Horsefeathers

by Caitlin Ricci

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Book Details

  Horsefeathers

  About the Author

  HORSEFEATHERS

  CAITLIN RICCI

  Justin was sent to get a mare, and is helpless to explain to his unhappy boss why he came back with an untouchable gray stallion instead, but there's just something about the horse that wouldn't let him leave it behind.

  Of course, because an angry boss and a horse they don't need isn't enough, the horse goes missing—leaving a strange man in his place, a man who speaks in riddles and seems more than a little crazy, but he's also just as hard to refuse as the stallion...

  BOOK DETAILS

  Horsefeathers

  By Caitlin Ricci

  Published by Less Than Three Press LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

  Edited by Amanda Jean

  Cover designed by Natasha Snow

  This book is a work of fiction and all names, characters, places, and incidents are fictional or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

  Second Edition January 2016

  First Edition Published October 2013 by Storm Moon Press

  Copyright © 2016 by Caitlin Ricci

  Printed in the United States of America

  Digital ISBN 9781620046920

  HORSEFEATHERS

  Brother Mustang moved with the herd, his black mane falling across his face and covering his green eyes. The humans had remarked on how unusual his eyes were, but most had called it a trick of light or claimed he might have something wrong with his sight. Human words meant little to Brother Mustang, but Nohatu had listened well as he lay waiting there inside Brother Mustang. They were never without the other, both of them residing in whatever form they currently took.

  The pungent scent of fear mixed with the anxiety of the horses around him. Brother nickered softly, trying to calm the mustangs, but got nowhere with them. Being rounded up and taken away from all they knew had pushed them too far from who they were. Nohatu attempted to soothe him, but Brother was beyond listening. Like the other mustangs in the pen, Brother scattered when the men came close, pushing more frightened horses into the pens across from theirs. But then Brother Mustang trotted forward, his long mane flowing in the light breeze as he moved toward the mares. The horses behind him, too scared to move toward the humans, continued to tremble at the back of the pen as he ran along the gate, drawing the attention of the mares.

  The humans laughed. "Look at him showing off for the girls," one called.

  "Damn fine animal," another said, moving closer.

  Brother Mustang ignored them, spinning on his back legs and trotting along the short length of the pen again. He wasn't flirting, and even if Brother was capable of doing such a human thing, he wouldn't be right now. Not in a situation like this with them all trapped and the heavy feeling of helplessness thick in the air. No, his methods were far more practical. The mares across from them, barely a quick trot away if the tall fence weren't blocking them in, were frightened. Brother Mustang couldn't stand for mares and young fillies to be in such a state.

  When they'd all lifted their heads to watch him, Brother slowed, came to stand still before them, and nickered. His soothing noises floated to them on the morning breeze, and as Nohatu watched through the mustang's eyes, the mares began to calm. Their heads drooped and their shoulders lost some of their stiffness. Brother Mustang continued his quiet calls, easing the mares into being calm. Though Nohatu could feel the mustang's own anxiety as it coursed through his veins, he admired the beast for his ability to not let that emotion show to the mares.

  "Hey, man, get that one out of there. Didn't any of you idiots notice that he isn't a gelding?"

  Nohatu heard the man's words, followed quickly by the screeching of the rusty gate to their right, and tried to warn Brother Mustang. But he wasn't listening in the least, and so when the feel of rough rope touched their cheek, he was predictably startled. Brother Mustang jumped back on his rear legs, pulling away from the humans that had quickly come up around him.

  Though Nohatu attempted to calm him, the beast refused to listen. He saw men around him, closing in on his space and pressing in on all sides. One grabbed for his mane, but Brother Mustang pulled away. The man fell into the dirt with a curse. The gate opened and Nohatu looked beyond it, wishing for the open fields he saw past the cold metal surrounding them but focusing on the space between the pens and the men shouting at them as well.

  He urged the beast to look too, but he saw nothing but the men closest to him. The immediate threat. Nohatu urged him forward, grasping at his mind and begging for his trust. When Brother refused to give it to him, stubbornly believing he knew best, Nohatu took control anyway, and though the pain of splintering each of their minds tore at his thoughts, he managed to get the big horse to move away from the men to the open space between the pens. He was then herded into a pen further down.

  Nohatu released him, easing his hold from Brother Mustang's mind as Brother Mustang came back to consciousness, taking control of his own mind again. Instant resentment pushed between them, skirting along their bond and making Nohatu sorry for what he'd done. But he'd known it was the right thing to do as Brother Mustang settled into the pen and walked along the edge, checking for weak spots in the metal. He was confident there had to be a way out of the maze of humans and their traps. Nohatu wasn't nearly as sure.

  *~*~*

  Sweaty and tired, Justin pulled into the dirt parking lot, dust flying up around his big tires as he turned the truck into a space facing the high metal pens. He tipped his wide brimmed hat up with his thumb and leaned forward over the steering wheel, resting his chin on top of his knuckles. He breathed deeply, letting the classic country on the radio play as he looked out over the packed corrals. Horses in every shape, size, and color would be on display today, all of them ready to be sold and sent home with people far too unfamiliar with their kind to be trusted with the animals. His opinion on the subject had to be pushed aside, though. He had a job to do, one he got paid fairly well for, and he didn't have time to contemplate the merits of the general public bringing home wild mustangs.

