After several miles at a full gallop, the mustang showed no signs of tiring. He was sure-footed, even at a dead run, a tribute to his wild upbringing. Billy got swept up in the exhilaration of the ride, temporarily forgetting all about the fact that Shannon would probably be headed back home soon. Forgetting all about how mad she’d be if she found out he’d ridden her horse. Forgetting all about how long it took a sweaty horse to cool down and how he’d never be able to hide the evidence of his betrayal.
As Khola approached the rear fence line, he veered gradually in response to Billy’s shift of weight and subtle pressure on the rein. His speed slowed as Billy rode him in a big arc that would head them back toward the ranch. The mustang was snorting now at every stride, big powerful snorts as his lungs worked like bellows after his blistering run.
Billy brought his speed down, little by little, to a canter, then a trot and finally a fast walk. Head tossing, neck arched, sidestepping in impatience, the horse behaved as if he was just getting ready to start a race, not heading for the winner’s circle. Billy was filled with giddiness from the wild ride, and he threw his head back and let out a heartfelt cowboy yell to match McTavish’s. The mustang sprang forward and Billy reined him in, grinning broadly.
“Easy, Khola. You’ve run your race. We’ll stop at the creek when we get to it and you can splash your heart out. You’ve earned a swim.” He stroked the lathered shoulder as the gelding jogged along, chin tucked to his chest, still trying to work the bit out of his mouth.
When they reached the Bear Paw and were almost within sight of the ranch buildings, Billy guided him down to the edge of the creek. Khola plunged into the water without hesitation, wading out belly deep, dipping his muzzle into the swift, clear water for a brief drink. “Not too much, you’re all hotted up,” Billy cautioned.
The mustang’s head shot up, ears pricked toward the ranch road, and Billy saw the approaching plume of dust that signaled Shannon’s return. “Well,” he said with resignation, “I guess we’re about to find out how mad a McTavish woman can get.”
Shannon’s car came into sight. They spotted each other at the same moment. The car braked to an abrupt stop. Shannon emerged from the vehicle, walked around the front of it and stood for a moment, staring as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, because she probably couldn’t. Her chin came up, her hands went to her hips and even from nearly sixty feet he could see the sparks flying from her Scots/Irish eyes.
“Billy Mac! What the hell are you doing on my horse?”
* * *
SHANNON WAS SPITTING MAD. She marched to the edge of the creek and confronted man and horse. “You have no right whatsoever to be sitting on the back of that mustang!” she challenged him. “You knew I was going to ride Khola today. How could you do this to me? I trusted you!”
Billy pulled his hat brim lower over his eyes until all she could see of him were the rugged planes of his jaw, which were covered with dust and stubble. She took two steps into the creek and, standing knee-deep in the cold water, reached for Khola’s reins. “I’ll never forgive you for this. Never! Get off!”
“Shannon...”
“Don’t Shannon me!” she snapped. “Take Rose back to the ranch and watch her, you owe me that much. I’ve had a terrible morning and you’ve just ruined the rest of my day. Get off my horse. I’m taking Khola for a ride.”
Billy moved the mustang a little closer to shore before stepping out of the saddle into water that was knee-deep. “You might want to give him a little time to settle down,” he cautioned, handing her the reins. “Yourself, too.”
Khola jerked his head up, unsettled by Shannon’s turbulent emotions, but she was too angry to heed Billy’s words or the horse’s body language.
“You better let me walk him out of the water for you,” Billy said.
“The last thing I need is your help,” Shannon snapped. She waded deeper into the creek, pulled Khola’s head toward her as she put her left foot into the stirrup and took a firm grip on the saddle horn. The current was swift, tugging hard at her lower leg. Just as she was making her swing into the saddle, Khola shied violently out from beneath her.
There was a moment of shocked disbelief as she hung in midair, then she hit the water with an undignified squawk and went completely under. She struggled to her feet to see Billy lunge for, and miss, the trailing rein as Khola surged out of the creek in a powerful spray of water and take off up the bank, bound once again for the high desert of Nevada.
