Here to Stay

by Catherine Anderson

  The foreman grunted and then sighed, the sound a static-laced whoosh. “He’s workin’ with a restive horse. It’s not a good time for visitors.”

  Mandy wilted with disappointment, convinced the foreman would turn her away. Surprise sent a pleasant tingle up her spine when he said, “Ah, hell. It ain’t like he don’t know you. I’ll buzz you in, I reckon. Go in the front entrance of the arena and stay by the personnel door if he’s still workin’ with the horse. The stud spooks easy, so don’t holler out. The boss will notice you’re there sooner or later.”

  “All right,” Mandy agreed. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse until he sees me. Thank you!”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The gate began to swing open. Mandy waited until the way was clear and stepped on the gas pedal. As the Element bounced over the rutted gravel road, the headlights danced over the buildings ahead, illuminating the ranch house and an open-sided pole barn filled with hay. She parked by the arena, a massive building ringed on three sides with wooden fences. Toward the roofline, windows emitted a butter yellow glow.

  Leaving her purse, she exited the car and headed for the building. It was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, let alone the ground. As she rounded the corner, an outdoor light brightened her way, casting a swath of illumination over the white personnel door. She grasped the doorknob, then paused to take a deep breath. She couldn’t argue a case on Luke’s behalf if she was quaking and stammering.

  As she pushed open the door, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. She stepped inside, drawing the portal closed behind her as she panned the massive interior. A few horses nosed their heads out over their stall gates to study her, but their owner was nowhere to be seen. As per the foreman’s instructions, Mandy remained by the entrance. The last thing she wanted was to get on Zach Harrigan’s bad side before she even had a chance to talk to him.

  To her left, a reddish brown horse whinnied, the sound laced with excitement. Startled, Mandy jumped so violently she nearly parted company with her shoes. She’d never been around big horses. Their size intimidated her. This one seemed friendly, though, almost as if it were calling to her. She determined that it was a stallion. Muscle rippled under his shiny coat. He was absolutely gorgeous. A bewildered smile curved her lips when the horse called to her again, this time with a pleading, frantic shrillness.

  “Hey, big guy,” she called back softly.

  The stallion tossed his head, lifted his tail, and pranced in a circle within his stall. Then he returned to the gate and whinnied at her again, an invitation to come closer, she felt sure. Glancing around, she noted that the other horses had already disappeared into their shelters. Not the stallion. He whickered and chuffed, pressing his chest against the gate and extending his neck as if reaching out to her.

  Mandy hesitated to leave the personnel door, but the stallion’s whickering was difficult to resist. She saw no harm in petting him. As she moved toward the animal, he quivered with delight and made happy little grunting noises. Mandy couldn’t help but smile. How sweet! She noticed a pile of sandwich bags just outside the gate, but she barely looked at them. The horse had her full attention.

  “Hello,” she murmured as she closed the distance. Nodding his massive head, the stallion blew out through his nostrils. She grinned and stepped closer. Through the rungs of the gate, she saw a battered brown hat lying on the stall floor. “Aren’t you too beautiful for words?” she whispered as she reached up to rub the flat area between the animal’s soft brown eyes.

  The horse shuddered and shoved his nose under Mandy’s right arm, nearly knocking her off balance. She laughed nervously. “Hey, big guy, no armpit sniffs on the first date. Okay?”

  The stallion shuddered again, and Mandy’s smile faded. She couldn’t explain the feeling that washed through her, but she was suddenly certain that this animal was frightened, horribly frightened. Of what, she couldn’t fathom. But she’d been terrified too many times herself not to recognize fear in another creature. An ache filled her chest and formed a lump in her throat.

  “Oh, sweetie,” she murmured. “What’s wrong? Has someone been mean to you?”

  The horse huffed and pressed his nose deeper into the fluff of her parka. It was as if he were trying to melt into her and hide. And just that quickly, Mandy fell in love. She stepped up onto a gate rung so she could more easily pet him. Poor baby. He had little scars all over his head, barely visible under his hair, but she could feel them with her fingertips. His mane was a tangled mess. Anger burned through her. Was Zach Harrigan abusing this poor horse?

