by Sharon Sala
Jesse felt the stallion’s power beneath her, but knew no fear. He was nothing she couldn’t handle. She trusted Tariq completely. King had trained him well.
“We’re almost there, boy,” Jesse said to the horse, and watched his ears twitch at the sound of her voice.
She knew when the horse smelled the water. His stride lengthened and he strained at the resistance of Jesse’s grip on the reins. She didn’t dare let Tariq have his head. Her hands weren’t strong enough to hold on, or even stop him, if he was allowed to run at full gallop.
Finally they topped the gently rolling hill above the pond and stopped. Jesse let Tariq run the short distance to the water’s edge where the bits of tender green grass still grew in sparse abandon. She dismounted and let the reins trail the ground without tying Tariq, knowing King trained his horses to stand in this manner. The big horse blew softly through his velvety nostrils, tossed his head, and then began to graze slowly along the edge of the pond and down the gentle slope of the dam.
Jesse didn’t hesitate any longer. Looking around carefully just to assure herself that she was truly alone, she kicked off her boots and began to peel away her sweaty clothes, layer by layer.
The water was cooler than expected. She grimaced as a wave lapped at the calves of her legs, then slipped up past her thighs as she waded deeper. Finally she leaned forward and slipped silently into the inviting depths.
It was heaven. Jesse knew from past experience that absolutely nothing was as exhilarating as a skinny dip on a hot, summer day. She swam. She floated. She waded at waist deep level until the skin on her back began to draw and tingle. Jesse knew she’d probably stayed too long and would have a good sunburn, but it had been worth it.
She reluctantly waded from the water and dabbed at the quickly drying moisture on her bare body with the tail of her shirt. Once out of the water, Jesse felt compelled to hurry. She’d just pulled on her last boot and was trying in vain to run a comb through the wet tangles in her hair when she heard a loud commotion begin over the next hill.
She whistled for the horse, and breathed a sigh of relief as he quickly answered her call. He came at a trot, also disturbed by the noise coming from over the hill. He pranced sideways as Jesse tried to mount. She spoke sharply and yanked on the reins, bringing Tariq back into position, then swiftly mounted. The closer she rode toward the sounds, the more certain she knew what she would see when topping the hill.
Sure enough, something was after King’s two-year-olds, and Jesse quickly spotted the trouble as the herd separated, running wildly away from a pack of dogs chasing at their heels. Jesse watched in frustration, unsure of what to do first, when one horse went to his knees. She gasped and started forward when the horse recovered as quickly as he’d fallen and continued his flight to safety.
She breathed a sigh of relief and decided to turn Tariq toward the ranch to go for help when a series of events took the decision out of her hands.
One of the young horses was cut off from the others with knife-sharp precision, the same way a pack of wolves would cut off their prey from a herd before closing in for the kill. The horse ran full tilt through some scrub brush, and plunged headlong in wild flight into a small pond used for watering the stock. Jesse saw the floating plastic milk jugs spaced out across one end of the pond just before the horse plunged headfirst among them. She knew instantly that someone’s trespassing onto King’s property was going to cause great harm.
“Oh, no!” she whispered, and leaned over Tariq’s massive neck, clutching at his long, wiry mane. She saw the horse below begin to thrash wildly about in the water, unable to run any farther, unable to move. He’d been caught in a trot-line—a long fishing line that Turner called a lazy man’s way to fish.
The line usually ran the length of a pond, or across the neck, and had large, barbed hooks set at spaced intervals and at certain depths, angling for the big ones that rested along the pond bottoms when weather was hot and dry. The jugs were used as floats and markers, so that the fisherman could pole a boat along and check each jug to see if the hook dangling below had catch waiting to be harvested.
Jesse knew that if she went back to the ranch, it would be too late to help the horse. The dogs would have killed it before any help could possibly arrive. Without thought for her own dangers, she urged Tariq down the hill. Her screams and shouts and the stallion’s wild race toward them halted the dogs. They scattered, tails between their legs.
