Erin wanted to say something, anything to perpetuate her riding-accident story, which had taken him off the hook. She’d torn up her copy of the citation she’d issued him. As far as she was concerned, what had actually happened on the mountain could stay on the mountain. But he seemed to have a different plan. “It’s a little sore, but I’m fine.”
He nodded and looked at Jack. “Where’s the horse?”
Jack looked to Erin for an answer. She said, “He’s behind that building, or he was a bit ago when I went to find him.” Erin indicated the structure by pointing. “He’s very upset. Scared, angry, maybe both. Apparently two teenage boys tried using ropes as whips to round him up. They may have hit him a few times. I only know he nearly ran down two grown men afterward, and he made it clear he’d do the same again if I went anywhere near him.”
“He’s a nice horse,” the owner said, but Erin knew Wyatt didn’t realize he’d spoken. She gestured with a jerk of her chin so Wyatt would look that way. “I don’t know what got into him,” Ralph continued. “He was acting weird when we got here. Kicking out with his hinds. Whinnying. Almost ran me over to get out of the trailer. He calmed down at the arena and seemed fine again. It wasn’t until I brought him back here that he went ballistic again.”
Wyatt stepped up onto the ramp from off to the side, easily lifting his weight on only one bent leg. He stepped inside the trailer, toeing aside the carpet of straw to examine the floor and then taking a close look at the walls. He glanced out at Erin. “Would you start the truck for me?”
Erin glanced at the owner. “Do you mind if I start your vehicle, sir?”
The older man looked bewildered. “I don’t reckon so.” He turned to look over his shoulder at Wyatt. “You thinking there’s something wrong with the trailer?”
Wyatt grinned. Erin remembered that slow, slightly off-center tilt of his mouth. The first time she’d seen it, she’d been too angry to appreciate its high voltage, but she wasn’t left unaffected by it now. Barring none, he was the sexiest guy she’d ever met, and that purely feminine part of her that she’d tried so hard to deny, responded.
“It’s just a hunch,” he told the man. “So rare that I’ve only seen it once. So I’m probably wrong. But according to what you’ve told me, the horse was beside himself when you got here. Then he calmed down in the arena and was fine until you tried to return him to this trailer.” He reached out and bumped one of the doors that angled out like a bird’s wing. “My gut tells me the trailer is the problem.” He glanced at Erin. “Start the truck, please. Let’s see if I’m right.”
Erin got the keys from Espresso’s master and ran to do Wyatt’s bidding. The instant the engine started to purr, she hopped out of the cab and raced to the back of the trailer again, hoping to see what Wyatt did next. To her bewilderment, he just stood there in the doorway for what seemed forever. Then he slowly paced off the distance to the interior’s front end.
“Nothing,” he announced. “I guessed wrong.”
Erin still wasn’t following. “What did you expect?”
“To get the sand shocked out of me. Faulty wiring will do that.” He shrugged. “Like I said, I’ve seen it only once. A vintage trailer, like this one. Wires shifting and pulling for years. Those wires can get worn. Go bare.” He sighed and leaned his shoulder against the door frame. Then he jumped away, saying, “Holy hell! I wasn’t wrong! This old tin can just lit me up!”
Ralph pushed to his feet. “You mean it shocked you?”
Wyatt nodded.
“But it didn’t shock me!” the older man protested. “The ramp is metal, a good conductor.”
Wyatt toed the rubber pads on the upper end of the ramp. “The current stops there. And I forgot I’ve got on my mountain boots. Rubberized soles for grip.”
“So the trailer was shocking my poor Espresso the whole time I drove him here?”
“That’s my guess.” Wyatt stepped down the ramp. Looking at Jack, he said, “I’ll go talk it over with the horse and get him calmed down. While I’m gone, can you arrange for another trailer to be brought out? Even if we can get someone out here to fix this one, I doubt that the horse will ever trust it again.”
