by Karis Walsh
“Lieutenant, meet Elegant Action, aka Legs, our new trainee.” Rachel slid the stall door open and walked inside. A tall, steel-gray mare walked over to sniff at Rachel’s hand and Abby gave a low wolf whistle. Rachel laughed. “I know, right? She’s stunning. I’ve only been working with her a few days, but she seems to have the perfect temperament for the job.”
“Which would also make her an ideal polo pony, not to mention her great bone structure. You should see her move, Hard-Ass…I mean, Abby. Her talent will be wasted on the streets of Tacoma.”
“Nonsense,” Rachel said. She bent over and ran her hand down the mare’s foreleg. “Her good bones will keep her sound and make her comfortable to ride. Besides, she’s intelligent and needs a job to do. Something challenging.”
“As opposed to the simple sport of high-goal polo?”
“Exactly,” Rachel said as she stood upright again.
Abby circled the mare slowly while the two traded jibes. She was beautifully put together and had a soft expression on her face. “Is she a Thoroughbred?” she asked, interrupting Cal’s monologue about her need for a new horse. Abby had seen Cal’s barn and her well-bred, well-trained string of horses. There was no way she was getting this one.
“Yes,” Rachel said. “Good eye. She’s from a rescue center that rehomes ex-racehorses. They have a lot of good horses available, in case someone desperately needs yet one more polo pony, even though someone already has seven.”
“Just you wait and see,” Cal said as she let herself out of the stall. “I’ll find one even better than Legs, and you’ll be jealous.”
“Is she really that good?” Abby asked as she ran her hand along the mare’s back. She had found grant money for Rachel to add a fifth horse to their string—first as a reserve mount, but hopefully soon as a horse for yet another team officer. She felt a tingle of excitement. The mounted unit had been a dream for so long, and now it was a growing presence in the city. She saw her own pride reflected in Rachel’s face as she looked at the horse.
“Yes, she is. She’s been on the racetrack, so she’s used to crowds and close quarters. She’s easy to ride and not spooky at all, plus she’s friendly with people. I thought you could ride her during the fair, if you want, since Sitka doesn’t need the exposure.”
Abby had been called up to take Clark’s place and she had expected to ride his bay gelding, but she wasn’t about to give up a chance to swap him for the Thoroughbred. Hell, she was considering this a vacation, a trip down memory lane. She might as well have a striking mount while she was at it.
“Sounds good to me,” she said.
“Great. Her grooming kit is hanging on the door. I’ll get your tack out of the trailer.” Rachel turned to leave, but Abby called her back.
“You’ve done a great job with this unit, Bryce,” she said, her eyes never leaving the horse. “You’ve made me proud.”
“Thank you, Abby,” Rachel said quietly, using her given name for the first time that Abby could remember. Cal used it occasionally, but she didn’t seem to have the same boundaries and respect for rank as Abby and Rachel did.
Abby hummed to herself as she groomed the patient mare. The shrill sounds of a crowded fair receded into the background here in their isolated aisle, as they did in all the animal barns, giving the people in them a sense of stepping back in time. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt a sense of peace like this, but she could trace her present emotion back to the moment when her hand touched Kira’s. She still felt the residual energy Kira had imparted to her through trembling fingers. Abby had been worried about being revealed as Nirvana’s donor, Rick’s sister, and someone tainted by association with corruption, but she had—for a short time—been more physically present in her own skin than usual. Kira was intelligent, yes. Sexy? God, yes. Yet as attractive as she was on her own, Abby admired what Kira had created with Julie and Nirvana. A mother and daughter at a show, simple as that, but it was everything good a family should be. Together and strong. Supporting and experiencing life together. Everything real and honest that Abby had been missing from her own family.
Abby’s enraptured state would most likely disappear once she was riding in front of a crowd, though. TPD officers like Wayne would see her and whisper to their partners from other departments. But here, in the muted atmosphere on the fringe of the fairgrounds, Abby felt a moment’s respite from her need to maintain an aura of calm untouchability.
