Palomino (1981)

by Steel, Danielle

Oh, really? How interesting, Mr. Jordan. I notice that you qualify Caroline as the best woman rider' you've ever seen. I take it you don't feel she compares with men?

  It's a different kind of riding.

  Not always. I'll bet you that I could handle this beast a lot better than you could.

  What makes you think so? His eyes flashed, but only for an instant.

  I've been riding Thoroughbreds for years. She said it with the venom of sheer exhaustion, but Tate Jordan looked neither pleased nor amused.

  Some of us haven't had those advantages. We just do the best we can, with whatever we've got. As he said it she felt her face flush; he touched his hat, nodded at her without looking at the ranch hand beside her, and then strode out of the barn.

  For a moment there was silence, and then Josh watched her to see what was happening in her face. She tried to look nonchalant as she patted Black Beauty's muzzle, and then glanced over again at Josh. Irritating son of a bitch, isn't he? Is he always like that?

  Probably. Around women. His wife ran off and left him years ago. She ran off with the ranch owner's son, married him too. And he even adopted Tate's boy. I'll they was killed. His wife and the ranch owner's boy got themselves killed in a car wreck. Tate got his boy back, though the boy still don't use his name. I don't think Tate cares much what name the boy uses. He's crazy as hell about his son. But he don't never mention his wife. I think she left him with kind of a sour taste in his mouth about women. Except for Josh blushed furiously for a moment. Except for ' you know, easy women. I don't think he's never been involved with no one else. And hell, he says his boy's twenty-two, so you know how long that's been.

  Sam nodded slowly. Do you know the boy?

  Josh shrugged and shook his head. Nope. I know Tate got him a job around here last year, but he don't usually say much about himself, or the boy. He keeps pretty private. Most of the men do. But he goes to see him about once a week. He's over at the Bar Three.

  Another loner, Sam found herself thinking, wondering if cowboys were anything but. She was intrigued about something else about him. He showed a quick intelligence, and she found herself wondering briefly just who and what Tate Jordan was, as Josh shook his head with his familiar grin. Don't let it worry you none, Sam. He don't mean no harm. It's just his way. Underneath all them porcupine quills he's gentle. You should see him with the kids on the ranch. He must have been a good father to his boy. And Tate's got an education too. Not that that makes much difference here. His dad was a rancher and sent him to some fine schools. Even went to college and got some kind of degree in something, but his old man died and they lost the ranch. I think that's when he went to work on the other ranch and his wife ran off then with his boss's son. I think it must have all done something to him. I don't think he wants much more than he got. For himself or his boy. He's just a ranch hand like the rest of us. But he's smart and he'll be a foreman someday. If not here, then he'll do it somewhere else. You can't deny what a man is. And ornery or not, he's a hell of a good man on a ranch. Sam thought of what she'd just heard. She knew more than she really wanted to, thanks to Josh's loose tongue. Ready to head back to the big house? He looked warmly at the pretty young woman with the tired face and the damp clothing. Can you make it?

  If you ask me that again, Josh, I'll kick you. She glared at him ferociously and he laughed.

  Hell no, you won't. He laughed more. You couldn't lift your leg high enough to kick a short dog, Samantha. And then he laughed over his joke all the way to the big house. It was a few minutes after six when Caroline opened the door to them, and Josh left her at the front door in Caroline's care. She couldn't help smiling at her young friend as Sam struggled into the cozy living room and collapsed, groaning, onto the couch. She had shed the damp jacket on the way, and as her pants had stayed dry beneath the slicker, she knew that she wasn't damaging the furniture and she needed to sit down.

  Good God, girl, did you ride all day? Sam nodded, barely able to speak, she was so tired and stiff. Why in heaven's name didn't you come home when you'd had enough?

  I didn't want to look like a sissy.' She groaned horribly but managed to grin at Caroline, who collapsed on the couch with a chuckle and a smile.

  Oh, Samantha, you foolish girl! You'll be in agony tomorrow!

  No, I won't. I'll be back on that damn horse. And then she groaned again, but more at the memory of the horse than at the pain.

  Which one did they give you?

