Awe-Struck: Relative Dangers, western romance preview

Chapter One

Marisa McCabe swung the heavy stock saddle up on Lightfoot's broad back. She frowned as she reached under the bay gelding's round barrel to snag the cinch. The cords were frayed and ragged. She probably ought to change it. There were bound to be a couple of better ones hanging in the tack shed.

On the other hand, if she intended to be gone before Berne got back from a horse-shoeing job across town, she really didn't have time to go look. If she wasn't gone, he'd yell. She decided to risk the cinch, drew the latigo through the buckle and tugged it tight.

Leaving Lightfoot tied to the hitching rack, she grabbed a handful of rope halters with nylon leads. With them she caught the three yearlings she'd lead or "pony" for their daily exercise. Moments later, she headed out the gate. The frisky yearlings pranced beside the older horse, whose pace remained sedate.

Mari sat easily in her saddle with the confidence of long experience. She'd ridden for a good fifteen years. Now the only horse in the McCabe Stable she didn't ride was Cochise. The Appaloosa stallion was Berne McCabe's pride and joy. Mari had no doubt she could ride Cochise easily, no matter what Berne said. He insisted girls had no business messing with a stallion, so she stayed off the big Appy.

Today, she rode along the highway east to the Reservation fence. There she turned onto the newly widened and paved road leading to the site where the Canyon Rojo Dam was to be built. The project had become a bone of contention in the community. The Indians and the old timers bitterly resisted any change while the new folks, mostly recent immigrants from Back East, said it would be great for business. Once the dam was in, a resort was the next step, an idea even more hotly debated.

Before all the work was completed, there would probably be fights, protests and all sorts of to-do, more excitement than Red Canyon had seen in over fifty years, since they put the first highway through and across the Reservation. Mari figured the construction would not make much difference in her life, one way or the other.

As Lightfoot trotted along, Mari felt the late March wind kick up. It swirled red dust off the raw patches of earth along the road side. The wind picked up a piece of paper and sent it skittering across the new black pavement. At that sight, the yearlings snorted and danced, sharply increasing the pull on the nylon rope to which their leads were attached. Mari had that rope looped over the saddle horn.

She slid to the left, leaning her weight into the left stirrup to try to balance the saddle. "Come on, guys. Settle down. It's only a piece of paper." She gave the lead a sharp snap, bringing the colts back in line.

Ahead, the road vanished around the blunt end of a ridge, cut off to shorten the new road. The ridge was topped by a towering formation of the rosy sandstone which gave the area its name.

At that moment, with a roar and a backfire like a cannon shot, a motorcycle careened around the corner, heading straight at them. Lightfoot threw his head up and gave one prodigious leap before Mari's instinctive jerk on the reins checked him. The colts also leaped--in three different directions. The rawhide wrapping on the saddle horn groaned in protest as the nylon bit deeply into the well-oiled leather.

Mari threw her weight hard into the left stirrup, but the saddle continued to slide to the right. She heard a tearing sound, and felt it roll farther and faster, right out from under her. She twisted and scrambled, trying vainly to find a way to land feet-first, but as the colts bolted, one of the leads caught her under the arm and threw her back and down, right under the twelve scrabbling hooves. She hit hard, breath jolting out, leaving her gasping. Silent darkness closed around her.

* * *

Dustin Layne parked his motor home to one side of the newly fenced lot, already jammed with Copper Country Construction Company equipment. He climbed down and glanced around the area that would be his home for the next several months. It looked like any other construction site, except when you raised your eyes to the magnificent panorama of red rock, blue sky, new green leaves on the cottonwood trees along the creek bed, and the contrasting blue-green of the juniper and Arizona Cypress trees.

The dam might be a good thing, providing electricity to Camp Stone and the other small towns in the Chiricahua Basin and water for more irrigation, but he'd also seen plans for an upscale resort that would follow. For just a moment, he felt a niggling twinge, knowing the peaceful beauty of the place would be totally obscured once the lake and the pricey tourist spa emerged. The fact he was in charge of building the first link almost made him feel guilty, but if he didn't do it, someone else would.

