Dead Heat (Alpha and Omega) - Patricia Briggs Page 0,102

that Charles was in worse shape even though he didn’t show it.

Hosteen had taken a good look around the kitchen and decided that what everyone needed to “heal the spiritual wounds of the day” was a ride out into the desert. That he could deliver phrases like that and not sound hokey was impressive, Anna decided.

Chelsea came down with them, running beside the four-wheeler with Charles, who was also in his wolf form. They’d driven around back this time, where there were tie posts outside the back of the barn. Four horses were tacked up with western saddles. A harried-looking Teri was hastily brushing out one horse’s tail with a hairbrush.

“New dogs?” she asked Hosteen as they all disembarked from the four-wheeler, looking at Chelsea. “Sure are pretty.”

Pack magic let people see what they expected to see. Otherwise werewolves could never have stayed hidden as long as they had.

“One new dog—the white female. The red one belongs to Anna, our guest,” Hosteen told the woman.

“What’s her name?”

“We haven’t decided yet. Would you go get Kage? I’ll take over here. We’ll put them away properly when we’re done.”

Teri gave him a bright smile. “Sure thing. He said to tell you he’d be right out, but I’ll let him know you’re here anyway.”

As soon as she disappeared inside the barn, Charles returned to human form, a little more slowly than was usual for him. This was his second change of the day, Anna thought. If he had to do another one, it would be slower yet. Charles stretched, trying to loosen cramped muscles.

“Chelsea,” said Hosteen. “The horses won’t care as long as you don’t stare them in the eye for very long. If you make eye contact, they recognize you as a threat.” He turned to Anna. “Let me introduce you to Portabella while we’re waiting for Kage.”

Chelsea stayed close to Hosteen as they walked over to the horses. As promised, none of the horses seemed particularly bothered by her.

“Here she is,” Hosteen said, then stood back and let Anna look.

Portabella was a big mare. Anna had to stand on tiptoes to look over her back. Her color was not dark enough to be black, but very dark just the same. Bay, Anna thought, though the characteristic black points—legs, mane, and tail—were really very close to the same color as her body. A white streak dropped from a star between her big eyes to another splash of white on her nose. She was polished and beautiful. Even Anna, amateur that she was, could see that she was spectacular.

Anna couldn’t help but put her hands out to touch and found herself stroking steel clothed in silk. She ran her hands down the horse’s legs, and the mare lifted her front hoof to Anna’s asking. She wasn’t shod and the bottom of her feet looked—like the bottom of a horse’s foot. She laughed inwardly at herself, because she didn’t know enough for the examination to tell her anything except that the mare would stand quietly while an idiot ran hands all over her.

Somewhat to her own surprise, Anna’s fingers found a bump on her neck that struck her as odd. She was more surprised by her understanding that it was out of place than she was at finding something wrong with this paragon of a horse.

She glanced at Hosteen.

“From a vaccination,” he told her. “Some horses just do that sometimes. I have a vet report on it in her file.”

“Is she a mare you bred?” she asked, after looking for a question that wouldn’t make her sound too stupid.

Charles was being very quiet, even for Charles. He must have been as exhausted as she was. Hosteen was right: it was a tiredness of spirit rather than body. Even so, she was pretty sure she should have insisted that they retire to their room.

Hosteen shook his head. “Three years ago, Joseph was out at a trainer’s barn looking for interesting horses,” Hosteen said. “And he found this mare. She’d been soured in the ring so they’d put her in the breeding barn, but she wasn’t sound for breeding. So they’d sent her back to the trainers. But sour didn’t even touch on how much she hated arena work. She put the trainer’s assistant in the hospital and he was done with her.”

Hosteen shook his head. “My son is magic on a horse, and game for any challenge. He wanted to retrain her himself. We got her for more than we should have paid for her,