Moon Racer (4 page)

Abby dismounted beneath the sturdy live oak and
dropped Moon Racer's reins, knowing her horse
would graze contentedly until she was ready to leave.
She grasped a low-hanging branch and hoisted
herself upward into the dense growth of prickly
leaves, as she had done many times before. She
climbed until she came to her favorite spot. It had
always been her refuge when she needed to shut out
the rest of the world-a place to gather her thoughts
or just to ponder her day-to-day life, undisturbed.

She settled comfortably where two branches
arched together, creating a secluded space among
the dense foliage. She held her breath when a whitewinged dove landed on the branch just above her,
and she remained perfectly still to observe the
extraordinary phenomenon. She became fascinated when the bird gracefully fanned its elegant feathers
and tucked its head amid the softness. Abby shifted
her weight only slightly, but it was enough to startle
the dove, and it took flight. She shook her head and
sighed with regret.

The storm the night before had made the air smell
fresh and clean, but it had done little to cool the
temperature. If anything it had elevated the
humidity considerably, and her shirt was plastered
to her body with sweat.

She allowed her gaze to wander. As far as the eye
could see was Hunter land, she thought with pride.
She was a part of this land; it was in her blood.

Her horse whinnied, drawing her attention. No
one seeing Moon Racer today would guess that the
stallion had almost died when he was a colt. His
mother had been attacked and killed by a wolf pack,
but somehow Moon Racer had escaped with only
minor wounds. The owner had given the foal to
Brent, thinking it wouldn't live, and Brent hadn't
thought so either when he had given it to Abby.

At that time she had practically lived in the
stable, unwaveringly determined to keep the colt
alive. She had bottle-fed him and rubbed him down
several times a day. She had even slept beside him
at night and covered them both with a blanket.

Today the beautiful roan stood sixteen hands
high-he had a white blaze on his forehead and four
white stocking feet. His bloodline was flawless: his
dam had been the famous Calliope, who had never
lost a race; his sire, Tucan Runner, had a lineage that
went all the way back to champion Spanish stock.

Moon Racer could outrun any horse in their
stable, but Brent didn't want him entered in any
races, and neither did Abby. The stallion was too
valuable to the Half-Moon as a stud.

The stallion moved down the hill in search of
sweeter grass, so Abby continued her musing. This
place no longer offered her the emotional comfort it
once had. She was lonely and really had no one to
confide in. There were times when she wanted
someone to share her thoughts and ideas with, but
she was totally alone.

With an exasperated sigh, she came to the
conclusion that Frances was right: she was getting
too old to hide from her troubles like a child. She
was a woman now, and she needed to face her
problems straight on.

She leaned back for a moment and closed her eyes,
freeing herself of her need for this solitary hideaway.
After today she would not come there again.

Moon Racer whinnied and stomped his feet,
letting Abby know he was ready to return to the
stable. She slid downward, caught a branch, and
swung toward the ground.

Abby saw a horse just below her, then a flash of
blue, but it was too late to stop her descent. Her
sudden appearance had startled the animal, and it
reared on its hind legs, sending the rider tumbling
backward to the ground.

With her heart thundering inside her, she ran forward and bent down beside the man. His eyes were
closed, and she was afraid she had killed him. "Sir, are you hurt? Can you hear my voice?" she asked
frantically. "Sir, sir!"

He did not move or answer, so she darted to her
horse, grabbed her canteen, and ran back to him.
When she knelt down beside him, she noticed for
the first time that he was a soldier. Placing her hand
on his shoulder, she shook him gently, but still he
did not respond. In desperation, she unscrewed the
cap of her canteen and dashed water in his face. She
was overcome with relief when he blinked and
slowly opened his eyes.

Staring up at her were a pair of the bluest,
angriest eyes Abby had ever seen.

Maj. Jonah Tremain sat up slowly and shook his
head to clear it. "Why in the hell did you douse me
with water?" he demanded, wiping his sleeve across
his wet face.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said. "I thought you were
unconscious."

"I wasn't unconscious-I was merely trying to
stop the world from spinning and catch my breath."

