The auctioneer’s voice sounded over the speakers, inviting prospective purchasers to the corral where they’d set up the bidding station. Olivia and Duke chose to stand near the front. Gideon moved to the back, ostensibly because of his height but mostly because he didn’t like to have a crowd behind him.
The first six horses sold quickly, the bidding enthusiastic and competitive. He saw one preteen girl who would be going home in tears of joy at having her dearest wish fulfilled in the form of the gentle but spirited Arab mare.
The horses had followed the trainer into the corral and stood quietly during the bidding, calmly enjoying a carrot or two until the auctioneer hollered, “Sold!”
But the grulla wasn’t so cooperative. The trainer rode in on a second horse, leading the mustang by a short rope attached to her halter. But as soon as she saw the people, she shook her head, the whites of her eyes showing, and began dancing at the end of the rope.
“This is Hacer el Jaimito,” the auctioneer read off the paper. He lifted his head and put a hand behind his ear. “Which means to horse around. I’m guessing she’s got plenty of spirit. She’s registered with the Kiger Mesteño Association and comes from a band in the Steens Mountain area. Her owner called her Bonita, which means beautiful in Spanish.”
A ripple of laughter went over the crowd.
“Chica Loca would be a better name,” called someone. “She looks like a crazy girl for sure.”
More laughter. The loud speakers and the crowd of unfamiliar people weren’t doing the mustang’s nerves any good. Gideon moved around the side of the crowd to get a better look.
“Kiger Mustangs are descendants of the Spanish horses brought to North America in the 17th century,” the man continued, speaking over the mare’s frantic whinnies. “Let’s start the bidding at one hundred dollars. One hundred dollars, do I have a bid? Bidder, bidder, bidder. One hundred dollars for a proud piece of American history.”
A teenage girl elbowed the man standing next to her. “Dad! What about her? She’s a real mustang.”
“Forget it, Mandy. She won’t even walk into the ring. Your mother would kill me if I brought home an animal like that.”
“But Dad, I’ll work with her. I can tame her, I know I can. And she’s only a hundred dollars! Please!”
“Excuse me, bidders, we’re going to switch Bonita to the end of the program. Instead, next we’ve got handsome Hank, who looks like he’d be great for riding or pulling your sled in winter.”
The auctioneer went on to list the attributes of the big horse while the trainer led, or rather, herded Bonita away from the corral. A thump sounded as the mustang landed a kick on the gate as she left.
“Not the best way to win over the crowd,” Gideon said, coming up behind Olivia and Duke.
Olivia met his eyes, her brows raised just enough for him to know she was thinking the same thing he was.
“Let’s see where they’re taking her.” Olivia left her spot at the rail and motioned for Duke to follow them.
Following Bonita’s loud whinnying, they found her in the corral on the other side of the barn. Mrs. Altman stood at the railing, clutching her fingers so tightly her knuckles were white.
“Olivia, Gideon.” The woman wiped her face and then caught them each by the hand. “Thank you for coming. That damn horse is going to get herself killed. She misses Jack so much. I think her heart is broken. It took him a long, slow year to earn her trust and now she’s practically feral again. I promised him I’d keep her if I couldn’t find a home where someone would work with her again, but I can’t manage her without him.”
Gideon looked at the sale sheet. Hacer el Jaimito.
Jaimito.
The idea came to him in a flash. He looked up and met Olivia’s smiling gaze again. Had she dragged him here with this in mind?
He didn’t care.
“I know the perfect person for Bonita,” he said.
“Really?” the woman glanced between them, as if afraid to hope. “She’s not an easy horse.”
“Trust us,” Olivia said. She squeezed the woman’s hands. “Jack’s horse will get exactly the kind of love she needs. Tough but one hundred percent reliable. This person won’t give up on her, I guarantee it.”
“Are you buying her for Jamie?” Duke asked, his eyes wide.
“It’s a surprise. For her birthday.” Gideon leveled an even look at him. “Don’t mess it up, understand?”
