The Taming (The Black Thunder Series)

by West, Cary

  “So I should be more like you. Is that it?” She waved her hand in the air as if dismissing him. “Some egotistical overbearing cowhand who exploits everyone under his booted feet and rants his narrow-minded, Neanderthal religion from his haystack podium.”

  “See what did I tell you? Misguided is what you are. You’ve bought into all that propaganda bullshit.” His voice raised a notch louder. “And for the record, I’m not much on religion.”

  “Organized religion or religion in general?” she asked with skepticism.

  “Neither,” stated Jack. “I’m not into priests, being born again, medicine men, Zen or the notion of ying or yang. I don’t believe in sin, karma, the law of cause and effect, or any new age bullshit about crystals, ghosts, soul mates, or the here-after.”

  “So what do you believe?” Kate was taken aback.

  “I believe in the earth and the blood, sweat, and tears of a hard day’s work. That’s it,” he said firmly.

  “No wonder you’re a miserable fuck!” The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  Jack slammed his hand on his desk and glared at her. “What do you believe, baby?” he challenged.

  “I believe in a lot of things,” said Kate defensively.

  “Name one,” he glared at her.

  “I believe that life is the soul’s journey to finding home.”

  Jack sat back and laughed. “Oh dear God, you’re a spiritualist!” He shook his head. “What is that, Buddhist or something?”

  He made it sound so demeaning, Kate’s nostrils flared. “I am more eclectic about my spirituality.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” He was getting annoyed with the way the conversation was heading.

  “I don’t follow one religion. I take a little of this and a little of that.”

  “So you take what’s easy and throw away the hard stuff,” he laughed again from the insanity of her thinking. “That’s typical of your type Barbie doll.”

  “Will you stop calling me that?” Kate shouted. She was getting downright pissed at his insinuations.

  “Why shouldn’t I call you that?” he shouted back. “I doubt you have a single thought in your head that is your own.”

  “Give me back my cinnamon buns,” she shouted again and stood ready to take the plate. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to you insult me.”

  “Which is more insulting Kate? That I said it or that I’m right?” Jack stood and slammed his fists on the desk wedging the plate between them.

  “You know nothing about me,” she pointed her finger at him. “You don’t know who I am or what I believe.”

  “Like hell I don’t,” he grabbed her wrist and held on tight. “You’re so transparent it isn’t funny.”

  “Let go!” she yelled but Jack ignored her.

  Jack was on a roll now and he couldn’t stop. “Tell me, Miss Liberal and all your high ideals, why did you leave California?” he glared at her.

  “It’s none of your business,” she tried to pull her hand away, but Jack held on tightly.

  He pulled her closer making her reach over the desk. They squared off; eye to eye, Jack not backing down. “I know why you left. Your sweet little plans backfired on you so you ran with your tail tucked between your legs.”

  “Shut up!” screamed Kate as tears filled her eyes.

  “Make me!” he growled back.

  Kate saw red and before she knew what she was doing she lifted her free hand and boxed him right on his ear, smacking him so hard it hurt her hand.

  Jack released his hold on her as his head made a popping sound and instant pain resonating from his head all the way down to his toes. He yelled and held his ear from the stinging pain and the high-pitched ringing through his brain.

  Kate ran from the room, tears streaming down her face. She flew out the front door and down the porch steps passing Mark as fast as her feet would carry her.

  “Kate, are you all right?” he called after her, but she didn’t answer as she disappeared behind the line of poplars.

  Mark climbed the steps and entered the main house. He saw Jack storming from his study holding his ear.

  “What happened?” Mark asked as he saw Jack’s flaming red ear.

  “She hit me!” growled Jack as he grabbed his Stetson and flung it on his head. “That damn woman clobbered me right on my ear!”

  “Did you provoke her?” asked Mark trying to hide his grin.

  “Don’t start!” Jack leered at him. “I’m not in the mood for one of your lectures!” He grabbed the keys to his truck and headed for the front door.

