Conflicted (Everlasting Love)(10)
“Yes, really.” He laughed, patted her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“I can’t yet. I have to finish taking care of Jezebel.” She gestured to the horse her parents had given her on her fourteenth birthday.
“We’ll wait.” Jesse was the one who spoke.
Her eyes darted to her father for approval and he shrugged good-naturedly. “Sure we will. You need some help, sweetheart?”
“I’ve got it, Daddy. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.” Hands shaking, heart in her throat, Desi was conscious of Jesse watching her intently, even as he spoke to her father about the horses. Despite the nearly overwhelming desire to rush, she rubbed Jezebel down and brushed her thoroughly. The horse shouldn’t have to suffer just because her owner had suddenly lost her mind.
Even in the early morning the Texas sun was strong, and she was uncomfortably aware of how she looked. Sweat molded her faded T-shirt to her back, and her comfy old jeans had so many holes in them Mama constantly threatened to throw them out. Her unwashed red hair was scraped into a ponytail, and a zit was blooming on her chin. She could ride a horse like nobody’s business and could quote more racing statistics than most professional gamblers, but she knew she’d never win any beauty contests.
Finally, finally, Jezebel was groomed and the three of them set out to walk the ranch. As her father and Jesse talked about racing, she hung back a little and watched him. Like the other trainers they had had on the ranch, Jesse talked to the horses soothingly as he looked them over. But there was something different about how he did it. Looking into the horses’ eyes, softly stroking their necks, Desi could see him form a connection with them.
She glanced at her dad, saw him watching Jesse with a speculative look in his eyes. Maybe it was his Native American heritage, maybe it was just a natural affinity for horses, but it sure looked as though he was reading those horses’ minds and they were reading his.
Leaving the smaller stables, which housed some of the retired horses and their very young offspring, they headed for the first of the five huge racing stables. They had almost reached the door when a commotion broke out in a paddock behind them.
She turned to look and felt the color drain from her face as she started to run. Crown’s Majesty, the best two-year-old stallion the Triple H had and the current hope for next year’s Triple Crown, was spooked. He’d gotten away from his handler and was out of control. He knocked George down and reared up on his hind legs, preparing to come down hard on the unfortunate exercise boy.
As she ran toward the horse, Desi was conscious of her father and Jesse running next to her. “Get out of the way,” her dad shouted, as George rolled away from the razor sharp hooves.
She ran faster, heart pounding. Fear was a living, breathing thing inside of her. The situation was critical and she knew it. Stallions were notoriously high-strung, and Majesty was the highest strung of them all. She feared for George but she also feared for the horse. In a rage like this, Majesty could injure himself and never feel it until later. And by then his chances of ever racing again could be over.
Jesse poured on the speed, running past Desiree and her father as if they weren’t even there. He was staring intently at the horse, and she knew he too realized how potentially dangerous the situation was. He stopped running about fifteen feet from Majesty and began talking to the frightened horse.
Her breath caught in her throat. She knew Jesse was the best at what he did—her dad had been talking about him nonstop for months—but he didn’t know Majesty and the horse certainly didn’t know him. Big John, thinking along the same lines as her, moved to intercede, but stopped at Jesse’s abrupt hand motion.
The sounds Jesse crooned made no sense. Not words, just a musical collection of sounds running together. Desiree held her breath as Majesty snorted angrily, turning toward Jesse as if to eliminate this new threat.
She swallowed a scream as the horse charged. She expected Jesse to jump out of the way, but he didn’t. He held his ground, facing down the charging horse. Just when she was sure that he’d be trampled to death, he took one step to the side. As the rampaging horse ran past him, he grabbed Majesty’s mane and swung lightly into the saddle, still crooning soothingly.
Desiree and Big John stared, openmouthed, as Majesty twisted and turned, trying to dislodge Jesse. But even they could tell that it was a halfhearted rebellion. Within sixty seconds he’d given up the attempt to knock Jesse off his back, and instead allowed Jesse to guide him into a gentle walk.
As breath slowly returned to her tortured lungs, Desi became aware again of her surroundings. Everyone within visual distance of the altercation had stopped. Grooms and trainers alike stared at Jesse with respect. She, too, stood in absolute awe at what he had done with a horse he’d never met before. And Majesty wasn’t just any horse; he was the nastiest, most hot-tempered horse the Triple H had ever bred. Yet he’d responded to Jesse like a sweet-tempered colt out for an afternoon jog. It was truly inspiring to see.
Overriding the awe and respect Jesse had earned was an overwhelming curiosity, a need to know exactly how he’d done what he’d done and a desire to learn from him. So she stood quietly, as her father and other men rushed forward to congratulate Jesse. He was calm amidst all the commotion, ignoring the compliments and questions. He simply dismounted and began walking Majesty toward his stable. Desi tagged along behind, not willing to lose sight of him for an instant.