Palomino

5

The next morning Samantha climbed out of bed with a horrific groan, she staggered to the shower and stood there for a full fifteen minutes with the hot water raining down on her sore limbs. The insides of her knees were almost scarlet from her eleven-hour day in the saddle, and she padded her long Johns with wads of cotton as she gingerly stepped back into her jeans. The only encouraging sign for the day ahead was that it was no longer raining, and she glanced around her in the early morning darkness, noticing that there were still stars in the sky, as she made her way to the main dining hall for breakfast. This morning she felt less timid as she walked in, hung her jacket on a hook, and went straight to the coffee machine, where she filled a tall steaming mug. She saw her old friend Josh at a far table and went over to him with a smile as he beckoned to her to sit down.

“How you feelin' today, Samantha?”

She grinned ruefully at him and lowered her voice conspiratorially as she took over the empty chair. “It's a good thing we're riding today, Josh, that's all I can tell you.”

“How's that?”

“Cause I sure as hell couldn't walk. I just about crawled here from the big house.” Josh and the other two men chuckled and one of them praised her for her hard ride the day before.

“You sure are a damn fine rider, Samantha.” Not that she had had the opportunity to show them her stuff in the driving rain.

“I used to be. It's been a long time.”

“Don't make no difference,” Josh told her firmly. “You got a good seat, good hands, you got 'em for the rest of your life. You gonna ride Rusty again today, Sam?” He raised one eyebrow and she shrugged as she sipped her coffee.

“We'll see. I don't think so.” Josh only smiled. He knew that Sam wouldn't put up with an old nag like that for long. Sure as hell not after she saw Black Beauty. It would be a miracle if she wasn't riding him before long. “What did you think of the big boy?” He grinned with pleasure.

“Black Beauty?” Her eyes filled with a special light as she said his name. There was something about horsepeople and a Thoroughbred stallion. It was a kind of passion other people would never understand. Josh nodded and grinned. “He's the best piece of horseflesh I've ever seen.”

“Miss Caro going to let you ride him?” He couldn't resist asking.

“If I can talk her into it-and don't think I won't try!” Sam smiled back over her shoulder as she headed for the line waiting for breakfast. She returned five minutes later with a plate of sausages and fried eggs. Two of the men had moved to another table, and Josh was already squaring the hat on his head. “Going out early, Josh?”

“I told Tate I'd give him a hand in the barn before we ride out this morning.” He smiled at her, turned to call out to one of his friends, and then disappeared.

Twenty minutes later when Samantha went out to the barn to saddle up, she looked around hesitantly for Tate, not entirely sure how to broach the change of mounts with him. But on a day like this there was no way she was going to ride a nag like the one he'd assigned her. She was sure that if Navajo was Caroline's suggestion, he would be much more her style.

A couple of the men nodded to her as they walked past her. They seemed less annoyed by her presence than they had been the previous morning. She suspected that even though they had been expecting her they hadn't imagined her quite as she was. But she also knew that if nothing else would win them over, riding as hard and as long as they did in the driving rain would eventually win their hearts. And if she was going to spend the next three months on Caroline's ranch, acting like any other ranch hand, then it was important to her that the men come to accept her as one of them. Still she knew that one or two of the younger ones had been stunned by her looks and her youth, and she had caught one of them staring at her in fascination the evening before when she had pulled the rubber band out of her hair at the end of the long day and shook out her wet mane of silvery blond hair. She had smiled at him briefly and he had blushed furiously and turned away.

“Morning, Miss Taylor.” The firm voice broke into Sam's reverie, and when she looked up at Tate Jordan, she suddenly knew that however uncomfortable he may have made her, or wanted to, she was not willing to ride a bad horse all day in order to prove that he was in charge. There was something stubborn and determined just in the way he looked at her, and it set her back up just watching the way he moved his head. “Tired after yesterday?”

“Not really.” Not to him would she admit the aches and the pains. Tired? Of course not. Just to look at him one knew how powerful and important he thought he was. Assistant foreman on the Lord Ranch. Not bad, Mr. Assistant Foreman. And Sam knew it was possible that at sixty-three, Bill King might retire at any moment and leave Tate Jordan his oversize shoes to fill. Not that Jordan would fill them as impressively as Bill King had, or as intelligently or as kindly or as wisely… She didn't know why, but Tate Jordan annoyed the hell out of her, and there was an unspoken friction between them one could sense instantly as he brushed past. “Ahh… Mr. Jordan.” She suddenly felt an odd pleasure in putting a spoke in his wheels.

