The Silken Cord (34 page)

“Don’t do it, buddy. Buck’s a lot bigger and
he’ll hurt you if you try to steal one of his girls.” The warm
breeze stole Lyn’s whispered warning.

While Buck’s lead mare kept watch, two of
the other mares dipped their noses into the murky water of the
shallow spring. No vegetation grew here, the banks beaten down and
churned to mud by too many tromping hooves. By mid-May, Lyn figured
the water would be gone. Dried by the baking sun to nothing but
cracked earth. The horses needed this water. Desperately. Without
it, they’d have to journey across the mountains to Cherry Creek, a
thin stream nine miles away. An arduous trip that would sap their
energy, keep them from feeding, and weaken their foals.

Always on the lookout, Buck noticed the
bachelor stallion and snorted. He skirted the edge of his band,
tossing his proud head and pawing the dirt with one hoof. With his
long tail flying high like a flag, he raced toward the plateau,
placing himself between the watering hole and the bachelor. Buck
wouldn’t give up his mares. Not without a fight.

The dun neighed in challenge, then picked
his way down the steep grade. As he reached the valley floor, he
lifted his elegant head and arched his muscular neck. A dark dorsal
stripe ran down the middle of his back and Lyn decided to name him
Stripe.

Absolutely gorgeous.

Buck didn’t think so. He let out a shrill
squeal. Ears laid back flat against his head, he raced toward the
dun. At first, the two stallions circled one another, snorting and
sizing each other up.

Stripe ducked away from Buck and chased
after a plump dapple gray mare that looked ready to foal soon.
Stripe nudged her rump, urging her forward, trying to whisk her
away. Buck intercepted, biting Stripe’s hindquarters. The mare knew
who she belonged to and lashed out at Stripe with her hind legs.
Buck bared his teeth, the whites of his eyes showing. His black
mane whipped across his strong neck like billows of smoke.

Stripe circled back, chasing after the mare.
Desperate for a mate. Buck followed, neighing his disapproval. The
bachelor stallion was lean and tough, but no match for the more
experienced buckskin.

And the battle began.

Both stallions reared. Screaming, biting,
slashing each other with their razor-sharp hooves. Again and again,
their hooves thudded against each other like iron clubs. Lyn
cringed at the horrific noise they made. Survival of the fittest.
Their ferocity frightened her on a primitive level. She lowered her
camera and stared in shock.

The mares galloped out of the fray, the
black foal scurrying to join the safety of her mother. Stripe
followed, still trying to separate the dapple gray from the rest of
the herd.

Buck intervened with a roar of rage. He
kicked. Once. Twice. Bludgeoning Stripe in the head and shoulder.
The bachelor stallion staggered and dropped to his front knees.
Buck offered no mercy. Rearing, he came down hard on top of
Stripe’s head.

Lyn gasped, remembered her camera, and
started clicking again. Later on, the unique photos would serve as
an amazing record of wild horse behavior.

Stripe screeched in pain. Buck gave the
younger stallion just a moment to recover his feet. With a loud
grunt, the beaten horse sprinted toward the safety of the
mountains. He’d been whipped and gave up the fight for now, but Lyn
knew he’d return later for another try. The urge to have a family
was as old as time. Something instilled in all God’s creatures. And
one day, Stripe, or another stronger stallion, would defeat Buck.
But for now, the older stallion had kept his harem intact. In this
small corner of the world, he reigned supreme.

Buck trotted around the perimeter of the
watering hole, head up and nostrils flared as he watched for the
return of the dun. Still wound up. Still angry. Unwilling to accept
any nonsense right now.

And that’s when Lyn saw the blood running
down Buck’s right front leg. She focused the camera, trying to see
the wound more clearly, but no good. She had to get closer.

Moving silently down the hill, she skimmed
through snags of PJ’s, short for pinion-junipers. She stayed
upwind, hoping to go undetected by the band of horses. As she
inhaled the dry desert air, her booted feet sank deep into the
sun-baked sand. And that was her first mistake.

She stumbled, twisting her ankle. She
stifled the cry rushing up her throat, but her silence made no
difference. The agitated stallion lifted his head and looked her
way. Still territorial and furious. Still ready to fight.

