By the Light of the Moon

by Cindy Caldwell

  As she ran her hand down Violet’s soft nose, she knew again that she’d been right. Violet had become her friend, and Regalo was now tolerating riders. Big wins on both fronts.

  It made her more confident in her decision to move down south, at least part time, to hone her craft of stained glass and continue training horses, although she no longer wanted to do that full time. And while it was quiet down here, she’d made a few friends in the short time she’d been down, and even though she was a bit of a loner, she looked forward to meeting more.

  She yawned and stretched, ready for bed after what had been an unexpectedly eventful day. She stood just a bit longer on her patio, closing her eyes with her arms lifted as the cool breeze blew through her hair and she said her thanks for yet another beautiful day.

  Chapter 4

  The sun shone brightly on the water over the Sea of Cortez and Colin whistled an Irish tune as he looked over the beach. Hundreds of birds were diving in a roiling spot in the water, catching their breakfast. The sea was so quiet he could hear their splashes as they swooped in for a feast. It seemed utterly incongruous to the scene the previous evening—the frantic call over the radio, the homeowners in a panic, the firefighters frantically trying to keep everyone safe and contain the fire.

  But that was last night. Today, things were definitely more calm, and his thoughts turned to why and how the fire had started in the first place. It wasn’t a particularly busy time for tourists—the ones who really didn’t know how to live lightly on the seashore—and at this time of year there weren’t ordinarily many fires. He was actually looking forward to going back to the fire scene and poking around a little to satisfy his curiosity.

  Coffee in hand, he walked further into the warm breeze, sand crunching underfoot. He took a deep breath, the salty air tickling his nostrils, and even though things seemed calm he did what he always did. He shielded his eyes from the sun and looked up the long beach, north to south, searching for smoke. He breathed a bit easier when he saw none.

  There were no signs of last night’s fire, and he let out a sigh of relief. The fire seemed simple enough, but he couldn’t shake a sense that something was off. Was it something about the fire, or seeing a woman on a horse? He’d been in Mexico for five years now and had not heard of any horses, let alone a woman with them. He shook his head started toward the house.

  A commotion between his feet let him know that Nala, his border collie, had found him. She scurried between his feet, pausing for a brief moment for a pat on the head. She reminded him of home, of Ireland, as he’d had border collies since he was a small child, walking for miles with them as he helped tend the pastures his father managed.

  He thought of his father and their farm that he had left almost five years before. He remembered riding on the back of the fire trucks as they’d rushed to take his father and the other volunteers to work when fires broke out in their community. He’d loved everything about it – the sirens, the danger, the excitement.

  When he’d heard the call for volunteer bomberos, as the firefighters in the South Campos where he now lived were called, he had jumped at the chance to participate as a way to honor his father from a far away country. Even if they couldn’t be together, they could fight fires together in spirit.

  On this calm morning with the sea breeze there were no signs of fire, and he let out a sigh of relief. As he started back toward his house, the black and white dog jumping through the waves grabbed a stick and tossed it toward him, her ears bouncing and her eyes never leaving the piece of wood. He bent over to grab it, tossing it toward the cliff. She bounded to it, bringing it back for another round, tossing it at his feet once more.

  “Nala, I can’t do this all day with you. You never want to quit.” He left the stick where it was and turned inside. “I’ll take you for a run on the beach after a while. Right now, we’ve got work to do.”

  She followed close behind as he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. He opened the passenger side of the beat-up Jeep with flames painted on the side, and Nala jumped in, her head already hanging out the window.

  Returning waves from people as he passed the small hodgepodge of markets and restaurants that made up the center of the South Campos, he replayed the scene of last night’s fire in his mind. Although the owner had mentioned fireworks, the house was set back pretty far from the beach, and Colin wasn’t convinced that it had been started by errant fireworks. He hadn’t been able to make much out in the dark and was eager to see what he could spot today.

  He approached the garage slowly from the same direction the engine had come, his eyes moving quickly around the scene. He parked his car a bit away from the charred structure, the acrid smell of burned wood and smoke assaulting his nostrils.

  The walls of the garage had been built with the beautiful ladrillo brick common to this area. The mud and clay mixture was fired in tall stacks and was left with patterns of yellow and orange throughout the brick. In construction, they were matched in “whale-tails” and created interesting shapes and patterns through the structure. Now, though, all the sides of the building, inside and out, were black with soot.

  He walked toward the building, automatically placing the hard hat on his head that he carried in the car. It appeared that the entire wood roof had been destroyed, but walking into a recently burned structure could always be dangerous and he had learned not to take any chances.

  With his boot, he nudged some of the burnt items out of the way and took a peek into the interior. He’d seen the aftermath of many fires, and this one didn’t seem particularly unusual. He didn’t notice anything obvious that would have started a fire.

  “Thanks for coming out again today,” he heard from behind him. The owner of the house stood in what had been the opening to the garage.

  “Well, you’re welcome, but I don’t know how much help I can be.”

  “There’s nothing to be done, really, but I appreciate you taking a look around.”

