Under A Prairie Moon (10 page)

Suddenly weak, she dropped down on the rocker and buried her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening.

She couldn’t be falling in love.

With a ghost.

He stood beneath the hanging tree, a being with no more substance than the wind, aching to be whole again, human again.

A hundred and twenty-five years of loneliness, of solitude. Surely that was penance enough for any man.

He lifted his gaze to the heavens. “Please…”

He had left so much undone. He had made a promise to his father, a promise he had never kept. He had promised his mother he would see her again before the year was out. And there was a piece of land waiting for him in Wyoming. He had always intended to settle down there, build a house, raise a few horses, but somehow he had never found the time. There had always been another job, another offer. And then there was the little matter of the life that had been stolen from him. He was not yet thirty. He wanted the years that should have been his. He wanted a home and a family, a chance to refute the lies that had been told about his life and his death.

He wanted Kathy…in his arms, in his bed, in his life. He wanted to know everything about her, to be a part of her world.

He wanted the impossible. Damn, he had always wanted what he couldn’t have…

* * * * *

Kathy stood on the side veranda, her arms crossed over the rail, staring toward the stream. Where was Dalton? She hadn’t seen him since the night before. Even now, she wasn’t certain what had happened. One minute he had been kissing her, and the next he had vanished. He seemed so solid, so real, she had been startled by how quickly he had disappeared. What was it he had told her, that it took a lot of energy to materialize? She didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted that kissing her had burned up so much energy that he had vanished. Once, just before sleep had claimed her, she thought she had felt a breath of cool air whisper past her bed, but she couldn’t be sure if it had been real or if she had just imagined it.

Dalton. Just thinking about him made her smile, filled her with girlish excitement as she anticipated seeing him again.

“You’re behaving like a teenager with her first crush,” she muttered, but she couldn’t help it.

A rising cloud of dust caught her eye and she walked to the front of the house, shading her eyes against the bright glare of the sun.

Moments later, a truck and trailer pulled up to the veranda and a short, bow-legged man hopped out. “Mrs. Conley?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got your mare here. Do you want her in the barn, or the corral?”

“In the barn, I guess. I’ll go write you a check.”

The man touched his hat with his forefinger, climbed into the cab of the truck and drove to the barn.

Kathy hurried into the house and grabbed her checkbook, shaking her head as she wrote out a check. Eight hundred dollars. For a horse! She must be losing her mind, she thought, probably the result of too much quiet and too much fresh air.

Going outside, she walked down to the barn. Might as well take another look at her horse.

“She’s all settled, ma’am,” the cowboy said. “I’ll just go get your saddle out of the truck.”

Kathy handed him her check. “Thanks.”

The wrangler tipped his hat again and left the barn.

Kathy stood outside the mare’s stall. “Eight hundred dollars,” she muttered. “I sure hope you’re worth it.”

The mare poked her head over the door, snuffling softly, and Kathy jumped back.

“She won’t bite you.”

“Dalton!” Kathy glanced over her shoulder, delighted to see him, to be able to see him.

“She just wants you to pet her.” He ran his hand over the mare’s nose, then scratched under her jaw. The mare extended her neck, obviously asking for more, a look of equine contentment in her dark eyes.

Hesitantly, Kathy ran her hand along the mare’s neck. Her coat was soft and sleek.

“Here’s your saddle, ma’am, where do you want it?”

“Oh I don’t know…”

“In the back of the barn,” Dalton said, “there’s a rack.”

“Over there,” Kathy said, gesturing toward the rear of the barn.

“Mr. Holcomb said for you to be sure to call him if you have any trouble with the mare, or any questions.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Good day to you, ma’am.”

“Goodbye.” Kathy watched the cowboy walk away, then whirled around to face Dalton. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into buying a horse,” Kathy said when they were alone again.

“You won’t be sorry.”

“I won’t?”

