Read the book: «Wild Mustang»

Chapter One

The narrow and sparsely traveled blacktopped road leading to the Paiute reservation was in need of repair. There were no fences and, to either side, Nevada’s high desert rolled away in acres of silvery sagebrush and other native plants and grasses. Through the open windows of her rental car, Laura Walker breathed in the sage-tinged spring air, keeping tabs on the wild mustang herd to her left.

As usual, one of the mares was in the lead, the black stallion in rearguard position, protecting his harem. While Laura watched, the lead mare—a dun—altered course, obviously heading for the road. Laura pulled the car to the shoulder and stopped, not wanting to miss seeing the wild horses close-up.

As they neared the road, she counted five mares, the stallion, two yearlings, and one foal, doing its best to keep up. Two mares, one a pinto, one a chestnut, looked to be pregnant and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the spotted mare, now lagging behind the stallion, was lame. The rest of the herd seemed healthy.

The lead mare crossed directly in front of the parked car, the other mustangs following her. Laura caught her breath in admiration of their grace and beauty.

Last was the spotted mare who, Laura now saw, definitely limped. The lame mare was almost across the road when a green pickup zoomed into sight, boom box throbbing. Without slowing, the truck roared past. The startled mare lurched ahead, colliding with the foal and knocking it off its feet.

When Laura saw the baby horse was having trouble getting back up, she flung herself from the car and dashed across the road to try to help. Was the foal injured? She hoped it was nothing serious.

Her attention fixed on the foal, Laura paid no attention to the other mustangs who’d gone on ahead. She hadn’t quite reached the foal when it managed to struggle to its feet unaided, so she stopped, resisting the impulse to touch the baby. She wasn’t here to interfere.

A high-pitched angry scream from behind her made her whirl. Horrified, she stared at the charging, black stallion. He must have decided she was a threat to his harem and circled back without her noticing. Fear froze her—he’d cut her off from her car, and there was no other safe place in sight.

Hooves thrummed from behind her. Before she could move, she found herself grabbed, hoisted into the air, and deposited facedown across a rider’s lap like a sack of potatoes, whooshing the breath from her lungs.

As he urged his gray gelding away from the mustangs, Shane Bearclaw kicked him into a gallop to get away from the roused stallion as fast as possible.

“Stupid,” he muttered, meaning it for the blond woman he’d rescued. “Could’ve been killed.”

When he reached the rise where he’d been when he first noticed her get out of her car, he reined in Cloud and looked to see if the black stallion had calmed down. The herd was moving off, away from the rise. Reaching down, he pulled up the blonde, so she more or less sat on his lap.

“You figure this was a good day to die?” he growled.

She stared at him from frightened eyes as blue as Lake Tahoe, holding her body stiffly away from him. Serve her right to be scared. She’d sure as hell scared the devil out of him.

“The mustangs are wild, and the word means what it says,” he told her. “Wild stallions are dangerous. Anybody with sense doesn’t go near them.”

“Let me down.” Her voice quavered so badly he had trouble making out her words.

“Not unless you promise to get up behind me until I get you to your car. I have no intention of trusting you until I see you get in and drive away. My rodeo days are long gone—I’m not up to trying that trick twice in one day.”

He found himself wishing those spectacular blue eyes didn’t look so fearful. “Hey, it’s over,” he said, in softer tones, suddenly aware that no matter how foolish she might have been, he was holding a very pretty blonde on his lap.

“I’m Shane Bearclaw,” he said, realizing he wanted to know who she was.

Laura looked into the dark eyes of this stranger who held her far too close to him. His long black hair was tied back, revealing a strong-featured face. In a way, he reminded her of the stallion who’d threatened her. She found Shane Bearclaw equally threatening.

“Laura Walker,” she managed to say. “I was coming to meet you at your ranch. And, yes, I’d much prefer to be seated behind you.”

This was not the greatest of beginnings as far as she was concerned. Her fear of him was beginning to abate, leaving in its place an edgy awareness of him as a man. That, she could do without.

He offered a one-sided grin as he slid off the gray. “So you’re the semi-Fed in person.”

“The what?” she asked as she eased back until she was behind the saddle.

He remounted. “Anyone who arrives on the reservation with the Fed’s blessing.”