Shannon pushed wet hair out of her eyes and staggered a few steps closer to shore, fending off Billy’s attempts to help her.
“Don’t you touch me, don’t you dare touch me, Billy Mac, do you hear me? I hate you!” she raged. “You rode my horse, and now look what you’ve done. All those hours of work I put into him, down the drain! None of this would’ve happened if you’d just left him alone!”
Billy said nothing, just stood on the bank, watching her sputter with anger as she dripped water, which made her even angrier. “Don’t just stand there, go find him!” Tears mixed with water on her face and Shannon didn’t want Billy to know that she was crying. She never cried and was only crying now because she was spitting mad.
She brushed past him and started for the car, squelching cold water out of her boots at every step. When she slid behind the wheel and slammed her car door, Billy was still standing in the same spot on the edge of the creek, standing in that handsome cowboy slouch she remembered from high school, thumbs hooked in his belt, hat brim pulled over his eyes. He looked appealing as hell, which made her madder than ever.
“Curse that man!” she burst out. She’d thought she could trust Billy, thought he trusted and respected her. Had she been wrong?
* * *
SHANNON WAS MAKING a stack of ham-and-cheese sandwiches when her father drove up to the ranch house. Billy wasn’t with him, so she figured they’d found the runaway horse and Billy had somehow managed to catch him. She hoped he had a long, hot walk back to the ranch. She hoped he got blisters on his feet. It gave her pleasure to think of him struggling to lead that spirited and rebellious mustang for several miles.
Moments later her father came onto the porch, removed his hat, dusted it against his pants leg, paused a little longer than he normally did, then came into the kitchen. “We found him, he was fine, pacing along the fence line. Didn’t even break a bridle rein.”
“Billy’s leading him home?”
“Nope, riding him. Should be here pretty quick, they were moving right along.”
Shannon had changed out of her wet clothes but her hair was still damp, which was all that kept her from smoking with anger as she cut the sandwiches in half, stacked them on a platter and set it on the kitchen table with a solid thump that toppled several sandwiches onto the table. She left them lying there. “He had no right to ride that horse,” she fumed, returning to the kitchen counter to mix up the iced tea. “No right!”
“He was following orders,” McTavish said curtly, washing up at the kitchen sink. “I ordered him to take the kinks out of that horse before you got back, so’s you didn’t break your neck.”
Shannon’s spine stiffened as she squared off with her father. “You told him to ride Khola, fully aware of how hard I’d worked with that horse, how much time I’d put into him, how much I wanted to be the first person to ride him? You knew how much it meant to me, and you ordered Billy to ride him?”
McTavish reached for a towel. “I ordered him,” he said. “And as long as Billy Mac works for me, he follows my orders.”
Father and daughter locked eyes. Shannon had always lost these battles with her father, but her blood was hot. “You had no right to do that.”
“I had every right. This is my ranch. Those were horses I was contracted to gentle for the BLM adoption program, and you’re my daughter. My only child. I lost your mother. I’m sure as hell not losing you, too.
Not to a two-hundred-dollar mustang.” He tossed the towel on the kitchen counter. “If you don’t like that, too bad, but I’m not backing down. You haven’t ridden a horse in ten years. You picked the snuffiest bronc in that bunch to try and gentle, and you’re not up to it. Not yet, and maybe not ever.”
Shannon carried the pitcher of iced tea to the table and set it down hard enough to cause it to splash over onto the toppled sandwiches. She whirled to face her father. “Have I ever done anything that pleased you? Have I ever once measured up to the legendary McTavish clan? The horse whisperers, the stunt riders and movie doubles, the mountain men and the railroad tycoons? And oh, by the way, were you ever planning to tell me where you scattered Mom’s ashes? Did I really have to find that information out from the Bannons? I loved her, too, Daddy, or have you forgotten that?”