With a scream of fury, Buck charged.

Lyn’s breath froze in her throat. A bristle
of panic raced down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder. No
use trying to reach her truck. There wasn’t time.

Instead, she ducked under a thicket of PJ’s
and pressed her body back into the prickly trees. Sharp needles
scratched her hands and face. Her fear overshadowed the pain. The
stallion screamed again, thrashing toward her, ferocious and
enraged.

Lyn’s flesh burned with alarm. Her heart
beat madly in her chest. She was no match against the horse’s
battering hooves. He’d kill her if he could.

Buck reared, hooves waving dangerously near
Lyn’s head. She scrunched further back into the crowded trees. The
hair of her long pony tail ripped against the pointed branches.

One thought pounded her brain. Kristen. All
alone in the world. If Lyn were killed, her little daughter would
have no one to love and care for her. No one to keep her safe.

The rearing mustang beat the PJ’s to
splinters. Fiercely determined to reach her.

Lyn screamed in helpless anguish. How had
this happened? A calm afternoon of checking the watering hole had
turned into a life-threatening situation.

Lyn glanced left and right, desperate for a
safer place to hide until the stallion gave up and left. A thick
outcropping of sage and PJ’s jutted from the rocks just to her
right. To reach it, she’d have to leave her fragile sanctuary and
run for her life.

With a crazed beast hot on her tail.

Bracing her hands beneath her in the dirt,
Lyn bent down like a track star. Knowing there was absolutely no
way she could outrun this horse. Knowing she might be killed.

Taking a deep breath, she sprinted toward
the rocks.

* * *

The wild horses were fighting. Caden Baldwin
recognized their screams echoing through the canyon, reaching his
ranch a mere six miles outside the town of Stokely, Nevada. Riding
Flash, his bay gelding, Cade galloped toward Secret Valley. Maybe
he’d get to see his beloved mustangs today. He couldn’t remember a
single summer in his childhood when he hadn’t watched the wild
horses with his grandfather. It’d been several weeks since they’d
crossed Cade’s pasture land and….

A woman’s scream echoed off the rock walls
of the ravine like a gunshot. What on earth…?

Cade tapped his heels against his horse’s
sides. Flash tore off at a fast run. Someone was in trouble.
Someone needed help.

And then the panic set in. So unexpected
that it left Cade breathless and choking. He clung to the saddle,
overwhelmed by a flashback to the war in Afghanistan. The drumming
of the horse’s hooves became the pounding of gunfire and shells
exploding all around Cade. Hammering his body with bits of rock,
dirt and mortar. The memory of pain and the metallic taste of blood
in his mouth seemed so real. And then a vision of Dallin filled his
mind, his best friend’s body limp and bleeding.

Broken.

Cade shook his head, trying to clear his
mind. To return to the present. Trying urgently to forget the
haunting nightmare. He wasn’t in the Middle East now. He was here
in the Nevada desert. God had brought him home.

Safe and sound.

Oblivious of Cade’s moment of crisis, Flash
didn’t break stride. Cade sat frozen in the saddle, his body moving
with the strong rhythm of the horse. He clenched the reins, his
calves tightening around the animal’s sides.

As the wild mustangs came into view, Cade
recovered his senses and his breathing slowed a bit. His gaze
centered on a buckskin stallion rearing and thrashing through the
pinions. A woman fought her way through the brush, frantically
seeking cover. Chased by the stallion.

Urging Flash toward the wild mustang, Cade
yelled and waved his arms. The lead mare neighed to the rest of her
herd. From his peripheral vision, Cade saw her racing toward the
sheltering mountains, the other mares and a young black foal
following in hot pursuit.

The stallion snorted, shook his splendid
head, and chased after his band. Puffs of dust and flying clods of
dirt marked their passing. Flash came to a halt, his sides heaving.
Cade patted the gelding’s neck, murmuring a soothing word to the
breathless horse. Then, he looked at the woman…and groaned. In an
instant, Cade recognized the drab olive color of her shirt and
spruce green pants.

Forest Service.

He’d rescued a government employee. One of
those people who wanted to move the wild horses off this land and
lock them away in holding pens.

