Wild Horses (4 page)

He sat up, suddenly conscious of his nakedness, and let his eyes search around until he spotted a pair of stretchy riding pants laid out as though for him. He made use of the bathroom first, showered, and used the new red toothbrush he found waiting for him. Then he brushed out his long orange-red hair using Attila’s hairbrush, hoping the man wouldn’t mind. He slipped into the stretchy pants, wondering at the suede patch in his crotch and the pads on the insides of his knees and thighs. There had been no shirt or shoes, and his sneakers were not in evidence. Kai shrugged, inhaled the lunch left out for him and drank all the water, but saved the apple for Vermillion. He then walked out to the patio.

“Hey, dude.” Kai’s bare feet rested on the cool concrete, unaware that one misstep on Vermillion’s part spelled a world of pain for him. “Want an apple?” He broke it in half, just like before. The red horse tossed his head at the sound of the fruit splitting and nosed the man’s chest. “Here ya go, fella!”

As the horse was occupied with his treat, Kai ran a curious hand down his flank, marveling at the smooth, tight hide that covered the shifting muscles. He was now better acquainted with the contained power that simmered under the surface. The knee to his head had been an accident, and Kai did not feel any residual effects. He was more watchful around the horse, though, making sure that Vermillion didn’t hit his face with his hard and heavy head. After Kai took an inventory of his limbs and various aches and pains, he became thankful for not being physically hurt. Still, he just could not shake off the feeling of mortal embarrassment for having passed out. Appearing weak had never been in his repertoire. He would have liked to blame the horse for it, but he was well aware he would have to work hard and prove himself to regain his dignity. He had barn work to do, except he had no shoes. He was, however, on a horse ranch and it occurred to him that, maybe, Vermillion might be enticed to give him a ride up the hill. He wanted to ask Mr. Keleman as to the whereabouts of his sneakers, and he wanted to know what work needed to be done.

I ain’t a freeloader. I can pull my weight. And Mr. Keleman… he’ll see. He won’t regret takin’ me on.

Buoyed by positive self-talk, Kai’s heart overflowed with a sudden surge of loyalty as his mind flooded with the memory of the man’s soothing voice and gentle helping hands. He thought back to the way his host had sat on the edge of his bed, adjusting his pillows and handing him juice, being so very careful not to touch him. Kai had been disappointed at that. He wanted to feel the caress of those long, smooth fingers again.

Again?

Not quite knowing why, he just couldn’t shake off the feeling that those strong, gentle hands had touched him before, and he shivered at the whisper of the memory. It bothered him that he should think of his host that way, and he racked his brain for other things he might have missed. There was the horse, red in the sunset… the apples… there had been water…. There had been another man, but he’d poked him with a needle, so Kai chose to block him out.

“Mr. Keleman obviously expects his workers to ride, Vermillion. You’ll just have to help me out here.”

Blocking off any further thoughts of his host, Kai coaxed the curious horse next to a picnic table under a large, spreading tree. He took the other half of the apple and held it out, maneuvering the horse just so. Then he climbed on the table and put his hands on the broad back.

Vermillion stood still, munching his apple.

Kai moved more of his weight onto the tall withers, then slung his leg over the broad rump, landing on the horse’s back with a graceless thump.

Vermillion shied under him and whinnied, almost rearing, and Kai grabbed the red strands of the horse’s long mane by sheer instinct.

He felt his own hair whip his face as Vermillion took to the hill, cantering up to the familiar paddock. He felt the powerful muscles shift under him in an easy cadence, and made his legs clasp around Vermillion’s barrel as he tried to hold on, barely able to breathe. They passed the barn and the covered arena, but the paddock gate was closed. Vermillion ran along the fence, his hoofs a rolling beat of three-and-one, reminiscent of ancient jungle drums. Kai absorbed it, moved with it, his hands still clinging to the mane, his legs squeezing the heaving barrel for all he was worth. Exhilaration replaced terror as Kai felt his uncommon sense of balance kick in and realized that he was not necessarily slated for an early death. The horse showed no intention of stopping. They reached an outdoor corral with a single rider jumping obstacles within it. With but a corner of his eye, Kai saw two men turn and look his way, and then Vermillion was off, burning excess energy, running free.