“I have a federal grant, but I’m not otherwise connected in any way with the government.” Indignation threaded through her words.

A shrug told her that he intended to go on thinking of her as he darn well pleased. Deciding she’d delayed far too long in demanding to be taken back to her car, she remedied that in crisp tones.

“If you’ll drop me off at my car, I’ll meet you at your ranch, and we can then discuss how I can best meet my objectives with your help.”

Without a word, he urged his horse into motion, and she found holding onto him was almost as intimate as sitting on his lap. But it was either hang on or fall off.

What seemed like long minutes later, he halted the gray by her car, slid off, and helped her down. “How good are your directions?” he asked. “The ranch isn’t on a main road.”

“Sketchy,” she admitted, stepping away from him.

He rattled off his own version of how to get there.

She nodded and got into the car. Watching him ride away, she realized he was a superb horseman and belatedly remembered that she’d forgotten to thank him for rescuing her. No wonder. No sooner had she gotten her breath back from being suddenly flung onto a horse, when she’d found herself sitting on a strange man’s lap.

Laura had thought her uneasiness around men was under control, but she hadn’t anticipated such an intimate confrontation as she’d had with Shane Bear-claw. And this was the man she’d be working with over the next month or so. A take-charge macho-type who wouldn’t equate brains with women.

Learn to reserve judgment. Laura could almost hear her therapist’s voice. Men are not all the same.

Maybe not. Maybe that big brute on the horse hadn’t been trying to intimidate her. But it certainly felt that way.

“Tenderfoot,” Shane muttered to himself as he rode back to the ranch. Laura Walker, slim and fragile-looking, didn’t strike him as a woman who’d be a happy camper out on the range.

He’d cooperate as promised, but he hoped her mustang studies, whatever they were, wouldn’t take long. He had enough problems without shepherding a greenhorn around—the major one being his fear of losing his custody battle.

“You know I prefer leaving a child in the home she’s accustomed to,” Judge Rankin had told him last week. “But, face it, Shane, there’s no woman in your household. The child’s father has remarried and he and his wife offer a stable environment for the little girl.”

“The ranch is a good environment,” Shane had protested, deliberately misunderstanding.

Judge Rankin had given him a level look. “If you were married, I’d have no problem.”

Shane pressed the gelding into a lope. Married? Not a hope. Not ever again. He’d sworn off it.

After driving along several unmarked gravel roads, Laura pulled into the small oasis surrounding the Bearclaw ranch house. Her brother had told her the desert soil was fertile, all it needed was water and anything would grow. The greenery around the house proved him right. Besides the flowering shrubs near the house foundation, massive cottonwoods shaded the long, low building, testifying to how long people had lived in this spot.

As she left the car, she saw the neat green rows of a fenced-in vegetable garden. Otherwise the yard was left as the desert intended, with no lawn for water to be wasted on. Outbuildings in back included a barn with an attached corral. The house itself was adobe brick with a tile roof.

Before she reached the front door, it opened and a dark-haired girl of about nine or ten stood framed in the doorway. Unlike Shane, she had hazel eyes.

“Hi,” she said, “I’m Sage. You must be Ms. Walker. Shane said you were coming today, and I’ve been waiting. Grandfather has, too, but he doesn’t get antsy like me. You’re lots prettier than I thought you’d be.”

Shane’s daughter? Laura smiled at her. “Then I guess you couldn’t have expected very much.”

“Please come in,” Sage said, stepping aside so Laura could enter.

Ushered into a pleasantly uncluttered living room, Laura chose an attractively decorated leather chair to sit in.

“I made iced tea,” Sage told her. “Would you like some? It’s real tea, not out of a jar ’cause Grandfather hates instant stuff.”

“Thank you, I would,” Laura told her, touched by the little girl’s effort to be a good hostess.

It then occurred to her that the child might actually be the only hostess in the house. She hadn’t mentioned a mother, only a grandfather.

A carving of a horse—surely a wild mustang—on the mantel of the stone fireplace caught Laura’s eye. She rose to take a closer look and was admiring how well the carver seemed to have captured the mustang spirit when Sage came back with a tray.

“This horse is beautiful,” she told the girl.

Sage nodded. “Shane says he senses what animal is in the wood before he starts carving. Grandfather says that’s the mark of a medicine man. So now Shane’s learning all that medicine stuff.”