Within the next two weeks, the first phase of construction would begin in earnest. At least, Copper Country or "C4" had a good reputation for being environmentally sensitive. Dustin wasn't ashamed to work for them. The company would support him while he did all he could to see the original appearance restored once his work was done.

At the rear of the motor home, he unfastened the hitch by which he drew his mini-pickup along behind like a trailer. He reached into the truck for his hard hat, exchanging it for the wide-brimmed tan Stetson he'd worn on the drive out from Phoenix. Then he moved quickly through the lot, taking inventory of what supplies and equipment had arrived and what was still missing.

After he made a list, he used his cell phone to call the main office. Yes, the secretary told him, the four Euclid earth movers were already on their way and the plywood had been ordered for the forms. There wasn't much else he could do at the moment. Might as well drive into Red Canyon City and have a look around. It wouldn't hurt to know what supplies might be available locally in an emergency.

He put the hard hat back in its rack, settled the Stetson atop his close-cropped hair, and got in the truck. He headed out the gate, waving to Charlie Jacobs, the security man, as he passed the guard shack. Going back down the new road, he pushed a button and the distinctive sounds of Willie Nelson filled the cab: "Maybe I didn't love you, quite as often as I should..."

Dustin snorted. Was his being gone so much part of the problem with Deborah? Hard to say, now. She seemed happy enough with her new husband, Alvin Hoach. After all, he was the newest partner in Kennebeck, Worth, Lunsford and Hoach, one of the most prestigious law firms in the Phoenix area. As for Pam and Justin, they had things now he'd never been able to get them and even a full-time father figure, not one who was gone for weeks on end.

Maybe the divorce had been best for everyone, except he missed them sometimes. Especially the kids and having a home base to return to between jobs. He'd seen divorce warp and embitter friends, and however hard it might be at times, he was determined not to let that happen to him. Thus lost in thought, he was unprepared for the tableau confronting him as he rounded the blind curve in the road where it circumscribed a steep bluff of ruddy stone.

The big bay Quarter Horse gelding stood just off the pavement, saddle askew. Only the breast collar and the rear cinch held it, almost halfway off his back. Three smaller horses, colts by their long-legged appearance, tightened the rope which had apparently dislodged the saddle. Their leads were tangled. One colt even had his halter pulled over one ear. They all fought the dubious restraint, clearly not completely over whatever had spooked them.

He jammed on the brakes, stopping the truck just short of the horses. For the moment, as he scrambled out, he couldn't see anyone. Moving carefully, he approached the bay's head and caught the trailing reins.

"Easy there, big guy. Gonna get you untangled quick as I can. Steady now." The horse was obviously well trained. Even though the rear leather cinch squeezed him painfully and the breast collar had almost cut off his wind, he had not panicked.

Dustin eased around the horse and reached for the rope tied to the saddle horn. The three colts snorted and tugged, but began to quiet as he talked to them in low soothing tones. Then, out of the corners of his eyes, he saw a patch of faded blue. It was the crumpled body of the rider. He hesitated for a second, torn between needs. Then he acknowledged he could help the rider better if he wasn't distracted by the horses.

It took a few minutes, but he got the colts untangled and tied to stout wooden posts on the Reservation fence which paralleled the road. He righted the saddle to ease the bay's discomfort before he turned to the rider. Then he saw the thick braid of golden hair. It was a girl. She stirred. He knelt quickly to put a restraining hand on her dusty denim covered shoulder.

Apparently she'd instinctively rolled and curled up when she fell. He'd always heard a horse would not voluntarily step on a body on the ground. Perhaps it was true, for as well as he could see, she hadn't been trampled. She began to move, starting to uncurl from her defensive posture.

"Take it easy. Don't try to move until we can assess the damage."

She opened her eyes for an instant. He could see from her expression that she was disoriented and dizzy. She shut them again fast as she obeyed his warning caution.

