Jane Toombs - Wild Mustang

He nodded. “Damp air.”

She wondered if she’d passed some kind of test. Not that she cared. No, wait, that wasn’t true. She did want to impress upon him that she wasn’t a person to be given the slowest, safest mare in the corral. She was a professional who knew what she was doing, and sooner or later he’d be forced to recognize it.

A plume of dust caught her eye. Before she could point it out, he said, “We’ll head for those cottonwoods to the right. They run along a stream, and chances are the herd’s coming to the water. If we get there first and stay still, we won’t spook ’em.”

He was right. As they waited under the branches covered with the bright green leaves of early June, the mustangs they’d spotted gathered upstream—five of them. To her disappointment, the calico pinto mare wasn’t among them. In fact—weren’t they all stallions?

“Is that what they call a bachelor herd?” she asked in a low tone, admiring a white horse a bit smaller than the others.

“Right. All young males who haven’t collected a harem yet.”

As they watched the mustangs drink, then wheel and trot off, Laura was once again awed by their fluid grace. She’d never imagined she’d be so moved by the sight of wild horses.

“Might as well dismount and take a break,” Shane said.

Somewhat surprised, since they hadn’t been riding long, she agreed. Once off the mare, she wandered down to the stream—narrow, but containing a respectable amount of water. From what her brother had told her about Nevada, she figured this was snow-melt and that, later in the summer, the creek might run dry.

Dipping her fingers in the cold water confirmed her guess. Rejoining Shane near the trunk of a good-sized tree, she turned up her face for a moment to feel the warmth of the sun filtering through the leafy branches. What a peaceful scene. She’d have relaxed completely if only she hadn’t been so aware of the man standing no more that two feet away.

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” he said, not looking at her.

She waited. When he didn’t go on, she asked, “About what?”

“About what you said.”

She’d said a lot of things. “You’ll have to be specific.”

Shane flicked her a glance. This was going to be even harder than he’d thought. He sure as hell didn’t want to say what must be said or do what must be done. The trouble was, he couldn’t figure any other way.

When he’d roused in the grayness of pre-dawn, he’d seen the solution there before him, like jigsaw puzzle pieces fitted together, each piece a separate entity, but together creating a whole. Like a puzzle, it could be taken apart again, which was the only reason he’d considered it.

“It’s about my sister,” he said. “I didn’t tell you yesterday, but Judge Rankin warned me I ought to get married or else he’d have trouble letting me keep Sage. Then you talked about what you called a marriage of accommodation.”

She smiled at him. “Yes, I did. I really do think that’s your best choice at this point, since you don’t seem to have any woman in mind you really want to marry.”

“So you agree.”

He caught her nod from the corner of his eye. Good. This might turn out to be simpler than he’d figured. Still it was hard to get the words out.

“Grandfather seconds my choice,” he temporized. “In fact, it was his choice first.”

“All the better.”

Go for it, man, he told himself. Stop hedging. Facing her directly, he said, “Grandfather thinks you’re the perfect person for the judge to accept, and I’ve decided he’s right. Since I don’t want to get married and neither do you, we are, as the ads say, made for each other—at least as far as this situation goes.” He cut off his nervous babbling. Damn, but he was on edge.

She stared up at him, her mouth slightly open. He hadn’t before noticed how perfectly shaped her lips were. Not that it mattered. He kept waiting for her to speak, but she seemed dumbstruck.

“Well?” he muttered.

“I—uh—I—” She swallowed and stopped, looking as wild-eyed as a frightened mustang.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded. “It was your idea.”

“Well, yes, but I didn’t mean me,” she sputtered. “I can’t—I couldn’t possibly. No.”

“Why not? It’s not like it’s for real.”

“But you—that is, I—what I mean is, I don’t want to expose myself to—” She broke off, looking away from him.

“Expose yourself to what? Me? Hell, I thought you understood I don’t want anything from you except your agreement to be a wife on paper.”

“I do understand that. But I—”

“You’re scared.”

“No!”

He laid a hand on her shoulder, removing it before she could flinch away. “Then why are you trembling?” he asked. “You remind me of a spooked mare.”

With great effort, Laura pulled herself together. There was no use trying to explain. Shane couldn’t possibly understand why she was “spooked.”

“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I just can’t. Shall we get on with our ride?”

They’d made a sweep of one section of the reservation without coming across any mustangs before Shane suggested they start back. Up until then, neither of them had said a word.

“We’ll be taking a day off tomorrow,” he added. “No point in riding in the rain, and it’ll give me a chance to get into town.”

Laura had no doubt it would rain. Even she could now feel the change in the air—which corresponded to a change in her. Though she still viewed his proposal askance, she was beginning to ask herself if she hadn’t overreacted.

Shane didn’t want to get married any more than she did. Surely he’d be amenable to putting everything in writing—separate rooms and all that. Did she believe he’d abide by the written agreement? That was the poser.

Supposing she did believe he would—could she then tolerate the idea of such a marriage?

When they reached the barn, she was still pondering the possibility. Seeing Sage come running out to meet them, her face alight with welcome, Laura’s heart contracted. How vulnerable the girl was. Sage must never be allowed to go through anything even vaguely similar to what had happened to her when she was young. Never!

I’ll talk to Grandfather, Laura decided. He knows Shane far better than I.

Her chance came almost immediately. Sage had been invited to Donna’s house for a sleepover and wanted Shane’s permission. When he gave it, she then needed a ride to her friend’s house, some distance away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t start supper,” Sage said to Laura. “I was going to make chicken enchiladas. Donna’s mom showed me how, and I wrote it down. It’s real easy.”

Laura smiled at her. “That’s good, because I’ve never made them. I can cook, though, honest.”

“Oh, I knew you could cook. I expect you can do most anything. But this recipe is sort of different ’cause there’s no tomatoes in it. You don’t mind having to get supper ready?”

Laura shook her head. “Not a bit. You go and enjoy the sleepover with Donna.”

“Is it all right if I hug you goodbye?” Sage asked, when she had her sleeping gear piled by the door.

Laura responded by hugging Sage. “Have a good time,” she told the girl.

After the door closed behind Shane and his sister, Laura sighed. How long had it been since she’d hugged anyone? Not since she’d last seen her brother and his wife and their son Tim. She hadn’t visited them yet on this trip to Nevada because she’d wanted to start working first.

She walked slowly back into the kitchen and found Grandfather seated at the table with a glass of iced tea. “Sage made you some without sugar,” he said, nodding his head toward the refrigerator.