  Thirst quenched, Zach made his way along the hallway that divided the stable office from the tack and feed rooms. As he stepped out into the arena, he glimpsed movement, a flash of light blue. For an instant, he thought Cookie had come back downstairs, but then he focused and stopped dead in his tracks. Shit. His heart shot into his throat. Miranda Pajeck stood on a rung of Tornado’s stall gate, her right arm hooked over the stallion’s neck. If she made one wrong move, the horse might blow up. Didn’t she realize how powerful a twelve-hundred-pound stallion was? If Tornado threw his head, he could flip her up and over the damned gate. Once inside the stall, she’d have no protection against those lethal hooves.

  Afraid to move, Zach said in a low but firm voice, “Miranda, take your arm off the horse. Slow and easy, no sudden movement. Okay?”

  Arm still encircling the horse’s neck, she sent Zach a burning look. “Afraid your secret will get out, Mr. Harrigan? Well, too late. No wonder you’re renowned as a trainer. If you’re cruel to an animal, you can make it do almost anything, can’t you?”

  Zach nudged up the brim of his spare black Stetson to gape at her. Unless he’d misheard her, she had just accused him of abusing his horse. The charge was ludicrous, but Zach would address that later. Right now, his only concern was getting her safely away from the stallion. “Miranda, that horse is dangerous. Very slowly, take your arm from around his neck and get off the gate.”

  As if Zach hadn’t spoken, she went back to petting the horse. “Oh, yes, he’s a dangerous one, all right. I’m trembling in my shoes!”

  Zach’s throat felt as if it had been swabbed with glue. “Get away from that horse,” he said. “Now.”

  She shot him another heated look but finally did as he said. When her feet touched the ground, she turned to face Zach, her hazel eyes sparking fire. Zach’s gaze shot past her to Tornado, who was now nuzzling his visitor’s hair. The stallion had bitten Zach more than once and was fully capable of ripping off the top of Miranda’s head. Sweat trickled down Zach’s spine, dampening his shirt.

  “Step away so he can’t reach you,” he told her.

  She placed her hands on her hips, her arms hiking up the sides of her parka. “I’m not afraid of this horse. He’s the one that’s terrified. What have you done to him?” She’d no sooner asked the question than she threw up a hand. “Scratch that. You’ve beaten him. He has scars all over him. I felt them when I was petting him.”

  “Get away from that damned horse,” Zach said more loudly. “Right now, before he hurts you.”

  She finally stepped away from the gate. The instant Zach felt certain she was out of danger, he pried his feet loose from the dirt. His boot heels kicking up dust with every step, he took long, measured strides toward her, so furious he could have pulverized lug nuts with his front teeth.

  Jabbing a rigid finger at the air, he said, “Don’t you ever go near one of my horses again without my permission. It’s a good way to get killed. That stallion tried his damnedest to trample me this morning!”

  She jutted her chin. “Good for him. Maybe he’ll teach you a much-needed lesson! If you mistreat anything, animal or human, eventually it fights back.”

  Zach drew up three feet from her. Two things registered in his mind: Tornado was whickering and hammering the gate with his chest, and the sweet-natured Miss Pajeck had morphed into a hundred-plus pounds of pissed-off female.


  “I don’t have any idea what the hell you’re talking about,” he found the presence of mind to say. “I have never mistreated that horse.”

  “Well, someone has! And since he belongs to you, you’re the number one suspect.” She doubled her hands into tight fists at her sides. “To think I came here to appeal to your good nature. Ha! I’m out of here.” Whirling to leave, she threw back, “Expect visitors in the morning, Mr. Harrigan. I’m reporting you to the Humane Society.”

  Zach had an insane urge to burst out laughing. But this was no joking matter. The lady was serious. “You’re going to what?”

  She whipped back around. “You heard me!”

  Tornado neighed loudly and rammed the gate again. Zach was too focused on the woman to glance at the stallion, but he was still acutely aware of the horse’s grunting and whickering. He’d heard other horses make similar sounds over the years. Incredulous, Zach shifted his gaze from Miranda to the animal. There was no mistake. The stallion was staring at Zach’s unexpected visitor as if she’d just hung the moon.

