Wild Mustang

Though she didn’t trust any man except her brother Nathan, Shane was typical of the kind of man who unnerved her the most. He was big and rugged and so very much there. If he was present, he couldn’t be ignored.

Yet, how could she have resisted the appeal in Sage’s eyes? The girl so obviously wanted her to agree to stay. What had happened to the girl’s mother? she wondered. Laura had gotten the distinct feeling there was no woman in the Bearclaw home.

She really hadn’t minded the girl’s personal questions because she felt they were innocent, that Sage merely wanted to know more about her. In any case, the girl hadn’t been the first one to ask Laura if she was married. Sometimes people went on to ask why not, which was far more offensive. The first question was easy to answer. The second was not, and she didn’t even try, but merely shrugged and either walked away or changed the subject.

The truth was, despite the therapy Laura had been through over the years, she’d never been able to convince herself that kind words and smiles from men weren’t a cover for deception of some kind. The best protection was to stay single. Permanently.

At the hotel, she was reluctant to go to her room after she ate because there was nothing to do there except watch TV. So she wandered through the casino, eyeing the devotees at the slot machines, but not venturing even a nickel of her own money.

There is such a thing as being over-cautious. Her therapist’s words. Laura shrugged. Maybe she was, but caution kept her safe, didn’t it?

As usual, she ignored the occasional male stares and comments aimed at any, even minimally attractive, unaccompanied young woman. She’d gotten so effective at this, very few men ever persisted in coming on to her. Pausing to listen to the trio in the lounge for a time, she admired the female singer’s performance, as the woman swayed and gestured in time to the music. True, it was no more than a performance, but a tinge of envy made Laura sigh. The singer seemed so naturally uninhibited that she was a pleasure to watch.

If only I could act even half that free and easy, Laura thought. If only I didn’t have to keep monitoring my behavior so I don’t attract attention from men.

Finally feeling the effects of jet lag, she went to her room and got ready for bed. Though she fell asleep right away, she kept rousing throughout the night, probably because she was so apprehensive about working with Shane. Near dawn she finally got up, dressed in riding jeans, boots, and Western shirt and went down to eat breakfast. One great advantage of Nevada casino-hotels was being able to eat at any hour of the day or night. Twenty-four-hour service. Breakfast over, she decided to head for the ranch, even though she’d be arriving really early. It’d serve macho Shane right if she got there before he was up. Quickly packing her belongings, she checked out.

When she got to the ranch house, Sage answered her knock and insisted on helping to carry in her things.

“Grandfather and Shane are in the barn,” Sage said, when Laura was settled into a sparsely furnished but comfortable-looking bedroom. “There’s coffee if you want some.”

After refusing any food, Laura sat in the kitchen with Sage, drinking a mug of coffee.

“Whoa,” the girl said. “For somebody who doesn’t put anything in tea, you sure use a lot of sugar in your coffee. And cream, too.”

Laura grinned at her. “It goes to show no one’s perfect, not even me.”

“I guess.” Sage fidgeted in her chair, finally adding, “I’m not supposed to ask any personal stuff, but I might forget. You won’t get mad, will you?”

After shaking her head, Laura said, “I think maybe it’s my turn to ask questions.”

“Cool. I don’t care if they’re personal ones.” Sage looked at her expectantly.

After discovering who the girl’s favorite actors and singers were, Laura asked about her friends.

“Maria and Donna are my two best friends,” Sage told her. “They live on the res, too, but not very nearby. Sometimes I mind we can’t get together oftener, but mostly I don’t. I’m sort of used to hanging out with Grandfather.” She hesitated, and then said vehemently, “I don’t ever want to move away from here. Never ever. If they try to make me move to smoggy L.A., I won’t go.”

“Are Shane and your grandfather planning to move there?”

Sage shook her head. “It’s my father. He got married again, and now he wants me to come and live with him and her. I don’t even know her.”

Laura blinked. Up until now, she’d assumed Sage was Shane’s daughter.

Looking down at the table where she traced spirals with her finger, Sage said, “Me and my mom left him when I was four ’cause he was mean to her. We came here to live with my brother Shane and Grandfather. Then she got sick and died two years ago. Shane told me I could stay at the ranch forever if I wanted. Now my father is trying to make the judge say I have to leave and go live with him.” She blinked back tears.