Shannon’s voice was choked with emotion and the tension that filled the kitchen was broken by Rose, who came clattering down the kitchen stairs. “Billy’s home!” she said, and raced out the door. Tess struggled up from her bed, stiff with arthritis, and followed after her. Shannon stalked out of the kitchen, following daughter and dog to the corral where Billy was unsaddling Khola. There was just enough time and distance to let most of the anger drain from her.
“You stay out of the corral, Rose,” Shannon cautioned her daughter before ducking between the rails and walking up to the bay mustang. She let him smell her, then rubbed her hand over his shoulder and scratched his withers until he relaxed and allowed her to slide her hand up, smooth his long forelock over to one side of his face and rub between his eyes. “I’m sorry, handsome boy,” she murmured, ignoring Billy, who was rubbing the sweaty horse down with a rough towel.
“He’s a helluva lot more than just handsome, Shannon,” Billy said, as if they hadn’t just had an explosive encounter. “This horse can really run. Only problem is, all he wants to do is run clear to Nevada.”
Shannon gazed into the mustang’s dark, intelligent eyes. “Be careful what you wish for,” she murmured. “All I wanted to do was get back home when my world fell apart, and look where it got me.” Shannon ran her fingers through Khola’s long, thick mane, untangling it. To Billy she said, “My father just told me he ordered you to ride Khola and you had no choice in the matter.”
“He’s wrong about that. I had a choice,” Billy said, draping the damp towel over the top rail. “I may work for your father but I’m still my own man. This horse is worth all the work you’ve put into him, Shannon, and if you hadn’t done such a good job, I’d probably be a heap of broken bones right now, lying out there somewhere waiting for the vultures to find me.
“He’s come a long way, but Khola’s still a stick of dynamite waiting to explode, and I didn’t want you on him when he did. So I followed McTavish’s orders because he was right. On the one hand I’m real sorry I stole your thunder, but on the other hand I’m glad I did. I said I’d protect you, Shannon, and I keep my promises.”
Billy’s eyes caught and held hers, and she couldn’t look away. He was close enough to reach out and close one hand on her shoulder. His grasp was warm and firm. “I can live with you being mad at me, and I can even live with you telling me you hate me, but I don’t think I could live without you.”
Shannon’s anger drained away, leaving her tongue-tied. “I don’t hate you,” she said, small voiced. “I wanted to be the first to ride him, that’s all.”
Billy gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ll ride him, Shannon. First thing tomorrow morning. That race at the fall fair is only a month away, and this horse is going to win it for you. When he does, he’s going to put these McTavish mustangs back on the map.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SHANNON’S SUGGESTION OF going to the spaghetti supper didn’t raise much enthusiasm at the lunch table. “It’ll be good food for a change,” Shannon prodded, setting a glass of milk down in front of Rose. “I’m not much of a cook, and the Grange Hall suppers are legendary.”
“Your food’s just fine,” Billy said around a mouthful of sandwich, and her father grunted in agreement.
“This spaghetti supper’s for a good cause,” she said, sitting down and picking up a sandwich half. “The Hewins lost their barn and their entire hay crop and all their poor chickens, and they didn’t have insurance.”
“I’ll donate money to the cause, but I’m not going,” her father said bluntly.
“But Daddy, you’re a member of that Grange.”
“Not anymore, he isn’t,” Billy said, reaching for another sandwich. “Patriot Energy donated fifty grand to the Grange to fix up the building, and most of the Grange members have signed leases with the wind company. Safe to say, most of the Grange members aren’t too fond of your father right now.”
“Well, you two can stay here, but I’m going.”
“Can I come, too, Momma?” Rose asked, wearing a milk mustache.
“Best you stay here with me and Tess,” McTavish said. “We’ll watch a movie after supper and make popcorn.”
“Really?” Rose forgot all about the spaghetti supper.