“Yes?” He turned to face her, holding a saddle perched on one shoulder.

“I thought I'd try a different ride.” Her eyes were cool as glass as his slowly began to blaze.

“What did you have in mind?” There was an undertone of challenge.

She was dying to say Black Beauty, but decided not to waste the irony of the suggestion on him. “Caroline thought that Navajo might do.”

He looked momentarily annoyed, but then nodded and turned away, muttering distractedly over his shoulder, “Go ahead.” The very words irritated Samantha. Why did she need his permission for what horse she rode? Reason provided a simple answer, but she still bristled at his style as she found Navajo's stall and his saddle and bridle in a little tack room just beyond it and went back to saddle up. He was a beautiful Appaloosa, mottled whipped-cream-and-chocolate face, rich brown flanks, and the characteristic white hindquarters with big brown spots. He was gentle as Samantha put the saddle on him and then strapped the girth beneath him, but it was also evident as she led him out of his stall that he had a great deal more spirit than Rusty. In fact she had to work to control him once she was astride, and he pranced for a full five minutes as she attempted to join the others beginning to move out. She had been assigned the same group as the previous day, and she saw Tate Jordan watching her with open disapproval as they rode toward the hills.

“Think you can manage him, Miss Taylor?” His voice was clear as a bell and Samantha suddenly felt a strong urge to hit him as he rode alongside her and observed the frisky maneuvers of her horse.

“I'll certainly try, Mr. Jordan.”

“I think we probably should have given you Lady.” Samantha said nothing at all in answer and moved on. Half an hour later they were all engrossed in what they were doing: looking for strays and once again checking fences. They found a sick heifer, which two of the men roped in order to lead back to one of the main cattle barns. And by the time they stopped for lunch, they had already put in six hours of work. They stopped in a clearing and tied the horses to the surrounding trees. The usual sandwiches and soup and coffee were handed around, and conversation was sparse but relaxed. No one said much to Samantha, but she was comfortable with them nonetheless and let her thoughts drift as she sat for a few moments with her eyes closed in the winter sun.

“You must be tired, Miss Taylor.” It was that voice again. She opened one eye.

“Not really. I was enjoying the sunshine. Does that bother you very much?”

“Not at all.” He smiled pleasantly. “How are you enjoying Navajo?”

“Very much.” She opened both eyes and smiled at him. And then she suddenly couldn't resist teasing him a little. “Not as much as I'd enjoy Black Beauty of course.” She smiled mischievously at him and it was hard to tell if she meant it or not.

“That, Miss Taylor”-he returned the smile to her like a rapid volley in tennis-“is a mistake I hope you never make.” He nodded wisely. “You'd get hurt. And that”-he smiled gently at her again-“would be a great shame. A stallion like that, there are damn few people who should ride him. Even Miss Lord herself has to be careful when she takes him out. He's a dangerous beast, and not…” He looked for the right words.”… not the kind of horse a ‘sometime rider’ ought to play with.” The green eyes looked infinitely patronizing as he gazed down at her with his steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

“Have you ridden him?” The question was blunt and her eyes didn't smile.

“Once.”

“How did you find him?”

“He's a beautiful animal. No doubt about that.” The green eyes smiled again. “He's quite a different ride than Navajo.” But there was an implication in his words that suggested that Navajo was all she could handle. “Looks like he gave you a little bit of a hard time when we started out.”

“And you thought I couldn't handle it?” She was almost amused.

“I was concerned. After all, if you get hurt, it's my responsibility, Miss Taylor.”

“Spoken like a true foreman, Mr. Jordan. But I don't really think Miss Lord would hold you responsible for what happens to me with a horse. She knows me too well.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I'm not used to riding horses like Rusty.”

“But you think you're up to a stallion like Black Beauty?” He knew that neither Caroline Lord nor Bill King would let her ride him. Hell, they'd only let him ride the exquisite Thoroughbred once.

Samantha nodded quietly. “Yes, I think I could ride him.”

He looked amused. “Do you? You're that sure of yourself, are you?”