“Your friend’s daughter just headed over to the competition ring,” Rachel said from the doorway. She settled a black all-purpose English saddle on a rack and fidgeted with the stirrups. “We’ll be schooling the horses next to the arena, so you can watch her if you hurry.”
“My friend’s…what?” Abby asked, startled out of her Zen moment.
Rachel shrugged. “That pretty woman you were talking to outside of the 4-H barn, after you so gallantly rescued her horse. You seemed to know each other, so I thought maybe she was your, um, friend?”
Abby stopped brushing the mare’s mane. “Are you fishing for something, Sergeant?” she asked in her most threatening cop voice.
“Well, if I were, I think your defensive tone would have given me the information I was seeking. Like I said, you might want to stop dawdling or you’ll miss her class.” Rachel walked away before Abby could respond.
“Insubordinate, wannabe detective,” Abby muttered as she returned to her job. Bryce was getting too close. Calling her Abby, teasing her about Kira. Insinuating that she had some connection to a woman she had just met. Disorienting Abby because her fantasies had driven her unresistingly into Kira’s reality. Still, Abby felt a growing impatience as she hurried to clean her horse’s hooves and put on her tack. Only because she was interested in seeing Nirvana perform in the ring. Not because she cared about Julie and Kira beyond the single act of atonement she had made in an attempt to right her brother’s wrong. Ha.
Abby led Legs out of the barn and into the bright sunlight. No more hiding. She had to try twice before she was able to stretch far enough to get her foot in the stirrup and swing herself onto Legs’s back. She dutifully jogged every morning and worked out in the gym three times a week, but she hadn’t been on a horse for over a year and she was out of shape for riding. She was strong and fit, but her flexibility had taken a hit lately. She spent more time sitting in her office than being active outside, and even her weekends were devoted to the sedentary acts of researching old reports and calls.
“Ready?” Cal asked her. She was sitting on Billie Mitchell’s large chestnut, Ranger, and she managed to give the impression of skill and confidence even when she was standing still on a horse.
“I guess so,” Abby said. She shifted in the bulky saddle, trying to get comfortable. She knew the deep seat and leather blocks were designed to give a rider more security than a simpler, lighter saddle, but she felt awkward. She was accustomed to hacking around for pleasure, not chasing perps from horseback. She untwisted the reins of the double bridle and closed her hands over the heavy leather. She’d read all of Rachel’s notes on the horses and equipment, so she knew the double bridles were important to have in case the team was in a dangerous situation and needed extra stopping power, but Legs felt light and responsive enough to be controlled with only a simple snaffle bit.
“Here, hold the reins like this.” Cal sidestepped until Ranger was close enough for her to reach over and move Abby’s hands. “Then you can move your fingers and get more stop if you need it, but most of the time your contact will be light. Hey, Cowgirl, are you all set?”
Rachel led Don’s pinto mare, inaptly called Fancy, toward them. “I suppose,” she said as she swung into the saddle with one smooth motion. “Let’s get this over with.”
Abby smiled at Rachel’s grimace. Don’s mare was a far cry from beautiful, and Abby had heard complaints from everyone who rode her about her rough gaits. She and Don gave the impression of a farmer and his old nag out for an evening stroll, but Abby had once
seen them corner and subdue a fleeing bank robber. Their laid-back demeanor had vanished in an instant, and Don had suddenly shown he was a seasoned officer with a well-trained police horse. Still, she was relieved she was riding the more responsive, less jarring Thoroughbred. Don and Billie would be joining them for the afternoon’s demonstration and their evening patrol duty, but she, Rachel, and Cal were giving the horses some exercise first. Rachel had said it was to get them accustomed to the fair noises and crowds, but Abby had a feeling Rachel mostly wanted to give Abby a chance to ride before she had to perform. She also guessed that Rachel was compensating for her lack of mounted patrol experience by giving her Legs to ride.
