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“So, what do you think?” a raspy voice asked from behind him. “That round enough for you?”
Jesse turned. Casey Henderson still looked like a fireplug with his short, stocky body, his ruddy face and the red suspenders he was never without. A black patch covered his left eye, a souvenir from his rodeo days. His right eye searched the younger man’s face intently.
“Yes, sir, the pen’s just fine.” He held out his hand. “Jesse Calder.” For a fleeting instant, he thought he saw a flash of recognition or perhaps just suspicion on the manager’s tanned face.
But Casey’s grip was strong and brief as he introduced himself, then whipped a red kerchief out of the back pocket of his worn jeans. “Still can’t figure why you had to have a round pen.” Removing his black hat, he ran the kerchief over his sweaty, nearly bald pate.
“You’ll see when I start to work with Remus,” Jesse told him.
Casey motioned with his chin toward the large aluminum horse barn gleaming in the hot sun. “Let’s go see him then. You think you can help Remus?” he asked as they walked.
“We’ll find out,” Jesse answered noncommittally as he fell in step with Casey. Working with damaged horses, both with his father and alone, he’d learned that most responded well to their methods, given enough time. But there were a few too badly traumatized to ever be helped. “What happened to him?” On the phone, the ranch manager had been fairly vague.
“Well, it’s a sad story, really.” Casey waved to a group of men strolling to the mess hall across the wide drive from the barn. Beyond that was the bunkhouse for the single men and a couple of small cabins for the married ones.
“Martins’ youngest daughter, Abby, ran across Remus three or four years ago. She teaches a little preschool class and she was picking up one of the kids over on Pickerel Lane. Seems the family across the street from where she stopped had moved away and abandoned Remus. He was wandering around a messy corral, half-starved. Abby’s got a real soft heart so she looked into it. Seems he’d been abused for quite a while.”
At the mention of Abby, Jesse’s interest accelerated. He well remembered how much she’d loved horses. He also wasn’t surprised she was working with children since she’d talked about doing just that all those years ago. She and her husband must live close by.
They reached the barn door where Casey paused, squinting up at the sun. “Naturally, she talked Vern into bringing the stallion here and she nursed him back to health. She tamed him, too. He became real gentle.”
Three or four years ago, Jesse noted. Had Abby and her husband lived here with the Martins back then? He wondered if he dare ask Casey without giving himself away. If they learned who he was, so be it, but he’d hoped to buy a little time first, perhaps get a chance to talk with Abby and explain.
“Then along came that damn fire.” Casey adjusted his big hat that all but engulfed his head, his eyes downcast. “It was my fault. One really cold night last February, I put a space heater in next to Remus’s stall on account of his end of the barn was the original from before the building was redone and there was no heat. Don’t know what happened, but somehow the heater fell over and started a fire. By the time me and the boys saw the blaze, poor Remus was wild, screaming, burns along his left side. We got him sedated, got the vet. He’s pretty much healed now, but he don’t trust no one, not even Abby. Won’t let anyone touch him, much less ride him. Vern wanted to put him down, but Abby wouldn’t let him. Then we read about your work.”
Casey stuffed the kerchief back into his pocket. “I’d be right grateful if you could fix him. And Abby would be, too.”
Jesse had seen the same kind of guilt before and knew it was a heavy load to carry. “I’ll try, but I want you to know I don’t do it for the owner. I do it for the horse. If he won’t let anyone near him, like you say, he’s unhappy and afraid. That’s what needs fixing.”
“Any way you call it, just fix him.” Casey shoved open the heavy sliding door.
Jesse decided to take a chance. “So then Abby lives here and still has an interest in Remus?” When Casey turned and settled his one piercing eye on his face, trying to read him, Jesse shrugged. “I’d heard she married and moved away.”
The older man studied him for a long moment before answering. “She did, but that was a while ago. Her husband died so she came back.” Again Casey aimed his chin in the direction just beyond the big house. “That there’s her schoolhouse for the little ones around here, before they go to regular school. Started out small but she’s got about a dozen of ’em now, coming and going. But she’s still mighty interested in Remus.”