“I guarantee it. We need to repair that corral. You don’t want to keep her locked up in here all the time.”

“If you say so.” Kathy shook her head. “Now I’ve got to go into town and buy hay and oats. What else do I need that you didn’t bother to mention?”

“A brush and a curry comb, maybe a blanket for winter, a block of salt.”

Kathy glared at him. “I remember once my girlfriend asked her dad for a horse, and her dad said no. He said it wasn’t buying the horse that was expensive, it was keeping it. I think I’m beginning to understand what he meant.”

Dalton scratched Taffy Girl’s ears. “It’s a small price to pay,” he remarked, “for the years of pleasure she’ll give you.”

“Yeah, right,” Kathy replied skeptically.

“Come on, I’ll give you your first lesson.”

“Now?”

“Why not?”

She looked at Dalton, at the light shining in his eyes, and smiled. “Sure, why not?”

Dalton found an old beat-up halter in a pile of tack, along with a dandy brush. He showed Kathy how to slip the halter in place, then led the mare out of the stall. He brushed one side of the horse, then told Kathy to do the other side.

She reached for the brush, felt a tingle, like cold electricity, when her hand touched his. Maybe it had something to do with his ghostly aura, maybe it was just the man himself, but she had never been so aware of anyone else in her whole life.

Their eyes met and held for a moment, then she took the brush from his hand and ran it tentatively over Taffy’s Girl’s shoulder and back.

“That’s right,” Dalton said. “You don’t have to be afraid of her. She won’t bite you.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s too much of a lady for that.” He ran his hand along the mare’s neck. “Aren’t you, girl?”

Kathy watched his long-fingered hand slide over the mare’s coat and wondered what that hand would feel sliding over her skin.

Dalton looked at her over the mare’s back. “Of course, it always pays to be careful. You don’t want to stand directly behind any of them. When you’re walking with your horse, you want to keep a good grip on the lead and stay close to her shoulder.”

Kathy nodded. As her confidence grew, she found she rather liked brushing the mare. It was soothing somehow.

Dalton grinned. “There’s an old saying, something about the outside of a horse being good for the inside of a man.”

“It is kind of fun, I guess. I’m done. Now what?”

“We check her feet.”

“Her feet?”

“All four of them. Before and after every ride, you want to check her feet.”

“What am I looking for?”

“You want to check her shoes, make sure her frog is clean, that she hasn’t picked up any stones…”

Kathy burst out laughing. “She has a frog?”

Dalton shook his head. He lifted Taffy’s Girl’s left foreleg and braced it on his thigh. “Here,” he said, pointing to the inside of the hoof. “This is the frog.”

“You don’t expect me to pick up her feet, do you?” Kathy asked, alarmed.

“Darn right, but we won’t worry about that today.” He checked all four feet, then patted the mare on the shoulder.

“What do we do next?” Kathy asked, “clean her ears?”

“We saddle her up.”

Dalton showed her how it was done, cautioning her to be sure the blanket was flat and smooth. A wrinkle in the pad could cause sores on the horse’s back. He showed her how to set the saddle and cinch it in place.

“Some horses swell up when you saddle them,” Dalton warned, “so after you tighten the cinch, you want to go back and check it again before you mount up.”

Cars were far less trouble, Kathy mused as she followed Dalton out of the barn. You didn’t have to fill the gas tank if you weren’t going anywhere, but a horse had to be fed twice a day. Tires had to be checked regularly, but not every day.

“Mind if I try her out first?” Dalton asked.

“Be my guest.” Kathy stood in the shade, watching as Dalton swung effortlessly into the saddle.

He rode the mare in a wide circle—walk, trot, canter. Then reversed direction. They made a pretty picture, Kathy thought, the beautiful golden horse and the handsome dark-haired man. Dalton rode easily, his body moving in perfect rhythm with that of the horse. He loved it, that was easy to see.

After a few minutes, he turned the mare down the long dirt road that led to the stream. With a shout, he urged the horse into a gallop.

