Promise Canyon (6 page)

In honesty, he was. He was going to have to steal a couple of hours later, run into Fortuna and buy a few things for his quarters so he could take care of the majority of his meals without imposing on Nathaniel and Annie. Not only didn’t he want them to feel obliged to watch over him all the time, feeding him at every turn, but they were a relatively new couple with a wedding in the plans. They didn’t need some third wheel in their space all the time. So he said, “No thanks, I’m fine. About the horse—he appears sound, but I think there’s something emotional going on with the guy. Here’s what I recommend. First, I need to talk to the previous owner or trainer. I know he or she wasn’t obligated to give a complete disclosure besides bloodlines to the buyer, but maybe they’ll talk to me. If I know what went on with the horse, I might have some ideas. Second, tell Miss Norton not to visit the horse for at least a week, then we’ll reappraise. I think Streak is developing trust and I want him to focus on me. And, we’re going to need a night-light…”

“A night-light?” Nate echoed. “What went on last night?”

“Night anxiety,” Clay said with a shrug. “I think the horse had an accident of some kind. Obviously, if he’d been physically hurt there would be evidence on the exam or X-rays, but I think he has nightmares.”

A short burst of laughter escaped Nathaniel, but Clay didn’t even crack a smile. “Nightmares?”

“He’s fitful in his sleep.”

“In his awake, too,” Nathaniel joked.

“He’ll need a lot of reassurance, but thankfully the equine practice isn’t overflowing yet and we have time for him.” He lifted a black brow. “If his behavior is accountable to a trauma, once he’s fit, he’ll be an excellent stud candidate. His breeding is excellent. Damn, but that’s a fine-looking horse.” Clay sighed appreciatively, almost reverently. “Get me the owner’s phone number, Nathaniel. Since Miss Norton can’t return him, there’s no reason for the previous owner to keep secrets.”

“Ahhh, how about the lawsuit reason? What if something happened to render the animal unfit and the owner didn’t come clean before the sale?”

“I’m not worried about that,” Clay said. “I have an old tried-and-true Navajo method of getting to the truth.”

“Is that a fact? And what would that be?”

He took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Listening like a horse,” he said with a sly grin. “Nathaniel,” he said, once again serious, leaning toward his friend, “will you leave the colt to me? It will require patience.”

Nate just smiled and said, “He’s all yours.”

Lilly made it a point to drive to the Jensen clinic before work started at the feed store on the days she wouldn’t be delivering. She liked to check up on Blue; in just days it was clear she was thriving. Before a week was out she’d been integrated with the Jensen horses in the big pasture. No surprise, she fit in. Lilly had known from the first time she touched her, she was an amiable mare who could get along with anyone.

It was a bonus to watch what Clay was doing with the stud colt in the round pen. It looked like the two of them were taking it real, real slow. Clay haltered him and after the colt had time to work off some steam from being pent up in the stallion pen, Clay worked him out on the lead rope, taking turns running him in larger then smaller circles. At intervals, he’d pull the colt in and talk to him a bit, touch him. Sometimes Streak seemed to go along with that idea; sometimes he resisted.

But what was fascinating was the way Clay managed the horse—his focus was amazing. Lilly was sure he had never once noticed she watched.

“How’s it going, girlfriend?”

Lilly turned and found Annie boosted up on a rail beside her, watching Streak with her.

“Never better, Annie. How about you?”

“Busy and happy. I see you know our newest guest….” Lilly simply nodded, unsure whether Annie meant Streak or Clay. “He’s coming along. You should’ve seen him the first day.”

“The horse or the new assistant?” Lilly asked with a laugh.

“They’re both acclimating well, I think.”

“I noticed you put Blue in the big pasture with your horses. They seem to be getting along.”

“Very well. She’s a good horse.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to Nate about her….”

“Talk to me,” Annie said.

“I called some people and put up a notice on Yaz’s bulletin board, but there hasn’t been any response yet. I think if anyone saw her, they’d jump on a chance to adopt her. And if they met her… By the way, what does it cost to board here?”

“Without training, feed, grooming, et cetera? Three hundred a month,” Annie said. “Listen, you’re not kidding me—you like her. A lot.”

Lilly shook her head. “But three hundred is out of my range.”

Annie turned toward her. “Still, the two of you are good together. And I bet owning your own horse would be perfect for you. And this one—you wouldn’t have to buy her—just run some ads saying you found her and if she has an owner, give them a chance to claim her. If no one responds to the ads, she’s yours.”

“I’ve never even imagined I could own a horse,” she said. “When I was a kid I was surrounded by horses, took some instruction from the neighbor—I think Yaz worked out a barter or something. Since moving here, I’ve only ridden a few times. I have a lot going on between my job, my house and my grandpa’s place.”

