She raised her head, and a stubborn look appeared in her dark eyes. Her slow reply came hindered by her search for words. “There is no trust for those who grab with no asking.” Her precise meaning was unclear but the gist of the words came through well enough.
“You didn’t hear him call you to come out of the fountain?”
Jess gave an amused snort. “I am not his. He has no Words for me.”
“You see?” Jaime appealed, trying not to shiver. “She just didn’t know you were an authority. She wasn’t paying any attention to you—so she didn’t know you were coming. Wouldn’t you act to protect yourself if you were grabbed from behind?”
The man rubbed a beefy hand across the back of his neck, his expression reluctant. The side of his face shone red where Jess’s foot had made contact. “Everybody knows this kind of uniform means police authority,” he maintained. “I’m not trying to make trouble for you two, but—”
“Look,” Jaime said, swiping the drop of water that trembled on the end of her nose, “the intent wasn’t there. Sure, you can pursue this thing, but what you really want is to prevent it from happening again, right? And you can do that by letting me explain things to her. Or by doing that yourself, if you want—right here.”
He looked down at himself, at the runnels of water that collected at his feet to form a puddle. Then he looked at Jess, who still regarded him with her set-jaw stubbornness. He rested his hands on his bulky equipment belt, his mouth quirked in skeptical indecision. Jaime fervently, silently, hoped that he would back down, for she too had seen the look on Jess’s face, and she easily read it for what it was: bull-headed challenge. She would go nowhere with this man, not without a fight.
When the man spoke again, he’d regained composure. “I’m not one of those guys who’ll toss his weight around just because he’s got it,” he conceded. “Although I’m too damned wet to be letting you off easy. What about it, Jess? You understand to stay out of that fountain? You understand that you’ve got to pay attention to what security police tell you to do?”
“No kicking,” Jess said reluctantly. “I broke the rule.”
Jaime let out her breath. Somehow, she wasn’t quite sure that Jess had agreed with the man—but it seemed to be the capitulation he wanted, and she wasn’t going to clue him in if he didn’t see it for himself.
Defiance, that’s what lingered in Jess’s gaze. Whoever Carey was, he was the only one with unequivocal Words for Jess.
~~~~~
Compared to the adventure at Mirror Lake, checking on the groggy lesson horse was an anti-climactic event. Jaime left her trailer there, made arrangements to pick the horse up in a few days, and drove Jess back to the Dancing.
The afternoon had been...eye-opening. She was far from amused when she realized that she’d seen subtleties of equine behavior in Jess’s actions, for—in the unthinking moments during that debacle with campus security—she’d reacted as if Jess was indeed a horse.
But there were no conclusions to be drawn. Nothing in this situation remotely resembled the realities of Jaime’s life. It was just...wait and see. Wait and watch. And while she was willing to give Jess a little more time to find herself and possibly to explain herself, it would be so much better if she didn’t attract undue attention before then...
A pair of scissors and five minutes trimmed most of the ragged edges from Jess’s wild hair, but couldn’t hide the naturally dark streak that ran from forehead to nape—though it led to the discovery that Jess liked nothing so much as a good grooming—or, rather, that she would sit still forever as long as Jaime was brushing her hair. She also discovered that she could hand Jess a set of brushes, point her at a horse, and count on her to groom until the object of her attentions virtually glowed—unless it was one of the two older mares, neither of whom Jess would deal with in any manner.
Her younger brother, Mark, accepted Jess with the patience of a young man who’d already dealt with every possible manner of horse-crazy girl, and Jess was delighted if he had the time to join her in the spacious back yard for a little one-on-one soccer—which she invariably won by virtue of her speed and agility. Only Mark kept score; Jess, Jaime noticed, played for the sheer pleasure of the effort.
It was Mark, too, who took Jess on careful forays away from the farm—mostly to the busy Dairy Queen that graced the edge of the nearby one-street mini-town, and to the quiet bar that boasted of near-infamous hot bologna sandwiches.