Duke nodded, his eyes impressed. “Wow, man. This’ll get her back for sure.”
Gideon gritted his teeth. “She’s my friend. She’s always wanted a horse of her own. I’m giving her one.”
“Whatever you say, dude.” Duke waggled his eyebrows, then ducked away from Gideon’s elbow.
“Jack used a hackamore with her. You can have that too, plus an extra halter, lead ropes. Oh, I’ve got a blanket too, but I’m keeping his saddle.” Her eyes filled again. “He tooled it himself. I’m sorry, but I can’t give it up.”
“That’s fine,” Olivia said, with another smile. “We’ve got a saddle that’ll fit her.”
“We can’t take her for a couple of weeks though,” added Gideon. “Is that okay?”
“Absolutely!” She smiled through her tears. “Thank you. I can’t wait to tell Jack. He’ll be so happy!”
* * *
Roman Byers dreamed he was riding his ATV over the dunes. Wind-whipped sand stung his cheeks, and his quads and glutes burned from holding his weight over the ridges. He gunned the throttle over a rise, catching air, sending his stomach plummeting, then lurching into his throat as he clung to the vehicle and flew, free as a gull.
He awoke suddenly, his cry of exhilaration in fact the half-choked snort of an old man with sleep apnea. He pulled himself upright, wincing as pain shot from his sacrum down to his knee and up to his flank. He paused, breathing hard. Was he passing a goddamn kidney stone again?
No. Just the usual.
Outside, Sadie barked. He had to remember to close the doggy door when he napped. She was getting too adventurous for her own good, especially since the bird-watching escapade and the whole Chaos debacle. At least he didn’t have to worry about the pup. That girl looked like she’d take good care of him. Jon wouldn’t like it, but that was his problem.
He shuffled to the screen door. “Sadie,” he yelled. “Get in here. You do me no good outside.”
She peered at him briefly, then took another step down the driveway. That’s what he got for letting up on the training. Dogs needed a firm hand, clear direction. They’d fallen into a rut. The puppy had disrupted everything. Served Jon right that he’d run off and found a new home. Roman didn’t want to deal with a puppy all over again. He and Sadie were fine.
But now, Sadie kept straying away, looking for the little mutt, disobeying Roman and sending his blood pressure up. It was intolerable.
He glanced at the computer screen Jon had set up on the desk, the one attached to the security cameras that he’d hidden in the trees.
Damn it. A figure walked down the driveway, the image grey and pixelated, the movements jerky. How? The gate was closed. It was always closed. Now he’d have to check it.
He stood up straighter, ignoring the fresh pain. Immobility was his enemy. That’s what he got for sleeping during the day. He’d have plenty of time to sleep when he was dead, which would probably come far too soon anyway.
* * *
The brown dog trotted stiffly around the corner, wagging her tail.
“Hey, old girl,” Jamie said. She held out her hand, watching for someone to join the dog.
Instead, the porch door crashed open, revealing an elderly man holding a shotgun across his chest.
“Sadie!” He gestured to the brown dog and she promptly climbed the steps, circled behind him, and sat at his left side. He looked at Jamie and drummed his fingers on the stock of the gun. “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
“Roman Byers?”
He looked nothing like th
e photo she’d seen on the Internet. His face appeared sunken and drawn. His head was shaved, his shoulders were stooped, and his clothing hung loosely. No smile in those deep-set, hooded eyes.
No smile, period.
Her conviction wavered. But she’d come this far, might as well go for it. He looked like he was from a generation that believed in delicate female sensibilities, so she swallowed her inner revulsion and let her hands flutter to her throat.
“Oh, dear.” She glanced over her shoulder with not entirely false apprehension. “The gate was open, and this is the address I was told to go to. I’m very sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Byers. That is your name, isn’t it?”
His nostrils flared. “The gate was closed. Someone told you wrong.”