“I just know how I ride. I ride hard. I take chances. I know what I'm doing, and I've been riding since I was five. That's been a while.”

“Every day?” There was a challenge again. “Ride much in New York, do you?”

“No, Mr. Jordan.” She smiled sweetly. “I don't.” But as she said it she vowed to ride Black Beauty as soon as Caroline would let her, because she wanted to, and because she wanted to show this arrogant cowboy that she could.

A moment later he strode back toward his men and gave them the signal. They mounted up and spent the rest of the afternoon checking the boundaries of the ranch. They found some more loose heifers at the outermost reaches and drove them home at sunset, when once again Samantha wondered if she would even be able to get off her horse. But Josh was waiting for her outside the barn when they got there, and he gave her a hand as she swung her leg over Navajo with a groan.

“You gonna make it, Sam?”

“I doubt it.” He grinned at her in answer as she untacked her horse and almost staggered to the tack room to put her saddle and bridle away.

“How'd it go today?” He followed her and stood in the doorway.

“All right, I guess.” She realized with a tired smile that she was beginning to speak like the rest of the cowboys, in the same sparse fashion. Only Jordan spoke differently than they did, and only when he was speaking to her. Then the education he'd had was obvious; the rest of the time he sounded just like them. Not unlike Bill King, who was subtly different when he was with Caroline, but not as much. Bill King and Tate Jordan were very different men. Jordan was much less of a rough diamond than most.

“Long way from New York, ain't it, Samantha?” The wizened little old cowboy grinned, and she rolled her eyes.

“It sure is. But that's why I came out here.”

He nodded. He didn't really know why she had come. But he understood. A ranch was a good place to be when one had problems. Lots of hard work, fresh air, good food, and good horses would cure almost anything. Your belly got full, your rump got tired, the sun came up and went down, and another day went by with nothing more complicated to worry about than if your horse needed new shoes or the fence on the south forty needed fixing. It was the only life Josh had ever known but he had seen plenty of other people try other things and come back to it. It was a good life. And he knew it would do Sam good too. Whatever she was running away from, it would help her. He had noticed the dark circles under her eyes the previous morning. They already looked clearer today.

Together, they wandered past Black Beauty, and almost instinctively Sam reached out and patted his neck. “Hello, boy.” She spoke softly to him and he whinnied as though he knew her. She gazed at him thoughtfully, as though once again seeing him for the first time. And then an odd light came into her eyes as she left the big barn with Josh at her side, bid him good night, and walked slowly back to the big house, where Bill King was talking to Caroline. They stopped when she came in.

“Hello, Bill… Caro.” She smiled at them both. “Am I interrupting something?” She looked embarrassed for a moment, but they were both quick to shake their heads.

“Of course not, dear.” Caroline kissed her and Bill King picked up his hat and got up.

“I'll be seein' you tomorrow, ladies.” He was quick to leave them and Samantha sprawled out on the couch with a sigh.

“Hard day?” Caroline looked at her gently as she lay there. She herself hadn't ridden all week. She and Bill still had a lot of paperwork to do before year's end, and there were only two weeks left in which to do it. She'd at least have to get out and ride Black Beauty one of these days before he became totally wild, but she didn't really even have time for that. “Are you very tired, Sam?” Caroline looked sympathetic.

“Tired? Are you kidding? After sitting at a desk for all these years? I'm not tired. I'm broken. If Josh didn't drag me off that horse every night, I'd probably have to sleep out there.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” The two women laughed and the Mexican woman who helped Caroline with the cleaning and cooking signaled from the kitchen. Dinner was ready. “Mmm, what is it?” Samantha wrinkled her nose happily on the way into the big handsomely done country kitchen.

“Enchiladas, chiles rellenos, tamales… All my favorites, I hope some of them are yours.”

Samantha smiled at her happily. “After a day like that you could feed me cardboard, as long as there was lots of it, with a bath and a bed at the end of the meal.”

“I'll remember that, Samantha. Otherwise how's it going? Everyone being civil to you, I hope?” She furrowed her brows as she asked the question, and Samantha nodded and smiled.

“Everyone's perfectly pleasant.” But there was a tiny catch in her voice and Caroline was quick to hear it.

“Except?”

“No except's. I don't think Tate Jordan and I will ever be best friends, but he's perfectly civilized. I just don't think he approves of what he calls ‘sometime riders.’”

