The Black Sheep and the Hidden Beauty (10 page)

Or watching a fire burn out of control.

Tracey moved, but toward Bonder, not away. She didn't run, but moved steadily toward the gate, her hands raised, palms out, not waving them around, but holding them steady.

At the last possible second, Bonder seemed to falter and pull up just slightly. Even in his panic, perhaps he'd realized it was Tracey and it made him pause long enough to forget why he'd bolted.

“Good boy, Bonder, that's the way,” Elena called out, keeping her voice as calm as she could, even as she called out to him. She slowed as she came up along the fence beside him, keeping well clear of his hind legs.

Tracey stopped on the other side of the gate, hands still up, as Bonder dug in and tried to slow down, balking now as the gate drew closer.

Elena whistled for him, which, in his distracted state, made him swing his head, slowing him further, as was her intent. Unfortunately, he was still going too fast to handle the sudden move, and she watched in horror as his front leg buckled slightly.

As Bonder stumbled, Tracey came over the gate, much as Rafe had.

Rafe.

Elena had forgotten about him, but didn't look behind her to see where he was. Her gaze was transfixed on the horse as she moved closer.

Bonder rebounded enough to keep from falling, but it was highly likely he'd given his foreleg a good wrench in the process. Slowed sufficiently by the stumble and recovery, he trotted a few steps past the stable gate, then danced sideways a bit into the center of the ring, scared still, and more than a little disconcerted about what had just happened. She couldn't tell right off if he was lame or not, as he was still pretty highly strung. The adrenaline could mask a number of things, at least initially.

Tracey had already eased inside the ring, talking to him as she drew closer.

“Careful,” Elena called out as she caught up, but Tracey was already doing the right things, approaching the horse slowly, using a calm, steady tone, talking continuously, gauging his reaction so he wouldn't bolt again. But it was the grape Popsicle she drew from a Baggie in her jacket pocket and began unwrapping that finally got Bonder's complete attention. He calmed a bit more and ambled closer, head down, eyes not as wild, clearly hoping the treat was for him.

Elena stopped a good ten yards away and let Tracey work. Bonder was still breathing heavily through his nose, but his ears were twitching toward Tracey, no longer pinned back, and he was clearly listening to what she was saying.

“Some ride.”

Elena startled at the sound of Rafe's voice, and turned to find him walking up behind her. At least he was moving slowly.

“My fault. I was…” She trailed off, looked back at Bonder and Tracey. “It shouldn't have happened.”

“You hurt?”

His question surprised her into looking back at him again. “Me? No.” She looked down and halfheartedly brushed at the dirt and muck that covered the front of her overalls. Lovely. “Well, my pride a little, maybe, but I'm more worried about his stumble. He's probably given that fetlock a pretty good twist. I only meant to slow him down, keep him from coming in too fast at the gate. Tracey—”

“Pretty bold stunt,” he commented. “I was torn about whether to get over to you, or run like hell and tackle her out of the way.”

“You'd never have made it.”

“I know. Scared the shit out of me. She's either the bravest girl I've ever met, or the stupidest.”

Elena smiled at that. “You work with animals this size, you have to be a little of both, I suppose.”

He shook his head. “Well, there's crazy, then there's…” He gestured to Tracey, who was presently hand-feeding Bonder the Popsicle. “That, I suppose.”

Elena smiled. “It takes a lot of that to want to work with a horse like this one. She's got a gift, that one.”

“I guess you'd know.”

She turned to him, surprised again. “I—uh, thanks. I think.”

“I meant the gift, but I'm pretty sure you bring the crazy as well.” He lifted his hand, put his finger and thumb close together. “A little, anyway.”

She laughed before she could think better of it. Not that she worried about distracting Bonder. But she should be worried about letting Rafe distract her. Again. “I won't argue that one. But thanks for giving me credit for having something to balance it with.” She looked back to Bonder. He'd finished his treat and Tracey had recovered the lead line and was presently just letting him stand by the gate and gather the rest of his wits.

“Don't walk him yet,” Elena called over to her, keeping her tone steady. “We should have that leg looked at before he puts any more weight on it than he already has.”