Kathy watched them disappear amid a cloud of swirling dust, wondering if she could ever learn to ride like that.

They returned about ten minutes later. Dalton reined the mare to a halt a few feet in front of Kathy. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Having fun?” Kathy asked dryly.

“Oh yeah.” He reached forward and stroked the mare’s neck. “She’s a damn fine horse.”

“Well, if she isn’t, it’s your fault. You picked her out.”

“Come on,” he said, swinging out of the saddle. “Your turn.”

“Promise you’ll catch me if I fall?”

“You won’t fall. Here ya go,” he said, and boosted her into the saddle. He quickly adjusted the length of the stirrups to accommodate Kathy’s shorter legs, then looked up at her, one hand cupping the heel of her tennis shoe. “You got any boots?”

Kathy stared at his hand, so big and brown, gently cradling her foot. “You mean like cowboy boots? No.”

“Get some.”

“Why?”

“Not safe to ride in flat-heeled shoes like these. If your horse spooks, or you take a fall, your foot’s likely to slide right through the stirrup. Getting hung up in a stirrup’s a good way to break your neck.”

“Another expense,” she muttered. “You didn’t tell me horseback riding was such an expensive hobby.”

Dalton shrugged. “Where I come from, it wasn’t a hobby.”

She was tempted to stick her tongue out at him.

He handed her the reins, showed her how to hold them, how to apply pressure on the bit to make Taffy Girl rein left or right, warning her to pull back gently on the reins when she wanted to stop.

Then, holding onto the bridle, he clucked to the mare and they began to walk forward. Kathy’s first instinct was to grab for the saddle horn.

“Both hands on the reins,” Dalton chided. “Try to move with her. Get the rhythm. She’s got a nice smooth walk. Don’t stiffen up, just relax and let your body move with hers. That’s better. She’s got a soft mouth and responds quickly to the bit, so you don’t want to jerk on the reins. You do, and you’ll find yourself flying over her head.”

“I’ll never remember all this,” Kathy wailed.

“Sure you will. Pretty soon you won’t even have to think about it.”

He walked her to the edge of the driveway, turned and headed back. By the time the house was in sight again, Kathy felt a little more at ease.

“Okay, ride her over to the barn and back,” Dalton said. “Let’s see how you do on your own.”

Kathy lifted the reins and clucked to the mare, and Taffy Girl moved out, smooth and steady as you please. When they reached the barn, Kathy pulled on the reins and the horse made a wide turn and started back toward the house.

Dalton was smiling when she reached the porch. “You’re a natural,” he remarked.

“Yeah right,” Kathy muttered, secretly pleased by his praise. “Can we go down by the stream?”

“She’s your horse. I guess you can go wherever you want.”

“Would you walk with me?”

“Sure.”

He didn’t hold the bridle this time, just walked alongside, his hands in his pockets. “If you get some lumber, I’ll start on that corral.”

“Okay. I’ll go into town tomorrow. I need to see about having some hay delivered too.” She grinned down at him. “Looks like I’d better start thinking about trading my car in for a pickup truck. And buying myself a cowboy hat.”

Dalton rested one hand on her foot. “And boots. Don’t forget boots.”

The warmth in his eyes flooded through her like summer sunshine. He had beautiful eyes, as dark as a midnight sky. When he smiled at her, as he was smiling now, it was hard to believe he had once been a hired gun, that he had killed almost a dozen men. That he was a ghost…

Taffy Girl lowered her head, reaching for a clump of grass. The movement pulled on the reins. Kathy leaned forward, one hand grabbing for the saddle horn, and the magic of the moment was broken.

Dalton blew out a sigh. Taking hold of the bridle, he started walking toward the stream.

Kathy sat back in the saddle, content to let Dalton guide the mare. It was a beautiful afternoon, warm and clear, fragrant with the scent of grass and trees and wildflowers.