animal had a slice of pasture. That had to be the stables. She wandered closer, hoping not to run into any of Ren’s men. She wanted to see the poor horse. She knew they’d stop her. Ren would have left orders about it, she was sure.
She waited in the shadows until two men came out.
“We can grab a cup of coffee and come back in thirty minutes,” one told the other. “The mare isn’t going to foal tonight, would be my bet, but we have to stay with her.”
“Let’s don’t be gone long,” the other one said on a sigh. “Boss has been in a terrible temper lately.”
“He should have known that woman was nothing but trouble,” the first one scoffed. “She wrapped him up like a late Christmas present and kept him off balance until he bought her that ring.”
“Don’t mention Christmas around him,” the other man muttered. “Almost got slugged for it myself last December.”
“He doesn’t believe in that stuff,” the first man sighed. “Well, to each his own, but I love Christmas and I’m putting up a tree month after next. He can just close his eyes when he drives by my cabin, because the damned thing is going in the window.”
The other man laughed. “Living dangerously.”
“Why not? He pays good wages, but I’m getting tired of walking on eggshells around him. The man’s temper gets worse by the day, you know?”
“Think of all those benefits. Even retirement. You really want to give that up because the boss is in a snit? He’ll get over it.”
“Hasn’t got over it in six months, has he?”
“It takes time. Let’s get that coffee.”
“Vet’s coming tomorrow to check on the mare. Maybe he got that tranquilizer gun for Hurricane. Damned shame, what happened to him.”
“Not as bad as what happened to the man who did it,” the other man said, wincing. “Boss turned him every way but loose. I never saw so many bruises, and he was a big man. Bigger than the boss, even.”
“The boss was in the army reserves. His unit was called up and he went overseas. He was captain of some company, not sure which, but they were in the thick of the fighting. He changed afterward, I hear.”
“He’s been through a lot. Guess he’s entitled to a bad temper occasionally.”
“I didn’t mind seeing him lose it with that damned cowboy who beat Hurricane. Damn, it was sweet to watch! The man never landed a single punch on the boss.”
“Sheriff noticed all the bruises. He said he guessed the man was so drunk he fell down the stairs headfirst.”
His companion burst out laughing. “Yeah. Good thing he likes the boss, ain’t it?”
“Good thing.”
They walked on. Merrie, who’d been listening, grimaced. Ren had been through hard times, too. She was sad for him. But that didn’t make her less afraid of him.
She opened the stable door and stepped inside. It was cool, but comfortable. She walked down the bricked aisle carefully. There were several horses inside. But she knew immediately which one was Hurricane.
He was coal black with a beautiful, tangled mane. He pitched his head when he saw Merrie and stamped his feet. Then he neighed. She saw the bridle. It was far too tight. She could see blood under it. She winced. There were visible lashes down his sides, near his tail. Deep cuts.
“Poor baby,” she said softly. “Oh, poor, poor baby!”
He pricked his ears up and listened.
She went a step closer. “What did he do to you?” she whispered. She moved another step closer. “Poor boy. Poor thing.”
He shook his mane. He looked at her closely and moved, just a step.
She spotted some horse treats in a nearby bag. She picked up two of them, putting one in her pocket. She held one in her palm, so that the horse couldn’t nip her fingers, and slowly moved it toward him. If he was that dangerous, it would be difficult even for a cowboy to feed or water him. She saw a trough in the back of the stall. It seemed to contain water. But the feed tray was inside the stall, and it was empty. He must be starved. She moved all the way to the gate, one step at a time.
HER FATHER HAD taken a whip to one of the Thoroughbreds once, when Merrie was in high school. She’d gone to see him after her father left the ranch on a European business trip with that Leeds woman. The trainer had talked to the horse softly, but it wouldn’t let him near it. Merrie had braved its nervous prancing and gone right up to it. The horse had responded to her immediately, to the trainer’s delight. After that, Merrie had been its caretaker. At least, as long as her father wasn’t around. He’d killed a dog she loved. He might have done the same to a horse that she’d shown attention to. Sari and she had never understood why their father hated them so. Probably, it was payback. He was getting even with their late mother, through them, for cutting him out of the bulk of her family wealth.
“Have you had anything to eat, baby?” she asked Hurricane in a whisper as she moved her hand closer to the big horse. “Are you hungry? Poor baby. Poor, poor baby!”
He moved closer to the fence. He shook his mane again.
She went closer and sent her breath toward his nostrils, something she’d watched their trainer do with horses he was breaking back home. She blew gently into the big horse’s nostrils. Her father’s Thoroughbreds had been off-limits to the girls when they were growing up, or she might have learned more about horses. The injured Thoroughbred had been the only one of her father’s horses that she had access to. Although there were saddle mounts that the girls had permission to ride, they were careful not to pay too much attention to them when their father was around.
“I won’t hurt you,” she whispered. Her face was drawn and still. “I know how you feel. You know that, don’t you, baby?”
He moved closer, looking at her. She held the treat out in her palm.
“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked softly.
He shook his mane and then, suddenly, lowered his head. But it wasn’t to attack her. He took the treat from her palm and wolfed it down. He looked at her again, quizzically.
“One more,” she said. She pulled the second treat from her pocket, held it out on her palm. Again, his head lowered and he took the treat gently from it with his lips. He wolfed that down, too.
“Sweet boy,” she said softly. She held out her hand.
He hesitated only for a minute before he moved closer and lowered his head toward hers. She pulled him down by his neck and laid her head against the side of his. “Oh, you poor, poor thing,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Poor horse!”
He moved his head against her, almost like a caress. She didn’t see the two returned cowboys in the back of the stable, gaping at her. There was Hurricane, laying his head against
