Promise Canyon (12 page)

She gave him a weak smile. “I could make a life with you,” she told him. “I love everything about you. Why can’t you just marry me?”

“We would have fun, wouldn’t we?” he asked, grinning at her. “But in the long run we probably wouldn’t have sex.”

She put her elbow on the counter and leaned her head into her hand. “Why do you have to be gay?”

He shrugged. “I was looking for a challenge.”

C
lay was standing in the aisle of the stable between the stalls, broom in one hand and cup of coffee in the other, when Annie and Nathaniel walked into the barn arm in arm.

“Good morning,” he said to them. “You two going to be around today?”

“I am,” Annie said.

“I probably will,” Nate said. “Unless I get called out. Why?”

“I don’t want us to act as if we’ve discussed or planned this, but if you’re around here today there’s something I think you should see. Something pretty remarkable. Yesterday Lilly rode Streak. Just a few laps around the round pen, but I was surprised he let her on him at all. She was brilliant.”

“I’ve ridden with Lilly a few times,” Annie said. “We shouldn’t be surprised. She’s very good on a horse. What surprises me is Streak. He must be coming along very well if he took a rider.”

“That’s just it, Annie—Streak shouldn’t have been so willing. No one has worked him but me. Lilly has
watched him almost every day. She’s flirted with him, but no one has worked him but me. And there’s no question in my mind, if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have let them mount him,” Clay insisted. “He’s come to respect me, but he loves her.”

“Come on.” Annie laughed.

“When Lilly comes by with the feed later on, take a break and watch her with the colt.”

After Annie and Nathaniel agreed, he put his cup down on the bench outside the tack room and swept out the barn. He spent the rest of the day hoping that Lilly wouldn’t make good on her promise and have someone else deliver for her. The truth was, Clay had been hoping to impress Lilly with his skill, but she’d turned the tables on him. Whatever mystical thing he had going on with animals, she had it twofold. There was no doubt in his mind—Lilly would never have mounted that colt had she gotten the message he didn’t welcome her. Somehow she knew.

It was a little after three before she came. He helped her unload the hay and feed, then she brushed her hands on her jeans and asked, “Have you ridden Streak today?”

“No,” he said. “I’m going to pass. Let’s see if he feels like letting you on. I’ll halter him, attach the lead and—”

“He did fine with the bit,” she said. “I think it’s all a question of how easy I go. He’s so responsive.”

“I’ll find you a helmet….”

She shrugged. “Whatever,” she said. “Will you let me get him ready?”

He loomed over her. “He’s still edgy and unpredictable. I know you’re somehow reading him, but the
second you pick up any signals that he’s not feeling docile toward you, I want you out of his way.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a laugh, “if he’s in a mood, he’s all yours. But this horse isn’t typical—he just wants a mommy. Well, apparently he’s not opposed to a mommy and a trainer since he’s willing to take you on. Let’s see how difficult he makes taking the bit. Hmm?”

Clay just shook his head. “If you say so. Approach slowly, please.”

She tilted her head. “Clay, I didn’t just drop from the sky. I grew up around wild mares and stud colts. I learned how to finish a colt from some of the best, though when I was little I never got the job. But I wanted it. I wanted to beguile the horse, bond with it, bring it around, be its first…”

“Did you compete?”

“You grew up on a reservation so you know—competition is expensive. Besides, we moved when I was thirteen. My experience, such as it is, came when I was just a little kid. Now, are we almost ready?”

Clay handed her the bridle and went back to the tack room for a helmet, trying to judge the size of her head when really it was the contours of her small, muscular body that were burned into his mind.

She was the one to bring Streak into the round pen. Clay gave her a leg up and there she sat, composed. Streak was easy; he danced with his fores a couple of steps, but his ears were propped and his tail down. He was in a good mood and he liked having Lilly close. Maybe she was right about him—he just wanted someone to mother him a little bit.

The horse connected eyes with Clay, let Clay stroke
his powerful jaw, and then let Lilly move him away from his trainer and urge him around the pen in a wide circle. This had never, in Clay’s long experience, happened before. The colt was bonded with two masters. He would take his instruction from Clay; he trusted Clay. But he was also bonded with Lilly and believed in her somehow. Young, unbroke colts didn’t bond with two people!