  “I’ll be damned,” Zach whispered.

  “Oh, yes,” she agreed. “You’ll be damned straight to hell. How could you do that to a helpless animal?”

  Helpless animal? Zach was still staring at Tornado. The stallion had eyes only for Miranda, and the noises he made were, without question, love talk.

  “I’ll be damned,” he whispered again. “He’s taken a shine to you.”

  “No big surprise. He knows I won’t hurt him!”

  She turned to leave again. Zach stepped after her. “Miranda, hold up a second.”

  She kept walking. “Why? So you can lie through your teeth and convince me it wasn’t you who abused him?”

  “Yes, damn it, that’s exactly why!” Zach winced. That sure came out wrong. “I mean, no, it’s not why. I mean, yes, but I don’t lie through—Damn it, lady, will you listen for a minute? Ask anyone who’s ever known me. I’ve never abused a horse in my life.”

  She pivoted on a well-worn sneaker, the sole of which was now smudged with dust. Arching her brows, she said, “Really? Then explain those scars!”

  Zach had felt the scars on the horse’s head and neck, but only in passing. Tornado had never allowed Zach to handle him very much. “It’s not unusual for a horse to have scars. They kick and bite each other. Sometimes they injure themselves. I know Tornado has a few nicks here and there, but—”

  “A few? It feels like someone stabbed him repeatedly with an ice pick!”

  Zach glanced at the horse again. Never in all his life had he seen anything so amazing. Tornado was about to crawl over the gate to reach his lady fair.

  “I’ve had Tornado for only two months,” he told her, “and I’ve never been able to really pet him. He’s loco. I’ve tried everything I know to turn him around, but nothing has worked. I’m trying clicker training on him now as a last resort. If I can’t get him straightened out, I’ll have to ask Tucker to put him down.”

  Her eyes widened. In the overhead light, they shimmered like fine scotch shot through with firelight. Her hair, mussed by the horse, glistened, some of the strands the same color as Tornado’s coat. In that moment, Zach could totally understand the stallion’s sentiments. Even pissed off and spitting fire, Miranda Pajeck was one beautiful woman.

  “Put him down?” she cried. And a heartbeat later, Zach was on the receiving end of a jabbing finger. “If you dare, I’ll notify every news channel in this country! That horse is a big old love, as sweet and dear as he can be.”

  Tornado, a big old love? Zach couldn’t credit his ears. He’d said that about many of his stable-bred horses, but Tornado did not fall into that category.

  “I know he’s been abused,” she threw at him. “You ever heard that old saying that it takes one to know one? Well, he and I are soul mates. He’s frightened. I sensed it the instant I touched him.”

  It takes one to know one? Zach zeroed in on her lovely face. What the hell was she saying, that she felt frightened? “Miranda, if the horse is afraid, I swear to you I’m not the person who made him that way.” Zach inclined his head at Tornado’s stall. “You see that halter hanging in there? From day one, he’s blown up every time anyone tried to put it on him. I’ve been working with him tonight with the target and clicker, trying to get him to touch it. Trust me, I’ve done everything I know to help that horse.”

  “Really?” Her beautiful eyes still smoldered as she thrust out a slender hand. “Give me a halter.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Give me a halter. If I can put it on him, then I call baloney on your story and contact the Humane Society. If I can’t, which I seriously doubt, then maybe—just maybe—I’ll believe you.”

  Zach knew damned well she couldn’t put a halter on that horse. And now he was starting to get pissed off. Nobody had ever accused him of mistreating an animal, and he wasn’t about to take it from her. He spun on his heel, heading for the tack room. “You asked for it. You got it!”

  Seconds later, when Zach returned to the arena, Miranda Pajeck was still standing there. As he drew near her, she thrust out her hand for the halter. He slapped it onto her palm.

  “Go for it.” Zach wasn’t worried that she might get hurt. She wouldn’t get close enough. Tornado would take one look at that halter and fly into a frenzy. “If you can put a halter on him, I’ll kiss your bare ass on the courthouse steps in broad daylight.”