  “How did you notice the fire? Did you see it start?” Colin picked up a screwdriver that had fallen to the floor and nudged away some more debris.

  “My wife and I smelled it before we saw it. Thought maybe someone was having a bonfire on the beach and we always come to check. Saw smoke coming from the roof on the other side and put out the call as fast as we could.”

  “No explosions of any kind?”

  “Well, there was a small initial burst. We probably shouldn’t have, but we went inside and grabbed the two extra gas cans and moved them out. There wasn’t anything else in there that could have exploded,” he said as Colin continued his tour around the sooty building.

  “No paint or cleaning supplies of any kind?”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re a painter, too, aren’t you? I’d forgotten. No, nothing like that.”

  Colin smiled in his direction. “Yes, that’s what I do for a living down here. This is just for fun, when the captain lets me.”

  He rolled up his sleeves and pulled leather gloves on each hand as the owner of the house left him to it. He sifted through the remains inside the garage, systematically moving aside things he’d taken a look at. The camera on his phone clicked quickly as he took pictures of anything he thought might be of value.

  An hour later, he knew nothing more than when he started. He tore off his gloves and his hard hat, throwing them in the back of his Jeep. The irony of the flames he’d painted on the sides wasn’t lost on him as he stared back at the fire scene. He’d done it as a joke long ago, before he’d joined the bombers, but now that he drove around the south campos with flames painted on the side of the Jeep, he thought maybe he was more obsessed than was healthy.

  Nala jumped as the hard hat clattered against the floor, her nap interrupted. Frustrated, he grabbed the camera he’d brought and turned to take pictures of the scene even though he’d found nothing that could give him a reason for its cause.

  The shutter snapped in rapid succession as he quickly took photographs of the d
amage, hoping he might spot something new and frustrated that he hadn’t. As the shutter slowed, he heard a sound behind him that sounded out of place, rhythmic thuds and rapid breathing. His shoulders tensed and he lowered the camera. Turning slowly, he was eye to eye with the beautiful mare from last night. Her head bobbed as if in greeting, and he couldn’t help but smile.

  Nala jumped out the window of the Jeep and started toward Colin. “Heel, Nala,” he said, motioning her over. She sat directly beside him, her eyes trained on the horse in front of her.

  “What a beautiful border collie,” a female voice said.

  Colin’s head jerked upward, past the eyes of the horse and onto its rider. The woman from the fire scene sat confidently on her mare, gazing down at Nala, her black hair matching the mane of the beautiful mount and her eyes as deep.

  “Oh, thank you. She’s a good dog, and I don’t expect she’ll give your horse any trouble, although she’s never seen one before.”

  The woman’s eyes danced and her lips curved into the same smile he’d seen the previous night.

  “Never seen a horse before?” Her eyes flickered with laughter. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “She was born and raised here in Baja, and this is the first horse I’ve seen in the five years I’ve lived in Mexico. Well, before last night, anyway. She’s not that old.” He looked at Nala, whose eyes had not left the horse. “Her name is Nala.”

  “Ah, a lovely name. Worthy of a border collie.”

  “Yes, she’s a border collie and should be a working dog. Nothing for her to work right now, so she works me. Would have me throwing sticks for her twenty-four hours a day if she could.”

  The woman’s face lit up and she threw her head back, laughing with a sound that he could only think of as the sound of bells.

  Colin felt his grin spread as he reached a hand out to pat the horse. “This is a beautiful mare. It’s been ages since I’ve seen a horse. A true sight for sore eyes.”

  “Oh, you ride?”

  “It’s been a very long time, but I’ve been known to once or twice.” His eyes met hers now, and he noticed how full of joyful calm they were.

  “Well, if you’d like I can take you for a ride. Violet needs to go for a ride tomorrow, and I have another horse that needs to be taken out. Nala can come, too, if you’d like.”

  He looked up at her, surprised at the offer. “I would love the opportunity. I hope I can remember how.”

  “It’s just like riding a bike. One that eats carrots,” she said, laughing at him.

  He couldn’t help but smile. “I think I have some carrots I can bring.”

  “Okay, good. Meet me tomorrow at my house,” she said, pointing across the arroyo at a brick house with a corral next to it. It had been too dark last night to notice, but it was in plain sight today.

  “Violet and I will see you at nine o’clock.”

  “Okay. Nala and I will be there.” Her hair surrounded her face as she turned to ride back over the arroyo, through the ocotillo and cactus. He stood and watched her black hair blow in the breeze, matching that of the mare’s tail. It wasn’t until she’d entered the arroyo and he couldn’t see her that he realized he hadn’t asked her name.

  Chapter 5

  The next day dawned warm, the skies clear and the sea calm. Colin threw a quick ice chest together, grabbing the carrots out of the refrigerator, not knowing where he was going or what he was doing today. He’d laughed aloud when he’d realized what he had committed to. He hadn’t ridden a horse in years, since he’d left Ireland, and he didn’t even know this woman. It could turn out badly, and he wanted at least not to be hungry for it.

