The Rogue (12 page)

The one step closer permitted her to see the chunks that had been gouged out of the once sleek hide of his chest and neck. The ground around the mound of horseflesh was stained with blood, the juglar vein torn. Her stomach churned in a sickening rush of nausea that sent her reeling away from the sight. Diana stumbled to the Major’s side and felt a comforting arm circle her shoulders. She buried her face into his chest, trying to shut out the mental image of the battered stallion.

One of the hands called out, “The vet’s on his way,
Holt!” And Diana’s dazed mind wondered why. The stallion was already dead.

“It’s incredible,” the Major said, his chest heaving in a sigh. “How badly hurt is Fath?”

The name pierced her consciousness. Path was the chestnut stallion the Major had purchased several years ago as an eventual replacement for the aging bay stud.

“It’s hard to say,” Holt answered. “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“How on earth did it happen?” the Major mused aloud.

Diana lifted her head from his shoulder, realizing that somehow the two stallions had gotten together. She had heard stories of stallion fights, but she had never witnessed the result of their destructive prowess.

“I swear I latched the gates last night.” There was a sickly pallor to Guy’s face as he defensively answered the Major’s question.

“I wasn’t suggesting you didn’t,” her father responded.

“Both gates were securely latched this morning,” Holt inserted.

Diana glanced around the corral, avoiding the spot where the dead stallion lay. The earth was churned up in evidence of pawing hooves, the scene of the fight. One section of the fence had a splintered top rail, the thick board hanging to one side.

“ ‘Pears to me,” Rube joined them, “that the chestnut kept circlin’ his pen until he found a weak rail. There’s hoof marks on the boards where he’d reared up and tried out some rails. When he found the right one, he pounded at it ’til he knocked it loose, then came over here an’ did the same thing to get inside the bay’s pen. ‘Pears to me that’s the only way it could ’ave happened.”

“The flaw in that, Rube,” Holt said dryly, “is why did Fath jump back out of the pen after he had killed Shetan, and why didn’t he return to his own corral? Considering that crippling wound to his right foreleg, I
find it hard to believe he could have jumped out of the corral after the fight.”

“It is puzzlin’,” Rube shook his head and spat out a stream of tobacco juice.

“Didn’t anyone hear the fight?” Diana questioned. “Couldn’t they have stopped it?”

“It happened last night,” Holt said, as if that explained it. “Evidently sometime before midnight, since that seems to be about the time everyone began coming back to the ranch.”

The Major frowned. “I thought I understood that Guy was staying at the ranch last night to keep an eye on things while the rest of you went into town.”

Holt didn’t answer, but cast a piercing look at Guy, who shifted. “I got drunk, sir,” Guy mumbled. “I think I passed out around nine or ten. I’m sorry, sir.”

“I am disappointed in you, Guy.”

Diana knew the effectiveness of those few words of reprimand from the Major and how heavily they weighed. She felt a measure of responsibility, too, for what had happened. She guessed that Guy’s drinking had been in some way connected with her and the fact she had refused his invitation last night.

“It’s done and it can’t be undone,” Holt stated. “Where did you put the mare?”

Guy looked at him blankly. “What mare?”

“Cassie, the four-year-old mare that was here to be bred to Shetan for her first foal,” he answered impatiently.

“She wasn’t here when I found them. I forgot she was supposed to be. I didn’t even look for her,” admitted Guy, a stricken expression taking over his features.

With a muffled curse, Holt turned and walked to the section of the corral with the broken rail. Diana’s gaze followed, searching the desert pasture that extended beyond the stud pens. All she saw were the rusty-red coats of grazing Hereford cattle. The Major’s prize-winning bay mare wasn’t in sight.

“Look at this,” Holt called over his shoulder.
Diana, together with her father, Guy, and Rube, walked to the fence where Holt stood. In his hand, he held some short white strands. “I found them caught on the wood,” he said.

“Horse hairs,” Rube identified. “Probably left there when the stallion jumped the fence.”

“Yes, but white hairs?” Holt questioned. “One stallion was a bay, so was the mare, and the other stallion was a chestnut. So where did the white hairs come from?”

“The chestnut has white markings,” the Major pointed out.