  A miserable old beast called Rusty. Sam looked at Caroline with open disgust and Caroline laughed harder.

  Oh, God, they didn't. Did they really? Samantha nodded. Who on earth did that? I told them you could ride as well as any of the men.

  Well, they didn't believe you. At least Tate Jordan didn't. He almost gave me Lady, and then decided Rusty was more my speed.

  Tomorrow tell him you want Navajo. He's a beautiful Appaloosa, no one rides him except Bill and myself.

  Will that make the other men resent me?

  Did they today?

  I'm not sure. They didn't say much.

  They don't say much to each other either. And if you rode with them since this morning, how could they possibly resent you? My God, and all those hours on the first day! She looked truly horrified at what Samantha had done.

  Wouldn't you have done the same thing?

  She thought about it for a minute, and then, with a sheepish grin, nodded yes.

  By the way, I saw Black Beauty.

  What do you think of him? Caroline's eyes glowed.

  I think I'd like to steal him, or at least ride him. But her eyes suddenly flashed again Mr. Jordan doesn't think I ought to. According to him, Black Beauty isn't a horse for a woman.

  What about me? Caroline looked vastly amused.

  He thinks you're the best woman rider' he's ever seen. I challenged him about that, why not the best rider' without qualifying it? But Caroline only laughed at her. What's so funny, Aunt Caro? You are the best damn rider I've ever seen.

  For a woman, she countered.

  You think that's funny?

  I'm used to it. Bill King thinks the same thing.

  Liberated in these parts, aren't they? Samantha groaned as she got off the couch and pointed herself in the direction of her room. In any case if I can squeeze a better horse out of Tate Jordan tomorrow, I'll feel as though I've won a major battle for womankind. What was the name of that Appaloosa?

  Navajo. Just tell him I said so.

  Samantha rolled her eyes as she disappeared down the hall. Good luck, Caroline called after her. But as she washed her face and brushed her hair in the pretty bedroom, she realized that it was the first time in three months that she hadn't moved heaven and earth to watch John and Liz's evening broadcast, and she hadn't even missed it. She was in another world now. A world of horses named Rusty, and Appaloosas, and assistant foremen who thought they ruled the world; but it was all very simple and very wholesome, and the most pressing problem she had was what horse she was going to ride the next day.

  She thought once more to herself as she lay in bed shortly after dinner that it was the most blissfully simple existence she had known since she was a child. And then, as the thoughts faded from her mind, just before she drifted into sleep, she heard the familiar door close again and she was sure this time that she heard muffled footsteps and soft laughter in the hall.

  The next morning Samantha climbed out of bed with a horrific groan, she staggered to the shower and stood there for a full fifteen minutes with the hot water raining down on her sore limbs. The insides of her knees were almost scarlet from her eleven-hour day in the saddle, and she padded her long Johns with wads of cotton as she gingerly stepped back into her jeans. The only encouraging sign for the day ahead was that it was no longer raining, and she glanced around her in the early morning darkness, noticing that there were still stars in the sky, as she made her way to the main dining hall for breakfast. This morning she felt less timid as she walked in, hung her jacket on a hook
, and went straight to the coffee machine, where she filled a tall steaming mug. She saw her old friend Josh at a far table and went over to him with a smile as he beckoned to her to sit down.

  How you feelin' today, Samantha?

  She grinned ruefully at him and lowered her voice conspiratorially as she took over the empty chair. It's a good thing we're riding today, Josh, that's all I can tell you.

  How's that?

  Cause I sure as hell couldn't walk. I just about crawled here from the big house. Josh and the other two men chuckled and one of them praised her for her hard ride the day before.

  You sure are a damn fine rider, Samantha. Not that she had had the opportunity to show them her stuff in the driving rain.

  I used to be. It's been a long time.

  Don't make no difference, Josh told her firmly. You got a good seat, good hands, you got 'em for the rest of your life. You gonna ride Rusty again today, Sam? He raised one eyebrow and she shrugged as she sipped her coffee.

  We'll see. I don't think so. Josh only smiled. He knew that Sam wouldn't put up with an old nag like that for long. Sure as hell not after she saw Black Beauty. It would be a miracle if she wasn't riding him before long. What did you think of the big boy? He grinned with pleasure.