“Now what?” she asked herself, as she quickly dismounted and looked about, hoping the dogs had headed for easier game. “Okay,” she said, talking aloud in an effort to calm the trapped and frightened horse. “It’s just you and me, boy.”
She took the rifle from the scabbard behind the saddle, wrapped the reins firmly around the saddle horn, knowing Tariq would run as long as they stayed in place, and slapped him sharply on the rump. She watched the big horse disappear over the hill, racing back toward the ranch, and hoped she’d done the right thing. She knew the quickest way to get help was to send Tariq home alone. She also knew it would probably scare King to death, but she felt she had no choice.
She checked the rifle, making certain that it was loaded, pumped a shell into the chamber and then took it off safety. She’d be ready if the dogs came back. She just hoped to God they didn’t. She was a terrible shot.
“Okay, pretty boy,” Jesse said in a low, calm voice and stepped slowly into the water. The water came over the tops of her boots, slowly seeping down inside as she waded toward the trapped horse. But she soon had to stop as her progress agitated the horse further. She had no choice but to stand knee-deep in the muddy water, waiting between the frightened animal and whatever came into her gun sights. Help had to come soon.
* * *
“Sweet Jesus!” Turner said under his breath, as he saw Tariq come racing down the hill toward the ranch. “King!” he shouted at the top of his voice, and ran to open the corral gate.
King had started to the house when he heard his foreman’s frantic call. What he saw sent him back to the barns with a prayer in his heart and on his lips.
“She’s been at the pond for sure,” Turner said, pulling a bit of green grass caught in Tariq’s bridle.
King nodded, yelled for two of the men to follow in the ranch truck, and headed for his horse. He grabbed the reins from Turner’s hands and swung into the saddle. His feet never touched the stirrups as his long legs scissored the air. Dust boiled and grass flew from beneath the stallion’s hooves as King turned him toward the pond and gave him his head.
He squinted his eyes against the blinding glare of the sun and dust flying through the air in the hot summer wind. Tariq’s great speed and endurance proved itself worthy. He made it back to the pond in record time.
King pulled back sharply on the reins and felt the big horse sawing the bit back and forth in his mouth as he fought King for domination. King persisted, and the big stallion finally came to a halt under a withering blackjack tree beneath the pond dam.
He searched the entire area frantically, unable to see any sign of Jesse. His heartbeat was as erratic as Tariq’s behavior, and his breath came in sharp, choking gasps. He wanted to scream Jesse’s name aloud, but couldn’t find the air in his lungs to do so. Just as he caught his breath enough to call out, a gunshot echoed through the meadow. Tariq jumped nervously beneath him. Only the powerful grip of King’s legs kept the horse from bucking him off. King spun the horse around in the general direction of the shot and kicked Tariq in the flanks. The great horse needed no further urging as he rapidly climbed the hill’s steep incline.
* * *
“Somebody better hurry,” Jesse muttered aloud, and tried to mask her panic as the dog pack reappeared on the crest of a hill above the small pond.
The dogs saw her and stopped, barked several times, but didn’t move from their position.
Jesse knew it would only be a matter of time before they got up the nerve and try another run. Desperation and hunger made vicio
us animals out of man’s best friends. These weren’t naturally wild animals. They had once been someone’s family pets. But they’d been dumped; abandoned by those they had trusted. Now they only had themselves to depend on. Unfortunately for Jesse, these kinds of animals had less fear of humans than a wolf or coyote would have, and Jesse knew she might not be able to stop their charge.
The young horse snorted wildly, also sensing the dogs reappearance, and thrashed weakly, still frantically trying to free himself from the heavy nylon line and sharp hooks. But his movement only drove the hooks deeper and wrapped the line tighter. Finally, he stopped, trembling with shock and pain. Jesse’s low, easy crooning broke through his panic, and he turned pain-filled brown eyes her way.