“I know,” Annie said. “We could put a saddle on her for you,” she offered.

“No, let’s not do that,” Lilly said. “I’m on a tight budget. Not a good time to fall in love.” She smiled at Annie. “I better get to the feed store. Yaz will be looking for me.”

“See you later, then. And if you change your mind…”

“Thanks,” Lilly said, her mind changing even as she walked away.

When Clay went to the clinic office, Annie was at the computer. She looked up, smiled and asked, “How are things going with Streak?”

“Slowly, but he’s doing a little better every day. I no
ticed I have an audience every day, also. Is that typical of Lilly? Observing the animals?”

“We’ve been seeing a lot of her since she rescued Blue and since you started working with the colt. I think all of the above has caught her interest.”

“Have you known her a long time?” Clay asked.

Annie pushed away from the desk on her roller chair. “Longer than I’ve known Nathaniel,” she said. “In fact, Nathaniel has known Lilly longer than he’s known me. She’s been delivering his feed since he took over the practice from his father. And I cut her hair.”

“Huh?”

Annie laughed. “I grew up on a farm, had horses, had a prize-winning bull, in fact. But when I met Nate I was a hairdresser. I have my own little shop in Fortuna, although it’s being completely run by my manager and I spend all my time here now.”

Clay leaned one hip against the other desk in the office. “No kidding? Hairdresser?”

“Not something you have a need for, I take it?” she asked with a laugh. “I plan to sell the franchise eventually, but I’m kind of waiting for my manager to work up to buying it, and she doesn’t have the cash yet. Tough economy, you know. As for Lilly—I think she has a major crush on a horse.” Annie leaned back in her chair and rocked slightly. “I have a feeling we’re going to keep seeing her as long as Blue is here. I suggested we put a saddle on her, but Lilly declined. She said it wasn’t a good time to fall in love. I take that to mean it’s already too late.”

“Maybe she’ll take Blue,” Clay said.

“She asked what we charge to board and said it was out of her reach.”

“But there’s Grandpa,” Clay said.

“And I think Yaz would move heaven and earth for the girl’s happiness—it’s just the two of them, you know. But as you get to know Lilly better you’ll see—she’s very proud of her independence. She works hard to maintain it. We’ve been friends for years and she won’t even take a free haircut from me.”

That caused Clay to smile. “I recognize the tendency to be proud….”

“Oh?” Annie asked, lifting her eyebrows. “Spoken as a man who won’t accept dinner with his friends more than once a week at most.”

“Poor Annie,” Clay said. “Have you and Nathaniel been together long enough that you have already run out of things to say to each other when you eat alone?”

“Oh, get out!” she said with a laugh.

Lilly discovered yoga her second year of college; it kept her flexible, fit and serene. After college she found some yoga and Pilates classes offered at a community center not too far from her little rented house and managed to take them at least three days a week. Then she discovered a funky little coffee shop nearby, in an old storefront that had been painted turquoise and stuck out like a sore thumb. When she could make that late-morning yoga class, she stopped at the Loving Cup for lunch afterward, where she had green tea and a croissant sandwich of avocado, tomato, sprouts and sliced zucchini, or some similar vegetarian treat. Over lunch she’d visit with one of the owners, Dane, who had become her closest friend.

She looked forward as much to seeing Dane as to the tea and sandwich. In the few years she’d been dropping
in, they occasionally met for dinner or a movie or even a hike along the coast. Dane was the closest thing to a boyfriend Lilly had. Although he’d never really qualify as a boyfriend, he made an amazing best friend. Even though Lilly had had the occasional date with other guys over the past several years, none of them at all serious, she vastly preferred spending time with Dane.

She couldn’t wait to tell him about finding the horse, about watching her get better and about the new crazy colt they’d taken on. Dane was not a horse person. “Never been on one, thank you, and never tempted,” he said. “I’m more of a cat person.”

“You should let me take you for a ride sometime,” Lilly said. “I go so seldom myself, but I know enough to pick out a very gentle horse for you. And I’d be there to protect you the whole time.” Then she grinned at him.

“We shouldn’t waste our time—I’m not interested. I love hearing you talk about your horse stuff, though. Your eyes sparkle.”

“You should see the new guy at the clinic—Navajo with hair down to his butt. High cheekbones, kind of grim-faced. When he gets alone with that stallion in the round pen, it’s like a kind of hypnotism is going on, he’s so focused on the horse. And when the colt rears or pulls away—”

“Okay, stallion or colt?” Dane asked.