She had to admire Rachel for masking the allowances she was making so beautifully. Legs looked like a prize, but she was meant more as a baby-sitter than a status symbol. Abby wasn’t about to complain. She had no street time with the unit, even though she was technically the boss, so she was happy to ride the quiet new horse and stay on the sidelines as more of a figurehead than an active patrol rider. Over the next two weeks, she’d put her ego aside and let Rachel and Cal take the lead. The idea of taking a short break from always needing to be in control and in charge was an appealing one.
Rachel and Cal broke away from her when they got to the small sand warm-up ring behind the large Paulhamus Arena. The indoor arena would host the 4-H equine events, the draft horse demos, and a nightly rodeo. This year, for the first time, Tacoma’s mounted unit would demonstrate some of their training and riding exercises. There were too few of them—on their mismatched horses—to do a full-scale choreographed ride like the Canadian Mounties did, but they should still give the audience a good show. Abby stopped Legs in the holding area behind the arena and looked inside, letting her eyes adjust to the darker indoor lighting. Later today, she’d be riding in there. Right now, she saw a group of about fifteen 4-H kids, standing next to their horses as they were judged in the showmanship class.
Abby quickly found Nirvana and Julie in the lineup. The mare stood squarely with her ears perked. The class was judged only on the ability of the unmounted handlers to turn out and present the horses well as they led them through a pattern of cones and rails, not on the horse’s looks, but Nirvana’s quality conformation couldn’t hurt her score. Abby had been there herself, oh, so long ago, and she remembered the jittery feeling in her stomach as she tried to keep her face and body serene. A picture of herself and her old competition horse—the one her dad had bought for her with tainted money—imposed itself over Nirvana and Julie as they left the lineup for their individual performance. Abby was right there with them as they trotted a figure eight and backed through a serpentine of cones. Julie’s performance was steady and precise, and Abby dropped the reins on Legs’s neck so she could join in the applause when they were finished. The image of herself out there disappeared.
She heard a whoop and loud clapping on the far side of the arena, and she saw Kira standing in the highest corner of the ring. She was far away from the cluster of 4-H kids and parents in the bleachers nearest Abby, but Kira didn’t seem to be hiding as she cheered on her daughter. Abby forgot to watch the rest of the class and instead concentrated on Kira. She was beautiful and fiery. Intelligent, too, since she so quickly had figured out Abby’s connection to Nirvana. Kira might not know exactly why Abby had given Julie the mare, and she never needed to know. Abby had concealed her gift under the guise of an essay contest so Kira hadn’t had to feel obligated or pitied. Neither obligation nor pity fully explained why Abby had let a piece of her heart go to Julie.
But the sacrifice had been worth it. Abby stayed by the back gate long enough to congratulate Julie when she came out with a reserve championship ribbon fluttering on Nirvana’s halter. The happiness on the girl’s face, as well as her obvious good care of her horse, gave Abby an unaccustomed sense of pride.
“Good work, Julie,” she said. “Your pattern was nicely done.”
“Thank you. Is this your police horse?”
Hers for two weeks. “Yes. This is Legs. Her registered name is Elegant Action. The pinto over there is Fancy and the chestnut is Ranger.”
Kira walked over and put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. She gave Abby a brief nod, but kept her attention on Julie. “Very well done. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’m going to hurry and put Nirvana in her stall to eat lunch. I don’t want to miss the police ride. See you later, Abby.”
“Don’t you dare hurt her,” Kira said once Julie was out of earshot.
“I…what?”
“Don’t ask for your horse back. I’ll pay whatever it takes to—”
“I’m sure Julie earned the horse by writing an excellent essay and winning a contest. I’d never be so mean as to get in the way of that, even if it were in my power.”
Kira looked at her with an unreadable expression. She looked wearier than she had only moments before. Did she get nervous watching the competition, or was she seriously afraid Abby would renege on a done deal?
“Are you okay?” Abby asked.
“I would do anything to protect her,” Kira said before she followed the path Julie had taken.