Caroline looked amused. “Probably not. He is an odd sort. In some ways he thinks like a rancher, but he's perfectly happy to break his back working on the ranch. He is the last of the real thing. Real cowboys, the hard-riding, hardworking, down-to-the-core ranchman who would die for the ranchers he works for and do anything he could to save the ranch. He's a good man to have here, and one day,” she sighed softly, “he'll be the right man to step into Bill's shoes. If he stays.”

“Why wouldn't he? He has a hell of a nice life here. You've always provided your men with more comforts than anyone else.”

“Yes.” She nodded slowly. “And I've never been convinced that that mattered to them as much as I thought it should. They're a funny breed. Almost everything they do is a matter of pride and honor. They'll work for one man for nothing because they feel they owe him or because he's done right by them, and then leave someone else because they feel they should. It's impossible to predict what any of them will do. Even Bill. I never even fully know with him what he's going to do.”

“It must be quite something to try and run a ranch like that.”

“It's interesting.” Caroline smiled. “Very interesting.” And then suddenly she noticed Samantha glancing at her watch. “Something wrong, Sam?”

“No.” Sam looked suddenly strangely quiet. “It's six o'clock.”

“Yes?” For a moment Caroline didn't understand and then she did. “The news broadcast?” Samantha nodded. “Do you watch it every night?”

“I try not to.” The look of pain was back in Sam's eyes as she said it. “But in the end I always do.”

“Do you think you ought to?”

“No.” Slowly Samantha shook her head.

“Do you want me to have Lucia-Maria bring the television in? She can, you know.” But Sam shook her head again.

“I have to stop watching sometime.” A tiny sigh escaped her. “I might as well stop watching right now.” It was like fighting an addiction. The addiction of staring into John Taylor's face every night.

“Can I offer anything to help distract you? A drink? A rival newscast? Hard candy? Some tissues to shred?” She was teasing and Samantha laughed then. What a wonderful woman she was and she seemed to understand it all.

“I'll be all right, but come to think of it…” She looked across the table at Caroline, looking like a very young girl with an enormous request, like Mom's mink stole for the senior prom. And the long blond hair loose on her shoulders only helped to make her look younger in the soft light. “I do have a favor to ask.”

“What's that? I can't imagine anything here you can't have.”

“I can.” Samantha grinned like a little kid.

“And what might that be?”

Samantha whispered the two magic words. “Black Beauty.”

For a moment Caroline looked pensive, and then suddenly she looked amused. “So that's it, is it! I see…”

“Aunt Caro… may I?”

“May you what?” Caroline Lord sat back in her chair with a regal air and a twinkle in her eye.

But Samantha would not be easily put off. “May I ride him?”

There was no answer for a long moment as Caroline grew anxious. “Do you think you're up to it yet?”

Samantha nodded slowly, knowing the truth of what Josh had said: If you had it, you never lost it. “I do.”

Caroline nodded slowly. She had watched Sam riding into the main compound as she and Bill had stood at her large picture windows. Sam just had horses in her bones. It was a part of her, instinctively, even after not riding for over a year. “Why do you want to ride him?” She cocked her head to one side, her dinner forgotten.

When Samantha answered, her voice was gentle and her eyes had a faraway look, her ex-husband's broadcast forgotten, along with the woman to whom he had fled. All she could think of now was the ravishingly beautiful black stallion in the stables and how badly she wanted to feel him beneath her as together they raced into the wind. “I don't know why.” She looked up at Caroline honestly. And then she smiled. “I just feel as though, as though”-she faltered for a moment, her eyes distant again-“as though I have to. I can't explain it, Caro. There's something about that horse.” She smiled a distant smile, which was instantly reflected in Caroline's eyes.

“I know. I felt it too. That was why I had to have him. Even if it makes no sense for a woman my age to have a horse like him. I had to, just this one last time.” Samantha nodded her complete understanding and as the two women looked into each other's eyes they felt the same bond that had always held them together, across the years, across the miles. In some ways they were as one, as though in their souls they were mother and daughter.

“Well?” Samantha looked at her hopefully.

“Go ahead.” Caroline smiled slowly. “Ride him.”

“When?” Sam almost held her breath.

“Tomorrow. Why not?”