“A very grown-up unbroken colt. A big two-year-old male, a stallion, which means a male that hasn’t been gelded, over a thousand pounds of horse with very long, very strong legs and a lot of attitude.”

Dane whistled. “See now, when I think of a colt, I think of a cute little thing about the size of a rocking horse. This doesn’t sound like a youngster.”

She laughed. “If this guy didn’t like your face, he could stomp you to death in a second and feel no regret. But Clay, the new vet tech, he gets up close and personal, and when the colt resists him, they look into each other’s eyes for a second, the colt calms again and they start over. The colt only gets touched or talked to when he does a good job of minding his manners. It’s very cool to watch. The guy has phenomenal control and insight into the animal. They’re communicating.”

Dane tilted his head. “You sure it’s the horses that interest you? Sounds like the man has some mystical savage thing going on….”

“Native men do not appreciate being referred to as
savage,
” she informed him.

“I bet there are times they’re not totally insulted,” Dane said with a smile. “I think you like him.”

“A Navajo man? Ah—that brings back some very unpleasant memories. I stay far away from Native men.”

Dane held her hand across the counter. “That was all a long time ago, Lilly. Ever consider moving past that?”

“I don’t want to move past it.”

“Did I mention you could use counseling?”

“About a thousand times,” she said.

“Okay then. Want to catch a movie Friday night?” he asked.

“That would be cool,” she said. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

C
lay Tahoma was honest to a fault and hated to mislead anyone, but when the future of a fine horse was at stake, he was willing to go there. If something wasn’t done about Streak, he could wind up being put out to pasture, gelded, maybe even put down. Unless he could compete, race, breed or function as a family pet, his future wouldn’t be too bright.

Once Clay had the name of the previous owner’s trainer, he realized he knew him. They hadn’t been close, but Clay had met Joshua Bledsoe on several occasions. He called him at once and was direct; he explained they were boarding and training the colt for the new owner. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me the rehab or training techniques you used on Streak following the accident,” Clay said.

“Accident?” Josh answered.

“Yes. Before we got him. There doesn’t seem to be any physical problem—it’s all emotional. But if I know what you did, I won’t cover the same ground. I think he’s salvageable. In fact, I’m sure of it. While we’re on the subject, I could use more details about the accident.”

“Details about the accident?” Joshua repeated.

“Just get me up to speed—how deep was the pit or hole, how long was he trapped and how’d he end up in it—I can’t imagine someone rode him into it. Then tell me what you did after the rescue to get him back in shape. I don’t want to plow the same field twice, if you get my drift.”

In fact, the accident had been no one’s fault—turned out it was a barn fire. Streak had been very young, and when the owners released the animals from the burning barn, a few of them, including Streak’s mother, wouldn’t come out and died before the blaze was under control. Streak got out of the pasture he’d escaped to and in the dark he ran down a nearby road that was under construction, slid on loose gravel and into a pit. He couldn’t get out. By the time stable hands rescued him, using a lift, he was half out of his mind.

As Clay already knew, there was no evidence the horse was physically injured from his mishap, but the fall, the isolation, the separation from his mother, the frustration with trying to find a way out, the lift rescue—or the combination of all these events—had traumatized him.

Clay told the colt, “We’ll start at the beginning, young man—just a little walking around with the harness and lead rope until you get more comfortable.”

And the horse said to Clay,
I can’t forget!

As he stroked the horse, Clay thought,
Good. Don’t forget. Remembering will keep you sharp and safe.

This was the part that made sense only to Clay—he didn’t hear the voice of the horse, he felt it. When he was sending a mental message to the animal, sometimes
the horse seemed to receive it and they were both on the same page. How do you explain something like that? How do you explain getting drawn into an animal’s dream?

In just a week, they had come a long way.

The next time Lilly came by with her delivery, Clay wanted to go help her haul the hay and feed, but the horse felt it and pulled him back.
Sorry,
Clay thought.
I don’t usually get distracted. Let’s just do our job.
And he focused again. He pushed the pretty Hopi out of his mind as he slowly led Streak around, creating comforting images in his mind and murmuring soothing sounds and words.

When they were finished, he removed the lead and set the horse free for a little exercise. When he turned he was pleased to see Lilly was still there. She leaned her forearms on the rail and watched him, her booted foot resting on the bottom rail.

Clay walked over to her, detached lead in hand, while the horse romped behind him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you unload today,” he said as he neared.

She shrugged. “I told you before, I can handle it. It’s my job.” She jutted her chin toward Streak. “He’s amazing.”