Laura scooted her chair over and put an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“I’m scared,” Sage confessed. “I don’t remember my father too good. What if he’s still mean? I don’t want to leave Shane and Grandfather, but what if the judge makes me? Why don’t I get to say what I want?”

Her heart touched, Laura hugged the girl closer. It sickened her to think that Sage might ever become the victim of an abusive father. She wished she could promise the girl that she’d be able to choose where she wanted to live. Impossible, when she knew nothing about the circumstances.

The kitchen door opened, and Sage pulled away. Laura stood up and faced Shane, feeling a shock at the reality of him. When he wasn’t present, it was easier to categorize him and pretend to herself she’d be able to deal with him. Up close, she found him overwhelming.

“Good,” he told her, his gaze flicking over her, no doubt assessing how appropriate her clothes were for riding. “We can get an early start. Hope you brought a broad-brimmed hat—at this altitude, you’ll need one to prevent sunburn.”

Despite telling herself she intended to limit her reply to a curt nod, she found herself saying, “I’ve been in this part of Nevada before. Naturally I brought a hat. And sunscreen.”

He was the one who gave the curt nod. “Let’s get going then.”

Sage trailed them to the corral and shook her head over the mare Shane had chosen for Laura. “Rabbit’s for scaredy-cat beginners,” she told her brother. “I bet you never even asked Laura what kind of a rider she was.”

Laura smiled to herself. Of course he hadn’t, being one of those men who knew best. She waited, determined not to say anything until he spoke.

“The question isn’t how good you are,” he said to Laura, “but how long a ride you’re accustomed to.”

“I qualify somewhere above a scaredy-cat beginner,” she said coolly, making herself stare into those dark, fathomless eyes.

He shrugged and turned to his sister. “I suppose you want to do the picking.”

“I sure can do better than Rabbit,” Sage told him. “How about Columbine?” She pointed to what looked to Laura like an Arabian mare, a chestnut. “That’s her name but we call her Colly.”

Shane raised his eyebrows at Laura.

“Colly’s beautiful,” she said. “I’d like to ride her. Arabian, isn’t she?”

He smiled. “Some of her ancestry must have been, but she’s of mustang stock. We picked her up as a filly who’d been injured. By the time she was healthy and whole, she was too domesticated to turn loose, so we kept her. On the trail, Colly can outlast any horse we own.” His dubious glance told her he didn’t think she’d come anywhere close to Colly’s ability.

After Cloud and Colly were saddled, Shane and Laura set off, with Sage waving from the corral.

“I hope we’ll be able to spot the black stallion’s herd again,” Laura said after they’d ridden some time in silence. “One of his mares—a pregnant pinto—was lame. I need to get a better look at her.”

“He’s got two pinto mares. Which one?” Shane’s words made her certain he must know every mustang in that herd.

“If she were a cat I’d call her a calico.”

He nodded. “I know the one. Must be a recent injury. She wasn’t lame the last time I got a good look at the herd.”

“It was obvious yesterday.” As soon as the words were out she realized he probably hadn’t noticed the mare, being too busy coming to her rescue. The sooner she came to terms with that the better.

“Yesterday wasn’t the greatest introduction in the world for us,” she said, facing her mistake squarely. “It was poor judgment for me not to pay closer attention to the stallion.”

Shane had been wondering if she’d ever admit her mistake. Now that she had, he was forced to revise his estimate of her. She also sat on Colly like a pro and rode well. The question that remained was how long she could last.

She was quiet for some time before saying, “This morning Sage told me something that keeps troubling me. Is it true her father is trying to gain custody? She seems terrified that he will.”

The last thing Shane wanted to do was discuss his problems with a stranger, but since his sister had already hung out the family laundry, the least he could do would be to give Laura the straight facts.

“My mother had me when she was very young. My father died when I was eighteen, and two years later, she remarried off the reservation and went to live with her husband in southern California. Sage was born there. My mother brought her back to the ranch when she was four, and the two of them never left.”

