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Wild Horses
Claire McEwen
This wild stallion can't be tamedTodd Williams is still the naïve idealist he was in college. Only now he's endangering lives—Nora Hoffman's to be exact. Nora hasn’t seen Todd since he decided that saving the rainforest was more important than their relationship. Until the night she’s nearly crushed by the stampede he causes. Now Todd is determined to make amends, for everything.She may not agree with his methods but even Nora can’t deny the importance of his fight to save the wild horses. With the attraction between them still sizzling and the fate of the horses in the balance, Nora must decide just how much she’s willing to risk.
This wild stallion can’t be tamed
Todd Williams is still the naive idealist he was in college. Only now he’s endangering lives—Nora Hoffman’s to be exact. Nora hasn’t seen Todd since he decided that saving the rain forest was more important than their relationship. Until the night she’s nearly crushed by the stampede he causes. Now Todd is determined to make amends, for everything.
She may not agree with his methods, but even Nora can’t deny the importance of his fight to save the wild horses. With the attraction between them still sizzling and the fate of the horses in the balance, Nora must decide just how much she’s willing to risk.
Nora stood up, feeling shaky and sick.
“I need to go, Todd. I’ve got to work early. Thanks for the drink.”
“Nora, hang on.” He stood up, too, leaned a little across the table with his hand out, palm open.
“No.” She took a deep breath and looked right at him. “I know it’s a strange coincidence that we ran into each other in the dark, and that we’re in the same town. But that doesn’t mean we have to be friends. Let’s just agree to be polite and we’ll both be fine. I won’t be in Benson forever anyway.”
“But...”
“See you around, Todd.” There was old pain in her, burning deep and low—pain she didn’t want to feel and most of all, didn’t want him to see.
Nora pushed through the double doors of the bar, inhaling the cool night air with relief. She jumped into her SUV and gunned the engine out of the parking lot, not stopping until she was outside town and she could see every star, horizon to horizon.
She parked her car and stepped out. Leaning against the driver’s side door, she looked up at the glittering sky. How did Todd have the power to make her crazy after all these years? Nora took a deep breath of the clean air and let it out slowly. She just wanted all her feelings about him to be gone.
To live life without the burden of her old, dusty love for him.
Dear Reader (#ulink_ec49ea1b-93bb-58a0-9773-17d9241356ec),
Welcome to the first book in my Sierra Legacy series. Like my previous books, it’s set in the fictional town of Benson, CA. I wasn’t ready to leave my beloved Eastern Sierra yet!
Let me introduce you to the Hoffman family—or at least those not on the run from the law. Siblings, Nora and Wade Hoffman, raised in a notorious criminal family and grappling with that legacy.
Wild Horses is Nora’s story—but she shares it with the wild horses that roam the high desert.
While researching the east side of the Sierra Nevada for my previous books, I learned of the issues facing our nation’s wild horses. The more I read, the more I was drawn to the intense conflict that surrounds them. Are these beautiful animals an important part of our history or just a feral pest that should be eradicated?
The country’s past and present collide around the lives of wild horses and I wanted this romance to mirror that. So I created wild and restless Todd Williams, who, armed with a strong sense of justice, has made saving the wild horses his cause. And I imagined cautious and practical plant biologist Nora Hoffman, who’s documenting the negative effects the wild horses have on the native plants.
Then I gave Nora and Todd a past with a wild love. A first love so great neither of them could forget.
Wishing you joy,
Claire McEwen
A portion of my income from this book will go to charities working to ensure humane treatment and responsible, compassionate management of America’s wild horse and burro herds. For more information, please visit my website, clairemcewen.com (http://www.clairemcewen.com).
Wild Horses
Claire McEwen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CLAIRE MCEWEN lives by the ocean in Northern California with her husband, son and a scruffy, mischievous terrier. When not dreaming up new stories, she can be found digging in her garden with a lot of enthusiasm but, unfortunately, no green thumb. She loves discovering flea-market treasures, walking on the beach, dancing, traveling and reading, of course! Please visit her online at clairemcewen.com (http://www.clairemcewen.com).
