Firelight at Mustang Ridge (7 page)

Grabbing her
Noobs Guide to Tarot,
she flipped through the table of contents, found the proper page, and read:

Despite its name, the Lovers card isn't about romance, but rather relationships. In the positive, it speaks to intuitive choices and true connections. In the reverse, it refers to emotional conflict and contradictions. In a single-card spread, drawing the Lovers card suggests that it is time to make new connections.

“Oh, okay. Phew.” She leaned back in her chair and glanced over at Popov. “At least it's not trying to tell me that the next guy I see is going to be my soul mate.”

Still, what it
was
saying bumped up against the low-grade urge she'd been fighting all day. She didn't need supplies, didn't have any real reason to head back over to Mustang Ridge, but she had a hankering to do exactly that. More, she had an open invitation, and Krista had offered her friendship. Which definitely counted as a new connection.

“Okay,” she decided, gathering up the book and the deck of cards. “Sorry, guys, but you're on your own for the afternoon. Keep an eye on the place for me, will you? And don't even think of breaking into the RV and helping yourself to more candy!”

*   *   *

When Danny arrived at the ranch, the barn was abuzz with people and horses, and a group of guests were down in the arena, getting a roping lesson that seemed to involve lots of laughter and catcalls as they threw loops at wooden sawhorses decked out with plastic
cow heads. Figuring that if Krista wasn't in her office, someone in the vicinity would know where she was, Danny headed for the main house, nodding to a mother and daughter pair in passing. Both fair-skinned, freckled redheads, they were wearing turquoise cowgirl shirts, sunburned noses, and matching vacation-happy expressions.

“Excuse me.” The woman reached out and grazed her arm. “Do you work here?”

“Sorry, no.” But Danny turned back. “Can I help you find someone?”

“Oh, no. It's not a crisis or anything. We were just wondering what kind of bird that is over there.” She pointed to the far side of the lake, beyond the boathouse and floating dock to a cluster of trees.

It took Danny a second to pick out the big, hulking shadow perched near the trunk of a thick pine. “Wow, what is that, a pterodactyl?”

The woman laughed. “Okay, glad I'm not imagining things. When it flew over the boats, its shadow was huge!”

“I was afraid it was going to swoop down and eat me,” the little girl announced.

Judging her to be a precocious six or seven, Danny said, “Actually, there wouldn't be much danger. It's a buzzard, and they're mostly scavengers.”

“It eats dead things?
Ew!
”

“Not
ew
,” Danny said. “Cool! Their stomach acid is so strong that they can eat stuff that's real old and rotten, which means they help stop other animals from getting sick. And they can glide for miles and miles without flapping their wings.”

“Okay, that is cool,” the mom agreed. “What do you say, Siobhan?”

“Thank you. What about that one?” The girl pointed to a soaring silhouette that was little more than a dot in the sky.

Danny squinted. “A hawk, probably. Maybe a red-tail? They're pretty common around here. You know how on TV and the movies, whenever you see an eagle, the sound track has that
scree-aaahh
,
scree-aaahh
noise? That's actually the sound of a red-tailed hawk, not an eagle.”

“Wow, you know a lot about birds.” Siobhan peered up at her. “Are you an orthodontist?”

“I think you mean ornithologist.” Stifling a laugh, Danny gave her points for trying. “Nope, just someone who loves being outdoors, and enjoys knowing about the places I visit. Kind of like you, huh?”

They shared a grin.

“Okay,” Siobhan's mom said. “Now that we've got that settled, what do you say we go get cleaned up for dinner, and let this nice lady get where she was going when we shanghaied her for the bird edition of twenty questions? Say thank you first, though.”

“G'bye! Thanks!”

As they headed off, the mom waved and mouthed,
Thank you!

Amused by the exchange, Danny continued on her way to the main house, only to catch sight of Krista emerging from the barn with a couple of coiled-up ropes in her hands, Abby in her baby sling, and a scruffy gray dog trotting at her heels. Changing her course, Danny headed over to intercept.

Krista's face lit up. “Look who's here, Abby! It's our resident hermit. Only she's not being so much of a hermit this week, is she?”

“I hope you don't mind,” Danny said.

“Don't be silly! In fact, if you're sick of the RV, there's an apartment over the barn with your name on it. Just say the word.”

“I couldn't.”