“Sage said her father was mean,” Laura said.

“Our mother told us that,” Shane said shortly, a muscle tightening in his jaw. From the moment his mother had come home, he’d hated Bill Jennings, the man who’d become his stepfather.

Just as quickly, he’d come to love his little sister. The thought of Sage going to live with that man set his teeth on edge.

“Surely no judge would force a child to live with a man known to be abusive,” Laura said, her indignation clear in her voice.

“There’s no evidence of any abuse. When she lived with him, my mother never called the authorities, so there’s no record. And now she’s dead. The judge feels since Sage’s father has remarried, she’d benefit by having a woman to mother her.”

Laura didn’t speak for a while. “Forgive me if I’m getting too personal,” she said at last. “I can’t help but be concerned about Sage’s future. If the judge seems to think Sage needs a woman’s influence, isn’t there someone you know that you could marry? Surely the judge wouldn’t favor moving Sage then.”

He scowled. “Marriage is out. It’s not for me.”

To his surprise, she nodded. “I understand because I never intend to marry myself. Still, you might come to some kind of accommodation—I suppose it might be called a marriage in name only—to satisfy the judge. Once he rules in your favor, after a time the marriage could be dissolved.”

He started to brush off the suggestion with a terse remark, then held, staring at her. What was it Grandfather had said last night? Something about what a nice young lady Laura was, just the person Sage needed to have around.

At the time he’d thought Grandfather meant for temporary company. Ha. What that clever old trickster was trying to do was set him up. That was the reason behind his inviting Laura to stay at the ranch.

Shane snorted in disgust at being taken in. Realizing he’d startled Laura, he turned away. She’d had no part in this, he felt almost sure. Not once had she indicated she so much as liked him. He wondered why.

Most women found him attractive. He’d be a fool if he hadn’t noticed that. But it was clear to him that Laura didn’t. He glanced at her and caught her looking at him apprehensively. Was she afraid of him? Why should she be?

“Is something bothering you?” she said, flinging her words at him like bullets.

He blinked. “What makes you ask?”

“You keep scowling.”

Shane hadn’t realized he was. “It’s not aimed at you.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “Why is it you never intend to marry?”

“I—well, I—” she faltered. He watched her take a deep breath and raise her chin. “Due to something that happened in the past, I don’t trust men,” she went on. “I prefer to have nothing but impersonal dealings with them. I absolutely can’t imagine marrying.” She gave him a level look. “Why don’t you intend to marry?”

It wasn’t any of her damn business. But, after a moment, he realized he’d posed the question first, and she’d given him an answer. Fair was fair. He owed her some kind of an explanation.

“The usual,” he said tersely. “We were young and ignorant, she got pregnant, so we got married. A mistake. We didn’t mesh. I took off and joined the rodeo circuit, wasn’t home much. She and my daughter were killed in an accident while I was gone.” He made a slashing motion with his hand. “Never again.”

He had no intention of telling her how Deena had begun running around and that the fatal accident had been when she was coming home from her newest lover’s place, the baby with her. Nor was he going to confess his guilt. If he hadn’t run off, if he’d faced their incompatibility head-on and filed for divorce, asking for custody of his daughter, both she and Deena would be alive today.

Hating to hash over the unchangeable past, he shucked it off by taking a quick look around. Spotting some dust rising, he pointed. “Might be a herd over that way. We’ll head for the nearest rise and see what it is.”

When they paused at the crest of the hill, he saw he was right, but the mustangs were heading away from them and were already so far away they’d never catch up. Any pursuit would simply make them run all the faster and farther.

“To get close to a herd, you really need to camp out near a source of water so they’ll come to you,” he said. “Since they normally range over about twenty acres per day, it’s futile to chase them. That’ll just result in them taking off and likely moving off reservation land.”

“I can see that,” she said. “Shall we plan to camp tomorrow?” Concealing his surprise that she didn’t balk at camping with him, he said, “Up to you. But it’ll have to wait for a couple of days.”

“Whenever you have the time, then.” She hesitated before saying, “I want to tell you I’m sorry about what happened to your wife and child. I realize the tragedy must make it doubly distressing for you now that you have to worry about losing Sage.”