“
W
AS
that your guy Kai?” Tibor asked, eyes wide.

“Apparently.” Attila whistled, and Sen appeared at the paddock fence. Hearing yet a different whistle, the white Lipizzaner took a running start and cleared the fence, trotting up to his rider.

“I’d better go after him. He doesn’t even have a bridle. Give me a hand.”

Tibor’s big fingers linked into a step, boosting his brother-in-law onto Sen’s back. The white horse had no saddle, no reins.

“You have no bridle either,” Tibor said with a note of concern.

“I don’t need one.”

Attila felt his gut twist as images of a possible disaster flashed through his mind. He pushed them away and pressed his heel into Sen’s flank. They were off. Sen had been baby-sitting the red horse for long enough to know what was required of him.

K
AI
entered the forest trail. He ducked his head, almost leaning on his steed’s neck in an effort to clear the lowest branches of the surrounding trees. After a few more minutes—and those felt like forever—Vermillion slowed down to a bouncy trot and then to a walk. Kai began to breathe again. He considered sliding off, but then he would lose the horse. The horse knew where he lived; Kai’s smartest option was to stay mounted and hope for the best.

In not too long, the four-beat cadence of a gallop echoed down the forest path. Vermillion tensed.

“Shhh….” His left hand still holding the mane, Kai stroked the horse’s neck. “It’s okay… it’s okay.”

A white horse burst into the open with Attila on top, bareback, intense eyes scanning the clearing. Kai saw relief wash over the other man’s face. Both he and Vermillion sat still, waiting for the other horse and rider to slow down and circle around to them.

“Hello, Mr. Keleman! I thought Vermillion would give me a ride up the hill, but I guess he got a bit excited.”

Attila nudged Sen with his leg, circling toward Kai. The younger man soaked up every single thing Attila did with his curious eyes. He straightened up to a perfect, poised posture, copying what he saw, imitating Attila without even thinking about it.

T
HE
gesture did not escape Attila’s attention, though, and a thrill of excitement skittered up his spine. This guy was a natural, sitting a wild and untrained horse with balance and ease in just a pair of borrowed riding breeches—no experience, no bridle, no tack. He cut quite a figure, sitting tall, his skin bronze and bare. The bridge of his nose and cheekbones were sprinkled with freckles Attila had seen up close earlier. The sinuous pattern of his tattoo was echoed by the wind-tangled hair that spilled down his broad shoulders.

Kai and Vermillion complemented each other down to their wild nature, red hair, and warm brown eyes. Their chemistry was almost palpable.

Attila swallowed at the sight, and the thought of Kai staying crossed his mind for the very first time. He would teach him all he knew. He would help him train Vermillion, provide his comfort, and show him how the business was run. Finally, after all these years of family either dying or moving into other professions, there might finally be someone….

He let out a deep breath, cutting off his ruminations. Having the man around meant sharing space with him. They would drive each other crazy, sooner or later. Attila preferred horses to people most of the time, yet here was a human who apparently got along with his latest and most problematic acquisition. Attila’s own misanthropic tendencies had driven his family out of the business. There was no way he could get along with this man, this perfect stranger, this lovely thief. A sense of panic suffused him at the thought of his silent peace being wrecked by another person. Vermillion’s whicker interrupted his thoughts, though, almost exorcising the anxious feeling.

But Vermillion liked him….

Attila cleared his throat. “What did you need up the hill, Kai?”

The younger man’s expression softened at the use of his given name and he met Attila’s eyes for the first time. He seemed riveted by something he saw, almost compelling Attila to look away, before the older man spotted a blush blooming up Kai’s neck and cheeks and relaxed with the realization that his unexpected guest was feeling even more awkward than he was.