For Peggy Adams, who rescued me with horses, humor and her beautiful, generous heart.
This book is the thank-you I didn’t say often enough.
And for Arik, who rescues me with love.
Thank you!
Contents
Cover (#ubdbd040e-d68c-53d7-9f72-68a6ab03fe7d)
Back Cover Text (#u11dac9b8-c22d-5f1d-9726-4b7f62824a90)
Introduction (#uca185eed-db51-5838-9a82-4b24874408e0)
Dear Reader (#udddd1c41-ae0d-5840-9798-e7c99e62492b)
Title Page (#u2c1dfbbd-c86a-5088-a8d5-f9c3824e914b)
About the Author (#u1a5672b0-1d78-5e91-ba48-f3da0ddc461d)
Dedication (#uf0b73fe5-527e-5a87-9bcd-6847db8665a5)
CHAPTER ONE (#ue2da2045-b674-544c-9620-b2f3eafa4f73)
CHAPTER TWO (#u2c3925b0-cc71-5aa7-a1b5-76ae5a547b9b)
CHAPTER THREE (#ue93dd350-de60-5fbe-9276-432f62f6cd72)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u5d19ced5-dec1-51f8-a326-5a872e9e5f00)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u10bfd422-634c-55e3-9ace-289f67add274)
CHAPTER SIX (#ub9581228-f494-5fa7-835b-6b31b09f7b4c)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u67b3ed65-6745-5815-873d-2d2d553079cf)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f12c0553-6d59-540f-b1ad-b4d78282d1d9)
THE ODOR OF sagebrush rose spicy and rich as Nora wove between the low bushes. The crunch of the dry soil beneath her hiking boots fragmented the evening silence. All the scents and sounds of the high desert were magnified after dusk.
She shrugged her pack up higher, the tools, notebook and water bottles she carried heavy on her shoulders. The glamorous life of a plant biologist. There was nothing like the freedom and beauty of the Eastern Sierra landscape. But at moments like these, her muscles wobbly after fourteen hours on the trail, she wondered what it would be like to have a regular job. Maybe one that left her with some energy to go out with friends after work.
The image of herself dressed up, out for drinks or even some dancing, had her smiling wryly into the darkening night. Who was she kidding? She had no friends around here, and drinking and dancing had never really been her style. Her hot date tonight would be with her laptop and her notebook. After such a long and productive day, she had a ton of new information to organize. The hulking shadows of deserted storage buildings loomed into view, set at the top of the small rise ahead of her. Everyone had gone home already, and the Department of Range Management compound was silent. Nora couldn’t wait to be home, too, and beneath a hot shower.
An unfamiliar metallic clank stilled her thoughts and halted her steps. The sound came from the direction of the corrals, where wild mustangs, captured from the surrounding area, were waiting to be auctioned off. Nora had seen them, dim silhouettes in the dawn light, as she’d hiked out today. They’d been huddled together in one corner of the exposed, dusty corral, as if seeking comfort in each other’s company. She heard the clanking again. Maybe one of the horses was restless. Or could a predator be nearby, upsetting the poor captive animals?
But what should she do if coyotes, or a mountain lion, were harassing them? She moved quickly, keeping her footsteps quiet as she jogged toward the storage buildings. Maybe there was some kind of tool there that she could use to scare predators away.
Then the sound of metal slamming into metal ripped through the night again. And her heart slammed against her chest in answer. She froze and tried to calm herself—a gate must have come open, that was all. Then a man’s voice sliced through the night, shouting, “Go!” The command was distinct—and so was the answering whinny.
Nora felt an instant of gratitude that the intruder was human—at least she wouldn’t have to take on any coyotes. But the thought was interrupted by a heavy rumbling sound. Hoofbeats. Hoofbeats accompanied by shadows, darker than the darkness, thundering down the hill toward her. The mustangs weren’t in their pens anymore. They were panicked and heading her way. They’d trample her.
She raced toward a boulder a few yards away and threw herself in front it. Gravel shredded her skin on impact. She gasped as the tools in her belt stabbed into her hip and side. The sound of hooves was deafening, almost on top of her now. She didn’t dare look up, just rolled over and over until she was against the boulder, wishing fervently that it was a much larger piece of rock.