"Take it real slow, a little bit at a time. Stop if anything hurts. Don't try to get up yet, anyway."

She did as he suggested, slowly straightening first her arms and then her legs. Although she moved as if everything hurt, apparently none of the pain was unbearable. With her left arm, she cautiously levered up into a sitting position and opened her eyes again.

"The horses," she gasped. "Are they all right?"

When she started up again, he restrained her. "I think so. None of 'em seemed to be hurt. Got 'em all tied up over yonder. They'll be fine there for now. Let's make sure you are too before we try to do anything else."

She accepted his reassurance, nodded and relaxed into the curve of his supporting arm.

"No hurry. Get your bearings before you try to get up. From the looks of it, you took a bad spill."

A knot formed on her forehead, already turning purple. He probed with gentle fingers, knowing it would hurt, but anxious to be sure the bone was not damaged beneath the bruise. Apparently it wasn't. She gave a little gasp at his first touch but then did not wince or flinch. He let out a sigh of relief. If a hoof had caught her in the head, she could have a serious injury, but it looked like she'd been lucky.

"What happened?" he asked, after a moment.

"The wind blew a piece of paper across the road and then, before I could get them all settled down, a motorcycle came around the corner, a real noisy one. They went by awfully close. Lightfoot never liked motorcycles, but he only jumped once. The colts went ballistic, though. That's when my cinch broke. I knew I should have changed it. It's my own dumb fault. Berne will have my hide." She spoke in a rueful tone.

Dustin huffed out a sharp breath. "You're lucky you weren't killed. He ought to be grateful for that." Whoever "Berne" was Dustin disliked him already.

Somehow, the notion of this girl lying stiff and cold seemed particularly unnerving as he knelt there, his arm supporting her slender body. The idea she would be punished further than the distress the accident had already caused was equally unpalatable. Somebody had to be crazy to let her out like that with three spooky colts! She was just a kid, probably not much older than Pam. Hard to believe his daughter would soon be thirteen.

"I think I can get up," she said. "I really want to check on the horses."

After she gained her feet, she leaned against him another moment. He could see she fought dizziness and the wobble in her knees. Then, abruptly, as if she'd realized she was leaning intimately against a stranger, her face went pink and she pulled away.

"I'm okay. Really I am."

"You ought to see a doctor," he said, "especially with that bump on your head."

"Oh, no! I don't...That's not necessary."

Mari started toward the horses, biting her lip in an effort not to sway and stumble, hoping the stranger would not realize just how weak and shaky she felt. Thank goodness, he'd told the truth. All four of the horses seemed uninjured. The saddle was back up on Lightfoot's back, but the broken cinch hung useless, the ragged ends dangling like a pair of oddly worn mops.

"Oh boy, how am I going to fix that enough to get home?" She didn't realize she had spoken aloud until she heard him at her shoulder.

"Here, I had some rope in the truck. Maybe we can rig up something."

He held out a hank of polypropylene line. Between them, they laced it back and forth through the two buckle-rings, creating a makeshift but sturdy cinch. He drew the latigo up firmly and tested the security with a few experimental tugs.

"Yup, I think that'll do it." He turned back to her, concern still evident in his expression. "I hate to see you try to ride. Can you drive?"

She nodded. "Oh sure, but I don't have a license. Don't worry, I'll be okay. They're all over their spook now. It's only about a mile and a half home, anyway. I'm used to fallin' off of horses. Been doing it most of my life."

He studied her, a frown making a small vee above the bridge of his nose. "I'll just follow along then to make sure you get there safe. It's either that or take you straight to the doctor. There is one in Red Canyon City, isn't there?"

Absently, as she gathered her strength to make the long step back into the saddle, Mari answered. "Oh yeah. More than one. There are several at the big BIA hospital. Then that the new couple just opened the clinic. But I told you I'm okay. You've done enough. I-I'll get your rope back to you as soon as I can. That is, well, are you from around here? You don't look familiar."