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” A thought emerged in his mind—how wonderful she would look astride a large chestnut creature like Streak—but he stopped the thought at once. The downside to letting a young horse into your head—you could accidentally send a message you didn’t intend.

“He seems to have calmed down a lot in a week, but he’s still…wild and crazy. But he likes you.”

“He comes from a champion line, but he was
traumatized by an accident when he was young. Anxiousness in combination with strength can be lethal. So we’re going back in time, returning to his early training. And going slow.”

“Does he get that? That you’re starting from the beginning?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Clay said. “He’s cooperating for the moment. If I could, I’d regress him to the womb.” Then he smiled and said, “You hung around again.”

“I saw you working the horse and just wanted to look at him. And I like to check on Blue. That’s all.”

“She’s in fine shape. How long since you’ve ridden?”

She shrugged. “I bet it’s been six months. I rode almost every day as a young girl.”

He grinned at her. “You’re still a young girl,” he said.

“Really, I’m not that into riding. Just occasionally. If Annie wants someone to ride with.” And then she thought about what a huge lie that was. She’d revised her budget a hundred times to see how she could squeeze three hundred a month out of it. It didn’t look possible and she was just saving face. Oh, her pride! How it plagued her.

Clay glanced over his shoulder at Streak. “I have to work things out with that horse. He’s too damn valuable and good-looking to lose.”

“How would you lose him?” she asked.

“Well, if he can’t be ridden, if he can’t compete, he can’t work. If he can’t be ridden, no rider will want him, and if he’s got a personality disorder and can’t be trained, he shouldn’t be bred. A breeder with half a
brain wouldn’t buy his sperm. Can’t breed him just for his good looks.”

“The animal kingdom is so civilized that way,” she said under her breath.

He shot her a look and laughed outright. “Completely.” He put a booted foot on the lowest rung of the fence and hoisted himself over to her side, facing the pen. “I shouldn’t take a chance like that, showing him my back.” He leaned on the fence along with her and watched Streak run back and forth. “Just because he’s cutting me some slack doesn’t mean he can be trusted. He’s got a short fuse and it doesn’t take much to ignite it.”

“Why is he like that? All high-strung and cranky.”

“Could be many things,” Clay said with a shrug. “I do know he had that accident—fell in a ditch and wasn’t rescued for a long time. Hours. I think he almost drove himself crazy trying to find a way out, and then had to be pulled out mechanically. You can’t hoist a colt up in the air in the dark of night and not expect repercussions. He’s screwed up, that’s all. So how’s that make him so different from the rest of us? He just needs understanding.”

“That’s all it takes? Understanding?”

“A little experience with horses doesn’t hurt. It’s horses like him that make me want to do my best. He’s big, smart enough to learn, to bond with and work through his fears. Right now he’s hard to handle, but if he ever gets under control, he’s got unimaginable power and grace. Sixteen and a half hands at two years—tall for an Arabian. Not mellow. But there are lots of things an edgy stallion can get done that a mellow horse
just isn’t good for. Just like the rest of us, they come prepackaged with their very individual DNA.”

She didn’t respond to that. Eventually he turned toward her. “Who taught you to ride?” he asked.

“My grandfather and neighbors on the reservation. We were right next door to a big ranch and were friends with the owners till I was thirteen, when we moved away.”

Streak stopped running back and forth and began making wide, slow circles inside the corral. As he edged closer to the fence, Lilly made a clicking and humming sound, reaching a hand into the corral. Clay just watched curiously. Streak was looking at him expectantly, something he’d just begun to do in the past couple of days. It wasn’t quick, but on the fourth or fifth wide circle, the horse slowed dramatically. He tossed his head, dug at the ground a couple of times, then walked right up to Lilly.

Very softly, under his breath, Clay whispered, “No way…”

“Just a baby under all that temper and fuss,” she said gently, stroking his face, his neck. “Someone knows he’s pretty, that’s what. Never a good thing for a man—you’ll learn that. The women take to you at first, but they figure you out fast and then you’re on your own again. Shhhh, too handsome for your own good. A bit too strong. Go slowly, little man.”

Clay momentarily wondered,
Who is she talking to? Him or me?

“There’s nothing much wrong with this horse except he isn’t comfortable with his own strength. He needs the right hand—gentle control. He needs a mommy who can handle him.”

“I thought he needed a good trainer….”

“Well, yeah,” she said, stroking the white blaze that ran down the bridge of his nose. “But like most pretty boys, he’s full of himself and he’s going to need a well-trained rider. He’d prefer to run free and not be handled. He is filled with the spirit of youth.”

He stared at her in some wonder. “How do you know this, Lilly?”