  Black Beauty? Her eyes filled with a special light as she said his name. There was something about horsepeople and a Thoroughbred stallion. It was a kind of passion other people would never understand. Josh nodded and grinned. He's the best piece of horseflesh I've ever seen.

  Miss Caro going to let you ride him? He couldn't resist asking.

  If I can talk her into it and don't think I won't try! Sam smiled back over her shoulder as she headed for the line waiting for breakfast. She returned five minutes later with a plate of sausages and fried eggs. Two of the men had moved to another table, and Josh was already squaring the hat on his head. Going out early, Josh?

  I told Tate I'd give him a hand in the barn before we ride out this morning. He smiled at her, turned to call out to one of his friends, and then disappeared.

  Twenty minutes later when Samantha went out to the barn to saddle up, she looked around hesitantly for Tate, not entirely sure how to broach the change of mounts with him. But on a day like this there was no way she was going to ride a nag like the one he'd assigned her. She was sure that if Navajo was Caroline's suggestion, he would be much more her style.

  A couple of the men nodded to her as they walked past her. They seemed less annoyed by her presence than they had been the previous morning. She suspected that even though they had been expecting her they hadn't imagined her quite as she was. But she also knew that if nothing else would win them over, riding as hard and as long as they did in the driving rain would eventually win their hearts. And if she was going to spend the next three months on Caroline's ranch, acting like any other ranch hand, then it was important to her that the men come to accept her as one of them. Still she knew that one or two of the younger ones had been stunned by her looks and her youth, and she had caught one of them staring at her in fascination the evening before when she had pulled the rubber band out of her hair at the end of the long day and shook out her wet mane of silvery blond hair. She had smiled at him briefly and he had blushed furiously and turned away.

  Morning, Miss Taylor. The firm voice broke into Sam's reverie, and when she looked up at Tate Jordan, she suddenly knew that however uncomfortable he may have made her, or wanted to, she was not willing to ride a bad horse all day in order to prove that he was in charge. There was something stubborn and determined just in the way he looked at her, and it set her back up just watching the way he moved his head. Tired after yesterday?

  Not really. Not to him would she admit the aches and the pains. Tired? Of course not. Just to look at him one knew how powerful and important he thought he was. Assistant foreman on the Lord Ranch. Not bad, Mr. Assistant Foreman. And Sam knew it was possible that at sixty-three, Bill King might retire at any moment and leave Tate Jordan his oversize shoes to fill. Not that Jordan would fill them as impressively as Bill King had, or as intelligently or as kindly or as wisely.' She didn't know why, but Tate Jordan annoyed the hell out of her, and there was an unspoken friction between them one could sense instantly as he brushed past. Ahh ' Mr. Jordan. She suddenly felt an odd pleasure in putting a spoke in his wheels.

  Yes? He turned to face her, holding a saddle perched on one shoulder.

  I thought I'd try a different ride. Her eyes were cool as glass as his slowly began to blaze.

  What did you have in mind? There was an undertone of challenge.

  She was dying to say Black Beauty, but decided not to waste the irony of the suggestion on him. Caroline thought that Navajo might do.

  He looked momentarily annoyed, but then nodded and turned away, muttering distractedly over his shoulder, Go ahead. The very words irritated Samantha. Why did she need his permission for what horse she rode? Reason provided a simple answer, but she still bristled at his style as she found Navajo's stall and his saddle and bridle in a little tack room just beyond it and went back to saddle up. He was a beautiful Appaloosa, mottled whipped-cream-and-chocolate face, rich brown flanks, and the characteristic white hindquarters with big brown spots. He was gentle as Samantha put the saddle on him and then strapped the girth beneath him, but it was also evident as she led him out of his stall that he had a great deal more spirit than Rusty. In fact she had to work to control him once she was astride, and he pranced for a full five minutes as she attempted to join the others beginning to move out. She had been assigned the same group as the previous day, and she saw Tate Jordan watching her with open disapproval as they rode toward the hills.