Tracey nodded, but kept her full attention on the horse.

Yeah. She'd have to talk with Kate. As much as she didn't want to involve herself here any more deeply than absolutely necessary, Tracey had earned some support in this, and Elena wouldn't feel right unless she did whatever she could to help figure things out.

“If you'll excuse me,” she said to Rafe. “I need to go see to a horse. We'll probably have to get the vet out here.”

“Anything I can do?”

She looked back at him. “No, but thanks for the offer. And the willingness to stick your neck out like that. I appreciate your trusting me—us—to handle the situation. You racing in there would only have made things more complicated and potentially dangerous.”

His lips twitched then. “I sort of figured that out.”

She smiled in return. “Yes, well, you did the right thing.”

He simply nodded, touched his imaginary brim again, which did foolish things to her pulse and had her turning her back on him again, before she did something even more foolish. It had been her mooning over him, or her dreams about him, that had allowed the crisis to occur in the first place.

So why she paused, and turned back one last time, she really didn't want to examine too closely. “Why did you come down here, anyway?”

“Set up another lesson.” He nodded toward Bonder. “Preferably not on that horse.”

She smiled. “Not to worry. No one rides Bonder. As for a lesson, uh, sure. But I really need—”

He raised his hand. “Go do what needs to be done. I'll catch up with you later.”

She nodded, turned back, and walked away. Wondering just how much later “later” was going to be.

And why she was looking forward to it, rather than dreading it.

I
t was past nine when he approached the outer stables. The stars were beginning to peek out, making him want to slow down and appreciate their beauty. It was one of the things about living in the Virginia countryside that he never tired of—the vastness of the sky above and the endless twinkling of them that lit up the night. Growing up in the city, he'd never known so many stars existed until he'd gone to summer camp upstate in the mountains. Those were the best times of his youth, those long, lazy days spent with Mac and Finn around Lake Winnimocca. And the nights under that huge, starry sky.

He remembered feeling both incredibly insignificant and, at the same time, somehow strangely empowered. As if the very endlessness of it was a reminder of how big the world really was, and that he didn't have to be trapped into one tiny part of it if he didn't really want to be.

The night sky still had the power to make him feel that way.

He shifted his gaze to the stables ahead, and the glow of light emanating from beneath the wide, sliding doors that made up most of the end wall. There was the urge to turn around, to put off the conversation he was about to have, along with all the subterfuge it would require.

He liked Elena, and was admittedly intrigued by her. She was a no-nonsense woman who was good at what she did and didn't look for confirmation of that fact. She seemed wholly at ease in her own skin, which, he realized, most of the women of his acquaintance, regardless of their beauty, did not. And, by not embracing her femininity, or remotely playing on it, she had somehow managed to seem all the more sensual and attractive. Which should make absolutely no sense, but the fact that he couldn't get her out of his mind was proof enough.

He'd rather believe it was the case that kept her front and center in his thoughts, but he was presently working on a number of preliminary files and found it increasingly difficult to keep his mind on any of them for longer than an hour or two. He'd be studying reports, making notes, and his attention would regularly wander to the windows of his office, which happened to provide a view of the rolling hills behind the mansion, leading directly down to the main stables. Where, as he'd come to discover, Elena spent a good part of her day, always hustling here and there, working with this horse or that, overseeing a delivery or working with the barn help.

It was his attraction to her that had kept him from pinning down another lesson time. He'd wanted—needed—to create more distance. Mentally, anyway. He wasn't used to his thoughts being so clouded, and he knew his judgment would be off because of it. He simply had to find an edge and hold on to it.

In the end, that had meant pushing aside his other case files and digging more deeply into anything and everything he had collected so far about her. He'd read the report he and Mac had discussed, front and back, several times, making more notes each time. The prickling sensation on the back of his neck refused to go away, and in fact, only grew stronger with each subsequent study of the information at hand. Which wasn't to say he'd ferreted out any evidence whatsoever that damned her in any way. Which was both relieving and irritating as all hell. Instincts this strong were rarely wrong. But they were usually rooted in something substantive. There had to be more here than he was seeing. And yet, at the same time, he'd never wanted more to be wrong.