  “Where you going?” Mark called after him.

  “I need a drink!” fumed Jack as he slammed the door behind him.

  Kate ran behind her house and into the foothills, in spite of Jack forbidding her to go alone. Buckets of tears poured down her face as she made her way along the path and through the canyon. He had no right to say the things he had said to her. She didn’t need that two-bit cowboy reminding her how badly she had screwed up her life. She was well enough aware of it on her own.

  He just threw it in her face and now all that past pain came rushing back to the surface, feeling the rejection she wanted to forget.

  It wasn’t her fault that her husband left her for another woman. It wasn’t like she gave him permission to sleep with her friend. Kate gulped as the truth hit her square in the face.

  Or maybe she did? She’d been so preoccupied to live out the dream that she forgot the small things along the way. Did she drive him into the arms of another woman all because she was consumed in her desire to have a child, or would he have strayed regardless? Kate would never know the answer. She only had to live with the results.

  On top of everything, here was this cowboy, who was driving her crazy with his arrogant, overbearing ways. His foreboding presence tormented her by day and her thoughts of him plagued her at night. Damn him she thought to herself as she remembered the way his flesh felt against her. How could she hate him so much and still want him? Even now the thought of Jack McBride sent a sweet surge to her belly.

  He was wrong for her, catastrophically wrong. Nothing but disaster would come from giving in to her desires for him. Her ex-husband had devastated her, but this man could destroy her. Kate was sure of it.

  She traveled deeper through the canyon until she reached the opening that spread into the open range. High desert covered in sagebrush and tan sand blended with rock and earth. She entered, continuing her journey forward.

  She was so distraught she barely felt the trembling ground beneath her feet. The rumbling grew stronger and the wind echoed with the sound of thunder. It barreled toward her before she had time to react. She saw a cloud of dust forming not more than one hundred feet in front of her. A dark black force emerged from the cloud like a locomotive charging straight toward her. It was the stallion, Black Thunder, followed by at least a dozen mares.

  Kate looked left, then right, trying to find anything to take her out of the path of the stampeding herd. She spotted a lone rock sticking out of the sagebrush. Kate didn’t hesitate. She ran for the rock and hurled herself on top of it just in the nick of time. The herd raced past bringing with them a cloud of dust.

  Once more Kate’s heart beat wildly in her chest. She closed her eyes and braced herself against the rock, as a rush of wind, swept passed her. It lasted only a minute, but to Kate it seemed like hours. The wind ceased and Kate mustered the courage to open her eyes. She blinked several times and saw the black stallion standing not more than ten yards away, and he was looking directly at her.

  Kate froze on the rock, not moving an inch of muscle. Black Thunder released a snort, bucked his head, and stared at her. Their eyes met and Kate felt transfixed into their blackness. He scraped the ground with his hoof then with methodical rhythm moved toward her.

  Kate was immobilized with fear. She didn’t make any quick moves so as not to startle him. The black stallion drew near. Kate closed her eyes,
clenching them tight. She felt the hot breath like steamed wind on her face.

  “Don’t eat me,” she mumbled repeatedly. “Oh God, please don’t eat me!”

  She felt another puff of hot air and then a push against her chest that almost sent her flying back on the rock. Kate opened her eyes and she was face to face with Black Thunder. He nudged her again. Kate wasn’t certain what she should do. The magnificent creature pressed his nose on the back of her hand and lifted it between his eyes.

  “Don’t bite me,” said Kate as she gently stroked him with trembling hands.

  Black Thunder kicked his head back and Kate quickly pulled away. His eyes blinked and Kate sensed a calming feeling wash over her. She lifted her hand once more and rubbed the side of his face.

  “You like that, huh?” Kate got braver with her strokes.

  Her fear waned and she slid from the rock, standing before the majestic steed. She rubbed him again on his nose and in between his eyes.

