Promise Canyon (Virgin River #13)(3)

Clay had raised Gabe while living on the Navajo Nation, and even when he moved to L.A. to try and build his career, he visited his son as often as possible and still talked to him almost every day. But what he really wanted was to have his son with him, close by. Now that he was divorced from Isabel and her intolerant family no longer played a role in his life, maybe he could think about moving Gabe out here with him. Clay's sister, Ursula, had long ago offered to take Gabe in, but Clay's dad insisted she focus on her own children, saying Gabe was fine out in Flagstaff with the Tahoma family. But perhaps Clay could bring him out here now...maybe they could finally be a real father and son. Gabe could benefit from being around horses here at the stables, just as Clay had been around horses when he was growing up.

Clay had bonded with horses at an early age--he seemed to understand them and they understood him. It made sense that he would end up in the horse industry, but he didn't start there. Clay began his education at Northern Arizona University studying business. Classmates who weren't Navajo asked him why he wasn't enrolled in Native American Studies. He said, "You're kidding me, right? I'm a Tahoma--I grew up in Native American Studies." After a couple of years of college, he started working as a farrier, with the skills he'd learned from his father and uncles. He worked rodeos, stables, farms, eventually being formally trained as a farrier and vet tech and doing out-of-town jobs here and there. There were some real rough patches along the way, but by the time he was twenty-eight he was offered a good position with a Southern California breeder of race-horses. He would manage the stable and several hands would work under his supervision. It was hard to leave Gabe and his family behind, but the opportunity was such a good one, and he thought he'd be there for a long time and could eventually move his son out there with him.

But then he fell in love with the breeder's daughter, Isabel. And the rest was history.

The call from Nathaniel, looking for a vet tech and assistant for his relatively small operation, came as a surprise, but it shouldn't have. Nathaniel Jensen had always aspired to own and operate a large equine clinic, breeding horses for competition and racing. His father's large animal practice had been built to provide care for the local livestock, including horses, and the practice became Nathaniel's when his father retired. With the right help, he could do both--breeding and veterinary services. He was expanding, building a second barn that would be complete within weeks. Nate's fiancee, Annie, was an accomplished equestrienne who could teach riding, and Nate was a talented vet. The location might be a bit off the beaten track and served mainly farmers and ranchers who made their living off the land, but there was no reason Nathaniel couldn't make a significant impact on the racing and show industries.

Clay got calls all the time. Offers of employment and requests for help. Owners, breeders and vets all wanted him and he'd been quoted salaries that would put what Nate was paying him to shame. Besides his technical skills, there was a rumor he took care not to exploit--that he communicated with the thousand-pound beasts. That he read their minds and they read his. That he was a horse whisperer.

Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. He had luck with horses, but then he never hurried them or took them for granted and they appreciated that. There were three reasons he'd taken Nathaniel's offer without hesitation. Clay's sister lived in the area--Ursula Toopeek was married to the police chief in Grace Valley, a nearby town. Clay was close to Ursula, Tom and their five children. Reason two--Clay respected Nathaniel's skill and ethics and thought the veterinarian would be successful in this expanded endeavor. Plus Nate wasn't hooking his potential success to any mystical ability Clay might have.

And three--it was time to make a break from Isabel.

Clay had known Nate for years but had never before been to his Northern California stable and practice. He was somewhat familiar with the area, having visited his sister in Grace Valley many times. Carrying glasses of lemonade, Nate and Clay toured the compound. Clay was impressed; the new stable under construction was going to be awesome. The vet tech's quarters in the original stable were small but sufficient and had been built for that occasional night there was a sick animal on the premises and someone had to sleep in the stable to be on hand. It was one room with a small bathroom and shower, a bar-sized refrigerator and a couple of kitchenette cupboards. The bed was built into a wall unit with closets, drawers and shelves, much like a Murphy bed. Opposite that, under the only window, was an additional bureau. Virginia, the tech who had recently retired, had added a microwave and hot plate so she could heat her tea or pop her popcorn and had generously left both behind.

There was an industrial-size washer and dryer set in the stable, but Clay was invited to use the set in the house so he wouldn't be mixing up his laundry with animal excretions and blood. Clay laughed. "Like I won't have plenty of that on my clothes in any case."

"Still," Nate said. "Maybe it's psychological. Clay, I'm afraid you won't be happy in the stable quarters for long."

"How do you know?" he asked, lifting a black brow.

"It's too small. There are no amenities. No TV or DVD player. Nothing for the long term. And I don't want you resigning because you're cramped. We have options," Nate said. "If you won't bunk with us in the house, we can always bring in a mobile home. Lots of property here to park it. Or when the new stable is finished in just a few weeks, we could knock out a wall and enlarge the quarters."