Jess never seemed to fully trust Dayna, and after each of Dayna’s visits, with or without Eric, she would follow Jaime around and solicit reassurance. She was hovering by Jaime’s elbow in the middle of a lesson when Jaime suddenly realized the problem. “You still think Dayna might send you away, don’t you? Think about those corners, Sandy,” she reminded the woman under instruction. “He’s falling out behind. Outside leg. Start a serpentine at A—let’s see if we can’t get him bending a little better.”
The non-sequitur didn’t seem to bother Jess, whose understanding increased in leaps and bounds. “Yes,” she answered. She waved an arm to indicate the world beyond the farm. “All strange. No Carey—no Jaime. Dayna—” and, when words failed her, she stood very straight, scrunched her shoulders slightly, and arranged her features into a hard, implacable expression that immediately drew to Jaime’s mind one of Dayna’s inflexible moments. She couldn’t help but laugh, though she sobered quickly. “Dayna’s good people, Jess. It’s just sometimes...well, how does the thought of facing that strange world out there,” she waved her arm in an imitation of Jess’s gesture, “make you feel?”
“Afraid,” Jess said without hesitation.
“Right. Anticipate the change of rein at the center line, Sandy—prepare him! Well, Dayna’s had some hard times. When she runs up against something that’s really unfamiliar—really strange—it frightens her. And she protects herself. Sometimes that makes it seem like she’s uncaring, but deep down she cares very much. And you know—sometimes even the caring can be frightening.” She let Jess think about it while she watched the team in the ring, frowning over the gelding’s unusually crooked position and his refusal to bend around his rider’s inside leg. “What’s going on with you two? This isn’t like you at all.”
“I don’t know,” Sandy said in frustration as she brought her horse down to a walk. The horse, too, wore an expression of frustration and irritation.
Without a word, Jess walked into the ring, across the thick footing of well-mixed dirt and sand and up to the horse, whom Sandy had halted. Jess took the time to greet the horse, gave it a pat, and then carefully but firmly took Sandy’s whip out of her hand. “Ride now,” she instructed.
Jaime saw an immediate difference in the animal’s attitude. It chewed the bit a few times and gave a thoughtful sigh, by which time its entire body relaxed. She looked at Jess standing with whip in hand and frowned. The gelding had never shown any concern over the whip. Nine times out of ten, the lesson went by without a single flick of the thing. But this time....
“Sandy, is that a new whip?” she asked abruptly, as Sandy started another serpentine with her newly willing horse.
“The other one was too short,” Sandy replied distantly, concentrating on her ride. “You know how I sometimes bumped him in the mouth when I used it.”
Jess returned; she stood next to Jaime and tickled her arm with the small fuzzy tassel at the end of the whip, removed it, and tickled again, just barely touching her skin.
In a flash Jaime understood. It hadn’t been visible to her, this whisper of tassel against horseflesh. “How did you know?” she asked Jess in astonishment.
Jess seemed equally amazed that Jaime should have to ask. “He shouted it.”
He had, too, Jaime mused, taking the whip from Jess and contemplating the offending tassel. In every way but words, the horse had communicated his dilemma, and Jess had been the only one able to clearly read him despite Jaime’s vast experience. She looked up at Jess, who, oblivious, watched the much happier
pair in the ring
It was yet another clue to the who and what of Jess, and Jaime began to wonder where those clues would lead her.
~~~~~
For a while, they led her no further. In addition, there was no mention of Carey, Jess, or gold from any news source, and Jaime relaxed in the belief that she and Eric had been right to keep the gold from Dayna, and to keep Jess out of a system that might have done her more harm than good. Busy with training and instructing, not to mention the business of preparing her two competition horses for the approaching season, Jaime wondered about Jess and her mysteries only in the odd moment.
Jaime got used to the fact that Jess rarely said more than yes or no, that she was easily startled but that when she chose to trust, she gave her complete and utter confidence. It was only when she found Jess asleep in the hay storage, her head pillowed on Carey’s saddlebags and dirty tear-smears dried on her face, that she faced truths she’d still been trying to avoid.