  A bureau officer came up to his window and tapped loudly on the glass. Eying him wearily, Justin turned off the old truck and opened his door, forcing the man to take a step back.

  "Paperwork?" The officer held out his hand expectantly.

  Justin nodded. "Sure. Right here." He'd been to these roundup sales six times in the past year and knew the routine. He handed over the paper with his adopter ID on it and turned back to his steering wheel, waiting as the officer checked out his information.

  "All the way from Byers, huh?" he asked, typing the information into his phone.

  "Yeah. Long drive," Justin replied, sounding just as tired as he felt. Thankfully, traffic had been light for the drive. It had made the hours go by a lot faster. Still, he was anxious to get out of the cab and walk around the pens.

  The officer handed back his paperwork. "All right, here you go. I'll take a look around your trailer and make sure it meets our regulations, but you're free to go look through them while you're waiting."

  Justin took the sheet back and stuffed into the glove box for safe keeping. "Thanks," he said, getting out of the truck. Once on the ground, his boots sank into the warm dirt. He stretched his arms above his head and groaned as a mixture of pleasure and pain ran through the stiff muscles in his shoulders.

  He pulled on his gloves and took the heavy halter and lead in his hands. The weight had become familiar in the two years he'd been working for S
terling Ranch. Now his hands felt nearly empty without some tack in them. He locked the truck and walked forward, his steady strides kicking up dust and drawing attention from the young horses closest to him. A young paint in particular watched him. Justin thought he might be interesting, even if he wouldn't be a challenge to train, until he saw a man put a halter around his face and lead the foal away. Oh well; hopefully the person adopting the horse would be good to him.

  "Wait, please," an officer said, stopping him at the entrance to the mustang adoption area. "I need to check your halter."

  Justin held it up for him, used to this part as well as the man pulled on the buckles and checked to make sure everything looked all right. Justin watched him, letting his mind wander until a solid idea of what it would be like to have the man naked and against him formed in his mind. Until the officer had to ruin his little fantasy by loudly jingling the clasp on the lead.

  "It all looks good," he said, dropping the old halter and stepping away. "Good luck getting your next mustang."

  Justin gave him a half smile and walked through parted steel panels that had been lined up to make a wide aisle. The Bureau of Land Management—or BLM, as those in the know called it—had done a fairly good job of organizing the horses, Justin was quickly beginning to realize. He was only here to get one horse—not because his boss couldn't afford the meager adoption price, but because that's all the government allowed them to take back. His boss, Mr. Faragher, had sent him to the roundup sale with clear instructions and Justin ignored any horses that didn't fit his specific needs. His boss was a rancher and eventually the horse would be part of the small herd that helped control the man's thousand head of cattle. Justin had trained six mustangs for him already in the years he'd been working for him and had been told he had an eye for what made a good ranch horse.

  Still, he felt a bit of nagging uncertainty settle into his gut as he made his way to the mares. Faragher preferred mares, not because they worked better, but because they could be bred to his Quarter Horse stallion. The resulting foals were crosses, unregistrable and undesirable for much more than ranch work and the occasional trail ride, but they were all well formed with good bones and sound minds. Which was more than Justin had seen from some of the papered horses he used to train at the show barn he worked at before Mr. Faragher had picked him up.

  Justin turned his attention back to the mustangs in front of him. He leaned on the steel fence and looked them over, focusing not on color but on bone structure and size. They largely looked scared, but he didn't blame them. They were all wild, untouched, and would likely bolt at the first chance they got. He expected that.

  Sadly, none of the mares stood out to him as ideal for his boss. It would be better if he came back with no horse than a subpar one, and he'd returned with an empty trailer more than once. But it wasn't something he enjoyed doing. The trip was far too long and the gas to get down there was too expensive for it to be a complete waste.

  He turned around and went to the large pen filled with geldings. A man stood next to him, his shiny cowboy boots and fringe shirt giving him away. Though Justin said nothing, he tried not to let his instant judgments about the man get to him. It wasn't his business what the man was doing. Maybe he had a trainer at home, wherever that was. Certainly nowhere near his hometown, which was in the middle of nowhere and where a man wearing a fringed western shirt would get laughed at pretty quickly.

  "Which one should I get?"

  Justin took a breath and turned his head to look at the man, unsure if he'd been talking to him or, hopefully, someone else. He wasn't really good with people in a general sort of sense. Horses he could handle. People, not so much. But the man was watching him expectantly, and Justin held back a curse as he turned to look at the geldings.

  "For what?" he asked.

  The man's laughter sent pricks of irritation down Justin's spine. "For riding. What else are they good for?"

  He shook his head. "You're not really a horse person, are you?" Justin knew the answer but felt it needed to be clarified just in case he was completely wrong. It would be a rare thing, since he was a pretty good judge of people, but still, giving the guy a chance might not be wasted.