A widow. That was one he hadn’t thought of. Jesse followed Casey into the barn and along the concrete walk with horse stalls on both sides. He noticed that the dividers were in good repair, the hay fresh and the lighting dim. He remembered that the Martins had run a clean operation. Half a dozen workhorses were in their stalls.
“Most of the horses are still out, but they’ll be coming in soon, ’cept for the overnighters,” Casey explained. He greeted two cowboys by name as they walked by.
A partition separated the main building from a much smaller area at the far end. Jesse slowed as he moved within sight of a single stall where a black horse stood perfectly still watching their approach.
“That’s our Remus,” Casey said, standing aside.
The stallion’s right side, Jesse noted, looked perfectly normal. But as he silently stepped closer, he saw the damaged hide that started on his face and ran along his left flank, leaving a large section mottled and scarred. The wound appeared healed. The real trauma was inside Remus’s brain.
Gauging his mood, Jesse took one step closer and talked to him, his voice low and soothing. The horse’s ears, revealing his emotions, were suddenly split, one forward and one back, displaying concern at this newcomer, trying to figure him out. Again Jesse said a few words, but when he stepped closer, Remus’s ears pinned back in an angry, aggressive response just before he reared up on his back legs, blowing out through his nose, his eyes going wild. Jesse retreated to join Casey who was looking very skeptical.
“See what I mean? Ornery cuss. Doesn’t seem to like you, either.”
“It’s about the reaction I expected, given all he’s been through. I’ll start with him in the morning.”
“You’re not afraid to get in that round pen with all that dangerous horseflesh?” Casey asked as they walked away.
“I have to gain his trust first in order to work with him.”
“Maybe we need to get the vet to give him a shot, calm him down before you start.”
“No, I don’t want him sedated. I’ll just need a light cotton line once you open the door and let him into the pen.”
Casey shook his head as they left the barn. “All right, it’s your funeral.” He turned to close the double doors, then remembered something. “Hold on a minute.” He disappeared inside.
Jesse shoved his hands in his back pockets and glanced toward the huge cattle barn next door, recalling that it was divided into sections for milk cows, the calving stalls, the insemination area. Now in the summer, most of the cattle were out to pasture, the cowboys who watched them drifting in staggered groups to chow down. Through the wide mess hall windows, he saw about half a dozen men seated at long tables. The Martin ranch seemed shorthanded, which was not usual during the busy summer season.
The sound of a horse’s hooves approaching from the range interrupted his thoughts. A sleek chestnut galloped closer, the rider a woman with a blond ponytail, her face flushed as she passed him and smoothly slowed to a stop at the far door to the horse barn. He recognized Abby immediately as she expertly dismounted and moved to the chestnut’s head to stroke the mare with a loving gesture. A tall man with bandy legs came out of the barn and took the mare’s reins from her, probably to cool her down. He said something to Abby and she laughed, the sound carrying to where Jesse stood.
He remembered that laugh, musical and lighthearted. She’d laughed often back then; he wondered if she did now. Seeing her even briefly brought memories of their time together rushing back. Did she remember them with fondness or pain, or at all? How long ago had her husband died and how? From this distance, she looked the same, but maybe, up close, she’d changed as much as he had.
Casey came out, closed the doors and followed Jesse’s gaze. “That’s Abby, the youngest daughter. I’ll let you settle in first, then take you to meet her and Vern tomorrow.” He nodded toward the mess hall. “Hope you’re hungry. Our Carmalita’s the most popular gal on the ranch ’cause she cooks like an angel.” He led the way to the long one-story building.
Tugging his gaze from Abby, Jesse followed.
“Vern had the cabin next to mine near the big house fixed up for you. Figured you might like some privacy, you know.”
“Very thoughtful of him.” Only how would Vern Martin feel if and when he learned of Jesse’s past deception?