“Whoa, boy,” Jesse whispered softly, and held out her hand, letting the horse smell her, touch her outstretched fingers with the soft pelt of his nose. She just wanted to let him know she was still here. “It’s gonna be okay, pretty fellow,” she said softly, knowing the sound of her voice was somewhat calming to the animal. “King will come and he’ll take good care of you…yes, he will.” She couldn’t stop the tears that came to her eyes as she continued. “He took care of me. He’ll take good care of you, too.”
Jesse winced as the sun beamed down on her already burning skin. She dipped her hand into the water, cupped it, and carried a handful to her hot, sweaty face, sighing with short-lived relief as she splashed the overheated areas with the muddy water. It dried almost instantly in the intense noon-day sun.
She shifted the gun to a different position. Her hands were cramping and aching, unused to gripping anything as tightly as she was holding the rifle. But she didn’t flinch. She kept her gaze on the dog pack lining the hilltop.
Nearly twenty minutes passed with no movement from the dogs, and Jesse looked frantically down at her watch, shaking it to make certain it still worked. The watch was running all right, and so were the dogs as they came down the crest of the hill.
Jesse’s heart stopped. Then she took a breath, glad the other horses were completely over on the other side of the meadow. She took aim. She knew if the horses had been anywhere close, she’d just as likely hit one of them as a dog. Suddenly she wished she’d paid more attention to Andrew McCandless’s instructions, but it was too late now. The dogs were closer, running with an ominous silence, intent on one goal. Food! Woe be to anything, or anyone, who got in their way.
Jesse could hear the horse behind her begin to thrash around in the water. He, too, sensed impending doom, but she couldn’t worry about that now.
She took a deep breath, shaky aim, and fired at the big shepherd dog in front of the pack, then pumped another shell into the chamber.
* * *
King took one swift look at the scene before him, reached behind his saddle for the rifle that was usually within hand’s reach and then groaned. Jesse had it. With little urging, Tariq retraced his steps, and flew into the confusion below with wild abandon.
Jesse heard the hammer of horse hooves coming down the hill behind her, and prayed it was help arriving, because she’d missed her shot. She watched in fright as the dogs regrouped for another run. She heard King call her name, and turned with relief as he dismounted on the run and jumped into the water with both feet. His only goal was to reach Jesse before the dogs did.
King snatched the rifle from her hands, shooting three times in quick succession. A sharp yelp of pain sent the dogs running back up the hill, and King managed to hit two more and wound another before they disappeared.
He watched them run out of rifle range and knew how closely he’d come to arriving too late. He turned silently, took one long look at Jesse standing wet and bedraggled, threw the rifle onto the edge of the grass, and pulled her into his arms without saying a word.
She felt him shudder, and heard him swallow several times before he pulled back and tried to speak.
Jesse knew he was angry with her because his dark eyes literally took her apart at the seams. He kept running his hands carefully over her body, up and down her arms several times, as if assuring himself she was still in one piece.
He wasn’t going to be able to stop the quick tears of relief that gathered in the corners of his eyes, but didn’t care if Jesse saw them or not. He’d been too frightened to have time to get mad. Then when Jesse hugged him he couldn’t have worked up a good mad if he’d tried.
Jesse sighed wearily and leaned into him, too tired and worn out to worry about him getting the wrong notion.
“What took you so long?” she asked, trying to lighten the situation between them.
King cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs lightly traced the sensual fullness of her lower lip, as he let himself absorb the fact that Jesse was truly safe. He felt the intensity of heat radiating from the skin beneath his fingers and sighed. What he was about to do would probably set their relationship back even further, but he couldn’t help himself. He leaned closer, felt Jesse stiffen beneath his touch, and saw her lips opening. She never got the opportunity to voice her thoughts. King took her breath and thoughts away as he pulled her out of the water, off her feet, and into his arms.