“I’m going to get in touch with Spencer Wallace and the Badlands and suggest doing a benefit dance at the Grange Hall next Saturday,” Shannon announced.
“How much money can one small town raise?” McTavish said. “Everybody who gives a hoot will be at that spaghetti supper tonight.”
“That’s right, and they’ll be at the dance next Saturday, too,” Shannon said loftily. “And if we advertise it on the radio, the turnout could be big.”
“You’ll definitely get the entire population of Bear Paw,” Billy said.
“Don’t forget the Morton brothers,” her father added.
“If they all show up, that might just cover the cost of the radio ads,” Billy calculated.
Shannon flushed. “Make fun of me all you want, but every little bit helps. Eat your sandwich, Rose. Oh, by the way, Daddy, I went to talk to Boyd Bannon this morning. I told him about the photos and asked him to drop the lawsuit. He refused, so it looks like we’re going to have to find you a good lawyer.”
McTavish and Billy stopped chewing and stared at her. “No lawyers,” McTavish said. He reached for his glass and took a big swallow. “I’ll make my own defense.”
“If it’s a poor one, you could end up getting ten years in prison,” Shannon said.
“Then I’ll be damned sure to make it good.”
* * *
AFTER EVENING CHORES were done and she’d fixed a simple supper for her father, Billy and Rose, Shannon changed into a clean pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blouse, put on her best boots and belt, brushed her hair, applied lip gloss, mascara and a spritz of perfume, and called it good. She kissed Rose goodbye and was on her way to the car when she saw Billy approaching from the cook’s cabin. He’d cleaned himself up and made a brave attempt at shaving, something he hadn’t done religiously since being stitched up at the clinic. He was carrying his good hat in his hand and arrived at the car the same time she did.
“Thought I might be able to hitch a ride with you,” he said.
“To the spaghetti supper? You’re going?”
“I was told it’s for a good cause.”
Shannon beamed. “Climb aboard.”
As they passed Billy’s house beside the creek, he said, “I meant what I said about this place, Shannon. It’s yours if you want it.”
Shannon shook her head. “Every day I change my mind about staying or leaving, and today was a bad day. It hurt like hell, hearing from Mrs. Bannon this morning about my mom’s ashes. Why didn’t my own father tell me? Why didn’t you? My mother used to stand at the kitchen sink long after the dishes were done, watching the eagles and hawks ride the updrafts along Wolf Butte. That’s a favorite hunting ground for them and she loved watching them soar. That’s why she released the rehabbed eagles there, that and the sheer drop-o
ff that helped them get airborne. But my father probably told you all that when he explained why he put her ashes up there.”
Billy shook his head. “He never talked about it. I heard it from Bannon myself just a while ago and I figured you already knew.”
“You mean, in all the time he’s been fighting this wind project, you never understood the reason why he didn’t want turbines being built up there?”
“If he spread your mother’s ashes over the butte, that may be one reason why he wants to protect that place, but there’re a whole slew of other reasons. It’ll be bad for the rivers and mountains, the wildlife and the people who have to live near the turbines.”
Shannon’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “If wind power’s as bad as you make it out to be, why’s the government pushing it so hard?”
“Because big business controls the government, big oil and foreign countries own a lot of these wind LLCs, and because right now, these wind projects are the biggest and best tax write-off going for companies making hefty profits. The wind industry’s about a whole different kind of green than you’re thinking of, but don’t take my word for it. Do your own research. The information’s out there.”
“And the Grange members?”
“When landowners sign lease agreements, they essentially sign a gag order forbidding them from discussing any lease information with anyone else and from complaining about the project. But your father never signed any agreement with them, so he was free to say what he wanted.”
“And I bet he did,” Shannon said.
“He announced at his very last Grange meeting how much Patriot Energy had offered him. Nearly started another range war, because every rancher and big landowner present had signed up for a whole lot less money than what Patriot Energy offered your father.”
A Family For Rose Page 18