Cade had half a mind to turn around and ride
back to Sunrise Ranch. The last person he wanted to help was a
Forest Service worker. But he figured he should at least find out
if she was all right. Since returning from the war, he had enough
deaths on his conscience and didn’t want any more.

“You okay, lady?” he called.

She sat scrunched back within one of the
taller pinions, trying to climb the slim tree trunk. As she
descended from her perch, a sprinkle of gray-green nettles showered
her head. The limb broke off and she landed on her rump in the
dirt. She gasped, but came quickly to her feet, limping slightly.
She brushed at her long pony tail and clothing before answering in
a shaky voice. “Y…yes, I’m fine, thanks to you.”

Honey-brown. The color of her eyes.
Beautiful, intelligent and filled with relief.

Cade pursed his lips and looked around for
her vehicle. He saw nothing but scrubby sage and rabbit brush.
“How’d you get out here?”

She pointed to the north. “My truck is
parked beside the dirt road about a mile away.”

He jerked his gaze in that direction. Great!
He’d have to give her a ride.

“You ready to go home now, or would you
rather have more fun upsetting the mustangs?” He couldn’t keep an
edge of annoyance from his tone. He was sick and tired of
governmental employees rounding up the wild horses to send them to
holding stations where most of them lived their life in captivity.
He’d never been overly sentimental, but he wanted to forget what
he’d seen and been forced to do as a marine in a war zone. The wild
horse herds soothed his jangled nerves and helped him cope with his
post traumatic stress disorder.

The mustangs were Cade’s version of
therapy.

The woman showed a weak smile, her eyes
sparkling like amber gems. Streaks of dirt marred the smooth curve
of her sunburned cheeks. Pine needles and dirt clung to her long,
white-blond pony tail. A smattering of freckles across the bridge
of her nose indicated she spent a lot of time outdoors. Because of
her employment, Cade decided right then and there he wouldn’t like
her one bit. No sirree. Not as long as she posed a threat to his
wild horses.

She pointed toward the mountains. “That
stallion is injured. He fought with a bachelor and I was trying to
get a closer look to see how bad the wound might be.”

Her declaration surprised him. Since when
did a Forest Service employee care if a wild stallion was wounded
or not?

“The way he hightailed it out of here, I’d
say he’ll be just fine,” Cade said. “It’s not wise to come out here
and gawk at the mustangs. They can be very dangerous.”

Her pink lips tightened defensively. “I
wasn’t gawking. I was checking water levels and observing the
horses, trying to learn their habits and see how well fed they
are.”

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from
laughing. “You can call it whatever you like. It’s the same
thing.”

“I wasn’t gawking,” she insisted.

Okay, he wouldn’t argue with her about it.
“So, how’d it all work out for you?”

She didn’t seem to catch his humor.

“They saw me when I changed position.” A
frown of disappointment creased her forehead.

“As if a wild stallion would ever let you
get close enough to offer first aid.” Cade muttered the words
beneath his breath. What was she thinking? A mustang would never
let her walk up to him and bandage his injured leg.

Her expression darkened. “I know that. I
just wanted to see if he needed help.”

“Do you come out here often?” Cade
asked.

Her gaze met his without flinching. “Every
Friday, when I have the time. But not just here in Secret Valley. I
make excursions to several areas, checking the water sources in the
mountains and valleys. Quite frequently, I come upon the horses.
What’s your name?”

Cade stared at the Forest Service woman for
several moments, mesmerized by her commanding presence in spite of
her short height and slim build. Not many people would get this
close to a wild horse. Most stallions, even the tame ones, were
fierce and treacherous. This woman had grit, he’d give her that. Or
perhaps she was too foolish to realize the danger she’d been in.
Another city girl who didn’t realize that wild horses were
wild.

“Most people call me Cade.” He rested his
arms across the saddle horn and leaned forward.

She paused, as though waiting for him to ask
her name. But honestly, he didn’t want to know any more about her.
In the ensuing silence that followed, Flash flicked his tail at a
fly.

“Are you from around here?” she asked.

Cade jerked his thumb up. “I own a small
ranch just west of here.”

“Ah, Sunrise Ranch.” She nodded her
head.