by Kayn, Debra
Furious, she planted her hands on her hips and stared after his truck. Damn you, Trace.
"Joanie! Guess what?" Kate pulled Joan's arm, spinning her around. "Devon said he'll pick me up this weekend and I can spend all day Saturday helping him with the horses. He's going to show me how to run a horse through its paces."
Joan chewed her lip. If Trace wanted to lie to her, he could take a flying leap.
"Joanie. What's wrong?" Katie shook her hand. "Did that ass say something mean to you?"
She swiftly inhaled and forced a smile. "No, he didn't say anything and you're right, he is an ass."
Brody cleared his throat. "Joan—"
She held up her hand. "Don't you defend him to me. What he's doing is wrong, and I'm not dealing with him anymore. I'm done." She turned to Katie. "Now what's this I hear about Saturday?"
Katie glanced between Devon and Joan. "Um, Devon asked me to come out to his ranch but I'll stay home. I can go another time."
"Nonsense. You'll love visiting the Lakota Ranch, and I know you've wanted to ride since you arrived home. Go. It'll be fun." Joan nodded. "More than fun. You'll see."
"Why don't you come too, Joan? We won't force you to go riding, but you can relax by the pool and take a day off for a change." Devon's eyes softened.
She shook her head. "Another time, maybe. I need to go grocery shopping and run a few errands…catch up on everything I've put off around the apartment."
The jovial mood from dinner turned somber. Joan and Katie hugged everyone, and walked to their car. Joan was aware of Katie watching her, and she shoved her emotions away. She would not cry another tear over Trace.
A person could only try so much before they realized they had no say in the matter. She'd at least tried.
***
Trace drove down the two-lane road home. The hay fields on each side of the street waved in the breeze as the truck blew down the gravel road.
He kept his eyes glued to the front, running through everything Joan spoke of tonight. The grass reminded him of Joan's eyes, bright with frustration. He'd reached an all-time low. Even worse than the times he'd slept on a bare floor, crying for someone to find him after his father beat him within an inch of his life.
His gut burned with fire when he thought of losing Joan. He'd spend the rest of his life paying the price of his weakness. His hands itched in anger.
He wanted to hurt something, punch his hand through the windshield, and that alone scared him to death. He was his father's son, and he'd tried hard up to now to never let his anger take control.
Since kicking Joan out of his life, he lived on a ledge with a fear of falling.
It was over for him and Joan. Truly over.
It should never have begun in the first place.
He'd tainted everything good about her, and he'd regret that for the rest of his life.
Tears rolled down his cheeks, and fell in his lap. He hadn't cried in years, only when he was little, Savannah's age. He remembered the belt strap looming above him, and the whistle through the air as the leather strip came down, striking him across his bare back.
Joan had nursed the scar he still carried during the massages she'd given him. She hadn't wanted him to notice, but he had. She'd used a different lotion, and he realized that the area had softened under her care. He no longer felt the pull as he worked with the horses.
His breath left his lungs and he dragged air into his mouth. Joan was not backing down. She wanted answers, but he couldn't waver in his decision. He'd wanted to keep his hand pressed against hers earlier, but it would have only hurt her more. She wasn't getting the man she thought he was. He wasn't worth all her love.
Pulling into the ranch, he drove straight to the stables, and jumped out of the truck. Without thinking what he was doing, he stormed down the aisle, roped Thunderbolt, and led him to the round pen. Thankful he'd been able to train the horse to accept that much from him; he let Thunderbolt loose inside the fence.
Trace settled outside the pen, trying not to think about everything he'd done wrong. Maybe he should have waited until they'd both calmed down and explained things to Joan, but he couldn't bring himself to lie to her.
The stallion stood stock-still. Trace could feel the energy vibrating through his body. The horse was a loaded gun, ready to go off at any moment.
He'd wait him out.
An hour later, the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Trace and Thunderbolt hadn't moved from their respected corners. They hadn't taken their eyes off each other. He could bet Thunderbolt was struggling on how to keep his dignity too, when deep down he only wanted acceptance.
