The Horseman

strangers. I was riding through Omaha of all places, just passing through on my way south to Tucson, and the street was jammed. People riding up onto the boardwalk just to get around. Tempers flaring. It was summer and hot as Hades.

“When I got up to where the problem was, there she was, on her knees with her sister-that mare right there, the white-and this teamster was whipping her. She couldn’t get up. He’d ruined her. Pushed her too far. She couldn’t move and no amount of fear or pain would get her to.”

“You saved her?”

“I gave him everything I had on me for the two of them, unhitched her. I stayed with her until she could move. Brought her water and food. Convinced her there was a reason for living. A nice cool meadow right here where she’d never feel the sting of a whip again.”

Katelyn closed her eyes, willing away the image he’d created in her mind. So, he made a habit of collecting the unwanted and the wounded. And brought them here to heal.

The gray mare nudged Dillon’s arm for attention. When he stroked his big hand down her nose, she leaned into his touch, trusting.

Was that what Dillon saw in her? Katelyn wondered. Someone to pity? Or to save? “You must be gone a lot with your work. Does your brother look after your herd?”

“It keeps him out of trouble. I’ll have to have him over for supper one night soon.” He took her hand. “The stallion is over here. Since he can leap six-foot fences without much trouble, I put him behind eight feet of board so he stays put.”

“It’s sad to pen him up when he’s used to running free.”

“True, but this country isn’t wild, as it used to be. And there’s a price on his head.”

“Cal Willman lives far from here.”

“A day’s journey. A wild mustang and his herd will roam twice that distance. There he is.” Dillon nodded toward the paddock in the shade of the log stable. “He gets two meals a day and he doesn’t need to fight off predators. Hello there, boy.”

The stallion paced the far end of the paddock, constant motion, his mane flying, tail up, ears laid back.

“He doesn’t look happy.”

“No, but he’s better. That wound to his shoulder had begun to fester, so I treated it. He seems to be recovering.”

“I’m glad.” Seeing the majestic creature penned up made her sad.

Dillon climbed through the boards, talking in a low gentle murmur she didn’t realize was a different language, it lulled her so. Tranquil sounding. The horse must have thought so as well because he stopped pacing.

“A few days ago, my brother and I rode out and wrestled him home between the two of us. He broke our best rope. Even injured, he was a tough one to bring in.”

Such an impressive animal. Big for a mustang, brawny but not stocky. A perfect head as black as night with a blaze streaking down the center of his nose. His spots were a flecked blanket draping his shoulders and back and rump. Strong legs, built both for speed and endurance, were rooted in the earth as the stallion waited, ready to flee.

Katelyn held her skirts and climbed through the space in the boards. Before she could straighten, Dillon was there, holding her steady, then guiding her to his side where they faced the nervous stallion together.

“He’s huge.” Being so close to him made her feel small, easily crushed. The stallion’s power radiated from him like heat from a stove, like light from the sun. A wild power that was as unstoppable as the wind. As rare as a new star in the sky.

“It’s a shame to break him.”

“Then we’ll gentle him. There’s a difference, you’ll see.” Dillon dug a peppermint out of his pocket. “Want to feed him?”

“No.” She took one look at the horse, so big now that she was closer. Raw power. Strong muscles rippled beneath his perfect black-and-white coat as he pivoted and ran, pivoted again.

She took another look at the horse as he shot around the rim of the fence. Hooves cutting into the hard-packed earth propelled him forward in a blur of black and white and flying mane. The beat of his step vibrated the earth, moving up through her, through them, leaving her spellbound.

“Watch.” Dillon spoke in that musical, gentle language and the running horse began to calm. The hard line of his elegant neck became softer, arching as the stallion swiveled his big head, keeping one eye and both ears on Dillon as he circled the paddock.

“Hold out your hand.”

She did as he asked and he dropped another candy into her palm. Dillon’s arm slipped around her back to rest on the space between her shoulder blades. His closeness a comfort, warming her like a summer’s wind, from the outside in, as the magnificent stallion slowed, swiveling his ears, considering the softly speaking man and the enticing scent of peppermint. His intelligent eyes studied both humans, as if considering.

What was Dillon saying? She’d love to know. She didn’t want to interrupt the magic to ask as the stallion reached forward with his big head, stretching his neck long, nostrils flaring. He was at the far end of the paddock, distant but considering.

Dillon kept talking conversationally and if Katelyn made her heart still, she could understand what he was saying. Dillon was telling the animal that he was safe, that he wouldn’t be hurt, that they would be friends.

She didn’t know one word of his grandfather’s language, but she could feel Dillon like the emotions inside her. She was mad to think she could feel his heart with hers. She’d never heard of such a thing, but then how could she explain it? Maybe because she’d heard him say those same words in English, and yet there was something of the heart in that unfamiliar cadence.

Something she could sense, and it was Dillon. It was his infinite respect for the stallion, his honorable sincerity and his affection. A caring that reached as deep as the earth and as high the stars and as boundless as heaven. It was a brilliance that filled her as Dillon’s kiss brushed her brow.

A spark like a shock in the air flashed from his kiss to the depths of her.

“Look at that.” Dillon’s whisper was like a tide that moved through her. “He’s decided he wants the treat. Stand real still now.”

The tide crested inside her, swelling like the top curl of the wave rolling in to break on the shore of her heart. As if myth, the spotted stallion approached, noble and regal and so big he blocked the veiled rays of daylight from the sky. But he was not what moved her, what changed her.

Dillon’s whisper swept through her again, a sweeping current washing through her until she felt submerged in it. Drowning in it. His love. His commitment. His tender words as he spoke to the stallion. Or was it to her?

Still he spoke, drawing the stallion closer. Drawing her closer. Her heart felt as if it were lifting, opening as the tide of his heart swept against hers. A warm, sweet surge that eroded the hard, icy protection and laid open the deepest part of her, leaving her too vulnerable, too open. She tried to step back, but Dillon’s hand stopped her. His touch reassured her.

The stallion was quick. She felt the whisper of his satin lips against her palm and the tickle of his delicate whiskers and then he was gone, retreating to a safe distance to crunch the treat. His attention remained on Dillon, watching him, assessing him.

“He’s a smart one, but what a spirit he has.” Dillon’s touch grazed up her spine to nestle against her nape. “It’s going to be a pleasure to get to know him, don’t you think?”

“I do.”

“Do you want to help me gentle him?”

“I don’t know anything about training a horse.”

“I do.” His confidence was as reassuring as the wind on her shoulders. As his touch was as loving on her neck. “I’ve tamed a few cayuses over the years.”

Katelyn remembered the pintos and Appaloosas in the back field. She knew why wild horses came to love him, why they clamored close to him, and not only for the peppermint he offered. How could anyone not come to believe in him?

“C’mon, let’s get you inside. I’ve got supper to put in the oven and you’ve got a nap to take.”

“You’re too good to me, Dillon.”