Jess didn’t belong here. And someone out there missed her as much as she missed him.
Jaime worried at those truths as she cut the twine on a fresh bale of hay and counted out the flakes for afternoon snack-time. The horses, alerted by the rustling, immediately set up a clamor, each demanding to be fed first. Jess lifted her head and blinked sleepily.
“I’ll get them,” Jaime said, trying to erase the confused and uncertain look on Jess’s face. “Give yourself a few minutes and then check the water buckets, okay?” Jess blinked again and looked at her hands, opening and closing them like she’d never seen them before. Then, as Jaime stacked the flakes of hay into a wheelbarrow and glanced back at her, Jess nodded. She traced a wistful finger along the top flap of a saddlebag and followed Jaime out of the airy shed behind the barn and through the big double doors at the end of the barn aisle.
As Jaime stopped to parcel out hay, Jess passed her, then halted, her head raised in what Jaime had come to recognize as the reaction to an out-of-place noise. Without thinking, Jaime stopped what she was doing, only belatedly realizing how she had come to trust Jess’s reactions. An instant later, a man’s voice called out from the entrance/tack room.
“Anyone here?”
“Come on in,” Jaime answered, her reply barely audible above the indignant protests of the horses as the wheelbarrow no longer progressed down the aisle. “One flake each, remember?” Jaime said, all the prompting Jess needed to pick up the job. Jaime brushed ineffectively at the persistent bits of hay on her breeches and met the man in the doorway between the tack room and the aisle.
“Can I help you?” she asked. He wasn’t a typical visitor—not a mother with a horse-crazy daughter in tow, or a young professional who had the money but not quite the time to spend on his or her horse. This man was full of visual conflicts, with spiffy new jeans topped by what looked like a well-worn handwoven shirt—and not very clean one at that. The man’s dark hair was carefully cut but not much cleaner than the shirt, and his teeth, when he smiled meaninglessly at her, were just plain nasty. She kept a polite distance between them, having no desire to see if his breath was on par with those teeth.
“I’m looking for a horse,” he said, eyeing the few curious horses that bothered to peer out at him in between snatches of hay.
“We have several for sale right now,” she said. “What kind of horse were you looking for?”
He shook his head. “Not to buy. I lost one a couple weeks back. Looking for her and her gear.”
“You lost her tacked up?” Jaime said curiously, wondering about the man’s unplaceable accent. “Take a fall?”
“Someone did,” he said shortly. “I wondered if I could take a look around.”
She had a sudden urge to show him the door, but squelched it, trying to imagine herself in his shoes. “I’d be glad to show you around, but we haven’t taken in any strays. There’re several private barns in the area, though—have you checked with them?”
“Not yet,” he grunted, bringing his attention back inside the tack room, eyeing the gear draped over saddleracks and festooned from wall hooks.
Inexplicably, Jaime felt her own eye drawn to the rack which held the wool coolers, checking to see if Jess’s saddle was visible from beneath. “I wish I could help you,” she said politely, glancing down the aisle to see that Jess had finished distributing the snack, that she was heading back with the empty wheelbarrow. Three stalls away, Jess looked up, got her first good look at the visitor, and froze. She stood very tall, the wheelbarrow forgotten, one leg trembling with the indecision of run or stay.
The clatter of metal drew Jaime’s attention, and she found that the man had invited himself to paw through the tack room; he let her show bridle fall back to the wall with a thunk of the double bit and reached to lift a boarder’s saddle off the older saddle that sat beneath.
“Excuse me,” she said loudly, striding in to push the saddle back where it belonged. “You aren’t welcome to handle my boarder’s gear, and yours isn’t here. I’d like you to leave now.”
He stood back from her, a stubborn look on his face. For a moment she thought he might push the issue, and rebuked herself for not teaching Jess about 9-1-1. Reluctantly, she added, “Tell me what the horse looks like and where to get in touch with you, and I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”
The offer seemed to be enough. “Ask for Derrick at the LK Hotel,” he said. “The gear is a little unusual, looks like a cross between one of your saddles and a western saddle. The horse is a six-year-old dun mare, dark points all around.”