She turned back to the horse’s eyes. “Who says I know? It’s my opinion and I could be totally off. He’s a toddler. A thousand pounds of terrible two. He needs a good mother, that’s all. A strong mother with lots of love and an iron will. Is there any chance he was removed from his mother too soon?”

Clay was stunned and couldn’t answer for a moment. “There’s a chance of that, yes,” he finally said.

“Ah. See, we never allowed that on the reservation.” She flashed Clay a smile that transformed her whole face. He was struck by how truly beautiful she was. “But you will do fine. You’ll do it
ta-bilh
.” Together.

Surprise widened his eyes. “
Niik’eh
,” he agreed in his Native language. Sure enough.

“I have to go now,” she told him. She gave the horse one more stroke. “Behave,” she warned him.

“Wait a minute,” Clay said as she turned. “I think we should do something. Break bread, get to know each other. We can find out if we have any friends in common.” The Hopi Reservation was completely surrounded by the Navajo Nation and she had just spoken in Navajo.

She shook her head. She was not getting any more entangled with him; he scared her to death! “Thank you, but no, I couldn’t do that. I have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but how much of a boyfriend?”

She laughed out loud, her face lighting up. “Enough of a boyfriend,” she said.

She had almost made it to the truck when he called to her back, “So bring him. I’d like to meet him.”

She turned back and her laughter was amused. “I don’t think so, but it’s very nice of you to include him,” she said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Well, maybe he won’t last. He probably doesn’t deserve you anyway. Besides, I just want to hear you talk about horses—the one who’s a little boy, the one with the wicked sense of humor. You know what I mean. I won’t get in the way.”

“Yes, you will,” she said, smiling and getting into the truck.
You already are,
she thought.

She drove away from the stable and he watched until she was nothing but a faint cloud of dust. Then he turned back to Streak. He gave the horse a gentle stroke. “I have a feeling you just let another person into your head. You cheated on me, you mangy beast.” The horse tossed his head arrogantly. “Thousand-pound terrible two—she’s right. Were you talking to her? Were you?” The horse turned his head away, looking in the other direction. “Yeah, you were. Totally cheated on me. Well, if you’ve got some influence there, why don’t you make yourself useful for once and tell her she should go out with me?”

The horse looked back at him and they locked eyes, holding for a minute. Then the horse backed away, snorted and resumed trotting in wide circles around the round pen, expecting Clay to catch him if he wanted to bring him in.

After a week at the stable, Clay drove over to Grace Valley to have dinner with his sister and her family. Ursula was six years older than Clay and despite the fact she’d often been tasked with minding him when they were growing up, and he was admittedly a handful, they’d remained close. Clay wholly approved of the mate she’d chosen—Tom Toopeek, the Grace Valley police chief. Tom was Cherokee, and Clay had no trouble accepting him as a brother.

Ursula was living a life similar to the one in which they grew up. It was a busy life, full of work and family, and Clay could see it brought her great satisfaction. Tom and Ursula built their house on the land homesteaded by Tom’s parents, Lincoln and Philana, who still lived there, their original cabin attached to the end of Tom and Ursula’s newer, larger construction. With five children and Tom’s parents, Ursula’s was always a full house even with their oldest away at college. They had their meals at a roughly hewn oak dining table that could easily seat twelve; the evening meal came after homework was cleared away from that same table. Ursula was a schoolteacher. She paid very close attention to the kids’ studies.

Clay and Ursula didn’t have any other siblings, but they grew up in a family compound with their aunts, uncles and cousins. Even though there were only the four of them in the immediate Tahoma family, their dinner table, like Ursula’s, had been large enough to seat many more. Whether there were big family dinners at Clay’s house or at one of his extended family’s homes, they were always surrounded by good food, good smells
and people—babies, children, teens and young adults as well as parents and grandparents.

Yet for all the people around the Toopeek house, there was hardly ever mess or chaos, which also resembled the old Tahoma home. The Cherokee and the Navajo had similar expectations of their offspring, and Tom’s parents were also enforcers on Tom and Ursula’s kids. Not that the kids were unreasonably subdued—there was lots of time for running wild in the forests and valleys; there was plentiful laughter and normal arguing.

And when their uncle Clay arrived, there were fits of excitement.

He couldn’t explain why they received him with such enthusiasm. Besides putting them on a horse when they visited him or when they all visited their Tahoma grandparents, he didn’t feel that he did enough to charm them. But they ran to him when he arrived. He could still lift his ten-year-old niece, Shannon. He hated to even think about the day, which was fast approaching, that he wouldn’t be allowed to do that. She was the baby and Ursula said the last one. Clay had fully enjoyed Ursula and Tom’s children.