“I need my shoes, and… an’ I wanted to apologize….” Kai’s breath hitched and he fought to speak, his gaze still held captive by the sudden warmth in Attila Keleman’s eyes. “So… I wanted t’know what work needs doin’. If your offer still stands, that is. Mr. Keleman,” he finished, breathless. Their gazes were still locked as their horses shifted under them, signaling their impatience.

“Yes, the offer still stands. Just follow me,” Attila said, his heart inexplicably light as he faced the westering sun. “The horses know the way.”

T
HE
buzzing of flies and occasional whicker of a horse were the only music in Kai’s ears as he forced the prongs of his basket pick under a dark mass, liberating yet another clump of horse manure from loose sawdust bedding. He was careful shaking it, letting the clean grit fall through the gratings without dislodging his precious load. The pick was
half-full before he upturned its contents into his ever-filling
wheelbarrow. There was more to shoveling horse manure than met the eye; like any task, there was a way to go about it, and it had taken him three days before he learned to clean the stalls with quick efficiency. Horseshit was, according to Attila Keleman, mere stardust: it just happened to have been recycled through the rear end of a horse. If that opinion was good enough for his host and employer, it was good enough for Kai.

His thoughts drifted to the events of the last week as he grasped the wooden handles of the wheelbarrow and lifted from his legs, pushing the load of manure to its pile behind the stables. The grounds were extensive and there was no end to the stardust production, and Kai was grateful, because that signified a semblance of job security. The main barn was an older structure with several attached outbuildings and a poured concrete floor, and that’s where the horses lived. Kai was impressed with Attila’s apparent wealth. Several paddocks were delineated in sturdy, white fencing, and there was an outdoor arena behind the new, wood-and-steel building where most students took their lessons. Attila’s single-story ranch house was down the grassy hill from the stables, and the pool out back was surrounded by landscaping. There was a large pond about a quarter mile from the house, and Kai knew that there were woods with riding paths beyond the pond. That’s where the wild, red stallion took him on his first ride, bareback and unbridled.

Kai shook his head at the memory, got rid of the grin on his face, and assumed the expression of a penitent man who is atoning for his sins. He was prepared to work his hands bloody to retain his current position. It had been only one week since he had yielded to temptation and picked the pocket of a complete stranger. He didn’t know at the time that the cell phone he stole would connect him to the very man he worked for right now. It led him to a new way of thinking which had, ironically, started with the mobile phone owner’s text message.

You are above such petty acts of thievery.

That single sentence had been the last straw. Attila had flung it in Kai’s direction in his last-ditch attempt to retrieve his stolen iPhone and all the critical information it held, not realizing that he was texting a man who had been homeless for weeks, whose belongings were destroyed in a fire, and whose decision to pick a pocket was a humiliating act of a man at the end of his rope. The words stung what was left of Kai’s pride, sending him on a bicycle journey to return it.

The sweltering heat of that day was still fresh in Kai’s mind. Back then, there was no way he was going to just walk up to the man he had wronged and return the phone—he was too embarrassed—so he hid in the tree line above the paddock, waiting for a good time to put the device somewhere both safe and obvious. He had a plan, but he didn’t expect to feel so fascinated by the horses.

Kai dug the tines of his pick under another pile, suppressing a sigh at the memory of Vermillion and the easy way the red horse’s long legs ate up the ground under his gallop. The stallion was playful and curious as well as difficult to handle, and to everyone’s surprise, he bonded with Kai right away. Kai was now his special human, the one who was never kicked or bitten, the one who brought him apples and who spent time with him, helping him burn off excess energy. But Kai didn’t stick around for Vermillion alone. He would never forget the debt he owed a perfect stranger: a man who not only helped Kai in Kai’s moment of weakness, but from his life on the streets as well. It took two days to recover and rehydrate his body. Kai had been surprised to wake in a soft bed, with a big, red horse whickering through the mosquito screen of the patio door.