His frustration with himself and the whole damn ordeal was finally what had driven him down to the paddock earlier today. Keeping his distance wasn't giving him the clarity he wanted. And all the attention to the details of the reports he'd gathered wasn't going to lead to anything until he talked with her again.

But then the incident with Bonder had happened and, once again, he'd been thrown off stride. He'd been both terrified for her, and mesmerized by her. She could have been dragged, trampled, or worse, and yet she'd leapt up, had the presence of mind to direct him to stay back, and had charged right after that crazed idiot of a horse, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, the only part she'd been upset about was that her attempts to keep the damn thing from plowing down her young barn assistant might have caused the horse an injury.

He eased open the outer paddock gate and closed it behind him, careful to stay close to the fence as he edged his way to the stable doors. He should probably have changed clothes. Or shoes, anyway. In fact, he could have waited until tomorrow. Should have, probably. But another night spent thinking about the conversation he wanted to have without actually having it simply wasn't tenable.

So he'd asked after her at the main stables, and had been told she was out here checking up on her mare. It was a calculated risk, what with him already preoccupied with her, to talk to her on what was arguably her own turf, but perhaps she'd be more relaxed away from the bustle of the main stables and all the attendant ears that went with it.

He wasn't sure whether to tap on the metal doors to announce his arrival, or if that would spook her horse, so he simply lifted the main latch and slowly began easing the door along the tracks. It made enough noise despite his care, grinding and squealing, that he hadn't gotten it half open when she was already calling out.

“Hello?”

He slipped inside, and seeing her at the opposite end of the aisle, with her mare in cross ties, opted not to close the door behind him, just to save them both the ear-splitting noise.

“You should get Kate to have that looked at,” he said, as he walked down the aisle toward her.

She looked at herself, then at the horse, then back to him, confusion on her face. “Look at what?”

He jabbed his finger over his shoulder. “Those doors. I'm surprised you're not half deaf.”

“Ah,” she said, lips curving in that half smile he'd already learned she sported more often than not. “Pretty standard for metal doors. Not much you can do about it. We're used to it.”

He forced his attention away from her open and intelligent face to the stall doors he was passing. He hadn't paid any real attention when he'd come out here the first time, as his focus was on her and the vet. He knew some of the employees kept their own mounts at Dalton Downs, but there were only two others out here that he could see. “Where are the rest of the horses?”

“There are only three out here. The others are stabled with the class horses and Bonder down at the main building.”

“Why some here and some there?”

He paused a few feet away by an empty stall door.

“Partly because they do better with the hustle and bustle, partly for convenience.”

“And yours?” Even a novice could see that her horse was either incredibly heavy in the middle or hugely pregnant.

“Calm is good for her right now.”

“When is she due?”

“Few more months.”

He strolled closer, careful to keep to the side. Elena was grooming her horse, using some kind of pick to clean out one of the hooves.

“Did you ride her?” he asked.

“No, just walked her. But it's muddy out there.” She glanced up at him. “It's good for her, but to be honest, I think the grooming routine is as therapeutic for me as it is her.”

His lips curved. “The Zen of horse maintenance?”

She shot him a quick smile. “Something like that.”

“How is she doing? I mean, is everything going okay with the pregnancy this time?”

“So far, so good. I don't think I'll relax until she foals, though.”

“Do you have any plans for the baby?”

He'd said it lightly, but he noticed a telltale pause in her motions.

“In what way do you mean?”

“Are you keeping it? Or…I mean, I don't know how it works with horses. I didn't know if it was promised to someone else or if you are selling it. You know, like when a dog has puppies.”

She recovered easily enough, but, and only because he was watching for it, her casual response seemed a bit forced. “I suppose it could be like puppies. It all depends on why the horse was bred.”

He said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate. When she said nothing, just continued to clean Springer's hooves, he nudged a little more. “What's Springer's story? I know she had problems last time, so were you always planning to try again? Or—well, I guess it's not like dogs where accidents happen and they end up with an unplanned pregnancy, but—”

“Oh, accidents can happen, even with horses.” She wasn't looking at him, focusing instead on removing pebbles and debris from Springer's hoof, but Rafe's instincts remained on full alert.