“Dear God.” Ralph sank back down on the ramp. He’d dropped the compress and it now lay near his feet. “Poor Espresso. I got mad at him when he wouldn’t load up. He hasn’t been difficult to load since he was a foal. It never occurred to me that the trailer was causing a problem.”
“Hopefully not through his feet.” Wyatt stood sideways to the ramp and leaned inside the trailer opening to place the flat of his hand on the enclosure floor, which was rectangles of plywood set inside steel framework. When his hand slid over onto metal, he jumped. “Yep, through his feet. At least when he stepped on steel.” He glanced at Ralph. “Is he shod?”
Ralph nodded, his expression stricken. “That must have hurt like blue blazes.”
Wyatt nodded, too. “Yes. You can get this trailer fixed, but your horse may never forget what happened today. I’d have this one repaired, sell it, and buy one that your friend won’t hate.”
Erin stared after Wyatt as he left them and started toward the building. Remembering her mounting fear as she’d followed that path, she watched him for any hint that he was experiencing the same trepidation. If so, he concealed it well. He looked so relaxed that he might have been out for a Sunday stroll.
Jack made several calls on his cell phone. Within minutes, Barney Sterling arrived in his new Ford F-250, pulling what appeared to be a brand-new horse trailer. Jack, using hand signals, helped him get the trailer backed in beside the old one. When Barney finally joined everyone at the end of the trailer with faulty wiring, he smiled at Erin. “Hi, there. How’s the face?”
“Sore.” Erin scowled up at him. “Last I heard, you were at your daughter’s soccer game with your cell turned off. Yet you answered Jack’s call.”
His grin broadened. “Is Noreen telling whoppers about me again? I was at my daughter’s game, but I never turn off my phone. Well, almost never, anyway. She guards my time off like a mother hen. Doesn’t like to call me in unless it’s an emergency.”
“It was. An emergency, I mean. I’m out of my element with horses and told her I wasn’t the right person to send out here.”
Barney bent his head. The brim of his Stetson, a black one instead of county-issue brown, shielded his expression from her view. When he looked back up, his eyes were carefully blank. Voice pitched low, he said, “We’ll have to closet Blake in his office and have a talk with him, I reckon. I’ve heard rumors that things aren’t what they should be between the two of you, that Noreen calls you in when she doesn’t have to instead of bothering anyone else.”
Anger tried to well within Erin, but she tamped it down. Acutely conscious of the muted conversations going on all around them, she said in a modulated voice, “I get very little time off.”
“I’ve heard that. Been meaning to mention it to Blake, but things get busy and I always forget. Being the boss, most of the scuttle doesn’t come up in his presence. I don’t think he realizes what she’s doing.”
Erin couldn’t quite believe her ears. For nearly a year, she’d blamed her hectic work schedule on her lack of seniority. Being a newly hired person was never easy. She’d known that and hadn’t expected this job to be any different. But at some point, even she had started to feel that not even a newbie should be expected to work both night and day.
“She doesn’t like me, so she’s been running me ragged on purpose.” She didn’t phrase it as a question. And now that Barney had put it out there, she thought back to all the times she’d had to leave most of a meal uneaten at an eatery because she’d been called while off duty. It had always been when Noreen was at the desk. “What did she hope? That I’d get fed up with working such long hours and quit?”
“Maybe so.” Barney glanced around to make sure he woul
dn’t be overheard. “We’ve all had our issues with Noreen, Erin. You aren’t the only one she drives crazy.”
“But I needle her about her performance, and I get the feeling the rest of you don’t.”
“I did at first. Everyone did at first. But Blake didn’t can her, and we finally gave up.”
“Because you realized she wasn’t going to change?”
“Yep. And reminding her a dozen or more times a shift to use code and to never give out people’s names over the radio—well, it gets old. And it’s a waste of breath. She isn’t going to change. I got so frustrated that I actually hoped someone would turn us in for using improper airway protocol and the FAA would come down on us. The sheriff would have to do something about her then. Or so I thought. But once I started asking around I found out that Noreen is Marietta’s niece. A single mother of three. If Blake lets her go, she and her kids will be in hurt city, and his marriage won’t be in much better shape.”