Some horses could consent and forgive, and others learned quickly never to trust. Thunderbolt had never had to rely on a human for the simplest things before. He'd rationed the horse feed on the ranch to teach Thunderbolt to rely on others.
The stallion moved closer, one step, but it was a beginning. Trace kept his attention on the direction of Thunderbolt's eyes, even though his mind kept edging back to Joan's green eyes and how they looked when he let go of her hand. Trace relaxed, his mind again beginning to go a different direction, but he caught himself.
Waste, Wakiya Hotop. Good boy, Thunderbolt.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The freshly mowed lawns around the Lakota Ranch house, spackled with color from the many flowers planted around the perimeters was a familiar and welcoming sight to Joan, and a magical new place to Katie. Joan fought past the excitement of being back in the folds of the men, and reminded herself she was only coming over to go through the recommendations on the three physicians who had signed up to serve Hope Clinic with the guys today.
"They're so freakin' rich." Katie leaned out the passenger window. "Can you imagine living like this, with a hundred horses living right outside your door and a billion acres to ride?"
Yes. "Nope." Joan turned into the circular drive in front of the house. "Looks like Devon's already waiting for you up on the porch."
"Oh God, how do I look? I wish I had something new to wear, instead of these old jeans." Katie flipped the sun visor down, leaned forward, and checked her hair in the mirror.
Those old jeans had two rips strategically ripped below her butt and were too tight. Joan sighed. She'd have to find a day to take Katie shopping before school started. There's no way she could send her looking like a model in a men's magazine, no matter how cool Katie thought she appeared.
"Okay, listen." Joan turned off the car. "I don't know how long my meeting with Brody will take but if I'm gone by the time you're done for the day, Devon said he'd drive you home."
Katie stared up at the house. "I think Devon is the cutest one of them all. Don't you think?"
"Katie." She rubbed her temples. "They're all in their early thirty's. You're seventeen."
"So, Daddy was eleven years older than mom when he married her." She raised her brows. "I'm almost eighteen."
Donna O'Hanlon had died six months after giving birth to Katie when a truck driver crossed the yellow line on her way home from work one evening. Joan smiled sadly. Her dad had spoken highly of their mother, but Joan barely remembered her and she knew Katie could only go off any stories passed down to her.
"Just be yourself and remember you're a guest." Joan got out of the car, waved to Devon, and gave Katie a pointed look before walking toward the house.
Devon tossed a cowboy hat to Katie. "Put that on your head, lil' red. You'll need it if you're going to go ride the fence line with me."
Katie frowned. "You're not wearing one."
"My skin is much darker than yours, and I'm used to being outdoors all day." He removed the hat from her grasp when she didn't move to put it on, plopped it down on her head, and laughed. "With your white skin and all those freckles, you'll be burnt in no time."
"Great," Katie mumbled. "Nice of you to notice."
Joan turned away to hide her smile. Kate's hatred with her freckles went way back and Joan, who'd always thought freckles were
cute had none, despite having the same hair color as Katie.
Devon put his hands on Katie's shoulders and directed her toward the stables. He stayed a moment with Joan as Katie ran off.
"Thanks again for inviting her. That's all she's talked about." Joan smiled up at him. "She's been ready to go since seven o'clock this morning."
"I should thank you. I was supposed to meet with you, but Brody offered to sit in my place. I haven't been on a horse for a week. I've been flying here and there, and with all the permits required for the clinic, I haven't had much time for the ranch." Devon turned at the front door opening. "I much rather be out on the land."
Joan sighed in relieve when Brody walked out. The last person she wanted to run into was Trace. She'd lectured herself all the way out to the ranch not to fall apart, but she didn't trust herself not to crumble if she saw him.
"Don't worry. Trace is busy with the horses today. I doubt if he'll even come up to the house." Devon squeezed her arm before walking away.
"Ready?" Brody waved her up to the porch. "I'm in a hurry to get this done.