“You could and should.” Krista grinned. “But you're happy where you are, so you won't. The offer's open, though.”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

“I'm being selfish, of course. I'd like to see more of you, and Jenny's dying to get together as soon as she gets home. Which, for the record, is the day after tomorrow.”

The gray dog bounced up on his hind legs and grabbed at one of the ropes.

“Klepto, don't you dare. Give that back.” Lowering her voice to a
this means business
tone, she said, “Drop it, mister.”

He released the rope instantly and plopped down on his shaggy butt to lift his paw endearingly.

“Ha!” Krista said. “Don't believe him for a second. He may look all cute and innocent, but this morning he ate my corn muffin and hid my keys.” She ruffled the fur on his head, though, suggesting she wasn't holding much of a grudge.

“That's better than the other way around,” Danny pointed out.

“I suppose.” A calculating look crossed her face. “You could use a dog out there in the valley, right?”

“Oh, no you don't. I've already got a pair of squirrels looking to rob me blind. I don't need a dog to help them do it.”

“Worth a try.” Krista shrugged. “Besides, Wyatt and Abby would miss Klepto. Wouldn't you, baby?” After giving the squirming sling a quick one-handed snuggle, she tipped her head. “Come on. Junior needs a couple more coils for roping practice.”

As they headed toward the arena, a generously padded fortysomething guy whooped and did a couple of celebratory booty pops at having gotten his lasso around one of the sawhorse cows.

There was a smattering of applause, and as she hung the spare ropes on the fence, Krista called, “Looks like the first round is on Rudy tonight!”

“You know it!” he agreed cheerfully, and the others laughed.

“The drinks are included in their stays, of course,” Krista said as they moved off. “The ropers get special cupcakes tonight, though, complete with little lassos.”

“You've got a great setup here,” Danny said. “The guests always seem to be having such a good time.”

“Thanks. We work at it, but we also seem to attract the right sort of people. Just lucky, I guess.”

“My dad always says luck is ninety percent preparation.”

“Sounds like a smart guy.” A burbling chirp rose up from the vicinity of Krista's hip. She held up a finger, patted the spot, and pulled out her phone. “Sorry. I'm waiting for a call. Give me a second?” At Danny's nod, she took the call. “Martin, hi. Did you hear back from your grandson?”

Danny wandered off a little way and watched as the roping practice shifted, with the guests now trying to lasso each other, with lots of ducking and laughter involved.

“Well, drat,” Krista said, her disappointment clear. “No, that's okay. It's not the end of the world. I just wish . . . Well, anyway. Thanks for trying. If you think of anybody else, let me know, okay?”

A moment later, she came up beside Danny, smiling as Rudy made finger-horns on his head and pawed the ground, daring his partner to rope him. The stress crinkles remained at the corners of her eyes, though.

Danny hesitated, then said, “Something wrong?”

“Not wrong, exactly, it's just . . .” Krista sighed. “It's the Sears rebuild. They're working on the main house this week, skilled labor only, and my dad really wants to help with the wiring . . . but we need him here.”

“For repairs?”

She shook her head. “No, we could work around that. It's the wilderness treks. He's in charge of entertaining the folks who don't want to ride on a given day, or at least offering them an alternative.”

“Like bird-watching?” Danny asked, thinking of Siobhan and her mom.

Krista nodded. “Fishing, nature hikes, canoeing . . . Whatever he feels like offering, really. Unless we get a special request, I leave it up to him. A couple of years ago, I could have skipped the treks for a few weeks. But they're too popular now, and we've got repeat visitors who are coming with their families, expecting to have options.” Her expression went rueful. “He's not pushing me, mind you—I'm the one who's pushing. I know
he wants to go, and I know the rebuilding project could use him, but it's too late in the season to find a qualified guide and I can't hand the guests over to just anybody.”

“What about me?”

Krista eyed her, but then shook her head. “You're a sweetheart to offer, but come on. You don't really want to hang out with the guests, do you? Five hours a day, five days a week for the next month, maybe longer? That's not what you signed on for.”

No, it wasn't. But Danny didn't hate the idea as much as she would've expected—she was kind of intrigued, actually. Not to mention that it would be a way for her to balance the scales. “I can do the job. My family's shop offers hikes and guided bike rides during the summer for the tourists, and I did that stint with
Jungle Love
, helping keep the singles safe on their bungee-jumping and zip-lining dates.”

“That's not the point. You're on
vacation
, girlfriend!”

