Smoketree - By Jennifer Roberson Page 0,53

don’t think so,” he agreed. “But when Cassie gets an idea in her head, it’s hard to shake it out of her.” He stared out across the flatlands beyond the black skeletal barn. “She’ll ride for hours, working it out. Probably come home later tonight… I hope.”

“You won’t leave her out there!”

“Not through choice,” he said dryly, “but I don’t have much. What good would it do to go after her? She’d just run, and there isn’t a horse on Smoketree who can catch Preacher. Not even Sunny.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but footsteps hurried to the screen door. I turned as Harper did and we saw the cook, Maria, framed in the doorway.

“Harper!” she cried, face alight with fear. “Come now! It’s Señor Reynolds—” Her hands clutched at her chest as if to mimic Nathan’s condition, and the message was perfectly eloquent.

Harper was up at once, reaching to wrench open the door. Then he turned back sharply. “Damn it! I’ll need Cassie—”

“Just go,” I ordered, pushing him. “I’ll get Cass.”

“You can’t—” But he broke off, knowing it was not the time for protests. He went into the foyer and through the Lodge at a run.

I ran in the other direction. I was bound for the tack room, and then Hornet.

I grabbed a bridle and went into the pen after the palomino mare, blessing Harper for having spent some time improving my skills. I had yet to catch, bridle and saddle a horse completely on my own, but now was the time to discover if I could. And I was determined to bring Cass back to the ranch.

Hornet was cooperative. I bridled her as I had been shown, sliding the bit between her teeth and feeling the soft dampness of her lips as she accepted it. It dropped into place inside her mouth; I removed my fingers and worked at slipping the headstall up over her ears. I buckled the throatlatch, then led her from the pen and shut the gate behind us. Hornet followed, ears twitching, and waited patiently as I tied her by the tack room.

The hardest part was saddling. I dragged out blankets and saddle, slapped the blankets across her back and tried to thrust the saddle into place upon them. It was a heavy thing, but I was tall enough to find the proper leverage. I settled it down on top of the blankets, then wrestled with cinch and buckles and D-rings, as Harper had shown me. First the cinch, snug around her barrel; then the back-cinch, buckled loosely; then the breast collar fastened across her chest and buckled to the saddle. And finally, when Hornet thought she had been clever, I kneed her in the ribs to startle her into expelling the breath she held to keep the cinch loose, pulled it tighter still and wrapped the final knot. I was done. I threw the reins over the mare’s head, climbed on, and went after Cass at a gallop.

I had seen Cass take Preacher across the high trail that wound through the trees. All trace of her was gone now, but I did see a fainter trail that led toward a portion of the Peaks I didn’t know. When I saw fresh horse droppings I felt certain I had found the proper way.

The sun had dropped low on the horizon. Sunset was only a half hour or so away, and with it would come the cold night air. I wore only a bulky pullover sweater that bunched around my hips, fairly new jeans—real jeans, for warmth and protection—and shoes. The shoes were unfortunate because they allowed the stirrups to rub through my socks onto the bare flesh of my ankles, which would be blistered shortly. But I hadn’t come out with the intention of riding at all.

Hornet and I skirted the bottom of the slopes, heading toward the highway, then cut back. The trail began a smooth ascent that gained altitude quickly, then circled back unexpectedly. A fence stretched across the trail, a familiar four-strand wire fence posted with Forest Service signs. But there was also a cattle guard with a gate, and the gate hung open, as if someone had been in too much of a hurry to close it. I knew Cass would never allow a fence to stop her; I didn’t let it stop me, either.

Finally I saw her. She was well ahead of me, above me, leaning forward in the saddle as Preacher climbed straight up the mountain.