and, being curious, as all horses are, were coming to see who this newcomer was. In moments, to her utter delight, she was surrounded by the four mares and two geldings. Most were bay or dark chestnut, but for one dappled gray and a beautiful black with appaloosa spots on her rump.
Unlike dogs, horses held absolutely no fear for her, which she supposed was odd, considering their size and the fact that they were more than capable of doing her harm if they wanted to. But she’d always felt completely at home with horses-loved their warmth and their smell and the ways they had of talking with their ears and eyes and the way they held their heads. And these seemed to accept her instantly as a friend, whickering softly and reaching toward her with their velvety muzzles, jostling for the privilege of being the closest and the first to be petted. One even bumped Rachel’s back with her head, which made her laugh with sheer joy.
“Oh,” she lamented aloud, “I wish I’d brought you some treats. I’m sorry-I’ll bring some next time, okay?”
After crooning to them and stroking and petting each in turn, she said a reluctant goodbye to the horses and slipped between their big warm bodies to continue her walk across the meadow. The horses followed a few paces, whickering in disappointment, then stopped to watch her make her way down a slope toward a thicket of willows and cottonwoods that bordered the far side of the meadow.
There was a creek there, she discovered, and just beyond the creek and the trees, brush and boulder-covered hills rose to meet taller mountains thick with junipers and bull pines. The creek was running too high at this time of year to risk crossing, but she found a nice rock in the shade at the water’s edge, sat on it and began to take off her shoes. Moonshine, who had been off rambling through the meadow grass in pursuit of her own pleasures, came to flop down in the cool sand a short distance away, panting happily.
The ice-cold water on her bare feet made Rachel gasp, at first. Then laugh out loud. She wiggled her toes in the clear water and giggled as minnows darted away from the alien intrusion.
“Feels good, don’t it?”
She ducked instinctively and jerked her feet out of the water, heartbeat gone wild on adrenaline. Still in a half crouch, she cautiously lifted her head to search for the source of the voice.
On the other side of the creek, an old man was sitting on a paint horse, leaning on the saddle horn, watching her. A chill ran through her, one that had nothing to do with the ice water running past her bare toes, as she realized she hadn’t heard him approach, probably because of the noise the creek made. Anybody could have sneaked up on her.
In the time it took to draw two good breaths, she sized him up:
He wore a cowboy hat and a leather vest hanging open over blue denim shirt and jeans. His hair was gray- almost white-and hung well over his collar. He hadn’t shaved in a while.
“I’m not trespassing,” she said.
The old man threw back his head and laughed out loud.
Annoyed rather than reassured, Rachel straightened and let her feet drop back into the water. “Why is that funny?”
“It isn’t,” the old man drawled in a cracking voice. “You just reminded me of somebody I used to know.” He leaned across the saddle horn and nodded with his head in the direction she’d come from. “You’d be from up at the big house, I expect. Kin to old Sam Malone.”
Her heart had accelerated again, but she tried to keep any traces of eagerness out of her voice. “Do you-did you-know him?”
The old man scratched his chin whiskers and considered. “Yep. Sure. Used to know him well. ’Course, that was before he turned into a crazy old cuss.”
Rachel said dryly, “Childhood friend, huh?” The old man gave another bark of laughter.
“That your dog?” He nodded toward Moonshine, who was still lounging in the shade, seemingly unconcerned by the stranger’s sudden appearance.
“No, she belongs to a…friend.”
“Used to have a dog like that. Long time ago-when I was a kid.” He sounded regretful, and his eyes had gone faraway and sad.
Feeling an obscure desire to cheer him, Rachel said, blatantly teasing, “Couldn’t have been all that long ago, then.”
The old man reared back and glared fiercely down at her from his high saddle. “Young woman, are you flirting with me?”
She smiled, not at all intimidated. “Yes, I believe I am.”
He snorted. “Why, I’m old enough to be your grandpa.”
Rachel sighed. “I kind of wish you were. I mean, instead of the ‘crazy old cuss’ who
His eyes narrowed, and even with the whiskers and the width of the creek between them she could see a smile play around the corners of his mouth. “Now, missy, why would you say a thing like that? You don’t know me from Adam.”
She lifted her head to look at him, shaking her braid back over her shoulder. “I don’t-didn’t know him, either,” she said evenly. “But I know he hurt someone I love dearly.”
There was a pause, then the old man nodded and looked away. “I can believe that. Yep…I can believe that.” After a moment he sighed and his head swiveled back to her. “What makes you think I haven’t hurt my share of good people in my lifetime, too?”
She leaned back on her hands and regarded him, thinking about it. “I don’t know…you just don’t seem like you would. Not on purpose, anyway.”
He made a sound-a bark of laughter. “Not now, maybe. But, listen, I was a different person in my younger days. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought so well of me if you’d known me back then.”
“Maybe not,” she said, and stubbornly added, “but then again, maybe I would.”
She was surprised when he laughed again, that deep in the belly, head thrown back guffaw that made him seem years younger than she knew he probably was. “You sure do remind me of someone I used to know.”
“Yeah? Who’s that?”
“Missy,” he said, leaning across the saddle horn, squinting at her with one eye, “I don’t know you well enough to tell you that.”
“You know,” she retorted, “you remind me of someone, too.” And she had to smile.
“Yeah? Who’s that?” Mocking her.
Her smile broadened; laughter tickled beneath her breast-bone. “John Wayne.”
The old man laughed again-not a guffaw but a different kind of laugh and it faded quickly. Somberly, he said, “The Duke was a helluva man. I was-I’d a’ been proud to stand in his shadow.”
Before Rachel could respond to that, they both heard a distant whistle. Moonshine lurched to attention, staring back up the slope toward the ranch house.
“Yeah,” the old man drawled, nodding in the same direction, “that’ll be your ‘friend,’ I expect. Looking for his dog.” His eyes slid sideways, coming back to rest on Rachel. “Or, maybe it’s you he’s lookin’ for.”
She muttered a denial under her breath, and he smiled, showing strong, even teeth among the whiskers. “You know, missy, there’s worse things than a man who thinks enough of a woman to want to keep her safe.”
He touched a finger to his hat brim and went riding off, quickly disappearing behind the thicket of willows and cottonwoods.
Rachel stuffed her feet into her shoes and slid off the rock, discovering only then how oddly quivery she felt inside. More unsettled by her unexpected visitor than she realized, evidently. Something nagged at her, but J.J. was coming, and for the life of her, she couldn’t think what it was…
As she climbed up the steeper slope of the creek bed, she could see him making his way across the meadow, and Moonshine trotting out to meet him. The horses had moved away down to the far end of the meadow. Her steps slowed, then stopped, without her being aware of telling them to, and as she stood watching the tall figure of the sheriff come toward her, she realized she wasn’t angry with him for coming to find her, or even mildly annoyed. What she felt instead, she was almost sure, was