“Or maybe one of them white-faces came up and rubbed their head against the rail,” Rube suggested.

“Yes,” Holt agreed, but in a tone that wasn’t satisfied with either explanation. “Guy, go take a look at the tracks on the other side of the fence,” he ordered. “See if you can pick up the mare’s. She was wearing shoes.”

Guy vaulted over the fence, anxious to make amends for last night. Holt didn’t wait to see how successful his son was. Instead, he walked over to where the dead stallion lay and crouched down beside the mangled form with a composure that irritated Diana. She had to look away as he calmly began inspecting the death-stiffened body.

Several minutes later, Holt straightened and came back to the group, his expression grim as he met the Major’s look. “More white hairs,” he announced.

“Where?” the Major asked,

“There were a few clinging to the bay’s forelegs and around his muzzle,”

“What are you gettin’ at?” Rube frowned. “You ain’t sayin’—”

At that moment, Guy came running back to the corral. “I found the mare’s tracks!” he called, puffing slightly when he reached the fence, a faintly triumphant light in his eyes. “She’s headed straight for the mountains, but there’s another set of tracks along with hers. I got the impression she was being driven,”

“Aw, come on, Holt. You ain’t thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, are ya?” Rube declared.

“You don’t believe she was stolen, do you?” Diana glanced at Holt.

He ignored her question to ask Guy, “The second set of tracks—was the horse wearing shoes?”

“No, and it had a peculiar stride.”

“To answer your question”—Holt turned to Diana—“I think the mare was stolen, but not by anybody on horseback.”

“You’re sayin’ some wild stallion came down an’ took that mare.” Rube shook his head. “You’re even thinkin’ that wild stallion is the one that fought with ours. In the first place, no goddamned pint-sized wild stallion could do the damage you’re claimin’ this one did. And in the second place, there ain’t no goddamned white stallion in these parts. You and me rode all over lookin’ for that mare a couple of days ago. We didn’t see no white horse, an’ a white horse would stand out like an eyesore.”

“The stallion could be an offspring of some ranch stock gone wild, which would give him some size. And he wouldn’t necessarily have to be white. He could be a pinto with a lot of white to him,” Holt reasoned.

“But if it is a wild horse, why would it come here?” Diana frowned. “The wild stallions have never bothered with our mares before.”

“That doesn’t eliminate the possibility,” the Major responded to her question. “This stallion might be too young or too old to win any wild mares from other herd stallions. The evidence seems to point to Holt’s conclusion.”

“It might also explain the disappearance of the other mare,” Holt added.

“We’ll have to contact the Bureau,” the Major stated.

“Why involve the BLM?” Holt asked in smiling challenge. “We don’t know for a fact that a wild horse has anything to do with our missing mares. There is no reason for the government to search for our strays.”

The Major had always been one to go by the book. Diana was surprised when he didn’t immediately reject Holt’s suggestion as not following the proper channels. But she was even more surprised when she saw the glint in her father’s eye, a veiled but twinkling approval, as if he admired Holt for bending the rules as long as he didn’t break them.

“It would be a waste of taxpayers’ money, wouldn’t it, when the mares are our responsibility?” he agreed.

The grooves around Holt’s mouth deepened in a smile of satisfaction. “How do you feel, Major? Are you up to looking after things for a couple of days? Floyd Hunt’s a good man. I can put him in charge while Guy, Rube, and I ride out to find the mares.”

“Floyd is a good man. I think between the two of us, we can keep the ranch from falling apart until you get back. I just wish I was up to riding with you.”

Diana’s pulse accelerated. Behind all this talk of searching for strays lay the true fact that they were going on a wild-horse hunt to reclaim their mares. The idea excited her imagination. It would be challenging, much more adventurous than anything she had ever done.

“I’m going along,” she announced.

Holt’s head jerked in her direction, his eyes narrowing into gray slits. “It isn’t going to be a joy ride.”

“I know. It will mean a lot of hard riding over rough country. I can keep up and I won’t complain. Ask the Major.” Diana didn’t care whether he wanted her along or not. She wanted to go. “Besides, I’m a good camp cook.”

“That is reason enough to have her along right there.” Guy championed her cause.