"Why?" She followed him into the house.
"Big date night." Brody grinned.
***
Trace stayed beside the round pen all night. The sun had come up and with the new day, Thunderbolt came closer to Trace's side of the fence with each passing hour. The horse was an arm length away from him, and Trace dared not move.
His legs had cramped up, gone to sleep, shot pins and needles through the arch of his feet into his ass, and he had yet to move. All he needed was Thunderbolt to be curious enough to nose him, and he'd have his trust. Gaining Thunderbolt's respect took longer than he thought it would, but he was determined to outlast him.
A loud, higher than usual laugh, wafted in the breeze and tempted Trace to turn around. His heart raced and he let the musical melody calm him. The intrusion sounded similar to the feminine wave of Joan's laughter when she'd tease him.
The carefree, light sound made him feel lighter and stronger. Joan.
Hungry, exhausted, and at his most vulnerable point in his life, Trace wanted one thing more than a soft bed, food in his stomach, or to ride the wildest horse he'd ever captured. He wanted the woman who'd stayed with him, even after he'd told her his darkest secret.
Instead of running away, Joan simply held his hand. Not in pity, but in support. He breathed through his nose, concentrating on remaining still. Thunderbolt brushed his shoulder, and stepped back.
Come on. If I can do it, you can do it. Put your trust in me.
He directed his words toward the horse, but also to himself. How did he expect a horse to put his faith in him, when he couldn't even allow himself to trust Joan? He was not only cruel, but also selfish.
He'd willingly stepped into a relationship with Joan, and he did it under false pretenses, never planning to fully commit. He played it safe, because that's all he knew.
To put himself out there, to allow himself to get hurt had been out of the question for his whole life. Pain, neglect, and abuse always came if he tried. No one had ever loved him, just because. There was always a price.
Except Joan. She never asked him for anything.
Thunderbolt lowered his head and rubbed his nose along the length of Trace's shirt. Trace leaned forward and let the horse lip his hair. He exhaled out of his mouth, filling the area around them with his scent. The horse neighed, pushing against him, trying to move him. He held his ground. Trace waited for the right moment, and when Thunderbolt threw his head, Trace grabbed a handful of white mane and vaulted onto Thunderbolt's back.
A load of buckshot peppering the ground couldn't have spooked Thunderbolt more. Trace wrapped his hands into Thunderbolt's thick mane, and held on. His already stressed body took a beating and yet, he never let go. It was the best ride of his life as he bounced around the round pen, using every muscle to hold on to his life, depending on himself, and proving not only to Thunderbolt, but also to himself, that he was worthy of Thunderbolt's trust.
Time faded away. Trace was in it for the long haul, proving he had the gumption to go forever. He had to do it for himself, Thunderbolt, and hoped at the end of the day if he tried hard enough, he'd prove to Joan he was worth loving.
For not only had he understood Thunderbolt as he stood waiting through the night, he'd come to learn more about himself.
Much later, Thunderbolt stood on all four legs. The horse's sides ballooning with each breath he dragged into his body. Sweat coated them both. Trace relaxed, let go with one hand, and stroked Thunderbolt's neck.
Waste, Wakiya Hotop. Waste.
Devon walked up to the round pen with Katie glued to his side. "You did it," Devon said quietly.
"What time is it?" Trace whispered, not wanting to spook Thunderbolt.
"Seven o'clock. I'm getting ready to take Katie home, and thought I better check to see how you were doing." Devon shook his head in wonder. "You've done something incredible, brother. I had no hope for this horse. No one did."
"Katie?" Trace waited for her to look him directly in the eye, not wanting to raise his voice and knowing that the twenty-four hours he'd stayed outside with the horse had him looking a scary sight. "I was rude last night when I met you. I apologize. I would like nothing more than to get to know you better."
She squinted one eye and tilted her head against the sun setting in the distance. "Are you done being a dumb ass to my sister?"