  It was a beautiful Baja day, the dolphins leaping off shore and traveling south. He marveled at the change in his life since he’d come to Mexico. It had been a big decision for him to leave his family, and Ireland, but he felt he hadn’t had a choice.

  When he arrived, he knew he stuck out like a sore thumb. His wavy, reddish brown hair and green eyes gave him away as a foreigner among the locals, most with dark hair and dark eyes. His height also gave him away. At six foot two, he was tall and muscular, towering over the majority of the men who lived in the poblado, the small group of houses that was the closest thing to a town within many miles. But his easy laugh and outgoing manner had helped him make many friends, and he felt he was a bit more accepted now. He’d made a point of learning to speak Spanish as quickly as he could, and it had made all the difference in the world.

  He wondered about this woman on the horse as he drove over the ruts and rocks on the road toward her campo. Her beauty and serenity had captured his attention, and her instinctive manner with her mare was intriguing. As he turned down the dirt road into her campo, he stopped wondering how he had never met or noticed her before. It wasn’t as if he could ask anybody about her. He still didn’t know her name.

  He drove up in the half-circle drive, pulling up to her front door. Her house was beautiful, and from her back patio, you could walk straight onto the beach. The front door was made of heavy, dark wood with horses etched on it. In the center was the most beautiful piece of stained glass he had ever seen. The sun shone into the back of the house and through the glass, lighting up the turquoise, crimson, purple and yellow of the design as if it were in a church.

  From inside he heard a tune, a lilting voice, not high and not low. He thought it sounded very serene and he recognized the Mexican song as an old one that he had heard the mariachi’s sing in town.

  Gingerly knocking on the side of the door, he avoided the stained glass. It swung open and she stood there, about shoulder height to him. Her shiny black hair was pulled in a ponytail, and her white Mexican top with colorful embroidery framed her face over her riding jeans. Today, her riding boots were red, matching the baseball cap she wore.

  “You’re right on time,” she said, turning away from the door and heading back into the kitchen. “I’m almost ready. Packing a picnic.”

  “I brought some things as well.” He followed her lead into the kitchen and set his knapsack on the beautiful blue tile counter.

  “Great. I love to eat. The more the merrier.” She laughed, pouring a cup of coffee for him.

  “I didn’t catch your name yesterday. Or the night before.” He took the cup she offered and watched her over the rim of the mug as he took a sip.

  “I don’t believe I told you. My name is Hanna. Hanna Johnson.”

  “Colin Stewart,” he said, setting the mug on the counter and offering her his hand.

  She took it and, with a firm shake, said, “I know who you are. Everybody knows who you are.”

  His eyebrows shot up and he felt his stomach clench. He’d taken care to keep a low profile.

  “What do you mean? I’m just a painter.”

  “Painter by day, bombero by night,” she laughed, her eyes lighting up. “You have quite a reputation with fire.”

  “I just like to help,” he said, the knot in his stomach easing. “I really don’t want to be famous. Or infamous.”

  “Low profile, huh? Me, too.” She set the empty mugs in the sink and threw the knapsack over her shoulder. “I’ve already saddled Violet and Regalo. Are you ready to go?”

  “Regalo? Doesn’t that mean gift in Spanish?”

  “Yes, it does. He was a special gift to me and so I chose that name for him.”

  “I can’t promise a stellar riding performance. It’s been a long time for me, but I’m willing to try.” He opened the car door for Nala and she bounded out after him.

  “My horses are special, and I think you’ll find it an easy, fun experience.” She winked at him and he hoped she was right.

  He was grateful that Hanna had already saddled up the horses as his memory was a little fuzzy about how to do it. Regalo was a big horse, almost sixteen hands tall, and even at Colin’s height he had to try a couple of times to hop on him. The saddle she had chosen was sturdy, and he felt confident that he would have a good ride.

&n
bsp; Hanna placed the knapsacks in the saddlebags and jumped on Violet with a graceful hop. She looked natural in the saddle, almost as if she was more comfortable riding than walking.

  She headed out on the beach, Colin following and Nala bringing up the rear. The waves played against the sand as the tide came in and shells covered the sand beneath them. They fell into a comfortable silence for a bit as the breeze worked against them.

  Hanna and Violet turned up an arroyo and headed toward the desert. Away from the beach, the wind died down and it was warm and quiet.

  “Where are we headed?” Colin asked, pulling up alongside Hanna. Nala wasn’t quite sure what to do with this move and ran back and forth behind the two horses, wanting to herd them. They both laughed as they watched Nala try to be in charge. Both horses just snorted at her.

  “I thought we’d head up to the fossil mounds. It’s not too far and we can have lunch there. Have you been?”

  “No, I haven’t, but I’ve heard about them. Do you know the story?”

  “Yes. They are shell remains from the sea that have been in these huge mounds so long that they’ve become fossilized. They look like rocks now in the shape of seashells. They are beautiful.”

  “How did they get there?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in curiosity.