Clay noticed that first Annie and then Nathaniel were watching from the far side of the pen. They would be seeing something neither of them had ever seen before despite the fact that Annie had ridden with Lilly. Taking a saddled horse out on the trail for a pleasure ride just wouldn’t reveal the depth of skill Lilly possessed, evident now as she maneuvered the horse with only her knees, legs, body position and a very, very light control on the reins. And Lilly was oblivious to her audience; all she seemed to be aware of was her connection to the horse. Although she wasn’t attempting anything too complicated with Streak, it was obvious how well she managed him, and with very little strain. Her lips moved, but no sound could be heard; Streak threw his head and stepped back a few times, but she brought him under control with a whisper and a firm but kind movement of the reins and her legs.

No question, she was a natural.

Clay was well trained, but he was not a natural. To do something like this when you’d had minimal contact with horses for years was astonishing.

Clay leaned back against the wall and just watched her with the colt. She had him trotting, walking, cantering…. That horse was ready for a saddle and by God he was going to wear one and behave himself. Then Clay
felt a chuckle rise to his throat; he was feeling competitive. He was fine with Streak feeling affection for Lilly, but he was going to be the one to train the horse or break his legs trying.

At length, Lilly brought the horse around to him. “Thank you,” he said softly to her. “Well done. Enough for today.”

“You aren’t going to ride him?”

“Not today,” he said. He lifted his hands to her and she fell into them to be helped down.

When her feet were on the ground she said, “I don’t know what’s up with him, why he goes along with me the way he does. But it’s working, right?”

Clay smiled at her. “Let’s see how he likes the brush today. Will you join me?”

“Sure. For a little while…”

When they were in the stable together and Clay groomed the horse, Lilly sat on a bench. “Listen, you’re not upset that he lets me near him, are you?”

Clay looked over his shoulder and smiled at Lilly. “I’m proud of you. You’re exceptional. But tomorrow or the day after I’m going to take him out early and alone, to make sure he understands he’s not just dating a pretty girl but actually training.”

She laughed. “I understand. I won’t get in your way.” Then she sighed longingly. “I wish he was ready for me to saddle up Blue and ride alongside. That could be good.”

“Soon, Lilly.” There was the sound of a vehicle pulling up to the stable and clinic and Clay lifted his head with the grace of a buck sniffing the air. He recognized the sound of that engine. “Gabe,” he said under his breath. “Excuse me, Lilly.” Then he maneuvered Streak
into the stallion pen without finishing his grooming and walked out of the barn.

Lilly watched Clay’s long, powerful strides lead him outside; she listened to the sound of his boot heels hitting the ground, watched that long, silky black ponytail swing across his back. “You were almost done, anyway,” she said to the horse.

Lilly followed Clay; she was wiping her hands on a rag, standing in the barn’s double doors in time to see a young man jump from the driver’s side of a small green truck, walk briskly to Clay and embrace him with power. Their fists banged on each other’s backs. The young man looked like he could be Clay’s younger brother—as tall, almost as broad, an identical black ponytail down his back. Jeans, denim shirt, boots, hat. Then Clay grasped the young man’s upper arms, held him away, looked him up and down and murmured something that made the younger man laugh. Then he looked over Clay’s shoulder curiously. And Clay turned.

“Lilly. Come here a second. Meet my son, Gabe.”

Shock was evident on her face, but she moved toward them. Son? How was that possible? Clay was only thirty-four and this young man was too old.

“Gabe, meet Lilly. She delivers feed from her grandfather’s feed store twice a week, and lately she’s been helping me with a difficult horse. Lilly, this is Gabe.” Clay put an arm around Gabe’s shoulders and pulled him close. “He’s going to stay with my sister in Grace Valley and finish high school here so we can spend a little more time together. He’ll work here part-time.”

Lilly stuck out her hand. She smiled a bit tremulously. “Nice to meet you. Wow. I’d have taken you for a younger brother.”

Gabe laughed and grasped her hand. “Dad was barely seventeen when I was born. He got an early start, but probably not on purpose.”

“Not on purpose, but with no regrets,” Clay said. “Gabe grew up with the Tahoma family—my parents, aunts and uncles, many cousins. Regrettably, I wasn’t always there, but I think he had a good upbringing.”

“I did,” he confirmed with a smile. “And you were there as often as you could be.”

Lilly was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye.”