“Which means I get to do what I want, right? And I want to help out.” More than she would have expected, really. She was supposed to be stepping outside her comfort zone, after all, and trying something new, so this fit. “That is, if you'll have me? I know I'm not a local, but I've studied the flora and fauna, and gotten pretty familiar with the trails. I can do more reading, talk to your dad about fishing the river, and—”

“If I'll have you?” Krista's voice went up in a gratifying squeak.

“I know you don't know me very well—”

“Danny, seriously?” A broad grin split her face. “You'd do it?”

“I want to do it.” Enough that a prickle of excitement
ran through her body and her head was suddenly full of ideas—plant hikes, bird-watching scavenger hunts, forays out to see the mustangs in Blessing Valley. “Come on. What do you say?”

With a whoop, Krista flung her arms around Danny's neck. “I say welcome to the team!”

O
n Wednesday, Sam gave Axyl, Midas, and Murph the day off, locked himself in the mansion, booted up Legend of Zelda in the game room, and let himself fall into the fantasy world that had been a long-ago birthday present, secondhand yet beloved.

The hours blurred as he worked his way up the levels, killing bad guys and gathering coins and spells. “Ha!” he said over the
bloop-dee-boop
music. “Gotcha!” Then, as a three-headed green alien-thing closed in on him, he worked the controller, ducking and weaving his body, even though the old-school tech didn't translate the movements on-screen. “Take that. And
that
!”

“Yo!” Wyatt's voice called from the kitchen. “Hey, Sam. You in here?” The game gave off a
bloop-diddly-beep
, and he chuckled. “Right.” Boot steps moved from tile to hardwood, and he came through the door saying, “If he's in the house and not asleep, then he's in the game room.”

Eyes glued to the screen, Sam said, “Everything okay at the ranch?”

Wyatt propped a hip on the battered couch that still
had the same duct tape patch it had worn back in college, when they had shared an apartment. “Yeah. Why?”

“I locked up. Figured you wouldn't have busted in unless there was a good reason.”

“If you really wanted your space, you would've snagged the spare key out from under the mat.”

On-screen, Sam splatted a couple of flying snakes, wishing he could make Wyatt disappear that easily. “I'm not really in the mood for company.”

“Too bad, because you've got some.” Wyatt was carrying a couple of beers he'd grabbed from the kitchen. Holding one out, he said, “To living on the edge.”

A sword-wielding skeleton stabbed Sam's on-screen character in the gut, and damned if there wasn't something wonky going on, because the
doop-doop-diddly
became a death knell and the screen filled with two of his least favorite words:
GAME OVER
.

He glared at the screen. “What the hell was
that
?”

Wyatt took the controller out of Sam's hand and replaced it with the beer. “A hint that you're ready for a time-out.”

“I was on Level Seven.”

“Now you're back in the real world.” Wyatt tapped his longneck against Sam's and took a swallow.

Sam exhaled. “If I drink my beer, will you go away?”

“Want to go for a ride?”

“What I
want
is to be left alone.”

“Come on, slacker. Let's go pound some rocks out back. Unless you want to head out to the garage and finish up that project of yours?”

Sam glared. “I don't want to do a damn thing. I want
to be left alone.” Then, because it was the sort of thing they never said to each other, he added, “Please.”

Wyatt studied him for a minute, then said, “You're not going to do anything stupid, right?”

“I'm going to play Zelda for the next twelve hours straight.” Until today became tomorrow.

His buddy set his beer on a precarious stack of magazines on a side table. “Are you sure?”

“It's tradition.” The one day a year he let himself crawl back down into the hole.

“Doesn't mean it's a good one.”

“It works for me.” Sam set his mostly full beer aside. “Seriously. Thanks for checking on me, but I need space more than I need a babysitter.”

He didn't know what part of that got through, but Wyatt finally gave a slow nod. “Call if you change your mind. Or just come on over. It's chili night.”

“Will do,” Sam said, though he wouldn't. He just wanted to get back to his game. Once Wyatt's footsteps faded away, though, and he heard the lock turn in the kitchen door—
very funny
—he had a hard time settling back into his groove. “Oh, come on!” he growled when he stumbled over a grave and lost points to a ghost. “He didn't even touch me!” But the damage was done, and the next hit finished him off.

GAME OVER.

