would not recommend it. Horse would be a better way to travel that road. Perhaps you would like to join us this afternoon. We are going down to the beach with the horses and it is not so hot today,” Alejandro said.
“I’m not much of a rider, at least not without a stunt double.” Mark glanced at Sandra to see if he’d made her smile. He hadn’t. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.
Alejandro squinted at Mark. “A stunt double? I don’t understand.”
“Mark is an actor, so his riding in movies is no doubt done by someone else, someone who can ride well.” She looked at Mark, her eyes hard. “Is that about right?”
“Well, yes, but I do ride ... some.”
“Well, join us then.” Alejandro was smiling with all those teeth again—glint. “It is an easy half hour down to the beach.”
“Followed by a gallop on the sand,” Sandra cut in.
“But—I have a nice older mare who will go at whatever speed you like. Her name is Tranquilo, at least that is what she has been called for many years. She could use the exercise to prepare for her next clinic.”
“I don’t want to intrude.” Mark glanced at Sandra, who gave nothing away with her expression.
Alejandro jumped in. “Not at all. Everyone who comes to Azteca must ride one of my horses. Es obligatorio! More tea?”
***
They rode along the well-worn trail three in a line with Alejandro leading on his striking black stallion. He and the horse were well matched: the shiny black hair, the dark eyes, the male energy that seemed to pour off of them. Mark wondered if Caliente had the same dazzling smile when he opened his big horsey lips.
The trail wound its way through the many cactus, ocotillo and acacia that filled this part of the Baja landscape. Alejandro turned in his saddle and gestured to a large cactus as he rode past it. “Do you know the cardón can grow to seventy feet high and weigh more than twenty-five tons? Its name comes from the Spanish word for thistle. It is said when Hernando Cortes came to establish a settlement in Baja, he named it ''Isla de Cardón'' for all of the spiky plants and because, at the time, they believed the peninsula was actually an island.”
“So these are not saguaro?” Mark called from the back of the line of horses.
“No, although they are close cousins. The saguaro do not grow this far south on the peninsula; believe it or not, there is too much moisture.” Alejandro faced forward again.
From his position behind her, Mark watched as Sandra’s shoulders rose and fell, one and then the other, with the movement of Tormenta’s walk. Her hair was pulled into a bundle of curls that stuck out from beneath her brown riding helmet and she wore a denim shirt that bunched up at the cantle of the saddle and hung
over legs dressed in light blue Wranglers. They’d not spoken since lunch. His uncertainty about her feelings and about her relationship with Alejandro had stopped his words every time he started to explain his presence at Rancho Azteca. And now here he was on a horse. Every wretched period drama he’d been cast in seemed to involve at least one horseback scene, so he had learned to ride out of necessity, but he’d never felt comfortable astride. If all of those swooning, horse-loving females had seen some of the riding scene out-takes they surely would have been far less enamoured with the equestrian prowess of Mr. Rochester. At least he was in a western saddle today so there was something to grab hold of if the need arose.
The trail wound between two hills and then the sea was before them, blue and sparkling in the midday sun. Down one more low hill, across a road, and they were on the beach. Right, splendid, the gallop part Sandra mentioned. Western saddle or not, he didn’t think he was up for a beach run, or the embarrassment and potential injury that would come if he landed head first in the sand.
Alejandro stopped and turned, waving them over so he could be heard over the sound of the surf. “The waves are quite large today so we will ride higher on the beach, but stay on the hard sand to make it easier for the horses. Tranquilo is getting a little long in the tooth.”
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