"I wouldn't wonder." She bit her lower lip. "I
didn't see you until it was too late."

Jonah muttered an oath as he rolled to his feet
with as much dignity as he could muster. "Dammit,
boy-"

I'm not a boy," she stated with growing
irritation. She was beginning to dislike the soldier.

"Well, even so, what did you think you were
doing scampering about in that tree? Do you make
it a practice to drop down on every unsuspecting
traveler who happens by?"

Abby was about to answer him in anger when
she saw him limp as he took a step. Guilt-ridden,
she reached out and touched his arm. "You're hurt.
Lean on me, and I'll help you to your horse-I'll
get you to a doctor."

He shook her hand off and studied her warily.
"The limp is from an old wound," he clarified. "But
if it makes you feel any better, my shoulder will
probably be bruised by tomorrow."

She clamped her lips together while she dusted
dried grass from her trousers and stared into those
cold blue eyes. "I'm so very sorry, sir. It was just an
unfortunate mishap."

He gave her his sternest glare as he rubbed his
shoulder. "Is there something wrong with your
hearing that kept you from picking up the sound of
my horse?"

She stared at him grimly. "My mind was on other
matters at that time."

"Is that so? What could be so interesting up in
that tree to hold the attention of a mere child?"

She raised her gaze to his, anger flushing her face
and tightening her throat. "I'm not a boy or a child."
Her chin went up higher. "And what I think about
or don't think about is none of your concern."

"It is when you involve me in it," he replied,
flexing his shoulders and wincing in pain.

"I said I was sorry, sir." But she didn't sound
sorry-she sounded impatient and irritated.

She gathered Moon Racer's reins, shoved her
booted foot into the stirrup, and swung into the
saddle.

Jonah suddenly noticed her mount and reached
out to touch the horse's shoulder, allowing his hand
to slide up the smooth neck. "This is what I call
mighty fine horseflesh."

"Yes," she answered stiffly. "You aren't telling
me anything I don't already know."

Jonah suddenly noticed the way the damp shirt
revealed the swell of her breasts. How could he
have mistaken her for a boy when there was so
much evidence to the contrary? It was an honest
mistake, he admitted to himself-he had never
expected to find a female wearing trousers.

A single long braid hung down her back, and she
definitely had the delicate features of a girl. She
spoke well enough, but in appearance she
resembled a poor sodbuster's daughter. "How did
you come by such an animal?"

His question surprised her, and she answered
with more civility than she had intended. "He was a
gift from my brother."

Jonah knew superior horseflesh when he saw it,
and this animal was definitely exceptional. "Would
you consider selling him?"

She was looking down at him, her spine straight.
"Not at any price."

He ran 'his hand along Moon Racer's shoulder.
"Everything has a price."

She had never met a more arrogant man. "No,
some things are priceless."

She spun Moon Racer out of his grasp and started
to ride away when she saw the man's horse in the
distance. It gave her momentary pleasure to think of him limping to catch his mount. But her sense of
fairness would not allow her to leave him stranded;
after all, she had been responsible for his mishap.
She rode up to his horse, stretched forward,
gathered up the reins, and led the animal back to the
soldier.

Jonah was further irritated because he had landed
on his slouch hat and squashed the crease out of it.
He was scowling when he recreased it and then
adjusted it on his head. He pulled on his jacket and
made an attempt to dust the grass off, while ignoring
the girl as she tried to hand him the reins of his horse.

Abby's gaze fell on the two gold bars on his
shoulders. He wasn't just an ordinary soldier. "I
thought officers were supposed to be gentlemen,"
she blurted out before she could think.

He arched a dark brow and said mockingly, "And
so they are... if there is a lady about." He swept
off his hat with an exaggerated bow that infuriated
her even more.

She dropped the reins at his feet. "Good day to
you, sir."

Now he was grinning. "Good-bye to you, ma'am."