Did he hesitate a moment? No, probably not, but she shouldn't have been so blunt. Anyway, he answered freely enough.

"I'm Dusty Layne. Just got in today, but I'll be around for awhile. I'm on that construction crew, up in the canyon. This job is going to take some time, prob'ly over a year, so I'll definitely be around awhile."

"I'll get your rope back to you, then. And thanks for everything." His closeness and the intensity of his gaze made her nervous. She grabbed the horn and swung up into the saddle, desperation making her stronger than she felt. It was slightly better, looking down at him instead of up, a little farther away from those acetylene-flame blue eyes. "Thanks for the help. I mean since I'm a total stranger, you didn't have to. "

He smiled then, not a big come-on kind of smile, but an easy, warm and caring one. "No problem. I was raised to believe you help when you can, when it's needed. Then just hope when your turn comes that it'll come back to you. How far did you say you have to go?"

Mari waved vaguely, back the way she'd come. "Oh, a mile and a half or two. Home's the McCabe Stable, about a quarter mile from where this road turns off from the highway, back toward town."

He nodded. Maybe he'd seen the sign. "You start on off. I'll wait a bit and then follow you."

Oh rats, I forgot to get the colts. Now I'll have to get down and try to get back up again. Mari glanced at the three yearlings. "Uh, could you hand me the colts' leads? You don't have to wait. I've kept you long enough."

"Sure." He untied the colts, linked the leads back the way she'd had them, and handed her the end. "I was going in to town to look around a little, just killin' time, really, so it's no bother."

There wasn't much use arguing. She shrugged and turned away. The horses seemed none the worse for the experience, but she didn't feel like hurrying. She took a good half hour to reach the stable. When she turned in at the open gate, she saw Berne's truck was back. She moved to block the way when her rescuer started to drive in.

"No need. I'm home now. Thanks again." She knew she probably seemed rude, but the alternative would no doubt be worse, both for her and for him. She knew how Berne reacted to strangers, especially if she was talking to them. Before Dusty could reply, Berne strode out of the new barn and headed toward them.

"What's going on, girl? You're late."

Mari took a breath, let it out. Her head pounded until it was hard to make a calm answer. "I had a little problem. My cinch broke." She eyed Berne warily, hoping he wouldn't be too harsh, much less rude to the stranger.

"Well, don't just stand there, jawin'. There's chores to do. Put them colts in the pasture. I want you to start riding that mare of Donaldson's on the barrels tomorrow, so they can skip the exercise for a few days."

Mari hastened to obey, heading off to the pasture gate with the colts after tossing Lightfoot's reins over the hitching rack.

Dustin got out of the truck and met the big man at the gate. Fellow looks like an InDinay, the tribe on the local reservation. Does the girl work for him or what? He didn't like the horse trainer's dark scowl or his tone when he spoke to the girl. "I think you should know the young lady took a bad fall. If she was my kid or my employee, I'd have a doctor check her over and let her rest a day or two. She probably has a concussion, at least"

The burly man's flat gaze raked him from head to foot. "Well, she ain't either one, so I don't see where it's any of your business. If you lent a hand, thanks. I'd hate to see those colts run off or something. Mari gets careless sometimes and forgets we have to make a living around here. She's okay. She rode home, didn't she?"

Dustin was speechless. How coldly unfeeling could a man be? Anything else he said would only make things worse for the girl. That wasn't what he wanted. Without another word, he turned back to his truck and headed for town. A glance in the rear view mirror showed her standing there beside the big bay, looking after him. She looked forlorn somehow, both fearful and defiant.

She was older than he had first thought. He realized it now, having seen the mature curves of her body as he drove slowly behind her. The wind kept whipping back her jacket, to reveal the roundness of her breasts when the chambray shirt plastered close to her body. The way she moved in the saddle accented the pleasing shape of her hips and waist. Her grace, the athletic but feminine body, and the rich, ripe-grain color of her hair stayed with him as he drove around the little town. She was damned attractive, even without any makeup, with her hair dragged back into a heavy braid, and wearing ragged, faded denims. Certainly an unusual young woman. Maybe that was why he could not get her out of his mind.