Jaime pointedly opened the door for him. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” she said, and ushered him out, leaning on the door after she’d closed it. Dun mare....
Jess peeked hesitantly around the edge of the doorway, her expression scared but determined.
She’s been out there since I saw her. She was going to fight for me, Jaime thought in astonishment. And the sudden realization: She’s seen him before.
The sound of a car engine and the crunch of tires on gravel told of Derrick’s departure as he pulled out of the U-shaped driveway. Jess relaxed a little and came into the room, giving her head an odd little toss. Dun mare. Her dark-sand hair fell back around her face, and the blended black swath of her bangs had never seemed so obvious as it fell over her forehead. Black points.
~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter Four
Adding up coincidences, Dayna decided, could drive you mad. It was enough to make you realize that the course of your life was as strange and random as any Ripley’s Believe It Or Not. There was Eric, whom she’d met through his position as Highbanks Park Volunteer. Though they’d become good friends, they’d certainly never spent this much time together before. And then there was Jaime, whom she’d met through Mark, whom she’d met at work. And of course, Jess—whom she’d met at the park because of Eric, and who lived here with Jaime because she’d met Mark—
She finally stopped herself. The point was, they were all sitting here eating a cook-out dinner. It didn’t matter how it’d all come about.
Dayna poured herself another tumbler of ice tea and offered the pitcher to Eric, who shook his head. He, like Jaime, watched Jess, who in turn watched a boarder’s gelding graze. Mark seemed oblivious to them all as he ate neat soldierly rows of butter-dripping corn. Dayna contemplated taking the last foil-wrapped cob off the grill but then considered the fat in the butter. Maybe not. Besides, she didn’t want to be distracted from Jaime, who, although she obviously had some purpose behind this impromptu little dinner, had so far confined herself to inane remarks about the food preparation and the weather.
She sighed and looked back to Mark. Like his older sister, he was attractive, with hair and eyes both a lighter shade of brown than hers. Where she was solid, he was angular, almost too thin. But when he smiled his whole face got in on the act, and Dayna gave one more sigh in a long line of regrets that he couldn’t act the age that went along with his birth date. At thirty he was two years older than sh
e—but despite his appealing presence, she was no more than occasionally tempted by the idea of a more serious relationship.
As if to confirm her ruminations, Mark dropped the denuded cob on his paper plate and held his hands out for the old border collie to lick clean. What remained of the butter after that, he left smudged on the seat of his shorts as he got up and headed for Jess.
“He’d better not go for soccer after all he just ate,” Dayna warned to his oblivious back.
“He’s a big boy,” Jaime said absently, reaching for the ice tea and pouring herself a refill while only barely glancing down at her task. Jess was completely absorbed in her own thoughts and showed no sign of noticing Mark’s barefoot approach. As the fact became apparent to Mark, he made his advance even cattier, snuck up behind her and tweaked her ribs with a “Gotcha!”
Jess’s reaction, immediate and intense, was to lash out with a mulish kick that caught Mark squarely in the shin and knocked his leg out from under him. Eric laughed out loud at the astonished look on Mark’s face, but Jaime, Dayna noticed, only became more thoughtful.
“That’s the kind of thing that makes me wonder,” Jaime said.
“No wondering about it,” Dayna responded. “He’s never going to grow up.”
Jaime gave her a startled look, glanced at Mark, and then dismissed him. “I was talking about Jess.”
Dayna said flatly, “Horses have four legs and weigh about a thousand pounds more than Jess.”
This time it was Jaime who shook her head, while Eric realized what they were talking about and tuned in to their conversation, bending his long frame around the lawn chair over which he was draped. “Dayna, just pretend, just for a moment, that it might be possible to change animals to people.”
“There’s no point,” Dayna said flatly.
“Sure there is,” Eric said. “It’ll amuse me.” Dayna rolled her eyes at him and Jaime took it as permission to continue.
The Changespell Saga Page 6