Inside, Casey introduced Jesse to the men still eating, explaining why he was there. Several had heard about the Calder methods and expressed curiosity and skepticism, but Jesse didn’t say much, just that they should wait to make up their minds after he had a chance to work with Remus.
But it was when Casey took him over to Carmalita that Jesse had his first nervous moment. Six years ago, he’d spent some time talking with the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman who’d worked as cook for the Martins for twenty years, ever since her husband had been killed in an accident on the ranch. Vern had told her she had a lifetime job and a retirement when she chose to quit, but at fifty, she showed no signs of slowing down.
A dish towel draped over her shoulder, one small hand buried in a pot holder, she stirred something deliciously fragrant in a big pot on the large stove in the back room, her dark eyes looking Jesse over as closely as she might a chicken she was choosing for dinner. He noticed that she still favored peasant blouses with her long black skirt and the large gold hoop earrings he remembered. He met her gaze silently as Casey explained who he was.
Finally, she put down the spoon. “You look familiar. You got a brother?”
“Yes. His name’s Jake and we’re twins.”
“Mm-hmm. It’s the eyes, those blue eyes. He ever been here?”
“I don’t think so,” Jesse answered honestly.
“I knew another Jesse once,” she continued. At last, she shook her head. “Anyhow, welcome. Go help yourself.”
Relieved, Jesse thanked her and walked with Casey to the heavy buffet table laden with food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he’d smelled the barbecued chicken. He took a plate, filled it and sat down at the nearest table where Casey joined him. Most of the men were finished and gone, only a few lingering over coffee.
Jesse ate silently, wondering just when Carmalita’s memory would put two and two together. He noticed that Casey had been quiet since they’d left the kitchen. Although Jesse hadn’t had very much to do with Casey back when he’d worked the ranch, he’d known the manager to be honest and intelligent. Probably only a matter of time before someone would challenge Jesse. He’d known from the start that might happen and also known that he’d admit everything and hope they’d understand. Especially Abby.
He searched his mind for a subject to distract Casey. “Is Vern Martin a hands-on rancher or does he leave most of the decisions up to you?”
Casey finished a piece of chicken before answering. “Fairly hands-on, I’d say. I’ve been working here going on thirty years, when old man Martin was still alive. That man worked like a horse, day in and day out. Vern, he don’t work that hard, but he knows what’s going on in every corner of this ranch. He talks over stuff with me, but he’s the final say-so.” He slathered butter on an ear of corn.
“And his wife?” Years ago, Jesse had found Mrs. Martin to be prickly, condescending and critical, but maybe she’d mellowed.
“Joyce, she keeps the books. She don’t go out much. Got a bad back.”
Jesse could relate. “There’s another daughter, right?” He’d been wondering where stuck-up Lindsay had wound up.
Casey wiped his hands on a napkin. “That one, she’s not a bit like her sister. Got herself engaged ’bout six months ago. Fellow from San Francisco, real nice. He stayed with us awhile, seemed to like it here. But something happened and they broke it off.”
But Jesse really wanted to hear about Abby. “So the younger sister moved back home after her husband died and she teaches kids in the little schoolhouse,” he said, thinking aloud. At least Abby had realized part of her dream. “Was her husband from around here?”
Leaning back, Casey looked at Jesse, as if debating how much to tell. “She met him at college, down in Tucson. Weren’t married but a month when he up and drowned in a boating accident. Abby came home on account of she was going to have a baby.” He shook his head. “Those girls are twenty-six and twenty-eight and still living under their daddy’s roof. Joyce is happy about that, but Vern, he’d like a couple of son-in-laws to take over the ranch one day.” He stood and adjusted his suspenders. “Trouble is, we don’t always get what we want, right? I’m going to get more iced tea. Want a refill?”
“No, thanks.” Jesse tossed his napkin onto his empty plate, then sat back thinking over what he’d just learned. Abby had never so much as mentioned anyone at college. Must have been a whirlwind romance. Or did she marry him on the rebound when Jesse didn’t return? No, they’d never discussed marriage or even love. Still, she hadn’t struck him as the type who’d quickly move into another relationship. Well, he’d likely find out soon enough.
