Here to Stay (16 page)

Zach clenched his teeth as he watched Spellman walk away.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ethel said softly. “You can turn Tornado around. You just haven’t hit on the right method yet.”

Zach turned to watch the stallion rear up and strike the air again. He could only pray Ethel was right. It wasn’t fair to his employees for him to keep a dangerous animal on the premises and put all of them at risk.

Chapter Six

W
hile waiting for his employees to leave for the day, Zach finished some desk work in the arena office before approaching Tornado’s stall for another session of clicker training. In both hands, he carried plastic bags filled with different treats—baby carrots, apple slices, grain pellets, and a mixture of oatmeal and chopped apples laced with molasses, which was to equines the equivalent of fine wine and dark chocolate.

At this time of evening, the cavernous arena was serenely quiet. The smell of alfalfa drifted on the air. The horses had already received their nightly ration of grain, and each of them was now munching happily on two flakes of hay. The sound of their molars grinding the fodder always comforted Zach, but he found it particularly soothing in the evenings for some reason, possibly because he associated it with the end of the day, when all the work was done and his horses were safely tucked in for the night.

His belly rumbled as he strode toward the front of the building. He ignored the pangs of hunger. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten a late supper, and it wouldn’t be the last. When you had a stable filled with horses, your own needs took second seat. Tornado needed help, and Zach was bound and determined to give it to him.

Once outside Tornado’s stall, Zach put the treats on the ground and then considered leaving the gate latched. Given Zach’s agenda for this session, Tornado would probably blow up not once, but several times, and the barrier would at least give Zach some protection. But no. Zach refused to go there. He had to give this horse every possible chance.

Like his stable mates, the sorrel was munching hay. When Zach opened the gate, the stallion wheeled his rump around. Zach strung the chain across the entrance. Tornado abandoned his meal to watch Zach’s every movement. Zach bent to pick up a bag of pellets. He scooped some onto his palm and extended his hand. Tornado elongated his neck, sniffed, and backed into a corner, shaking his head and snorting.

“Come on, Tornado, we did this once already today. It’s fun. Remember?”

Watching the horse, Zach wondered, not for the first time, what went on inside the animal’s head. In the overhead light, the sorrel’s body rippled with power every time he moved. He would throw gorgeous foals, but what if they were as crazy as their sire? No matter how beautiful the stud, no ethical breeder played this kind of genetic roulette.

The stallion smelled the pellets and obviously wanted them. His nostrils flared to catch their scent. He pawed the dirt and whinnied. But still he held back.

Eventually the horse could resist the temptation no longer and stepped toward Zach’s outstretched hand. Zach allowed Tornado to enjoy the first handful of pellets, then offered him another. As the horse began to eat, Zach drew the training wand from his belt. The stallion wheeled away, grunting and kicking with his rear hooves. Zach jumped clear, waited for the animal to relax, and then approached the chain again.

“Come on, boy. You touched the ball this morning and know it won’t hurt you.”

Tornado stretched his neck, trying to steal the pellets without getting too close to the yellow orb. When that tactic failed, the horse eventually moved closer, tense and jumpy, but determined to get the treats.

It took Zach nearly an hour to get Tornado to bump his nose against the tennis ball accidentally.
Click
. “Good boy, Tornado, good
boy
,” Zach said, picking up a package of sliced apples. He gave the stallion three tastes and then zipped the bag closed. The idea was to keep the stallion wanting more so he would remain eager to work.

Zach’s goal tonight was to get Tornado to touch his nose to the halter hanging on a hook inside the stall. From day one, Tornado had exhibited an abhorrence of halters. Hoping to desensitize the stallion to the sight of one, Zach had hung the headgear there when Tornado first arrived. Sadly, it hadn’t worked. Tornado simply avoided that side of the enclosure. Zach didn’t know why the animal despised the leather straps. The only way Zach could put gear of any kind on the horse was to confine him in a box chute, call in help to run a rope under the animal’s chin to force his head up, and then ear him until the halter was on. Earing a horse, twisting the ear until it caused pain, was a practice Zach detested, but with Tornado there was no choice.

To Zach’s relief, the stallion began cooperating quickly.
So far, so good.
He had been working with the stud for almost another hour when Cookie spoke from somewhere behind him.