“I’m from the SPCA,” she continued, offering an obsequious smile. “It’s about a dog that someone believes to be in need of medical attention. We’re required to check on all such reports. You understand.”
“Sadie here is just fine, as you can see.” He took a step closer. “I’ll see you out. Check on that gate, while I’m at it.”
Reflexively, she backed away. Her radar wasn’t pinging. But he wasn’t friendly, and he certainly wasn’t offering information.
“Then I apologize for the intrusion.” She gave him her best, wide-eyed smile. “If you could just confirm your name for my report? And perhaps I could take a closer look at—Sadie, is it? Since I’m here anyway.”
That earned her a brief, unamused smile. “I don’t know what you want, but you’re not from the SPCA. My dog is none of your business. So get the hell,” he said calmly, “off my land.”
He came closer and she put up her hands.
“All right, all right, no need to get huffy,” she snapped. “I don’t like to see animals in distress, that’s all.”
He stalked past her, his gait uneven, as if there was no question of her following him. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”
She stopped. “What do you mean?” She aimed for bravado, but her voice quivered.
“I saw you.”
“What . . . what are you talking about?” She really hadn’t thought this through. Gideon was going to kill her.
The man stumbled, grabbed for the fence post, missed. “Bloody hell,” he said, going down on one knee.
Jamie took a few steps closer. “Are you all right?”
He lifted a hand to keep her from coming nearer. “I’m fine. I know you took Chaos. Keep him. I don’t care. Just . . . get the hell . . . off my property.”
“But . . .”
He knew? How? Why hadn’t he said something? She wanted to run back to the truck and take off, but she could hardly leave him now, could she?
He lowered himself to the ground, clutching his thigh, pressing his back to the fence post. His face had a strange grey pallor to it. He wasn’t okay at all.
Before she could think of further action, the skinny chocolate Labrador went to his side, nuzzling, circling, and whining.
“This might be a really stupid suggestion,” she said, hoping she wouldn’t regret it, “but can I help you?”
He groaned and uttered a string of profanities, interspersed with gasps. The dog leaned against the man, pushing against him.
“Good girl, Sadie,” he rasped. He took hold of the dog’s collar. Sadie leaned backward, digging her toes into the ground, and with her help, Roman Byers levered himself upright.
Leaning against the fence post again, he wiped the sleeve of his jacket over his face. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Jamie.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jamie,” he managed, without meeting her eyes. “This is your fault. Give me your goddamn hand and help me back to the house. And bring my gun, will you?”
* * *
He leaned heavily on the girl’s arm, cursing himself for a weak old fool. He should have ignored her. Kept Sadie inside, waited for her to go away. But no, he had to go out, stand his ground, scare her away so she wouldn’t return.
And she hadn’t even brought the blasted pup. Least she could have done.
Though he didn’t want the beast, he reminded himself. But there was Jonathan to consider.
“In there.” He waved her toward the front door, and she walked him through and helped lower him onto the nearest kitchen chair. He stretched out his leg. The damn thing was on fire.
“Can I call someone for you?” asked the girl, fisting and flexing her hands. She could’ve been pretty, but she had tattoos on her forearms and several piercings in each ear, as well as one in her nose. What was wrong with a little good, old-fashioned femininity? Why were women so determined to look rough and tough?
Sadie, having completed her mission to get him into the house, now shamelessly rubbed up against the girl’s legs, groaning with pleasure.
“No. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
The girl narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
“You don’t look fine. You look like shit, actually. How about a glass of water?”
“How about you give me back my dog.”
“I thought you didn’t want him.”
“I don’t.” He shifted position. The pain intensified. He should have had her take him to his armchair.
“Well, then.” She walked past him into the room. “I guess I’m done here.”
And damn it, he saw when she noticed his wall. The clippings of him with various celebrities, some of them holding golden statues, the framed movie posters, the awards.
“So you are Roman Byers, then.” She moved from one to the next, making herself right at home. “Cool.”
Sadie, the useless guard dog, wagged her tail, ready to lead the girl to the silver and help her carry it out the door.
