Dead Heat (13 page)

“Chelsea isn’t,” said Anna.

“Chelsea,” Kage said. The stallion butted him with his head, and he rubbed the horse’s forehead. He looked around and lowered his voice so that the people working around them wouldn’t hear what he said. “Her mother taught her that her witch blood taints her. And Hosteen never lets up about it. The idea that she’s a werewolf now and has to obey my grandfather, with whom she has been painfully feuding for eight years, hasn’t caught up with her yet. But it will. She is never going to forgive me.”

“If that’s the only problem, you’ll do okay,” Anna said. “If she honestly can’t stand him, then move. There are other packs.”

“And with your reputation you can get a job in any Arab barn in the country,” added Charles.

“Maybe so,” Kage said. “But she’s very big on being independent. I just changed her life without consulting her.”

“There was no way to bring her into it,” Charles pointed out. “I tried that first. If she really didn’t want to Change … It’s a lot easier to give up, Kage, than it is to fight for your life.”

“She’s not going to buy that as an argument,” said Kage, but at the same time, for the first time since he’d picked up his cell phone and heard his wife’s messages, he looked like he’d caught his balance. “You think that she would have made that choice herself? I didn’t force it on her?”

“If anyone forced it on her, it would be I,” corrected Charles. “But no. If I thought she really didn’t have a choice in the matter, I would not have done it even if you begged me to. She chose to die for her children, and she chose to live for all of you.”

“What about my dad, then?” Kage asked. “By that argument you couldn’t Change him unless he secretly wanted it. Which we all know he doesn’t. So why is Hosteen still after you to Change him, anyway?”

“Because he believes that he saw my father force a man through a Change. That man wasn’t unwilling, just unable, which is different. He thinks that I can do the same,” Charles said.

“Can you?”

“Chelsea needed a little help, but I did not force her,” Charles answered. “She saw a chance for survival and she wanted it.”

He wasn’t lying, Anna knew. But there was a sick feeling in her stomach. That was what Justin had said when she’d survived the Change—as if she’d wanted what was done to her and all that followed.

“Use that,” she told Kage, “to comfort yourself, because it is true that she had to fight to live. But don’t tell
her
that. Tell her you love her and need her. Tell her the kids need her. Tell her you tried to make the choice she might make. Tell her that you thought she’d want us to find the fae who did this to her so he couldn’t kill anyone else. But don’t tell her that her survival means that she really wanted this.” When she said “this” she motioned to herself. Werewolf, she meant, werewolf and all the things that went with it.

Kage’s voice was compassionate. “The voice of experience?”

“Yes.” Anna took in a deep breath. “Truth has many facets. Choose the ones that make her happy to be alive instead of the ones that make her want to smack you.”

“Are you happy?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said with total conviction. “But it took a while. It might take her a while, too.”

“Yes,” he said, but he didn’t sound nearly as upset about it as he had been when he’d started talking. “I expect it will.”

“It could be worse,” Charles said thoughtfully. “She could be dead.”

Kage nodded. “Yes. This may be difficult. That would have been unbearable. Difficult is better.”

“Market’s back up, is it?” Charles asked dryly, looking at the sales list Kage handed him.

“Sort of up,” said Kage. “The very top-tier horses, the ones that will win at Scottsdale, nationals, or Paris, they sell as high as they ever did. Higher maybe. Last year a stallion sold to Saudi Arabia for five million dollars, but he was a freak of nature. The second-tier horses, good pedigree and nice horses that aren’t quite topflight—those are harder to sell and make a profit on.” He grinned at Charles. “Those are the ones I’m going to be showing you. Before we start, though, you’ll notice Hephzibah on that list.”

“Yes,” Charles said, his eyes crinkling in humor. “Her price has a negative sign by it. Does that mean he’ll pay me to take her?”

Kage laughed. “I won’t sell her to anyone. Hosteen put her on the list. My wife loves that mare. Only horse that Hosteen’s ever failed to ride. I think that’s why Chelsea likes her. Too crazy to sell, too healthy to put down. Beautiful enough that the temptation to breed her will someday overwhelm us all. A nastier horse I’ve never been around. She is all sweetness and goodness, until she goes after you.” He sobered. “She put two of our grooms in the hospital and nearly killed another. Only Hosteen or I handle her now. Treacherous. Her sire, to my knowledge, has never sired another horse with a bad disposition. Her dam was an old mare we got in trade, and Hephzibah was the only foal she had for us.”