Rising, he cleared his plate and walked outside while Casey stopped to talk to Carmalita. The sun was just sinking beyond the far horizon, bathing the hillside in oranges and yellows. At home in California, the sun usually set beyond the mountains surrounding the Triple C, nothing at all the way it did here. Jesse had never seen more beautiful sunsets than in Arizona.
Turning toward the house he was to occupy for a while, he noticed two little girls playing with a brown puppy in front of his porch. They had to be four or five, one very blond, the other with a dark braid down her back. Smiling, he walked toward them. As soon as the puppy spotted Jesse, he ran forward, all big feet and pink tongue, then rolled over onto his back, inviting a belly rub. Jesse squatted down and obliged the little guy as the two girls came rushing over.
“What’s his name?”
“Spike,” they both answered.
“Whose puppy is he?” Jesse asked as the little dog squirmed in ecstasy.
“Hers,” said the blond child, indicating her friend. “I’m Grace and she’s Katie. What’s your name?”
Pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t the least bit shy, he smiled at her as she plunked herself down in the grass. Katie sat down close to her friend, obviously a little bashful. “Jesse. Where do you girls live?” he asked, thinking the two must be holdovers from the little schoolhouse.
Grace pointed toward the big house. “I live over there and Katie lives in town but she’s staying over ’cause her mom’s sick. Where do you live?”
He couldn’t help but be taken by the precocious little girl with the big blue eyes. “I guess I’ll be living over there for a while.” He pointed to the cabin Casey had said was his.
Before he could get in another question, he saw from the corner of his eye that someone was running toward them. Standing up, Jesse recognized Joyce Martin as she stopped in the middle of the drive and called both girls by name, urging them to go to her immediately. Thinking to introduce himself, Jesse took a step closer, but Joyce sent him a warning glance before hustling the girls inside.
Casey came alongside. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Martin.”
His tone told Jesse that the woman wasn’t one of Casey’s favorites either. “Not exactly. Is she always that friendly?”
“Pretty much,” he answered, chuckling. “She’s over-protective of her family. Guess she’s got her reasons.” He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “Why don’t you go get your bag and I’ll show you through your cabin?”
“Okay.” Jesse had parked his Bronco in the wide apron by the big house and decided to move it nearer the cabin. As he got behind the wheel, he glanced up to the second-story window that he remembered used to be Abby’s room.
She was standing there, holding back the sheer curtains on both sides, watching him. Too far away to read her expression, he stared back for several long seconds, then pulled his gaze away and parked the Bronco by the cabin. Stepping out, he saw that she hadn’t moved, her head still turned toward him.
Right then, he’d have given a lot to know what she was thinking.
Chapter Two
Abby Martin stood looking out her bedroom window watching the new hire follow Casey into the cabin. She waited until the lights went on and the door closed. Oddly uneasy and not quite sure why, she pulled the sheers over the window and picked up her hairbrush.
Dad had told her all about Jesse Calder, the man from California who’d had great success in working with traumatized horses. Apparently his father had learned from the teachings of Monty Roberts, the original horse whisperer who’d taught himself to communicate with horses starting years ago when he was a child.
At first, she’d been skeptical, worried a stranger might set Remus back even further. But Casey had researched the Calders and learned that they were not only legitimate, but owners of one of the largest horse ranches in the west. The ranchers they’d contacted who’d used Jesse’s services had nothing but praise for him and his methods. Casey had convinced her and Dad, and they’d invited the man to visit to see what he could do.
Abby pulled her long blond hair free of the band and began brushing. She was aware that one thing that had bothered her was the name. Jesse. The mere sound brought memories, sad ones, from a time she’d worked so hard to forget. Then, just when she’d convinced herself that there really was nothing to a name, a man named Jesse had shown up today.