He felt hot and cold at the same time, as the taste of Jesse’s lips sent his sanity begging. He’d known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this would happen—that touching her would be all fire, demanding and consuming, as she answered the pressure of his kiss with a claim of her own. He couldn’t think past the softness of her mouth and the tiny, almost undetectable moans that he heard every time he started to let her go. King held her against his body and felt every muscle in him swell with wanting more. He needed to lay her down on the hard, dry grassland and lose himself in Jesse’s sweet warmth. But this wasn’t the time, or the place, to see how far Jesse would let him venture into uncharted territory. He drew back reluctantly and stroked her lips with his fingertip, needing the reassurance that she was still within reach and touch.
“Honey, you scared me to death,” he said huskily.
Jesse blinked, trying to regain a measure of her equilibrium, but the sight of that beautiful, demanding mouth, just inches away, that had nearly driven her mad, and the touch of his fingers on her lips, made the world go around and around. Finally, the soft whinny of the injured horse brought them both back to their senses.
“The horse, King! It’s caught in a trot-line. I couldn’t get close enough to help him.”
“Horse?” he muttered, slowly coming to his senses. Then realizing what she was trying to say, he turned toward the trapped animal. A string of muffled curses fell from his lips as he saw the young horse’s plight. King whistled for Tariq, got a lariat from the saddle, and quickly made a makeshift bridle for the trapped animal. Walking slowly through the water, until he reached the horse’s side, he carefully placed the bridle over the horse’s head and ran his hands slowly down it’s neck and mane.
“Let me see what you’ve done to yourself, fella,” King said as he worked. He handed the other end of the rope to Jesse, then carefully began to trace the course of the nylon under the water.
The horse nickered, recognizing a familiar smell and voice, and stood quietly as King’s husky growl and gentle hands quickly freed him from the trap of hooks and nylon cord. Several hooks were imbedded too deeply, and King refused to touch them. Instead he cut away the cord and left them for the vet to remove. He waded the length of the pond neck, angrily pulling at the remaining rope and floats and nearly had it cleared when the ranch pickup truck topped the hill above the pond and started down the steep incline.
As soon as the driver came near enough, King called out, sending them back to the ranch to get a horse trailer for the injured animal. He wasn’t about to walk the young horse back in this heat after such a trauma.
He threw the trot-line to one side of the grass to be picked up by his ranch hands, and eyed the dead animals on the opposite hillside. The men could dispose of them, too. He wasn’t leaving Jesse or the horse.
She sat on the grassy edg
e of the pond, pulling first one boot off and then the other, pouring a stream of muddy water from each. She watched King lead the horse from the water and tie the end of rope to a piece of deadwood. This horse was too young and frightened to trust it not to run.
“Couldn’t wait to take off those boots, could you?” King teased softly, trying to ease the tension growing between them. And then he frowned, becoming aware of the increasing redness on Jesse’s face and neck and down her bare arms. “Looks like you took off more than shoes today, didn’t you, Jesse Rose? You’re gonna be sick.”
Jesse looked up and smiled shyly before passing off an answer with a shrug of her shoulders, then wincing at the movement.
King muttered under his breath. He unbuckled his belt and pulled his shirt tail out of his Levi’s.
Jesse’s eyes widened. She managed not to stare as she sneaked delighted peaks at King’s impromptu striptease. Then she couldn’t resist adding, “If we only had a little music while you took it all off.”
King’s eyes narrowed. He glared as he handed her his shirt and jammed his wide-brimmed Stetson on her head. “Shut up and put this on,” he ordered.
Jesse needed no further urging. She sighed with relief as she covered her burning skin.
“We have to talk,” King said, “but now’s not the time. I’ve got to get you, and the horse, back to the ranch.” Then his voice deepened and the ominous tone scared Jesse to death. “There’s something you need to know.”
CHAPTER 8
King watched the veterinarian drive away from the ranch and started into the house, only to be stopped by Maggie’s arrival with a carload of groceries. By the time pleasantries had been exchanged and all the groceries carried inside, half an hour had elapsed. King was worried about how to tell Jesse that the attack had been more than attempted murder. He didn’t know how to tell her about the kidnap attempt without frightening her more. Maggie’s advice gave him no easy way out.