Cursing, he shoved to his feet and used the remote to kill the screen. Suddenly needing to move, like his body had just figured out he'd been on his ass for way too long, he headed out through the kitchen to the side yard, where Yoshi stood by the barn with his head up
and his ears pricked. “Hey, buddy. You want to cover some ground? I'm sick of sitting still.”

*   *   *

“There's the ranch!” Christy Trimmer tugged on her father's arm. “See? And there's Gran out on the porch, waving. She must be waiting for us to make the salad!”

Sloan Trimmer patted his young daughter's head, meeting Danny's smile with one of his own. “I see her, pumpkin. Do you want to run ahead and tell her what we've got?”

“Do you remember all the names?” Danny put in.

The little girl—curly-haired and happy, with a seemingly limitless supply of energy—screwed up her face in concentration. “We've got dandelion leaves, wild onions, amaranth, and yellow sss . . .” She pursed her lips. “Yellow satisfy?”

“Close! It's salsify.”

“Salsity.”

“Sal-si-fy.” When Christy repeated the syllables, Danny gave her a high five. “Okay, go on. We'll catch up in a minute. And no running near the horses!” She had to shout the last couple of words, because Christy was off like a shot, her gathering bag bouncing furiously with every pounding stride.

“Hope Gran doesn't mind bruised onions,” Sloan drawled. Lean and Texan, the handsome businessman obviously adored his wife and two daughters—so much so that he was vacationing at a dude ranch, despite being violently allergic to horses. Which meant he and Danny had gotten to know each other pretty well over the past four days.

“They'll still taste good,” she assured him. Besides, she had the bulk of their haul in her own pack.

“I've never done a hike-and-gather before.” He shook his head in admiration. “It's amazing how many things out there actually have some nutritional value.”

“Like those wild strawberries!” added Liza May—a bubbly salesclerk from Tucson who had opted to hike today so her rear end could have a break from the saddle. “They didn't taste anything like the ones at the stores near me.”

Behind her, the other two members of their party—Liza May's equally bubbly friend Dee, and Stockbroker Simon from California—nodded in happy agreement. Despite having been out for a solid six hours, walking along the river almost all the way to Blessing Valley and back, the hikers were in high spirits, excited about the idea of consuming the edible plants Danny had helped them find along the trail.

“Just remember,” she cautioned, “there are plenty of other things out there that'll make you seriously ill, or worse, and some of the good plants look an awful lot like the toxic ones, and vice versa. So no nibbling unless you're absolutely sure!”

“Only when you're there to tell us it's okay!” Dee promised. “Which means you're going to have to give us your phone number so we can send you pictures and stuff.”

Danny pulled the main gathering bag from her knapsack, and held it out. “Who wants to bring the rest of our harvest in to Gran? She said she'd show folks how to prepare our greens, if you're interested.”

“Ooh!” Liza May snagged the bag. “I'm in!” She
whirled away, with Dee bouncing beside her. After a moment, Stockbroker Simon followed.

Tipping a straw cowboy hat that would never get within twenty feet of a horse, Sloan drawled, “It's been a pleasure as always, Miz Traveler. See you tomorrow down by the boat shed at eleven?”

“I'll be there!”

As he headed after the others, she hung back, enjoying both the feeling of a job well done and a moment of quiet in the midst of the hustle-bustle of the ranch.

“Danny, hey!” Krista came out of the barn, cradling the baby's sling with one hand and waving with the other. “You're back! How did it go?”

“Good, I think.” Danny offered Abby a finger. “Hey, kiddo. That's a good grip you've got there.”

“All the better to hold the reins with, my dear.” Krista grinned. “So . . . Hunt Your Own Salad Day? That was brilliant. Seriously genius. You should've heard the riders talking about it out on the trail, trying to figure out what your group was going to come up with for dinner.”

“Onions, some wild berries, and lots of furry greens that I'm sure Gran will turn into something awesome.”

“You're going to eat with us, right?” Seeing the answer in Danny's eyes, Krista urged, “Oh, come on. Stay. How can you bag out on your own salad? If you're worried about making the ride home after dark, you're welcome to crash in the apartment over the barn.”

It wasn't the first night she had made the offer. But it was the first time Danny was tempted. Still, it had been a long day, and she had an hour or so commute on the ATV ahead of her. “Rain check?”