  “You’re not so much of a menace,” she smiled. “You’re beautiful.” Kate glided her hand along the horse’s neck and down along his torso, stroking his coarse mane. She moved back to his front. “Who would have thought I would have made friends with you, Black Thunder,” she giggled aloud.

  The horse bellowed a short snort and nudged her hand again.

  “But let’s keep this our little secret,” she said while stroking him. “I don’t think most folks around here would like it much if they knew we were friends.”

  She thought about Jack and frowned. The stallion seemed to understand what she was saying as he made eye contact with her and shook his head up and down.

  “You’re smarter than they give you credit for.” She spoke like he understood her every word. “So be careful and don’t get yourself caught, you hear me?”

  Just then the animal’s ears perked up and his head darted back and forth. Kate knew it was time for him to leave. She shimmied herself back on the rock. He seemed to wait for her to get settled before turning and walking away.

  He released a wild sound and the others lifted their heads in his direction. Black Thunder opened up into a full run as his mares fell in line behind. Kate watched them disappear into the foothills.

  Seven

  Whisky and Women Don’t Mix

  Hit me with another one Frank.” Jack motioned to the bartender for another shot of whisky. Frank looked at Jack sitting across the bar. He had been there since afternoon and he wondered what was causing him to drink as day turned into night. It wasn’t like Jack to get plastered. As a matter of fact, Frank couldn’t remember ever seeing Jack totally smashed. He was always cautious when it came to drinking, maybe on account of his history.

  “You sure you want another one?” he asked. “It’s getting kind of late. Maybe I should call Mark and have him come get you.”

  “I said hit me,” Jack grumbled through slurred speech. “And no, I don’t want you calling Mark.”

  “You want to talk about it?” Frank poured his friend another round.

  Jack just growled before he lifted his glass, bent his head back and downed the shot before slamming it against the bar top.

  “Again!” Frank filled his glass then leaned on the counter. “Let me ask you a question, Frank.” Jack rolled the liquid in the glass. “You ever hear a woman complain about me?”

  “Nope. Most women seem to take a shine to you, just like they did to your daddy.”

  “I don’t want to talk about my old man,” frowned Jack.

  “You having women troubles?” Frank asked.

  “Not women,” he snarled. “One woman. One single woman who is driving me plumb crazy. Can you believe she said no to me? No to a night with Jack McBride.”

  “Maybe you’re having a dry spell,” Frank chuckled. “You’re daddy always had a cure for that.”

  “I know my daddy’s cure and I ain’t going there,” slurred Jack. “A man’s got his pride.”

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you, Jack,” he scratched at his beard. “You’re the one who usually has all the answers when it comes to the ladies.”

  “That he does,” said a sweet female voice behind him.

  Jack felt the touch of fingers along the back of his hair and down his neck.

  “Say there, Irene,” Jack turned his head and smiled at the pretty brunette now taking a seat beside him. “Frank, get this sweet little thing a drink.” Jack smiled as his eyes roamed over her breasts.

  “What’ll you have Irene?”

  “I’ll have a beer and a shot of whatever Jack is having,” she smiled at Frank and then at Jack. “I thought you weren’t coming out tonight.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “So who’s this woman who said no to you?” She wrinkled up her nose and flashed him a pair of doe eyes.

  “You don’t know her. She’s new to town.” He did his shot swallowing hard while he thought about Kate and frowned.

  “Well don’t you worry that sweet little head of yours,” said Irene. “I’ll take care of you tonight, baby.”

  “You always do.” Jack gave her a sloppy grin as he wrapped his hand around her neck and massaged.

  “Boy, you are ploughed.” Irene laughed seeing glazed over frog eyes beam back at her. “How long has he been here Frank?”

  “Since this afternoon. I’ve asked him several times if he wants me to call Mark, but he keeps refusing.”

  “I may be drunk, but I can still hear you two talking about me,” growled Jack. “I don’t want you calling Mark.”

  “Why don’t you let me take care of you, sugar?” Irene ran her hand along his leg.