She set the tray carefully on a polished slab of wood masquerading as a coffee table and offered a paper napkin and a glass to Laura. “Do you take sugar or sweetener?” she asked. “’Cause I didn’t put any in, in case you don’t.”

“This is how I like my tea,” Laura said, resuming her seat, trying to integrate the scowling man who’d rescued her with the obviously sensitive sculptor.

“I like lots of sugar,” Sage confided. “So does Grandfather.”

As if that was a cue, a gray-haired older man, still ramrod straight, entered the room. His hair, like Shane’s, was long and tied back. His shrewd, dark eyes fixed on Laura.

“Grandfather,” Sage said, “this is Ms. Walker.”

The old man nodded. “Howell Bearclaw,” he told her. “I don’t like being called mister, and I don’t like being called Howell much, either. I prefer Grandfather. To us, that’s a title of respect.” Unexpectedly, he grinned at her.

“You don’t have to call me that till you find something about me to respect. What’ll we call you?”

She smiled. “I like being called Laura.”

Sage handed him a glass of tea. He tasted it, nodded in approval, and took the chair opposite Laura’s.

“You’ve come to count the wild horses on our land,” he said.

She shook her head. “Not exactly. My government grant is for determining the overall health of the mustang herds. Nevada, and your reservation, is my first stop. Later, I’ll be doing the same thing in the other states where they range. The Bureau of Land Management estimates Nevada has 22,500 of the 42,000 wild horses in the West.”

He grunted. “At least you don’t call them estrays like the BLM. What kind of word is that? Wild is wild.”

Recalling the stallion, Laura had to agree. Government agencies like the BLM had their own names for things, but wild was most certainly wild.

“My grandson’s going to ride out with you,” he said.

Though it wasn’t a question, Laura nodded. “I hope he doesn’t mind.” Thinking about her meeting with Shane, she was none too sure he was happy about it.

“He’s no grandson of mine if he doesn’t jump at the chance to escort a pretty woman,” Grandfather said.

“I already told her she was pretty,” Sage put in. “She’s nice, too.”

“Must be smart, too, to get that grant.”

Laura was somewhat taken aback at the turn of conversation—almost as though she weren’t there.

Sage turned to her and asked, “Are you married?”

Since there was no reason not to answer, Laura replied, “No, I’m not.” She didn’t add that she never would be, either. That was none of their business.

Sage and her grandfather exchanged a look.

What on earth is all this about? Laura asked herself.

“That makes three of us,” Grandfather said.

Sage giggled. “I’m too young to be married.”

Grandfather frowned at her. “And I suppose you figure I’m too old.”

They both gazed at Laura. What did they expect her to say? Like Goldilocks, that her age was just right?

“Marriage isn’t on my agenda,” she said flatly.

“We are not behaving like proper hosts,” Grandfather said. “We’ve embarrassed our guest by asking a personal question.”

“I’m sorry,” Sage said. “It’s just that Laura’s so pretty I thought she must be married.”

They were at it again, talking about her as if she weren’t in the same room. Though she was inclined to like both of them, she found this trait disturbing. She doubted it was a Paiute custom.

“We are alone too much, Laura,” Grandfather said, this time addressing her directly.

“Yes,” Sage chimed in. “So will you forgive us?”

“I wasn’t offended,” she assured them.

“He’s coming,” Grandfather said. “I’ll go out and take care of Cloud.” Looking at Sage, he added, “You stay and entertain our guest.” He left the room.

Though Laura presumed he meant Shane, she hadn’t heard anything to indicate Shane’s immediate arrival.

“You didn’t ask me what grade I’m in and where I go to school,” Sage told her.

“Should I have?”

Sage shook her head. “Most people do. It gets boring ’cause they don’t really care. Grandfather says never ask a question unless you really want to hear the answer. But then it usually turns out that the questions you want to ask are personal, and people don’t want to answer them.”

Laura took this as a roundabout apology. “Yes, that’s a real bummer, isn’t it?”

She was rewarded with a brilliant smile. “As soon as I heard you were coming, I knew I was going to like you,” Sage said.

“I didn’t know you existed until I got here, but now that we’ve met, I hope we’ll get to know one another better.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Sage raised her head as though listening. “Here comes Shane.” She gazed expectantly at the entrance to the living room.