“Sure thing. How about Saturday? Jenny is dying to reconnect, Shelby wants to meet you, and I need to get into town to pick up a few things for the wedding. We'll make a day of it. I can get Mom and Gran to cover orientation for the new guests, and Abby can help Wyatt in the barn.” She gave the cloth-covered lump a fond pat. “Us girls will grab lunch, hit a few stores, maybe find some trouble to get into. . . . How does that sound?”

“Is sounds good, actually. Fun.”

“Perfect! We'll leave around ten, right after the airport shuttle rolls out.”

“It's a date.” Danny gave the baby a little finger wiggle. “And I'm out of here.”

“You sure you don't want to stay for a Trailside Salad?”

“Is that what you're calling it?”

“Gran figured it sounded better than ‘Stuff We're Pretty Sure Is Edible.'”

“Hey! I'm a hundred percent sure. But I'm still leaving.” Danny headed for the ATV and fired up the engine, returning Krista's wave before she headed out along the two-lane dirt track that led up the ridgeline. And unlike the first few days of her stint as Ed Skye's replacement trekking boss, it didn't feel like a huge weight fell away when she passed the marker stones.

Instead, she felt . . . normal. And that had been a long time coming.

The slow summer evening stretched the shadows around her as she rolled back to Blessing Valley, her mind pleasantly empty. There was no sign of the mustangs near the canyon mouth, suggesting that they were watering down at the other end of the valley. Or so she
thought, until she rolled into camp and saw a spotted horse grazing on the other side of the river. “Well,” she said as she killed the engine. “What are you doing here?”

“He's with me,” a voice said from the shadows beneath the awning. “Or maybe it's the other way around.” Sam stood and came out into the light. He was wearing a T-shirt, worn jeans, and a stubble shadow, and there was a layer of strain evident beneath his greeting. “We were in the area. Hope you don't mind.”

“No, of course not. It's good to see you.” Which was the absolute truth. It suddenly didn't matter that she had been going hard since dawn, or that she had come back to the valley for some alone time. She had wanted him there, she realized, on some level had imagined him waiting for her like this, though without the sadness in the back of his eyes. “Are you hungry? I was going to put together some dinner and watch the sun go down.”

“I'd rather walk a bit. Would you mind?”

She had spent most of the day hiking and had been looking forward to a glass of wine and a pretty sunset. The wine could wait, though, and the sunset would follow them. “Come on.” She held out a hand. “We can visit Jupiter and the herd.”

*   *   *

Sam hadn't planned on heading for Blessing Valley, and once he got there and found the campsite deserted, he hadn't really meant to wait for Danny. But the first sight of her coming up the trail toward him on her four-wheeler had loosened something inside him, and as they hiked along the riverbank, he was glad he'd stuck
around. “Have a good run on the ATV?” he asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“I feel a little bad burning the gas, but it's a pretty commute.”

He glanced over. “Come again?”

“I'm working over at Mustang Ridge now.” She dimpled adorably. “Ed Skye wanted to help rebuild the Sears house, but Krista needed him to entertain the guests who opt out of riding. The next thing I knew, I was strapping on my hiking boots, updating my GPS, and speed-reading my copy of
Edible Plants of the Plains
.”

“You sound happy about it.”

“I'm enjoying it more than I expected.” She turned away from the riverbank to follow a narrow game trail. “This way.” There was a new lightness to her, a confident bounce in her step.

Intrigued by the changes, he followed her up a rocky incline to a flat ledge that hung suspended about halfway up the canyon wall. Blessing Valley spread out in front of them, rugged and green, and a handful of horses stood at the edge of the river.

As he moved up beside her, she whispered, “Aren't they beautiful?”

He stared at her profile. “Gorgeous.”

Still watching the horses, she said, “So. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?”

“I'm fine.”

“I'm sure you are. But that doesn't mean there isn't something wrong.” She tapped her own forehead. “Takes a tough guy to know a tough guy. Tough guy.”

Down below, horses milled and shifted by the river's edge, and several more drifted out of the trees. He
recognized Jupiter by her dark gray dapples and the way she studied her surroundings before she moved to the water's edge and stretched her neck to drink, trusting the others to keep watch, if only briefly.

Attention caught by a pearlescent glint in his peripheral vision, Sam crouched, sifted his fingers through the chewed-up schist at the edge of the ledge they were standing on, and came up with a pinkie-size sliver of pink quartz. Thin and translucent, it had a thick white crack running through the middle, shaped like a lightning bolt.