“There’s more to everyone than meets the eye,” Clay said. “I hope you’ll forgive me—I’m going to introduce Gabe to Nathaniel and Annie, then follow him to my sister’s house. Is there anything else you need today?”

“I’ll feed Streak and you can turn him out before you leave,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Nice to meet you, Gabe. Welcome.” As she walked away from them she thought,
Wow, he has more in common with the teenage werewolf than I thought. He found out a baby was coming when he was only a teenager, too…but the difference is, he didn’t walk away.

Lilly stayed away from the clinic for a couple of days, giving Clay, his son and the horse a little space. Then she ventured back. There was no need to deliver feed but Lilly was driven to explore Clay and whatever it was that compelled him to become an involved father at such a young age. In fact, if she was honest, there was much about Clay she wanted to learn.

The round pen and small pasture were both empty and she went into the barn. No one was around. There
was only the sound of some faint swishing and soft whistling. Streak’s stall was empty. She found Gabe in another stall with one of the Jensen Thoroughbreds, mucking it out. She tapped lightly on the wood.

Gabe’s head came up and he smiled. “Hey, Miss Yazhi,” he said. “Dr. Jensen has gone out to a farm to take a look at an old bull.”

She glanced into Streak’s stall. “Someone seems to be missing,” she said.

“Oh, him. Dad took him out on the trail.”

“Really?” she asked, eyes wide. “Saddled?”

Gabe nodded. “Didn’t like it much, either. Yesterday he took him just around the pen with the saddle and even that was iffy. I hope Dad gets to ride back.” And then he chuckled.

“He might be walking,” she suggested.

“It wouldn’t be the first time. He’s had himself a tough horse or two before this.”

“Tougher than Streak?”

“Streak’s a pussycat. Back home, we brought ’em in from the open range sometimes. Had some stallions that had killed. Thousand-pound felons.” And again, the boyish grin. He was such a handsome kid. He’d braided that long ponytail, probably to keep his hair out of his face while he did chores.

“Must have been an interesting life, back home.”

He shrugged at first. Then he leaned his rake against the wall, smoothed back his black hair and said, “I probably took it for granted, since I didn’t know much else. We worked hard, played hard, learned hard. My grandfather is a demanding man. He expects a lot.”

“What about your parents?” she asked. “Did they expect a lot?”

Clear-eyed, steady, he said, “There was only my dad. I didn’t meet my mom till I was twelve and that was mostly because my stepfather wanted me to know my younger brothers. They live in Scottsdale. He’s a foot doctor. My dad calls him a corn shaver.”

“So your mother didn’t raise you?” she asked before she could stop herself. She might’ve colored a little; she knew she was asking too many questions. Personal questions.

Gabe didn’t seem to mind. He grabbed the rake, exited the stall and closed the Thoroughbred inside. He talked while he put the rake away. “Not my mom, no,” he said. “My parents were boyfriend and girlfriend till her parents broke them up. They didn’t like their little girl mixed up with some Navajo from the Nation. Then it turned out my mom was pregnant. Her parents had control of the situation, wouldn’t let her call him and had an adoption all lined up for me, but then my dad found out and he wasn’t giving up that easy. He got his dad and his uncles, legal aid from the reservation, practically a warrior tribe. They paid a visit and geared up for a fight. Grandpa said they didn’t expect to get their legal hands on me till I was two or three, but my maternal grandparents gave up. They knew they were gonna lose.” He shrugged. “So two days after I was born, my dad took me home to the Tahoma ranch, where I lived till last week. Now I’m living with my aunt and uncle and their family, going to school and working with my dad.”

Her mouth nearly stood open. She was thunderstruck. “That must have been… It must have been hard on you.”

“On
me?
” he asked with a smile. “With a grandma,
grandpa, dad, aunts, uncles, cousins? I think I had it great.”

“I thought your dad said he wasn’t with you that much….”

“Oh, he says that out of guilt, but he doesn’t have to. He left when I was about eleven years old. He had to.”

“Had to?”

“He was a farrier trained by his father and uncles, but a farrier on the reservation doesn’t make much of a living. He wanted to make his mark, to earn real money. He’d made a name for himself—going out on the road here and there—doing good work for ranches, and got offered a gig in L.A., managing stables for a rich breeder. He sent my grandparents money while he was away. And he came home whenever he could—didn’t faze him to thumb a ride back to Arizona as long as he could be home at least a few days. I wasn’t ever away from him that long.”