He was standing with his back to the sun, and it
suddenly seemed to Abby that he was surrounded
by light. The blue of his uniform enhanced the blue
of his eyes, and she felt a strange tightening inside
her. Bewildered by the new sensation, she wanted
only to get away from him.

if I never see you again, it'll be too soon for me."

His gaze was arrogant, his shoulders tense and
straight, when he said, "Amen to that!"

Abby whirled Moon Racer around and galloped
toward the house. She frowned when the full impact
of what she had done hit her; that officer could have
been badly hurt, and it would have been her fault.
Then she remembered blue eyes that had gone from
angry to mocking, and hoped his shoulder would
pain him for some time to come.

She gave a toss of her head. He should have been
watching where he was going. And after all, he had
been trespassing on Hunter land.

A short time later Abby entered the barn, and she
was certainly not in a good mood. With her jaw set
firmly, she was more determined than ever that she
was going to ride the Johnson horse.

When - she heard movement overhead, she
glanced up at the loft and saw Navidad pitching
hay. When he noticed her he paused at his work,
and with a worried look on his dark face, descended
the ladder to stand before her.

"Senorita Abby, say to me that you have not
come here to ride that bay horse."

Most of the hands that worked on the Half-Moon
Ranch were loyal and usually stayed with the family
for a long time. Some of them, like Red and Curly,
had been there since before Abby was born. She felt
affection for them all, but her favorite was Navidad.

The Mexican man had come to work for them five
years earlier, and he had an exceptional gift for handling horses. His dark mustache was brushed with
gray, and the leathery texture of his skin gave testament to the fact that he spent a lot of time in the
sun. The most extraordinary thing about him was the kindness of his nature and the compassion reflected
in his dark eyes. He was one of those rare human
beings who really cared about people and was
always doing good deeds for someone.

He and Abby had forged a special bond from the
very beginning, when she had teasingly called him
by the English translation of his name. It had
pleased him at the time, and the name had stuck, as
far as she was concerned.

"Christmas, I had this same argument with
Frances this morning, and I don't intend to have it
with you. I'm going to ride that bay, and neither
you nor anyone else is going to stop me!"

Curly had walked into the barn in time to
overhear their conversation. He was tall and
muscular, and Abby watched him scratch his head,
then shake it before he spoke. "Don't guess it would
do any good for me to try and talk you out of ridin'
that horse if Frances couldn't. That woman is so
cantankerous she could curdle cream."

"I would not think to argue with you, Senorita
Abby. I am only asking you, do not do this,"
Navidad implored, the worry lines deepening in his
forehead. "Senor Brent will not be glad with me if
you ride that horse."

"Yep," Curly added. "Brent's already told me to
take the gelding back to the Circle J this very day."
He gave Abby a guarded look, and then he went
even farther. "Brent gets plumb mad when you put
yourself in danger. You know how he is."

Yes, she knew how Brent was. He had taken care
of her when everyone else had gone away he was the one person who had remained constant in her
life, until he had moved to the cabin by the creek so
he wouldn't have to be near their father. When he
had first departed the family home, she had felt
betrayed and deserted but had finally come to
understand why Brent had left. Although she herself
could never leave, she had discovered that by
keeping busy, she could avoid being in her father's
company for days at a time.

Her thoughts went back to the Johnson horse.
"Neither of you has anything to worry about; I'll
take the blame if Brent gets mad. Besides, I don't
think that horse can throw me." With a determined
resolve, she shoved her hat more firmly on her head
and poked her thick, dark braid underneath the brim
so it would stay in place. "Do either of you have
any more objections?"

Navidad seemed to want to say more, but instead
he looked away from her.

Curly, however, threw his hands in the air as if
surrendering and shook his head. He knew that
when a Hunter got set on something, there was no
point arguing, and Abby was the most stubborn of
them all. "No, ma'am! No, sirree. Not me. I just
work here."

She stalked to the tack room, where she found
her well-worn tan chaps hanging on a peg. With
expert ease she fastened the belt around her waist
and hooked the buckles about her trouser-clad legs.
When she reappeared, Navidad was leaning against
the pitchfork. He watched as she grabbed the bit
and bridle from a hook.