  "Hell no. Just down here because the horses are cheap," was the man's instant reply.

  Justin bit his lip to keep from snapping. It was safer than getting punched. Still, he couldn't really let this man take home some poor, unsuspecting creature, could he? "So why are you here, then? The BLM makes you keep them for a while, so you really won't get a resale value out of them. Not without a lot of training that will cost far more than you can get for the horse."

  The man shrugged. "The girlfriend wants one."

  "A mustang?" Justin asked, surprised. It wasn't usually the breed people went for. Too much trouble.

  He shook his head. "A horse. She's been bugging me about it for weeks. I've seen a few for sale online, but they're all expensive. So I figured I'd come down here and save a few hundred bucks off even the cheapest one. Which one should I get her? What colors do girls like?"

  Justin rolled his eyes. "You should just spend the money and get her a quiet horse, something that won't end up putting her in the hospital because you're too cheap to get her a horse that won't ruin her for all other horses." The man blanched and Justin looked away, clearly over the conversation.

  "Asshole," the man muttered as he turned and walked away.

  Justin shrugged. He didn't really care what the guy thought of him, as long as he didn't end up getting one of these horses. They were amazing creatures—for the right person. Most people weren't that person, though, and he'd seen too many good horses ruined and too many young riders turned off horses forever because they were paired incorrectly. That was one of the reasons he'd had to leave a show barn. The ranch was just as much work, if not more so, and while there were no sweet mothers to tip him well when their daughters brought home trophies, it felt far more honest in a way that the glitz and glam of showing didn't.

  He knew it wasn't all like that. Plenty of people cared about their horses and invested thousands in them. But those few genuine souls were so rare that he could barely remember the last one he'd actually met. No, his life was much simpler now, when the only person he saw daily was Mr. Faragher and his only critics were a whole lot of cows.

  A crow called out above him and the small group of geldings in front of him shifted, drawing Justin's gaze. He focused his mind back on the work he was here to do. Bringing home a gelding, though not ideal, would be better than nothing, and honestly the geldings looked far more promising than the long-backed mares he'd seen in the pen behind him. He gave each one a chance, recognizing their strengths and judging their weaknesses. The horses he worked with had to be strong and fit with long, straight legs and good proportions.

  A chestnut snorted and a bay pawed at the ground. They were restless, unused to being confined, especially with other males. Justin had almost settled on a plain brown horse with good bone structure when the group shifted again and a he saw a gray head lift from the pen beyond.

  Justin moved toward him, his fingers sliding over the cool metal of the high panels that separated the horses from him. He found the gray horse two pens down the way with no one on either side of him. His long, nearly black mane swept over his face and neck as walked around the small pen. Grays, even dapple grays, weren't unusual in mustangs, so Justin couldn't have said why this one interested him so much. Only that now that he'd seen the gelding, there was no looking away. Not for him, anyway.

  "Like him?"

  Justin hadn't heard the officer come up beside him, which was fairly surprising. He was usually a lot more attentive than that. He slowly nodded, unable to take his eyes off the horse in front of him. He was well built with a long mane and a tail that nearly brushed the ground. Aesthetics didn't really matter on the ranch, but Justin could easily admit that the horse was beautiful.

  The officer put his arms up on the panel and leaned against it, watch
ing the horse as well. "He's a fine stallion. Plenty of interest in him. Until people find out that he's a stallion."

  Justin's face pinched. "Damn." He pushed away from the panel. "There's no way my boss will let me bring home a stallion. No way in hell. A stud colt, maybe, if he was young enough to be gelded. But a stallion? Especially one as old as he appears?" Justin shook his head.

  "Shame," the officer said. "You're one of the few that have looked at him that I know could handle a horse like that."

  Though the compliment pleased him, Justin couldn't stop thinking about the stallion. "Yeah, it is. No way you guys could do the procedure here, right?" Not that it would matter. He was far too old for it to really affect him much. Sure, he wouldn't be able to breed. But the hormones would still be there. And he'd still act just like a stallion. That was the trouble with getting studs when they were adults. Some stallions could be gelded late and act like geldings. Most, however, would never change their ways.

  The officer shook his head. "Why not go in with him? See if you like him at all?"

  Justin eyed him warily. "Adopters are prohibited from going into a pen. I tried my first time here and you all nearly through me out."

  Shrugging, the officer turned back to the stallion. "Yeah, but you've signed the waiver since then. Even volunteered a time or two with us here. You're good to go in with him if you want to."

  "I shouldn't," Justin hedged. "My boss would kill me if I brought home a stallion, even if he is far better put together than his Quarter Horse stud. So what would be the use of going in with him just to not be able to take him home?"

  The officer nodded. "You're right. Damn shame, though. Horse like that, put together that well..." he sighed. "Hate to push him onto another facility if he doesn't get adopted out of this one."

  Justin's hand was on the latch for the gate before he realized what he was doing.

  "Gonna give him a chance?" the officer asked him.

  He really wasn't sure. "Not many times in my life will I get to be up close and personal with a horse like that. Figured I'd take the opportunity now even if I can't bring him home with me."