He'd intended to prod her into talking more about herself, and figured her horse was a good conversational gambit, only now he was wondering if there was something more there. To the outward eye, she was simply busy working, but she was almost overly focused now, as if trying too hard to appear casual. It could be that he was reading something into nothing, given his fixation with trying to locate the source of his intuition where she was concerned…but he didn't think so.

He didn't have time to analyze the situation and ask questions accordingly, so he'd have to follow his gut—he knew he needed to tread carefully, make sure she didn't suspect his line of questioning was anything more than simple, novice curiosity. “I'd think in a big operation like Charlotte Oaks, they would be pretty careful about keeping horses in heat away from the stallions.”

“They do. Not too many mares around, anyway. Most of the breeding is done artificially. Usually the mare isn't even on premises, but boarded elsewhere. A racing facility isn't really the most conducive place for a restful gestation.”

“Which is why you moved her up here?”

She nodded, then shifted back to work on the hind hoof. “I'd been planning on leaving anyway, so it seemed as good a time as any.”

“So, what made you decide to breed her again? Was it because you were planning to go and wanted to take advantage of being on a racing farm with good stock? Is she a valuable horse or something?”

“Not all horses are bred for racing lines. Sometimes babies are just babies.”

“So, you do plan to keep it.”

“Not sure yet. I'm not making any plans until he or she arrives.”

“If you don't want to keep the baby, what do you do? Run an ad? Is it like selling puppies after all, just on a grander scale or something?”

“Or something,” she said, that dry smile resurfacing again. “Word of mouth works just fine, too.”

“So…if you bred her to racing stock and she's not racing stock, would the baby still be considered a purebred? Again, I can only compare to dogs. Not that I know anything about breeding them, either, but I know a purebred is worth more than a mutt.”

“Like I said, sometimes a baby is just a baby. Springer is a good riding mount. A lot of people just want horses for pleasure riding. As for purebred, just like dogs, that has to do with the breed of horse, not whether both race. In fact, the mares used to breed racing stock are rarely racers themselves.”

“Like Springer? What breed is she?”

Elena straightened and moved around the front of the horse to the other side, away from him. “You're full of a lot of questions this evening.”

“Just curious. They are a fairly substantial presence at the farm here, but I really know nothing about them. I grew up in the city. We didn't have horses or farms.”

“Kate said something about you, Mac, and Finn going to camp together every summer in upstate New York. Her mom owned it, or something? Weren't there horses up there?”

So, she'd been asking about him. His initial reaction was to be pleased and flattered, as a man would be when a woman he was interested in showed the same in return. Which was the wrong reaction entirely, given his real reason for being down here. Especially in light of this new line of questioning. And yet…that was the first thing he'd felt. A good reminder that he wasn't as objective here as he wanted to believe. “Yes, the camp had horses, but I never went anywhere near them.”

“They can be intimidating.”

“That, and the girls in camp didn't seem inclined to spend a lot of time down at the stables. They enjoyed the water sports more.”

Elena chuckled. “Ah. Well, girls in bikinis trump mucking out stalls pretty much every time. If you're a teenage boy, anyway.”

He grinned. “I don't think age has anything to do with it.”

She looked down at her dusty, raggy overalls. “Darn, and me without my bathing suit.”

She was flirting with him. In her own way, but it was damn effective. Either that or she was cleverly getting him off the subject of her horse. Regardless, it was working. Especially since he was now imagining just what kind of figure she had underneath the shapeless overalls she favored.

“What brings you down here tonight, anyway?” she asked, continuing to take the conversational lead. “Surely not a lesson on horse biology.”

Apparently they were finished talking about Springer. He wanted to poke around a bit more, question her about her time at Charlotte Oaks and get more into the specifics of Springer's breeding. There was something going on there, but he couldn't figure out what. But if he pushed too much more, it would be beyond the bounds of polite interest. So he shelved it. For now. At least he had another lead to pursue. He just wished he felt better for having discovered it.