  Think you can manage him, Miss Taylor? His voice was clear as a bell and Samantha suddenly felt a strong urge to hit him as he rode alongside her and observed the frisky maneuvers of her horse.

  I'll certainly try, Mr. Jordan.

  I think we probably should have given you Lady. Samantha said nothing at all in answer and moved on. Half an hour later they were all engrossed in what they were doing: looking for strays and once again checking fences. They found a sick heifer, which two of the men roped in order to lead back to one of the main cattle barns. And by the time they stopped for lunch, they had already put in six hours of work. They stopped in a clearing and tied the horses to the surrounding trees. The usual sandwiches and soup and coffee were handed around, and conversation was sparse but relaxed. No one said much to Samantha, but she was comfortable with them nonetheless and let her thoughts drift as she sat for a few moments with her eyes closed in the winter sun.

  You must be tired, Miss Taylor. It was that voice again. She opened one eye.

  Not really. I was enjoying the sunshine. Does that bother you very much?

  Not at all. He smiled pleasantly. How are you enjoying Navajo?

  Very much. She opened both eyes and smiled at him. And then she suddenly couldn't resist teasing him a little. Not as much as I'd enjoy Black Beauty of course. She smiled mischievously at him and it was hard to tell if she meant it or not.

  That, Miss Taylor he returned the smile to her like a rapid volley in tennis is a mistake I hope you never make. He nodded wisely. You'd get hurt. And that he smiled gently at her again would be a great shame. A stallion like that, there are damn few people who should ride him. Even Miss Lord herself has to be careful when she takes him out. He's a dangerous beast, and not' He looked for the right words. ' not the kind of horse a sometime rider' ought to play with. The green eyes looked infinitely patronizing as he gazed down at her with his steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

  Have you ridden him? The question was blunt and her eyes didn't smile.

  Once.

  How did you find him?

  He's a beautiful animal. No doubt about that. The green eyes smiled again. He's quite a different ride than Navajo. But there was an implication in his words that suggested that Navajo was all she could handle. Looks like he gave you a little bit of a hard time when
we started out.

  And you thought I couldn't handle it? She was almost amused.

  I was concerned. After all, if you get hurt, it's my responsibility, Miss Taylor.

  Spoken like a true foreman, Mr. Jordan. But I don't really think Miss Lord would hold you responsible for what happens to me with a horse. She knows me too well.

  What does that mean?

  That I'm not used to riding horses like Rusty.

  But you think you're up to a stallion like Black Beauty? He knew that neither Caroline Lord nor Bill King would let her ride him. Hell, they'd only let him ride the exquisite Thoroughbred once.

  Samantha nodded quietly. Yes, I think I could ride him.

  He looked amused. Do you? You're that sure of yourself, are you?

  I just know how I ride. I ride hard. I take chances. I know what I'm doing, and I've been riding since I was five. That's been a while.

  Every day? There was a challenge again. Ride much in New York, do you?

  No, Mr. Jordan. She smiled sweetly. I don't. But as she said it she vowed to ride Black Beauty as soon as Caroline would let her, because she wanted to, and because she wanted to show this arrogant cowboy that she could.

  A moment later he strode back toward his men and gave them the signal. They mounted up and spent the rest of the afternoon checking the boundaries of the ranch. They found some more loose heifers at the outermost reaches and drove them home at sunset, when once again Samantha wondered if she would even be able to get off her horse. But Josh was waiting for her outside the barn when they got there, and he gave her a hand as she swung her leg over Navajo with a groan.

  You gonna make it, Sam?

  I doubt it. He grinned at her in answer as she untacked her horse and almost staggered to the tack room to put her saddle and bridle away.

  How'd it go today? He followed her and stood in the doorway.

  All right, I guess. She realized with a tired smile that she was beginning to speak like the rest of the cowboys, in the same sparse fashion. Only Jordan spoke differently than they did, and only when he was speaking to her. Then the education he'd had was obvious; the rest of the time he sounded just like them. Not unlike Bill King, who was subtly different when he was with Caroline, but not as much. Bill King and Tate Jordan were very different men. Jordan was much less of a rough diamond than most.