He couldn’t lose Sage, that’s all there was to it. His sister belonged here, where their mother had brought her, knowing he’d keep the girl safe.

Back at the ranch, Shane found the evening meal livelier with Laura present. Not that she did much talking. She didn’t have a chance with Sage and Grandfather both vying for her attention.

After the meal cleanup, Sage brought out her favorite shirt, which she’d torn on a nail in the barn, to show to Laura.

“I don’t know how to fix it without having it look gross,” Sage told her.

Though he seemed intent on the newspaper he was reading, Shane was acutely aware of Laura sitting across from him on the leather couch with his sister. It’d been a long time since there’d been a woman in this living room in the evening.

“You’re right. Any repair stitches would show,” Laura said. “But what we could do is cover the stitching with embroidery—a flowering branch could run from one end of the repair job to the other.”

“Embroidery?” Sage sounded as though even the word was alien to her.

“My grandmother taught me when I was about your age. It’s not exactly fun, but it’s kind of neat to know how to embroider. I can teach you, if you like.”

“But if I’m just learning, I might spoil my shirt.”

“Oh, we’ll let you practice on the hem of a pillowcase or something like that. Embroidery isn’t all that hard once you get the hang of it. We’ll need to buy some special thread and some designs, though—in Reno, I suppose.”

Shane lowered the newspaper. “There might be what you need in Grandmother’s trunk,” he said to Sage. “I seem to remember her trying to teach our mother some kind of fancy sewing.”

Sage bounced up from the couch. “Whoa! Really? Can we go look in the trunk now?”

From the corner where he’d seemed to be dozing, Grandfather said, “Our daughter wasn’t much for fancy work, but she turned out to be the best dancer on the res. Not much for picking good men, either, but I got to admit she turned out two pretty good kids.”

Sage grinned at him. “How come you’re always telling me I’m bad, then?”

“It’s like Coyote—you got two sides.” Grandfather turned to Shane. “All that sewing stuff is in one of the reed baskets Grandmother’s mother made.”

Shane rose and left the room, with Sage trailing him.

“He’s a sound man,” Grandfather said to Laura. “Once he learns to laugh again, he’ll be hard to beat.”

Laura tried to think how to respond to this but gave up. She found herself at ease with Grandfather as a man, but she wasn’t always sure exactly what he meant.

Reverting to what he’d said to Sage, she asked, “What did you mean about Coyote having two sides?”

“One to do good for the people, the other to play tricks on them. I figure we’re all more or less like that.” He leaned forward in his chair, fixing her with an intent gaze. “We can’t lose Sage. We need her, and she needs us.” While Laura believed this to be true, she didn’t understand how Grandfather could think she’d be able to help, even though she wanted to.

“So you’re going camping with Shane,” the old man said, completely changing the subject. At least this one was easy to respond to.

“When he finds time—maybe in a day or two,” she said.

Grandfather nodded. “Desert nights.”

She was sure his cryptic words meant something that she was missing. “I’m sure they’re lovely,” she said cautiously.

“Can carry a chill this time of the year,” he told her.

That seemed fairly straightforward, but before she could reply, Shane reappeared with Sage who was carrying a beautifully woven, round basket, its muted-colored design scarcely faded with age. The girl dumped the contents of the basket onto the coffee-table, and Laura leaned forward to sort through them. In no time at all, she’d located what she needed and, sooner than Shane would have believed possible, his sister was getting her first lesson in embroidery and, by all indications, having fun.

Grandfather rose and, in passing Shane’s chair, murmured, “Get along well, don’t they?”

Shane grunted, well aware now of the old man’s motives. Grandfather knew very well why Shane would never marry again. He also ought to have known that dangling Laura in front of him, like a carrot held out to entice a mule, was not going to work.

“What you need is a kick in the rear,” was Grandfather’s parting shot before exiting.

Despite himself, Shane carried to bed with him the image of the two heads—blond and black—bent over the sewing. He had to admit Laura really seemed to like his sister. As for Sage, she was obviously in the throes of heroine worship.

