coop,” she said. Then, abruptly, she asked, “Why do you have three horses when you can only ride one?”
“The two geldings, Phantom and Jag, are cutting horses, very useful on a ranch. The stallion, Romeo, is a moneymaker, or will be once he’s trained and shown.”
She tilted her head, a sign, he had come to realize, that she was thinking. “Do you always name your horses after expensive automobiles?”
Dixon chuckled. She was quick. “Caught that, did you?” He moved to Romeo’s stall and hung his forearms on the top rung.
“Rolls Royce Phantom, Jaguar and Alfa Romeo.”
He nodded. “Yep. The point is, I’d rather have these guys than those cars.”
Laughing, she said, “Clever and appropriate.”
“I thought so.” He cut her a curious look. “What was that you were speaking earlier? It wasn’t English.”
“Well, it’s primarily Unami. Some call it Lenape, though that word means man or people. My mother was almost full-blood Leni-Lenape, what you would call Delaware Indian.”
“Then you’re Native American.”
She smiled. “Mostly.”
“No wonder you’re so beautiful.” She looked as shocked as he felt, the words slipping out completely unintended. “I mean, no wonder your hair and eyes are so black and your skin is so...smooth.”
Her “Thank you” came out in a strangled voice, but then she quickly said, “I’d better get back to the house.”
Dixon muttered, “Gonna work the horses.”
She hurried away, and when he finished mentally kicking himself, he determined to do his very best to keep his distance.
He put his hand in his coat pocket and felt the half-filled baggie there.
Clearly the woman was dangerous to his good sense. If nothing else.
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