  “See, now that’s more like it,” Jack smiled and nodded at Frank. “Dry spell is over. Come here darling…” He wrapped his hand through her hair and lifted her chin with the other. He slammed his mouth against hers hard, kissing her with everything he had. It was long and she melted into him. Jack finished the kiss and stared into chestnut eyes.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed feeling nothing. No spark, no longing to get up in her skin, flat out nothing. All he could think of was Kate; Kate and her Santa Cruz blues, Kate and her freckled up nose, Kate and her fiery temper. All he wanted was Kate. Jack’s hands slid back on the bar top and he ran his fingers through his hair.

  “What’s wrong?” feigned Irene.

  “Frank, I need you to make that call for me now,” said Jack as he ignored the woman beside him. “But I don’t want you calling Mark.”

  “Who do you want me to call?” Frank looked as puzzled as Irene.

  Jack took his cell phone from his pocket and placed it on the bar. “Call Kate,” said Jack as his head started to spin. “Get the number from my cell phone, but call her from the bar.”

  “Why from the bar?” said Frank.

  “’Cause I doubt she will answer it if she sees it’s me calling,” he said forcing himself to sober up.

  Frank picked up the bar phone and dialed the number. It rang for the longest time and he almost expected it to go to voice mail when a sleepy voice answered the phone.

  “Hello,” said Kate being woken from a dead sleep.

  “Hi ma’am, you don’t know me, but I’m Frank from The Bucket of Blood,” he rolled his eyes and thought he sounded ridiculous. “We got a patron here who’s had a little bit too much to drink. Jack needs a ride home.”

  “So why are you calling me?” she said with her eyes still closed. “Call Mark.”

  “She wants me to call Mark,” Frank whispered to Jack.

  “Give me the damn phone.” Jack leaned over the bar top and grabbed the phone. “Kate, this is Jack.”

  “What do you want?” she whined wanting to go back to sleep.

  “I’m drunk,” he slurred. “I need you to give me a lift home.”

  “Why me?” she groaned.

  “Why not you?” he asked and laughed.

  “It’s late Jack, and I want to go back to sleep,” she sighed. “Call Mark or one of your other cronies, but leave
me alone.”

  “Where’s that liberal do-gooder when I need her?”

  “She’s in bed sleeping. Find someone else.” She was ready to hang up the phone.

  “Kate, I’ll give you fifteen minutes to get here and pick me up before I get in my truck and try to drive home myself. You want it on your conscience if I wreck?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Jack,” she said, finally opening her eyes.

  “Fifteen minutes, Kate,” he stated and hung up the phone.

  “I bet you twenty-five bucks she doesn’t show,” said Frank as Jack handed him back the phone.

  “She’ll show,” he said as he looked at Irene and saw her pouting. “Sorry darling.” He gave her a consolation smile and a shrug.

  “Save it, Jack,” she snapped as she hopped off the bar stool and got lost in the crowd.

  Kate crawled out of bed grumbling all the way. Why she was going she had no idea. She should let him rot at the bar for what he said to her earlier today. But she knew Jack and his pigheadedness. If she was not there in fifteen minutes he would get in his truck just to spite her.

  She slipped into a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt on along with her flip flops. She walked downstairs, grabbed the keys to her car, and left the carriage house.

  It was cool, a chilly fifty-five degrees as she read the thermostat when she started her car. The temperature had dropped thirty-five degrees in the high desert terrain.

  Kate drove along the dirt road until she hit the main road. She rounded the bend and saw Virginia City come into view. Kate drove up the steep Main street hill, did a U-turn, then came back down and parked out front of The Bucket of Blood Saloon.

  She waited there for a minute, hoping Jack would come out on his own but when he didn’t show, she turned off the engine and climbed from her car.

  With a resigned sigh, she entered and found Jack sitting at the bar resting his head on its top. Kate walked over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder.

  “Come on, Jack,” she said as she watched him lift his head and give her a soused smile. She tried to refrain from laughing.