But there was a personal side to Guy’s reason for wanting her to come. He saw it as an opportunity to spend more time with her, an opportunity that hadn’t been part of Diana’s desire to go. And Guy’s wish to have her accompany them would be the very reason Holt would do everything possible to see that she
didn’t. He would succeed unless she obtained more influential support.

“Major”—Diana turned to her father—“I want to go.

It was the most animation the Major had seen in her face since she had returned; her face was alive and glowing, the way it had been before her disastrous marriage. The hesitancy that had been in his expression softened into consent.

Holt saw it the same instant that Diana did. “We’ll be sleeping out, Major,” he reminded him. “Three men and one woman—”

“I’m an adult, over twenty-one, and divorced. I am not bound anymore by proprieties.” That reasoning had been valid several years ago, but Diana was determined it wouldn’t hold up again.

The Major agreed with her. “Under the circumstances, I don’t see why she can’t go along.”

It was up to Holt to either come up with another reason or accept the Major’s decision. His features hardened in resigned acceptance.

“If you say so, Major.” His light-colored eyes were anything but friendly when he glanced at her. “We’ll be leaving within an hour, as soon as we’ve saddled and packed some supplies.”

“I’ll be ready when you are,” Diana assured him with faint smugness. His down-sweeping glance took note of the cotton robe she wore, reminding her that she was still in her nightclothes. “Excuse me.” Diana moved swiftly toward the house.

An hour later they were riding out of the yard with Rube leading the packhorse. Out of necessity, their pace was slow as they followed the horse tracks. The sun was at its zenith when they reached the foothills. They stopped often to rest their horses from the stress of the climb and the midday heat. The noon meal consisted of sandwiches Sophie had fixed and packed for them.

In the afternoon, the trail was lost in a rough section of rocky ground. Holt ordered Guy and Rube to spread out in different directions to find it again, while commanding Diana to stay with him.

When they were alone, Diana taunted him. “Aren’t you being a bit overprotective, Holt?”

“Am I?” He looked at her coolly. “Guy thinks he’s in love with you. Can you say the same about him?”

She carefully avoided his gaze. “That isn’t any of your business.”

“I think you just answered my question.”

“Did I?” Diana challenged. “What was it?”

“You don’t give a damn about him. You are using him just like you did when he was a boy, throwing him a crumb of your attention whenever it amused you to do so. You hurt and confused him then, but I’m not going to let you destroy him now.”

Diana didn’t argue about her past behavior. “I care about Guy,” she said.

The silver glitter of his eyes mocked her assertion. “You aren’t going to further your conquest over Guy on this expedition, so get that idea out of your head.”

“I came to look for a stray mare. Don’t you think it’s time you stopped talking and started looking for her trail?” she asked haughtily.

Their eyes locked in a clash of wills, a duel that neither won as a shout from Rube brought it to an abrupt end. Rube had picked up the trail where the two horses had crossed a dry wash. They rallied to his call and started off again.

By late afternoon, Diana was beginning to feel the effect of the long hours in the saddle. Her calf muscles were cramping and her inner thighs were sore from constant rubbing against the leather. She was the last to dismount when they stopped for a ten-minute rest. Guy’s hand was on her elbow to help her down.

“Thanks.” She smiled tiredly and arched her spine to ease the stiffness in her back. “I’m not in condition for this ride, not like I thought I was.”

“Want a rubdown?” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me,” she said with a wry grimace, but her gaze slid warily to Holt.

Guy followed her look, his expression turning grim. “I suppose he’s said something to you.”

“About what?” Diana asked with false ignorance and reached for her canteen.

“About us.”

How could she tell Guy there was no “us”? “Did he say he had?” she countered.

“No. I told him to stay out of it, that what was between you and me was none of his business.”

“I’ll bet he didn’t like that.” Diana lifted the canteen to her mouth, aware that she had used the same statement earlier.

When she had taken a swallow of tepid water, she recapped the canteen and looped its strap around her saddlehorn. The horse shifted its position, blocking them from Holt’s view. Guy seized the moment to span her waist with his hands, turning her to him, the frustration of checked desire blazing in his eyes.

“Diana,” he moaned her name. “It seems like so long since I’ve touched you.”