Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(18)

"Why is he like that? All high-strung and cranky."

"Could be many things," Clay said with a shrug. "I do know he had that accident--fell in a ditch and wasn't rescued for a long time. Hours. I think he almost drove himself crazy trying to find a way out, and then had to be pulled out mechanically. You can't hoist a colt up in the air in the dark of night and not expect repercussions. He's screwed up, that's all. So how's that make him so different from the rest of us? He just needs understanding."

"That's all it takes? Understanding?"

"A little experience with horses doesn't hurt. It's horses like him that make me want to do my best. He's big, smart enough to learn, to bond with and work through his fears. Right now he's hard to handle, but if he ever gets under control, he's got unimaginable power and grace. Sixteen and a half hands at two years--tall for an Arabian. Not mellow. But there are lots of things an edgy stallion can get done that a mellow horse just isn't good for. Just like the rest of us, they come prepackaged with their very individual DNA."

She didn't respond to that. Eventually he turned toward her. "Who taught you to ride?" he asked.

"My grandfather and neighbors on the reservation. We were right next door to a big ranch and were friends with the owners till I was thirteen, when we moved away."

Streak stopped running back and forth and began making wide, slow circles inside the corral. As he edged closer to the fence, Lilly made a clicking and humming sound, reaching a hand into the corral. Clay just watched curiously. Streak was looking at him expectantly, something he'd just begun to do in the past couple of days. It wasn't quick, but on the fourth or fifth wide circle, the horse slowed dramatically. He tossed his head, dug at the ground a couple of times, then walked right up to Lilly.

Very softly, under his breath, Clay whispered, "No way..."

"Just a baby under all that temper and fuss," she said gently, stroking his face, his neck. "Someone knows he's pretty, that's what. Never a good thing for a man--you'll learn that. The women take to you at first, but they figure you out fast and then you're on your own again. Shhhh, too handsome for your own good. A bit too strong. Go slowly, little man."

Clay momentarily wondered, Who is she talking to? Him or me?

"There's nothing much wrong with this horse except he isn't comfortable with his own strength. He needs the right hand--gentle control. He needs a mommy who can handle him."

"I thought he needed a good trainer...."

"Well, yeah," she said, stroking the white blaze that ran down the bridge of his nose. "But like most pretty boys, he's full of himself and he's going to need a well-trained rider. He'd prefer to run free and not be handled. He is filled with the spirit of youth."

He stared at her in some wonder. "How do you know this, Lilly?"

She turned back to the horse's eyes. "Who says I know? It's my opinion and I could be totally off. He's a toddler. A thousand pounds of terrible two. He needs a good mother, that's all. A strong mother with lots of love and an iron will. Is there any chance he was removed from his mother too soon?"

Clay was stunned and couldn't answer for a moment. "There's a chance of that, yes," he finally said.

"Ah. See, we never allowed that on the reservation." She flashed Clay a smile that transformed her whole face. He was struck by how truly beautiful she was. "But you will do fine. You'll do it ta-bilh." Together.

Surprise widened his eyes. "Niik'eh," he agreed in his Native language. Sure enough.

"I have to go now," she told him. She gave the horse one more stroke. "Behave," she warned him.

"Wait a minute," Clay said as she turned. "I think we should do something. Break bread, get to know each other. We can find out if we have any friends in common." The Hopi Reservation was completely surrounded by the Navajo Nation and she had just spoken in Navajo.

She shook her head. She was not getting any more entangled with him; he scared her to death! "Thank you, but no, I couldn't do that. I have a boyfriend."

"Yeah, but how much of a boyfriend?"

She laughed out loud, her face lighting up. "Enough of a boyfriend," she said.

She had almost made it to the truck when he called to her back, "So bring him. I'd like to meet him."

She turned back and her laughter was amused. "I don't think so, but it's very nice of you to include him," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Well, maybe he won't last. He probably doesn't deserve you anyway. Besides, I just want to hear you talk about horses--the one who's a little boy, the one with the wicked sense of humor. You know what I mean. I won't get in the way."

"Yes, you will," she said, smiling and getting into the truck. You already are, she thought.

She drove away from the stable and he watched until she was nothing but a faint cloud of dust. Then he turned back to Streak. He gave the horse a gentle stroke. "I have a feeling you just let another person into your head. You cheated on me, you mangy beast." The horse tossed his head arrogantly. "Thousand-pound terrible two--she's right. Were you talking to her? Were you?" The horse turned his head away, looking in the other direction. "Yeah, you were. Totally cheated on me. Well, if you've got some influence there, why don't you make yourself useful for once and tell her she should go out with me?"