“How did you know my name?” he asked. He watched for her face to change, for recognition to set in, for memories to return, for pity and disgust to send her back to the door.
But it didn’t happen.
“I’m from Sanctuary Ranch.” She gestured vaguely out the window. “Someone there knew about you.”
So much for privacy. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
She started. Color rose in her cheeks. “My what?”
Despite himself, he was amused. “The cowboy.”
She scowled. “We’re friends.”
“Looked like more than that the day you stole my dog.”
Her jaw dropped. “You saw me?” Incredulity lifted her voice. “Then you’ll know I didn’t steal him. I rescued him. He was lost. He could have drowned. Or been eaten by a bear. Lucky for you I was there. Besides, I thought you didn’t want him. You haven’t exactly beaten the bushes looking for him, have you?”
“Friends, sure.” Her bluster amused him. He’d spent a lot of years observing human nature, judging which actor was right for a part, waiting to see the right gesture to portray the emotion of a scene. This girl was protesting an awful lot.
She hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. “I didn’t know if I should bring Chaos back or not. That’s why I’m here. To see if this is a good home.”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, don’t you?” He rubbed his leg. The spasm had eased, but he knew from long experience that once triggered, it was likely to recur.
“It’s been suggested. So, is this? A good home?”
He tried to see his place the way she might. Dirty dishes piled in the sink. Boots kicked off at the door, the floor gritty and stained, the windows streaked with grime. No one for company but a cranky old man who yelled at the TV and couldn’t give them enough exercise or stimulation.
“I don’t have to justify myself to you.”
“True.” She smiled, leaned against the wall, crossed her arms, and nodded toward Sadie. “What about her?”
He sighed. Sunset was an hour away. He was hungry and he needed his pills. It was almost time for Sadie’s meds, too. “What about her? She’s falling apart like an old Ford, just like me.”
“Has she seen a vet? She’s too skinny f
or a Lab. And that leg looks bad.”
Her self-righteousness pissed him off. As did the reminder. Roman swallowed. The pain was ratcheting up fast, and the rate this girl was going on, he wouldn’t be able to get ahead of it. He needed to eat before nausea set in, but that meant heating up one of the casseroles Jon had left for him in the fridge. Which meant getting up.
Pain, pills, food, movement, rest. He had to keep everything in balance, and this Jamie girl was throwing him off.
“Aw, hell,” he muttered. “She’s got cancer. It’s in the bone.”
“Oh.” Jamie blinked. “Well, that sucks.”
“Yes, it does. She’s a good dog. Doesn’t deserve this.” He looked away, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. He didn’t want her goddamn pity.
“No one deserves that.” She chewed on the corner of her cheek. “Nothing they can do?”
She wasn’t offering pity, he realized, only concern. Chin high, arms crossed, she was ready to go to bat for an old dog she didn’t even know.
“It’s in the femur.” It was a relief to talk about it. Jon didn’t understand. He thought he could slide another dog into her place and that would solve the problem. “Amputation would buy her time, but she’s already twelve. I won’t do that to her.”
His throat thickened and he looked away. It had been a long time since he’d spoken to anyone besides Sadie’s vet about it, and it was weighing on him. But this girl was still butting in where she had no business. And she had Chaos.
“You’ve given up then?” Jamie asked.
“On her?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Who else?”
Pain was making him stupid. He couldn’t think when the throbbing in his hip began shrieking down his leg. And it was setting up a true howl.
“Look, girlie, I’ve got stuff to do.” He could feel perspiration breaking out on his forehead. “Me and my dog are no business of yours.”
Her nostrils flared. “So you’re just letting her suffer?”
“Good God, is that what you think? You see those pills on top of the refrigerator? Steroids, pain relievers, antiinflammatories, anti-nausea, you name it, she’s on it. Nothing will change the end, but she’s getting everything she can to ease the journey. She’s still happy. Mostly.”
Driftwood Creek Page 10