“I knew it. That she had to be related to him, I mean.” Erin considered the implications. “Before we talk to our boss, though, maybe I should try speaking with Noreen to see if we can’t push a reset button.”
“Noreen doesn’t reset easily,” Barney warned. “She honestly thinks we’re all high on ourselves because we’re deputies, and that our airway protocol is stuff we created to make ourselves feel more important.”
Erin frowned. “How can she think that? Doesn’t she ever watch cop shows? Granted, cops don’t use as much code now, but they still use it at least half the time. Does she think all cops, everywhere, just make it up, kind of like kids fascinated by pig Latin?”
Barney chuckled. “You just said something.” He held up a finger. “Does she think? Forget the rest. Focus on the thinking part.”
Erin grinned. “You really don’t like the lady.”
“What’s there to like? The bubble gum, maybe?”
Chapter Five
Worried about Wyatt possibly needing her help to catch Espresso, Erin, who fervently hoped her assistance would not be required, trudged across the fairgrounds to the enclosed metal exhibit building. She wasn’t as frightened this time, because she knew Wyatt was there, but she was uneasy. Horses just weren’t her thing, and she’d be perfectly happy never to have another close encounter with one. But this was her job, and whether Noreen had been giving her the shaft by shoving all the crap off on her or not, she’d been sent on this call today, and she owed it to the citizens who paid her wages to perform her duties to the best of her ability.
She expected to hear the horse screaming, plus the resounding thunks that only a horse’s hooves, impacting with force upon the ground, could make. Instead no sound drifted to her. Well, she could hear the whimsical whispering of the wind, distant traffic sounds from Ponderosa Lane, and the faint drone of voices from the crowd that had gathered by the old horse trailer. But other than that, she heard nothing except the faint rustling sound of her clothing as she moved and the crunch of gravel under her boots. Strange. Espresso had snorted, reared, and stomped when she’d tried to approach him.
Easing her head around the corner of the building, she directed her gaze to where Espresso had been when she’d walked out here earlier. She saw no horse and couldn’t pick up on any telling noises to indicate where he might have gone. She was about to start walking again when she saw him about fifty yards to the right of where he’d been when she’d tried to get near him. He stood with his regal head up. The whites of his eyes still rimmed his dark irises. Beneath his coat, which shimmered like a freshly poured cup of coffee, it appeared that all the muscles in his huge body were clenched. He was definitely still a very upset equine.
Only where was Wyatt? Ralph had referred to him as “that horse-whispering guy,” so Erin expected to witness the extraordinary. Instead she couldn’t see the deliciously handsome cowboy anywhere. So why was Espresso so perturbed?
A slight movement caught Erin’s eye, and she lowered her gaze toward the ground in front of the animal. Wyatt. He was crouched down and using the heel of one boot as a rump rest. Head bent, with the brim of his Stetson casting his profile into shadow, he just hunkered there doing nothing, his well-muscled arms loosely crisscrossed over one bent knee, his big hands relaxed and dangling at the wrists. Only his straight golden hair moved, the silky strands shifting slightly in the breeze to skim back and forth over the shoulder seams of his red shirt. What the heck? She’d hoped to see something a little more remarkable.
Slipping quietly around the corner, she relaxed against the building and crossed her arms, determined to watch someone truly knowledgeable about horses use all his tricks. If the last week was any indication, she would occasionally be required in the line of duty to deal with equines, so the more she learned now, the better off she’d be.
Only Wyatt just crouched there, appearing to search the ground for the answer to a mysterious question she couldn’t fathom. This is it? That’s all you’ve got for me? She was already slightly bored. All she’d learn by watching this was how to hunker long enough to make her knees freeze in a bent position.
The horse smacked the ground with both front feet. Then he lunged forward at Wyatt, which made Erin’s heart almost stop. Wyatt didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, she wondered if he even knew the horse was threatening him. He couldn’t hear the animal’s hooves striking the earth or its grunts of warning, after all. She straightened away from the metal siding, groped for what little courage she had when it came to a horse, and tensed to spring forward into a run to alert Wyatt that he was in imminent danger.