When he woke around three, he found himself weighing the pros and cons of Laura’s suggestion about—how had she put it?—a marriage of accommodation. He cast his mind over possible candidates among the women he knew, assessed them and, one by one, rejected them.

Cursing himself for even considering the idea, he turned over and tried to chase down sleep. But as fast as he reached for it, the faster it drew away.

Keep my little girl safe. He heard the echo of his mother’s words in his head. She’d known she was dying and hadn’t seemed frightened for herself, only for Sage. How easy it had seemed then to think he always would be able to protect his baby sister.

There must be a way. Unfortunately, the only idea he could think of that seemed likely to work had come from Laura, and that one was impossible. There might be more than one woman in the world he’d like to take to bed, but there wasn’t any he wanted to marry.

Marriage was a trap. A snare and a delusion. It brought grief and heartache and guilt. And in his mother’s case, disillusion and pain. He wanted no part of it.

Chapter Three

Laura was in good spirits as she and Shane rode out early in the cool of the morning. So far, there’d been no problem staying at the ranch. She welcomed the chance to make friends with Sage, although she’d never imagined she’d wind up teaching any girl to embroider.

It was a skill she hadn’t called up in years, but, as it turned out, she hadn’t forgotten. “Like riding a bicycle,” she said aloud.

Shane turned to look at her. “Bicycle?”

“I was thinking that we rarely forget skills we learned as children,” she told him.

“I was six when my father taught me how to whittle,” he said.

“I admire the mustang on your mantel. You’re really talented. I didn’t notice any other pieces, though.”

“Most of what I make goes to the shops to be sold. Keeps us eating.”

If the wild horse was any example, she thought his carvings ought to fetch top prices.

They rode in silence for a while, Laura enjoying the clean desert air and the sight of the snow-capped Sierra peaks in the distance. “What’s the altitude here?” she asked.

“Over four thousand feet.” His glance was assessing. “Tends to bother people coming from near sea level.”

“So if I sleep in, that’s why?” she asked. Actually she’d had trouble forcing herself out of bed this morning. Sheer determination had fueled her I’ll-show-him attitude or she’d still be asleep.

He half-smiled. “Somehow, I don’t think you will.”

After another silence, he pointed to some sleek, streamlined clouds drifting over the Sierra peaks. “Lenticulars. Some weather heading our way. You can feel the dampness in the air.”

“You’re the local weather expert—I’ll take your word for it.”

“Smell the air.”

It was an order, so she did. His raised eyebrows told her that he expected a comment.

“The scent of sage is maybe a bit stronger than usual.”

He nodded. “Damp air.”

She wondered if she’d passed some kind of test. Not that she cared. No, wait, that wasn’t true. She did want to impress upon him that she wasn’t a person to be given the slowest, safest mare in the corral. She was a professional who knew what she was doing, and sooner or later he’d be forced to recognize it.

A plume of dust caught her eye. Before she could point it out, he said, “We’ll head for those cottonwoods to the right. They run along a stream, and chances are the herd’s coming to the water. If we get there first and stay still, we won’t spook ’em.”

He was right. As they waited under the branches covered with the bright green leaves of early June, the mustangs they’d spotted gathered upstream—five of them. To her disappointment, the calico pinto mare wasn’t among them. In fact—weren’t they all stallions?

“Is that what they call a bachelor herd?” she asked in a low tone, admiring a white horse a bit smaller than the others.

“Right. All young males who haven’t collected a harem yet.”

As they watched the mustangs drink, then wheel and trot off, Laura was once again awed by their fluid grace. She’d never imagined she’d be so moved by the sight of wild horses.

“Might as well dismount and take a break,” Shane said.

Somewhat surprised, since they hadn’t been riding long, she agreed. Once off the mare, she wandered down to the stream—narrow, but containing a respectable amount of water. From what her brother had told her about Nevada, she figured this was snow-melt and that, later in the summer, the creek might run dry.

Dipping her fingers in the cold water confirmed her guess. Rejoining Shane near the trunk of a good-sized tree, she turned up her face for a moment to feel the warmth of the sun filtering through the leafy branches. What a peaceful scene. She’d have relaxed completely if only she hadn’t been so aware of the man standing no more that two feet away.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said, not looking at her.