Only then did Laura hear booted footsteps.

“Excuse me, I have to talk to Grandfather,” Sage said, rising and darting from the room.

Leaving me to face the ogre alone, Laura thought, setting down her empty glass.

In walked Shane, even more impressively masculine than Laura had remembered—stiffening her resolve not to let him intimidate her. Attractive, yes, but that didn’t make him any more appealing to her.

Shane eyed Laura, sitting up straight with her feet crossed ladylike at the ankles, her dressy pantsuit neat, despite the untidy rescue. A city girl. He groaned inwardly, knowing he was stuck with her for at least a month, maybe more. Yeah, she was pretty in her own quiet way, but that wouldn’t make his nursemaid task any easier.

“I was remiss in not immediately thanking you for rescuing me,” Laura said primly.

The way she said it made him feel she didn’t like him any the better for saving her life.

“We’re both lucky it worked,” he said bluntly.

Laura nodded, wishing he’d sit down. It made her nervous to be loomed over.

“Shall we discuss what kind of a schedule would best suit you?” she asked. “I’m quite flexible.”

“Let’s make sure I know what you want from me.”

“I’d like to borrow a horse to ride, if that’s possible,” she said. At his nod, she continued. “Since this is your home territory, I hope you’ll be able to locate the herds on the reservation for me so I can count the horses and get an overall impression of their health.”

“First—you do understand that mustangs make no distinction between reservation land, BLM land, or privately owned ranch land? They aren’t ‘our’ horses, they’re free-ranging.”

“I’m quite aware of that, but I understand at least two herds seem to spend most of their time on Paiute land.” Laura was congratulating herself on her businesslike approach despite her nervousness, when Sage popped into the room.

“Grandfather has asked me to invite you to stay here at the ranch with us,” Sage said to Laura. “Please say you will. We have lots of room, and it’ll be way more convenient for you. Otherwise, you’ll have to drive back and forth from Reno all the time.”

Though taken aback, Laura noticed Shane seemed even more surprised than she was at the invitation.

Before Laura could respond, Sage added plaintively, “I really wish you’d stay here, so we could get to know each other better, like you said.”

Sympathy for Sage’s need for female company shot down Laura’s instinctive refusal before the words passed her lips. She understood what it was to be lonely.

Shane frowned at Sage. “I don’t think Ms. Walker would want to—”

Laura cut him off. “Please tell your grandfather I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness,” she said to the girl. “If Mr. Bearclaw here approves, I accept the kind offer.”

Privately, she reserved her right to retreat to a Reno hotel if it proved uncomfortable to be in the same house with Shane.

“Stay, by all means,” Shane said, in such a determinedly neutral tone, that Laura knew he’d been hoping she’d refuse.

Maybe that was part of the reason she’d accepted. Certainly if he’d invited her, she never would have, though the truth was, staying at the ranch would be more convenient.

“I’ll bring my things with me when I come in the morning, then,” Laura said. Looking at Shane, she added, “What time will you be ready to ride?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Whenever you get here.”

Since Sage was so eager to play hostess, Shane let her show Laura to the door, watching her walk away despite not meaning to. She moved as gracefully as any mare, which was, coming from him, a compliment. So many women either plodded or sashayed, neither of which conveyed grace.

Without willing himself to, he wandered to the window where he’d be able to see her get into her car.

“Laura will be good company for Sage while she’s here,” Grandfather said from in back of him, having arrived soundlessly, as usual. “That’s why I told Sage to ask her to stay with us.”

Shane turned to face him. “I wondered why you hadn’t bothered to consult me.”

“Partners in running the ranch we may be, but I am still Grandfather.”

“Yes, Respected Elder.” Shane said the words with affectionate mockery.

Grandfather grinned at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

Shane had to agree that female company would be good for Sage, but he’d be willing to bet old Bearclaw had something else up his sleeve. Grandfather had the most devious mind on the res. And more than likely in the entire state of Nevada.

Still, what could be his scheme? He’d never interfered in Shane’s private life, so the fact Laura was a woman shouldn’t have anything to do with it, other than her being company for Sage, like he’d said. What then? The mustangs? The fact that she might have some sort of in with the Feds?

Shane shook his head to both possibilities. Maybe he was just imagining Grandfather planning something. What would be the point?