Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(14)

And then, inexplicably, he began to think about that little Hopi girl who was certainly in love with a horse....

He hadn't been asleep long when his pleasant man-dreams shifted to oppressive darkness. He didn't know whether he moved in his sleep, but in the dream he was thrashing around. He was looking up at a black, starless sky from a deep hole and his entire being was suffused with panic, his heart racing with fear. There was no way out; he used his hands to claw at the sides of the hole, but without success. He tried to yell for help, but no sound came out. And it seemed to go on for an intolerably long time.

When Clay's eyes finally burst open, he was panting and drenched in sweat. His reading lamp was still on, of course. The darkness was all contained in the dream, not his surroundings. He had to work to slow his pulse and control his breathing. His immediate thought was, What the hell was that? He hadn't had a nightmare in so long, he couldn't remember the last time. He thought it might've been more than a dozen years ago, in his early twenties, when his life had been very unstable and his future impossible to envision.

Clay meditated briefly. It took only moments for him to calm his body and mind. He took a deep, cleansing breath. And then he heard a thump from the stable.

He rose from his bed, pulled on his boots and went to check things out. He walked down the aisle between the stalls and all seemed under control. Then he heard another thump, this time accompanied by a soft whinny.

Streak. Anxious in his new surroundings? He went to the stall and looked in. Streak was facing a corner, whinnying in his sleep and pawing the wall of the stall with one foreleg. The second Clay was near the colt, he felt his fear. He sensed the deep, dark, muddy hole; entrapment. It was dark and cold in the horse's dream.

Not a good time to enter the stall, so he reached a hand in. "Hey, hey, hey," he said very softly. "Easy now." The horse's head came up, turned and his large brown eyes took in Clay. He snorted and shook his head. In a few moments the horse calmed enough to wander over to the half door, close enough for Clay to stroke him. Alone and frightened, Streak was willing to take a chance and trust Clay. This was a huge bonding moment. Clay stroked him gently. "There now, young man," he said. "Those weren't sweet dreams, were they, boy?"

Clay only enjoyed the bonding for a short time, then closed the horse in and quietly walked away, leaving Streak feeling the trust and wanting more. Clay realized he'd been caught in the colt's dream. He'd been trapped in a hole, afraid, left too long, traumatized. There had been many times he felt he'd picked up an animal's thoughts, but he'd never had this kind of channeling experience before.

"That's a first," he said to himself.

He leaned against the wall out of Streak's sight and waited for any more uproars in the stable. But it remained quiet for a long time, so Clay went to bed, this time turning off the lights. He rested comfortably through what remained of the night.

Clay tended all six horses in the early morning, turning out Nathaniel and Annie's four horses into the big pasture and Blue into her own paddock. He kept Streak in the round pen for now; he wasn't going to integrate the horses until he had time to observe and manage them. He wouldn't be surprised if Streak caused trouble.

It wasn't yet seven when he went to Nate and Annie's back kitchen door. It was almost time for the practice to open for business; Nathaniel might have house calls to make first thing for all he knew. Clay needed to talk to him before he got too busy.

"Good morning," Nate said, opening the door. "Coffee?"

"Sure. I want to talk to you about Streak before start of business."

"Come in. Grab a cup. Hungry?"

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."