Only just as she was about to push off, Espresso whickered and pranced away from Wyatt in a half circle. The horse had been bluffing, she realized. He was trying to let Wyatt know that he was prepared to fight for his life. Feeling as if all the air in her lungs leaked out, Erin went limp against the building again. Espresso came to a stop, once again facing the man. Then he lunged again, drew up short of his target, and pranced back around to resume his prior position. The horse was definitely issuing a challenge and a warning. Wyatt seemed to be oblivious, which was dangerous. But what if this was some kind of game, similar to teenagers playing chicken in automobiles by driving head-on at each other until one person lost his nerve at the last possible second? She watched Wyatt more closely the third time Espresso sprang toward him. She believed she glimpsed a tensing of the muscles across his back. Clearly, he knew the horse was trying to frighten him away, and this was some weird game. Erin just couldn’t figure out what the point was or who was winning.
Espresso let loose with a shrill whinny. Then he grunted and stepped cautiously forward with his head lowered and his neck extended. One step. Two. Three steps. Four. Then the equine stopped, stretched his neck even farther, and sniffed the crown of Wyatt’s hat. Wyatt didn’t move, didn’t look up. The horse whinnied again and whirled away, coming to stand face forward again. Still Wyatt didn’t acknowledge that the animal was even there.
It seemed to Erin that the game lasted for hours, when in reality she knew only minutes had passed. Then, as if Espresso was getting as bored with it as she was, he once again approached Wyatt, this time sniffing not only his hat, but also his shirt. Then his hands. At that point, Wyatt flicked his wrist to turn up his palm, and the horse nuzzled his loosely curled fingers before getting spooked again for no apparent reason.
There followed one of the most fascinating thirty minutes of Erin’s career as a law enforcement officer. Wyatt won the horse over without lifting a finger. Espresso, apparently tired of the feinting and circling, finally nudged Wyatt’s shoulder with enough force to push him off his feet. The cowboy caught his balance, got his boots positioned underneath himself again, and resumed staring at the ground. Espresso bumped him again. Wyatt recovered his position. This went on until Espresso decided enough was enough and tucked his nose under Wyatt’s right arm. Erin’s heart caught when the cowboy slowly raised his left hand and bega
n stroking Espresso’s forehead.
Erin hadn’t heard any horse whispering, but she felt certain that she had just witnessed the phenomenon. Espresso was definitely talking now, snorting, blowing, and making soft, grunting sounds. Erin tried to imagine what the animal was trying to say, and she decided his one-sided dialogue went something like, I got shocked, man. Dang near cooked me extra done. Then my human tried to make me go back into that torture chamber, and I got really scared. Erin’s mind stopped short when Wyatt stood, stepped close to the horse’s shoulder, and curled an arm around his neck. More petting and stroking ensued. Espresso’s grumbling description of his trials continued. Wyatt appeared to be just listening, but Erin knew now that he truly was deaf and couldn’t hear a sound the horse made.
It didn’t seem to matter to Espresso. He’d found a friend in Wyatt, someone who understood his fear and knew how to work around it. She was reminded of watching a love scene in a film, only all the sexiness had taken a backseat to emotions far more elemental and difficult to understand. A horse and a man, communicating without words. A burning sensation washed over her eyes, because she’d never seen anything quite so touching or beautiful.
Wyatt gave the horse a final scratch behind the ears and then walked toward Erin. She straightened away from the building to greet him. “Hi. I didn’t think you knew I was here.” She made sure he could see her lips as she spoke, which was a huge improvement over the last time she’d seen this man. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t need help.” She smiled. “Obviously, you didn’t.” She glanced past him. “Uh-oh. Company is coming. Will he go after me?”
Wyatt held her gaze with those incredible eyes that rivaled the blue of the sky. “Just pretend you don’t notice him.”
Strawberry Hill Page 14