“Don’t you pussy out on him,” the older man said softly.

Zach twisted to look over his shoulder. Cookie stood about fifteen feet from the stall entrance. “Pussy out? You should try this. My arm feels like it’s about to fall off.”

“If you give up, that stallion’s days are numbered.”

A chill washed over Zach’s scalp. “You think he’s loco, Cookie?”

The older man sighed. Judging by the sounds, he was scuffing his boot heel in the dirt. “Sometimes a horse is born with a screw loose,” Cookie finally replied. “Ain’t no denyin’ that. I had me a horse like that once. Raised him from birth. Never mistreated him or gave him any cause to be crazy.” Cookie made a choked sound. “Lord, he was a beauty. But he was plumb loco, and there wasn’t no fixin’ him.”

“You have to put him down?” Zach asked tautly, dreading to hear the answer.

“Nope. He died in an accident, broke his neck. Maybe it was a blessin’ in disguise, as they say.”

Zach hadn’t raised Tornado from birth, but he still felt an overwhelming sorrow when he thought about having to end the stallion’s life. Tornado was only five, and he was physically amazing. If only Zach could turn him around, the horse could live to be thirty. Trying to ignore the cramp in his shoulder, he said softly, “If some people are born with a screw loose, I guess the same thing can happen with horses.”

“True,” Cookie agreed. “But I have to say, in all my years of trainin’ ’em, I’ve only seen it that one time. That ain’t to say Tornado ain’t loco. Way he acts, he’s crazier than a loon. But when you bring an animal into the fold from another ranch, you’re never really sure what happened in its past to make it quirky.”

“His previous owner, Pat Jones, checked out,” Zach replied, rubbing his upper arm. “He’s got a reputation that would make Mother Teresa look like a mugger. Otherwise I’d never have bought a horse from him.”

“Sometimes the way things seem ain’t the way they really are.”

Zach knew that was true. Despite Cookie’s warnings, he lowered his arm. “I’m due for a break.”

Cookie inclined his head at the wand. “Just so you know you’re not finished yet. Before you call it a night, you need to make him touch that halter.”

“I will,” Zach assured the older man.

Cookie knuckled the brim of his hat. “Have fun. I’m headin’ upstairs for a shower, some supper, and a little kickback time in my recliner.”

Zach drew Tornado’s stall gate closed. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

As Cookie started up the stairs, Zach headed for the stable office to get a cold soft drink from the fridge. After gaining the landing, Cookie hollered, “Don’t take too long a break. Continuity is important.”

Zach chuckled and repositioned his hat, which he’d confiscated from the office—a new black one he usually wore for church or nights out. “I won’t, old man.”

As Mandy drew her Honda to a stop by the intercom box just outside Zach Harrigan’s front gate, she once again felt a little spooked by the utter blackness that blanketed the landscape. In town, there were street lamps to illuminate the sidewalks and curbs, and light from the windows of houses spilled over the yards. Out here, she could see nothing beyond the yellow swath of her car’s headlights.

She pushed the red call button. The gruff voice of the ranch foreman came from the speaker. Mandy leaned out the window to identify herself and ask to be buzzed in.

“I know it’s a little late, but I really need to talk to Mr. Harrigan,” she explained. “He is at home, I hope. It’s very important.”

“He know you’re comin’?” the foreman asked. “I just got out of the shower, and I’m buck naked. Can’t go downstairs to ask if it’s okay to let you in, and he’s got his cell phone turned off, so I can’t call him.”

Buck naked?
Mandy gulped back a startled giggle. “No, he doesn’t know I’m coming. I tried to call his house. All I got was the answering machine.” Stomach fluttering with nerves, she tried to think of something she might say to convince the foreman that it was okay to let her pass. “It truly is very important that I speak with him.”

The foreman grunted and then sighed, the sound a static-laced
whoosh
. “He’s workin’ with a restive horse. It’s not a good time for visitors.”

Mandy wilted with disappointment, convinced the foreman would turn her away. Surprise sent a pleasant tingle up her spine when he said, “Ah, hell. It ain’t like he don’t know you. I’ll buzz you in, I reckon. Go in the front entrance of the arena and stay by the personnel door if he’s still workin’ with the horse. The stud spooks easy, so don’t holler out. The boss will notice you’re there sooner or later.”