A Hispanic man came up to them. “Hey, Kage. These the folks who wanted to look at horses?”

“Mateo—” Kage started to introduce him and paused. “Where is Teri?”

“She’s getting the first horse saddled. You wanted them in the small ring, right? You head over there and we’ll bring them to you.”

“Good. Mateo and Teri are going to wrangle horses while I do the salesman thing.” Kage grinned. “We’ll use the little ring because the big one is being prepped, as you saw. Mateo is our senior trainer, but like all of us, he steps in where we need him. Teri is one of our apprentices and she rides for us in shows.”

“Lots of people working for you these days,” said Charles.

Kage nodded. “It’s because we do the whole thing: breed, train, show. And we show in whatever class the horse is suited for. That means lots of people on the payroll, but we’re diversified. Right now the halter horses are bringing in the biggest money, but Hosteen thinks too much specialization is bad for business.”

And Hosteen would always run this place, would never grow old and gradually let his grandson take over. Anna wondered if that bothered Kage.

As they walked to the smaller arena, all along the barn aisle horses put their heads out over the stall doors—stalls that were both cleaner and fancier than a lot of hotels Anna had stayed at. As they walked, Kage chatted lightly—to Anna and Charles and to the horses.

“We train our horses, but we train other people’s horses, too.
Heyya, Bones, are they feeding you enough?
Most of the horses I’m going to show you are ours. But a couple of them belong to other people.
That’s my girl—aren’t you lovely today? No carrots, sorry.
What you are primarily looking for should not be an expensive horse. Show horses, good show horses, are expensive—so mostly what I’m going to present to you are horses unsuited, in one way or another, to the show ring. But Hosteen put a few show horses on the list, just in case.
Are you my good, great beastie? Yes, you are.
”

The small pen was a round arena about a quarter of the size of the big arena they’d walked by. The fence was made from plywood sheets that were scarred and battered—though still solid. Kage ushered them inside; before he closed the gate, a tiny woman who was rawhide and leather led a smallish bay mare, already saddled with a western, silver-bedecked saddle, into the ring.

“This is Honey Bay Bee,” Kage said. “She’s twelve. We showed her halter at the regional level when she was a yearling and then hunt seat for a year as a futurity horse. She is no longer breeding sound, so we’ve put another year of riding on her and are selling her as an amateur prospect.”

Anna tried to look like she knew what he was talking about, but he lost her at “regional” and “hunt seat.”

“Go ahead and ask,” said Charles.

“Hunt seat?”

“English saddle,” said Kage. “But horses trot long instead of high like they do in the English classes. You’ll see what I mean.”

Teri hopped up gracefully and walked, trotted, and cantered the mare around the pen. Teri had a big smile on her face; the horse looked vaguely annoyed.

She felt annoyed, too, when Anna mounted much less gracefully. She walked, trotted, and cantered for Anna with as much enthusiasm as a kid doing homework. Her ears weren’t pinned, but they weren’t up and eager, either.
Bored, bored, bored,
they said.

At least she didn’t shy at anything.

Charles shook his head before Anna got off.

“She gives me a baseline,” Kage said. “But no.”

Anna rode four horses that night. By the third horse, she lost most of her shyness about riding in front of virtual strangers who knew a lot more than she did. Which was good, because the fourth horse they brought for her was a tiny gelding who was “English pleasure but not quite a park horse,” whatever that meant. Mateo rode him for them first. Anna saw immediately what Kage had been saying when he’d told her English was up instead of out. The tiny powerhouse snapped up his knees and hocks with enthusiastic energy.

“Could I ride him in a western saddle?” she asked.

“English saddles suck if you are riding in the mountains.” Kage grinned. “Of course you can. Heylight won’t care. He’s all about getting down the road and having fun.”

Evidently they weren’t going to get the western saddle now, though, which was kind of what Anna had been asking. Anna eyed the itty-bitty scrap of leather that was missing the horn for her to grab on to.