Undoubtedly, her mind was playing tricks on her. But when she’d seen him walk over and get into the Bronco just now, then sit and gaze up at her, she’d felt something eerily familiar. Of course, she was being paranoid. He was tall and lean, like that other Jesse, but more muscular. And he had a beard, but then, any man could grow one. Then there was the limp. Not pronounced, but he walked slowly and carefully, as if denying he had a problem. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes from this distance, but, even if they were the same, all manner of people had blue eyes.
Bending over, she brushed her hair vigorously, as if she could brush away the errant thoughts. Foolish mind, conjuring up images of a man who’d pretended to care, then left her with a mere moment’s notice. That had been Jesse Hunter, not Jesse Calder. She would have to keep that in mind. She would make an effort not to prejudge and to give him a chance to help Remus.
As she heard four little feet scampering up the steps amidst giggles, she straightened and smiled. Bath time, she thought as she left her room to meet the girls.
Casey stood near the round pen, but back a ways so as not to distract Remus. It was seven in the morning and Jesse Calder had released the stallion from the barn half an hour ago. He’d moved inside, closed the gate and stood there quietly, not moving, a light cotton line coiled and hanging from one shoulder.
Casey waited, gazing from Remus to Calder and back, wondering when the man was going to do something. But he just stood there while the horse snuffled and snorted, first pawing the ground, then trotting around the pen nervously. Finally, Remus stopped near the center of the circle and made eye contact with the man standing so silently, each taking the other’s measure, it seemed.
Behind him, Casey heard quiet footsteps and glanced back to see Vern Martin arrive and stop alongside him. The two men studied both stallion and trainer for long minutes until Vern spoke.
“What’s he doing?” he whispered, not wanting to spook the horse.
“Damned if I know,” Casey answered softly. “He’s been standing there thirty minutes or more, staring him down. At this rate, he’ll be here till Christmas.”
“You’re the one said this Calder fellow could work miracles,” Vern reminded him.
“That’s what I heard, from more than one rancher. But like they said, you got to be patient and let him do it his way.”
A tall man with silver-blond hair thinning on top and a nervous twitch beneath his sharp blue eyes, Vern was not a patient man. He watched for another few minutes, then shook his head. “Well, I can’t stand here all day. I’ve got work to do.”
“Yeah, me, too.” But Casey was obviously reluctant to leave.
“I’ll meet Calder later,” the rancher said. He clapped his manager on the shoulder. “Let me know if anything happens.” Settling his white Stetson on his head, he walked away.
Casey’s curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. Another ten minutes and he saw Jesse walk slowly forward until he was in the center, the stallion backing farther away with each step. Then Jesse did an odd thing. He turned his back on the horse and just stood there as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Casey watched him take in several deep breaths as if to relax himself.
“Braver man than me,” Casey whispered to himself, having seen Remus thrash about in his stall when anyone came too close, those strong legs like lethal weapons.
Clearly, Remus didn’t know what to make of this newcomer who seemed unafraid. He resumed circling the pen, round and round, over and over. Still, Jesse didn’t move.
Suddenly, the stallion stopped about ten feet behind the man, his ears sharply forward, showing his interest. Slowly, he moved toward Jesse as Casey held his breath. Closer, closer. Near enough that Jesse had to feel the stallion’s warm breath on his neck. Then the horse stopped. After a few moments, his head leaned closer and he appeared to be sniffing Jesse’s scent. The trainer let him, not moving a muscle.
Just then, the double steel doors to the barn slid open with a loud thud and two ranch hands walked out leading their mounts, talking loudly. Remus jerked back, startled, the spell broken. He rushed away from Jesse, stopping on the far side of the pen.
Frowning, Jesse walked to the gate and let himself out.
Casey went up to him, wanting an explanation. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but exactly what was it you were doing in there?”
Jesse recoiled the cotton line into a tighter circle. “Mostly just letting him get familiar with my scent, in a non-threatening way.” He glanced toward the men who’d left the barn. “Do you suppose you could ask the guys to use the doors on the other side for a while?”
“Yeah, sure.” Casey shuffled his scuffed boots, still not satisfied. “Okay, so now he knows your scent. What’s next? You going back in there?”