“All right,” Mandy agreed. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse until he sees me. Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

The gate began to swing open. Mandy waited until the way was clear and stepped on the gas pedal. As the Element bounced over the rutted gravel road, the headlights danced over the buildings ahead, illuminating the ranch house and an open-sided pole barn filled with hay. She parked by the arena, a massive building ringed on three sides with wooden fences. Toward the roofline, windows emitted a butter yellow glow.

Leaving her purse, she exited the car and headed for the building. It was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, let alone the ground. As she rounded the corner, an outdoor light brightened her way, casting a swath of illumination over the white personnel door. She grasped the doorknob, then paused to take a deep breath. She couldn’t argue a case on Luke’s behalf if she was quaking and stammering.

As she pushed open the door, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. She stepped inside, drawing the portal closed behind her as she panned the massive interior. A few horses nosed their heads out over their stall gates to study her, but their owner was nowhere to be seen. As per the foreman’s instructions, Mandy remained by the entrance. The last thing she wanted was to get on Zach Harrigan’s bad side before she even had a chance to talk to him.

To her left, a reddish brown horse whinnied, the sound laced with excitement. Startled, Mandy jumped so violently she nearly parted company with her shoes. She’d never been around big horses. Their size intimidated her. This one seemed friendly, though, almost as if it were calling to her. She determined that it was a stallion. Muscle rippled under his shiny coat. He was absolutely gorgeous. A bewildered smile curved her lips when the horse called to her again, this time with a pleading, frantic shrillness.

“Hey, big guy,” she called back softly.

The stallion tossed his head, lifted his tail, and pranced in a circle within his stall. Then he returned to the gate and whinnied at her again, an invitation to come closer, she felt sure. Glancing around, she noted that the other horses had already disappeared into their shelters. Not the stallion. He whickered and chuffed, pressing his chest against the gate and extending his neck as if reaching out to her.

Mandy hesitated to leave the personnel door, but the stallion’s whickering was difficult to resist. She saw no harm in petting him. As she moved toward the animal, he quivered with delight and made happy little grunting noises. Mandy couldn’t help but smile. How sweet! She noticed a pile of sandwich bags just outside the gate, but she barely looked at them. The horse had her full attention.

“Hello,” she murmured as she closed the distance. Nodding his massive head, the stallion blew out through his nostrils. She grinned and stepped closer. Through the rungs of the gate, she saw a battered brown hat lying on the stall floor. “Aren’t you too beautiful for words?” she whispered as she reached up to rub the flat area between the animal’s soft brown eyes.

The horse shuddered and shoved his nose under Mandy’s right arm, nearly knocking her off balance. She laughed nervously. “Hey, big guy, no armpit sniffs on the first date. Okay?”

The stallion shuddered again, and Mandy’s smile faded. She couldn’t explain the feeling that washed through her, but she was suddenly certain that this animal was frightened, horribly frightened. Of what, she couldn’t fathom. But she’d been terrified too many times herself not to recognize fear in another creature. An ache filled her chest and formed a lump in her throat.

“Oh, sweetie,” she murmured. “What’s
wrong
? Has someone been mean to you?”

The horse huffed and pressed his nose deeper into the fluff of her parka. It was as if he were trying to melt into her and hide. And just that quickly, Mandy fell in love. She stepped up onto a gate rung so she could more easily pet him.
Poor baby
. He had little scars all over his head, barely visible under his hair, but she could feel them with her fingertips. His mane was a tangled mess. Anger burned through her. Was Zach Harrigan abusing this poor horse?

Thirst quenched, Zach made his way along the hallway that divided the stable office from the tack and feed rooms. As he stepped out into the arena, he glimpsed movement, a flash of light blue. For an instant, he thought Cookie had come back downstairs, but then he focused and stopped dead in his tracks.
Shit
. His heart shot into his throat. Miranda Pajeck stood on a rung of Tornado’s stall gate, her right arm hooked over the stallion’s neck. If she made one wrong move, the horse might blow up. Didn’t she realize how powerful a twelve-hundred-pound stallion was? If Tornado threw his head, he could flip her up and over the damned gate. Once inside the stall, she’d have no protection against those lethal hooves.