  She shot him a startled look. Zach was too mad to apologize for the crudity.

  “Go on,” he told her. “Try to approach him now.”

  She held up the crisscross of leather straps to study it. “Which part goes on first?”

  Impatient and angry, Zach grabbed the headgear. “His nose goes through here, and this part goes up behind his ears.” He shoved the thing back at her. It rankled that the only person who’d ever managed to get cozy with that damned stallion didn’t know one end of a halter from the other. He’d worked with that miserable beast every day for nearly two months, and never once had he been able to hook an arm around his neck like Miranda just had. She was still turning the leather straps in her hands, studying the layout with a frown. “Go on,” he challenged. “You won’t get within five feet of him anyway, so you’ll never get a chance to put it on him.”

  She flashed him a challenging look. “Wanna bet?”

  She turned and marched back toward Tornado. Zach smothered a grin, folded his arms across his chest, and cocked a hip for good measure, assuming a tougher-than-shit cowboy stance so he could smirk at her when she failed. Tornado remained at the gate, head forward, whickering as she walked toward him. Countdown. Zach visually measured off the distance between her and the stallion. Ten feet, nine feet, eight feet. When he got to five and Tornado was still standing at the gate, calling to Miranda, Zach straightened, dropped his arms, and gaped in startled disbelief.

  She walked right up to the horse with the halter in plain sight. Tornado emitted soft huffing sounds and began nudging her with his nose. Zach couldn’t believe it. Miranda held up the halter and tried to fit it backward over the stallion’s nose. Tornado just stood there, apparently as happy as a worm in a compost heap.

  “I’ll be pickled and bottled.”

  Zach glanced up to see Cookie on the landing. The old fart wore a ratty plaid robe over white pajamas with hearts all over them. At any other time, Zach would have made a wisecrack, but the sight of Tornado lowering his head for the halter was so astounding Zach couldn’t get past it.

  “I ain’t never in all my born days.” Cookie watched Miranda trying to shove the halter onto the stallion’s nose and shook his head. “Tell her how it’s done, son, and then, if you got anything resemblin’ brains betwixt your ears, hire her on the spot.”

  “Hire her? To do what?”

  Cookie inclined his head at the woman and horse. “To work with that stallion, of course. She’d have him gentle as a lamb within a week.”

  Zach shook his
head. “She doesn’t know one end of a horse from the other.”

  “Don’t matter. Look at them.”

  Zach’s stomach churned again, maybe from hunger, but he suspected it was more from shock. Had Tornado been abused?

  Zach couldn’t go too close to the stall gate. So he angled off to the left a few paces so he could see Miranda’s hands. “Turn it slightly,” he told her. “See the smaller cross straps? They go over the nose. Then you pull it up over his ears and fasten the chin strap.”

  To Zach’s utter disbelief, Miranda did exactly that, and Tornado kept his head down so she could accomplish the feat. When she had the headgear on the horse and was fastening the buckle, Zach let loose with a sigh. He’d spent his entire life around horses, and he’d never witnessed anything like this. Tornado was putty in her hands. Granted, some horses responded better to women than men, and vice versa, but Tornado didn’t behave any better with Ethel than he did with Zach. No, it was something about this particular human that somehow—how?—reassured the horse.

  Miranda swung down from the gate and fixed a gaze bright with anger on Zach. “Well, now what’s your story, Mr. Harrigan? Is it possible that this horse objects only when it’s you coming toward him with a halter?”

  Zach took a moment before answering. “No. He pitches a fit no matter who it is.”

  “I call malarkey on that.” She swung a hand toward the horse, a gesture that normally would have sent the stallion into a frenzy of kicking. “Look at him. He’s perfectly calm.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “If the shoe fits—and I’ll toss in ‘bastard’ for good measure.”

  Zach had been called worse, but usually with better reason. Oddly, he wasn’t offended. He was so stunned by what he’d just witnessed, in fact, that he wasn’t sure how he felt. Bewildered, mostly.