“I have no doubt about that,” Abby said out loud even though Kira was too far away to hear. She shook her head and turned Legs toward the schooling arena at a brisk trot. Kira confused her, but she had a feeling she was as much an enigma herself. She was related to the officer who had refused to help Kira on a domestic abuse call, and now Kira had discovered she had given them the horse in a rigged contest. Of course Kira was on edge around her. Abby would have liked to explain herself, to set Kira’s mind at ease about her intentions, but that would mean revealing too much private information. Far from wanting to take Nirvana back, Abby had been envying the horse her chance to be part of Kira’s family. She could quit her job and give up her battle against the sins of the past. Move in as Nirvana’s groom? Or, better yet, Kira’s sex slave?
Abby laughed at herself. She had to work off her unproductive energy and, barring sex, riding was her favorite way to do it. She nudged Legs into an extended trot around the arena. Her own legs felt like limp noodles as she rode, but her heart was still oddly light. She usually used money as a way to atone for the mishandled cases. Small anonymously funded scholarships and grants, even a used car or two. She bought items or gave donations to the victims—as much as she could afford—but this had been one of the rare times she had offered up such a personal gift. She was grateful to have the opportunity to see what pleasure one of her offerings had given to the recipient. This glimpse into a result from her actions increased her desire to keep going. To give more. Take back Nirvana? Kira was crazy. Beautiful, but crazy. Abby would never consider doing such a thing.
She might, however, be tempted to see the three of them again. The fair lasted over two weeks, and they were bound to run into each other again. Julie would most likely be at every riding demo she could attend, and hopefully she’d drag her mom along as well. Abby could manage to be by the arena when Julie and Nirvana were scheduled for a class. Kira would keep asking uncomfortable questions, and Abby would continue to give vague reasons for her actions, but the idea of being around Kira made the uneasiness seem like a bearable emotion. Not seeing Kira again? Not feeling the keen awareness of her presence and not sharing in Kira’s satisfying family dynamic with Nirvana as her proxy? Abby wasn’t willing to make those sacrifices. In time she’d have to do so, but not just yet.
Abby asked Legs to canter, and she relaxed into the smooth rhythm. This was much easier on her protesting thighs. She felt an unfamiliar sensation—was it hope?—that she might have a chance to talk to Kira some more. They had been connected by police work, by her family, but now the debt was settled and they were back on equal footing. She wouldn’t actively seek Kira out, but then again she wouldn’t mind if she and Kira happened to run into each other, if they got a chance to spend some time together. Her plan was passive, but it was all she was willing to
permit. Action was only devoted to being a cop, and to fulfilling her life’s mission. Nothing could stand in the way of that.
Chapter Five
Kira grabbed a handful of canes and hacked at the base of the clump with her machete. She felt the thick nubs of the jointed stems even through her thick gloves, and the bright green leaves waved in her face as she struggled to cut as close to the roots as she could get. Damn knotweed. The invasive plant would crowd out everything else in the wetland if she let it have its way. She occasionally had to resort to herbicides to control the dense thickets, but she preferred to avoid that method if possible. Consistent and aggressive pruning would eventually deplete the roots and kill the plants, but her muscles paid a heavy price.
She severed the last bits of connective fiber and landed on her rear with a thump when the canes gave way. While still sitting, she slid the ugly bouquet into a plastic garbage bag, careful to pick up every loose part of the plant to avoid sowing a new crop. She wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and took hold of the next group of stems.
After the weekend at the fair, she had needed to immerse herself deep in the heart of one of her preserved wetland areas. Mud and ferns and thick grasses replaced the metal and cement and overly bright lights of the midway. Mucky water and birdsong washed away some of the residual tension she felt after her run-ins with Abby and Tad.
Her feelings about Tad Milford were easy to understand. She was angry at him because he had threatened her and at herself for being scared. He had intruded where he didn’t belong. She had spent the past few days fighting back in the best way she knew how—by redoubling her efforts to preserve the integrity of the wetland he owned. She had contacted all her regular supporters on the city council and in the Department of Ecology, and she’d finished work on three different proposals. Two were possible compromises, allowing him to build in restricted ways while using buffer zones and replacing some native species in the undeveloped areas. The third—her favorite by far—was a bid to buy the property with grant and city money. She was less hopeful about this option, but she had been successful with similar properties in the past.