Chapter Two

As the grumbling chug of the ld flatbed truck died away, Mari hurried to finish the most essential of her morning chores. It would take at least four hours for Berne to get the truck loaded with hay and return from Cottonwood Crossing, a farming community about twenty miles west of Red Rock Canyon. That meant she had four hours to get out to the construction site to return the borrowed rope and then back to the stable.

Six days had passed since her accident. Each day she had fretted more over the lack of an opportunity to slip away and accomplish the small task. With the passage of each day, it seemed more urgent that she do it. Impatiently, she kicked off the old rubber boots and oversized coveralls she wore to clean stalls. The latest of the itinerant hands had quit yesterday. He left the tedious but necessary chore undone, so it had been one of her first priorities today.

The next task was to give Duchess her daily workout. Mari found that more to her liking. The young mare was lively but neither lazy nor hard-headed. She would make a good barrel racing horse for her owner, Liz Donaldson of Scottsdale. Mari had rapidly discovered the actual practice sessions went much better if she let the young mare work off some of her excess energy first. Thus she rationalized the trip to the construction site was a legitimate part of her day's work.

For this sort of ride, the heavy roping saddle was not necessary. Mari tossed a bareback pad on the mare's back and cinched it in place. The pseudo saddle was little more than a small quilted oval with the cinch and a pair of stirrups attached. To Mari, the stirrups were the most essential part. Like most skilled western riders, she rode on her feet, which lowered the center of gravity and improved the balance and stability of both horse and rider.

She swung up with an easy spring and headed out the gate, holding Duchess to a trot until they turned off along the new road. Then, she gave in to the mare's eagerness and let her break into a lope. At that gait, the two mile trip took only a matter of minutes.

As they approached the fenced compound, Mari checked Duchess, pulling her back to a trot and then a walk. She drew rein beside the guard shack, temporarily overcome by shyness and uncertainty. Fences and guards--I didn't expect that! The elderly fellow inside looked up from a paperback book and smiled.

"Howdy, missy. Can I help you?"

Mari swallowed before she spoke. "I-I'm looking for someone. He drives a little blue truck. H-he lent me a rope a few days ago and I wanted to return it."

"That'd be Dusty--er, Mr. Layne. I think he's around. That's his motor home, over under the cottonwood tree yonder. If your horse isn't too spooky, you can just ride on over."

"Thanks." Relief filled Mari when she saw she would not be treated with suspicion or barred from the yard. She felt a little more comfortable as she guided Duchess through the open gate and zigzagged her way through the machinery toward the motor home. Even with a thick coat of red dust, she saw it was obviously new--shiny, elegant and new. The vehicle still bore the Phoenix dealer's license plate and tag on the rear bumper.

Then she noticed the sign over the door. "Site Superintendent." She gulped as her stomach lurched with alarm. Oh, no! Her benefactor wasn't the ordinary construction worker she'd assumed him to be. He was probably older than she'd thought, too. For a moment, she was tempted to drop the rope, turn and run. No, his courtesy and kindness deserves a better response than that. Before she could act on her sudden shyness, the door swung open and he stepped out.

He was every bit as good looking as she remembered--tall and lean, his body well-muscled under the faded jeans and dark denim shirt. He had a white hard hat in his hand, and the sun lit glints of copper and gold in his slightly curling russet hair. And his eyes! She had never seen bluer or brighter. They crinkled at the corners now as he recognized her and smiled.

"Hello there! All over the effects of your accident?"

She stammered, trying to find the right words. "Oh yeah, I'm fine. I brought your rope back. Sorry it took so long, but I just couldn't get away. Berne went for hay today and I had a little time."

He stood on the top step, studying her, his head cocked a little to one side. "No problem. I really didn't need it. I trusted you to return it when you could. Didn't figure you'd be riding for a few days, anyway."