Then the horses were everywhere. Flooding around her measly shelter, so close she could feel the current they created in the air. The cacophony of their hoofbeats eclipsed her scream. She could hear them breathing and grunting as they swerved to avoid her rock. Pebbles, churned up by hooves, pelted the bare skin of her arms and legs. She screamed again, hoping to scare them, to divert their course away from her. But they just kept coming.
Pulling her pack over her head, Nora prayed it would protect her skull from the flying hooves. Cowering underneath it, her world narrowed to her next breath, her blood thundering almost as loudly as the wild horses stampeding around her.
Then they were gone. Instantly, blissfully gone. Their terrifying noise fading as the herd fled into the dark desert night. She lay still, the weight of her pack pressing her cheek into the soil.
The usual evening stillness returned, almost as if none of it had happened. Except it had. Nora had the tears on her cheeks, the stuttering heart, the ragged breath to prove it. Every nerve was on alert, every inhalation felt precious with the knowledge that she could so easily be lying here trampled, no breath in her body.
She hugged the earth, whispering a prayer of thanks. The gravel was rough beneath her cheek but she welcomed the discomfort—it meant she was still here. She closed her eyes and inhaled the dusty smell of soil and of life. She wanted, more than anything, to just go home.
She lifted her head and sat up stiffly, rubbing her hip and side. She would have some huge bruises tomorrow.
Heaving herself off the ground, Nora shouldered her pack and hobbled up the last gravelly rise to the storage sheds. She fumbled with the metal latch, her fingers trembling so much they were almost useless. Finally she got the door open and set her tool belt down just inside. She shut it, the latch a little easier to manipulate now as the adrenaline slowly drained from her system.
How had the gate come open? She remembered the voice, the shouted command. Had someone let the horses out on purpose? Why?
Inhaling another shaky breath, she turned away from the shed and crashed right into a man. The adrenaline was back in an instant, sending nerve endings firing to red alert. She absorbed him in a series of terrified impressions. Broad chest clothed in black. A ski mask. A coil of rope in his hand. A tool belt on his hips. He was all steel muscle—and he was reaching for her.
Nora screamed and shoved past him, running before she was even conscious that she’d moved. Reaching into her pocket, she scrabbled for her car keys. Her pulse pounded; her blood hissed in her ears. Her breathing rasped across the nighttime silence. Every movement felt too loud, too slow, not enough. Her backpack swung and bumped awkwardly on her back.
She heard him jogging behind her, the ease with which his long legs were keeping up with her short strides only adding to her horror. He was playing with her. There was no way she could lose him. If she could just get to her car, get inside, lock herself in, she might have a chance.
She reached her Jeep, wishing the taillights didn’t flash when she touched the unlock button on the remote. She yanked the door open and the interior light came on—a beacon.
“Wait.” The voice was low and quiet. A gloved hand stopped the door. Nora gasped and whirled to face him. He was a terrible shadow in the blackening night, looming over her, emanating power. Nausea filled her stomach as she realized just how alone she was out here and what kind of horrible things might happen next.
“Let me leave.” She tried to make her voice commanding, but it quavered.
“It’s you.” His voice was low, wondering, almost fearful. Not what she’d expected. His fingers left the door and found her wrist, coiling around it. The leather of his gloves felt clammy on her skin.
“What do you mean?” His grip didn’t hurt, but it was binding and scary. “Let go of me!”
“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. I swear.” But he didn’t loosen his hold on her.
“Then, let me go.” She sidled carefully to the right, as far from him as his arm would permit. The car light, no longer blocked by her frame, revealed a faint glint that was his eyes, but the ski mask kept everything else under cover. He studied her face intently, as if he was looking for something there.
Still, her heart thudded, almost hurting. “Please let me go home.” She hated the plaintive note in her voice.
It was too dark to see what color his eyes were, but they didn’t look as though they belonged to someone dangerous. She’d grown up with criminals—she knew what eyes with no conscience behind them looked like.
“I’ll let you go,” he promised, “once you agree not to call the sheriff.”