"Yes." He sat up straighter. "I would tell you exactly how I feel about Joan, but I want her to hear the truth first."
"Cool." She gave him a thumb up. "That'll mean I can spend more time out here."
He raised his brow. "Can you do me another favor?"
Katie shrugged. "Sure."
He motioned with his head. "Get up on that trailer, and stay up there until Devon says you can come down."
She planted her hands on her hips and frowned. "Why should I?"
"Devon's going to open the gate for me, and although I trust the horse to run away from the barn and toward to open space, you're too important for me to take a chance with your safety. I want you somewhere the horse is least likely to go. If you want to watch, you can do it from a safe place." He adjusted his hands, and grabbed more of the mane between his fingers.
When Katie was in position, Devon stood outside the gate. "You better hold on."
Trace nodded.
"Ready?" Devon stepped back so the gate would protect him from Thunderbolt if he threw his hooves.
"Let us go."
The gate sung open. Thunderbolt threw his head, and shot out of the pen. Trace leaned over the horse's neck, rewarding Thunderbolt for the work he'd done the last twenty-four hours by letting him have his run.
An hour later, horse and rider came to the rise, where Lakota ranch land meshed with the border of land owned by the Lakota. Thunderbolt sniffed the air, and Trace pulled him to a stop.
In the distance, a wild mustang herd foraged in the green grass below. Thunderbolt blew through his nose. This is what today was all about. It was time to let go of the past, and start a new beginning.
He could feel the pent up energy in the stallion. Trace's decision came guilt free. Every tug of war and stubborn stance Thunderbolt had thrown at him made sense now. The horse wasn't battling wills against Trace or fighting his need to remain wild.
Thunderbolt wanted to go home.
Without tormenting the horse another second, Trace slid off Thunderbolt's back. The horse stood for a split second, then reared up on his hind legs, and called through the wind. He landed on all four legs, kicking up divots of earth with his back hoofs as he galloped away.
Trace stood watching him go, a white speck in a brown background, growing smaller the farther he ran. A hundred feet before Thunderbolt reached the herd; a mare broke away from the others and welcomed him home.
The smile came easy to Trace. He should have known. Thunderbolt and him were both fighting for the same thing.
Thunderbo
lt fought him with all his strength, never giving up until he trusted Trace to do the right thing. He lifted his arm in the air in farewell. For the first time in his life, Trace believed he'd worked hard enough and earned his freedom.
Waste, Wakiya Hotop.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The third time the lone woman walked in front of the clinic doors, hesitated, and continued on her way without coming inside, Joan got out of her chair to find out if she needed help. She hurried outside and gazed in the direction where the woman disappeared. She didn't know if she was overly anxious to assist someone, or if the woman found it hard to come inside and ask for assistance.
Whatever her purpose, she'd disappeared out of sight. Joan stepped back inside the clinic, and made it halfway across the waiting room when the same woman knocked on the open door.
The petite woman glanced behind her before stepping into the lobby. "Excuse me?"
Joan smiled and waved her forward. "Come on in. You can shut the door, and maybe the air conditioner will start cooling the room off. It sure turned out warm today. I never thought I'd say I was ready for winter, but I am growing tired of the heat."
The woman's stiff posture relaxed and she hurried to shut the door. "I-I don't know what I'm doing here."
Joan motioned for her to come around the partition. The hesitation in the woman's voice, and the way she kept glancing behind her spoke volumes to Joan. Either nervous or afraid of being seen coming in for help, she was brave enough to make the first step. It was her job to put the woman at ease.
"My name's Joan." She pointed to the chair. "Have a seat. We can talk privately here."
"T-thank you." She wrapped her arms around her stomach. "I'm Sarah."
"What brings you here today, Sarah?" She ignored her need to write down all the information, and start a file.
"I'm nervous, and a little scared. I've never done anything like this." She rubbed her arms. "I don't have to pay you, right?"
"No. Hope Clinic is a non-profit organization, privately funded, to help those who need a helping hand within the Lakota tribe."