“Don’t worry about it,” Charles said as he adjusted her stirrups. “Western or English style, it doesn’t matter. Ride balanced. The seat support is still there. Your rump will know it even if your eyes tell you differently.

“The turn signals for English are like steering a bicycle: turn by pulling his nose a little in the direction you want to go and give him a little more rein with the other hand so you aren’t just pulling back.” He demonstrated with his own hands, moving them together. “You’ll still steer mostly with your body and legs—just like at home.”

“If I screw up on the steering,” she told him, “we’ll just go round and round in circles, anyway.”

He gave her a quick grin and stepped back. She asked the gelding to move off.

The little gelding had stood perfectly still when she got on, but the minute her calves put pressure on his sides, he powered off at a trot instead of the walk she was expecting. It wasn’t the gentle slow trot her usual mount had, either. She bounced around like a rubber ball until she found her seat a little farther back than she was used to. After a few more minutes she settled in and felt a big grin cross her face. He was probably going slower, as far as distance traveled, than the first mare had been with her long striding gait, but it felt like they were flying. The gelding was like a high-performance sports car. The faster he went, the more responsive he got. The best thing about him was that although speed was always available, so were slow and stop.

Reluctantly she slowed him and brought him to the middle of the arena, where Charles, Kage, and Mateo watched.

“Usually we post that trot,” commented Kage with a grin when she stopped. “Not many people would try to sit it.”

“Is that bad?” she asked.

“Heylight’s ears are up, so you weren’t hitting him in the back—but it’s a lot of work to sit a big trot like that.”

She wasn’t sure he’d answered her question until she glanced at Charles, who gave her a nod—it was a compliment.

Charles walked all the way around the horse and then asked, “Does he even make fourteen hands?”

“Wasn’t it you who was just complaining because we’re breeding Arabs bigger and bigger?” asked Kage. “Yes, she could take him in a pony class. Still, she doesn’t look too big for him. I wouldn’t have brought him out for you. He could carry you, but it would sure look funny. We’d have to put wheels on your stirrups or they’d drag in the dust. How big is he, Mateo, do you know?”

Mateo shrugged. “I’ve put a measuring stick on all the horses. I can get his real height from the office if you want me to. But it’s easier to categorize horses as small, medium, and big. Most people can’t tell the difference between fifteen hands and fifteen two anyway, so why confuse the issue? This horse is size small with a size big heart.”

Anna patted the horse and laughed when he leaned into her hand.

Kage put his hand on the horse’s forehead and rubbed lightly. “I kept waiting for this horse to grow. It shouldn’t be about size, but this guy really just isn’t tall enough to compete in the big ring. He also has the problem that in an English class his gaits are sometimes too big and he gets penalized. In a park class his gaits usually aren’t big enough and he gets penalized. We could maybe fix that if we grew his feet out to the maximum and stuck the heaviest shoes that are legal for the show ring on him. But his right front foot is soft and the big shoes don’t stay on it. So we’re selling him as a junior-to-ride horse: English pleasure. He’s not nationals quality, for the reasons I told you, but he could take a regional championship with a good round and a judge who didn’t care about size. That’s why his price is as high as it is.”

“Have you ridden him outside a ring?” asked Charles.

Kage nodded. “Well, not me. Hosteen took him out on one of his weeklong treks into the desert last fall. Said he did fine after the first couple of days. It was just the once, but he also has two years of showing, too. That will sack out a horse but good.”

“Sack a horse out?” Anna asked, picturing people beating on a horse with paper sacks.

“Desensitize him to the kinds of things that could make a horse spook,” Charles said. “They used to take feed sacks and rub them all over the horse until it quit being frightened. The sacks were handy—and scary because they were light-colored and noisy. Showing exposes horses to all sorts of situations, and they learn not to be afraid every time they run into something new.”

“Most of them do,” said Kage. “Eventually. But he’s honest and brave. Mackie’s riding him in the show, and I wouldn’t trust my girl to just any horse.”

“We’ll keep him on our likely candidate list,” said Charles.

Anna slid off reluctantly. “Don’t I get a say in it?”