She felt the flush heat her face under his steady regard. "I'm embarrassed, though. It's been nearly a week. Then, when I got here, I didn't even know who to ask for. I know you told me, but I forgot. I guess my brain was kind of rattled that day."

He smiled. "Didn't expect you to remember. I'm Dustin Layne. Most people call me 'Dusty'."

That smile. She couldn't help being charmed, almost put at ease. "I'm Marisa McCabe. I mostly go by Mari, with an 'I' instead of a 'y.'"

"Okay, Mari. Since you rode all the way out here, can't I offer you a soda or a cup of coffee? Now that we're properly acquainted, that is."

She was torn between wanting to--so very much--and the firmly ingrained habits of distrust, keeping everyone at a distance. The custom of shying away from strangers, deeply instilled by Berne's harsh paranoia, was hard to overcome.

Perhaps Dusty could see the conflict in her face. His smile did not waver. "It's too nice a day to be indoors. Let's sit out here and visit a few minutes. Here, tie your horse to my truck."

Wanting won. Mari slid down and followed him to the little blue truck, parked at the rear of the motor home. He took the reins and tied Duchess to one corner of the metal rack. "There. What'll it be now, soda or coffee?"

"Coffee's fine."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Dusty disappeared into the motor home, leaving the door open behind him. Mari caught a glimpse of the interior through the gap. Compared to the tin-roofed shack she called home, it looked incredibly luxurious. She sighed. I fit in here about like a farrier on the flight line. Site Superintendent--geez!

In a moment, Dusty returned, a steaming mug in each hand. He led the way to a make-shift outdoor dining room, a table made from a large cable spool with several folding camp chairs around it under a blue tarp stretched from the side of the motor home for an awning. He set the cups down and pulled out one of the chairs for her. "Oh, shoot, I forgot to ask if you took cream or sugar. I drink it black, but I ought to remember that not everybody else does."

"Black is fine," Mari said quickly. "That's how I usually drink mine."

He grinned. "I don't do much entertaining. You'll have to excuse my manners."

Mari couldn't see anything to excuse, but she didn't say that. Needing something to occupy her hands, she carefully picked up her cup and took a sip. Of course it was still too hot. She sucked in a quick gasp of air to cool her mouth. "I never guessed you were the boss out here!" she blurted. "When you said you were on this job, I figured you were just one of the crew."

He shrugged, going a little red beneath his outdoorsman's tan. "Does it make any difference? It shouldn't. I mean--oh, hell, Mari, I'm really just one of the crew. Somebody has to be in charge, that's all. It doesn't make me any different. I'm still the same guy who started out as a laborer a few years back."

She looked at him shyly over the rim of her cup, trying not to let her nervousness show. She was so unaccustomed to talking to men unless it was business, like about a horse. She knew she must seem naive and gauche. Why hadn't she worn her best jeans, the ones she usually wore for school? Even if they would have gotten dirty with leather oil and horse sweat, there wasn't much more school to save them for anyway.

Dusty watched her with what seemed a mixture of admiration and amusement in his expression. "Is that your dad, the guy I saw?"

"Uh, sort of," she mumbled.

"Huh?"

The whole mess was too difficult to explain. "Yeah," she affirmed, reluctance plainer in her voice than she intended. "I'm sorry he was rude. I--well, it's just his way, to be brusque and short with people. He doesn't want me getting involved with strangers. It could just cause problems, interfere with things, you know? Waste time. There's an awful lot to do, when it's just the two of us, and good help is so hard to get." She knew she was rambling, babbling, but what could she say that would make her complicated situation sound right?

Dusty listened, watching her. She looked at him as if she were daring him to question or contradict her. He saw through her words as well as her attitude, sensed pain behind the defiance and shame within the facade of bravado. Yet she was not going to complain about the harsh conditions of her life nor whine about its obvious unpleasantness. He had to admire that, had to appreciate her pride and sympathize.

Without asking himself why, he recognized there was something about this strange young woman that intrigued and appealed to him. Winning any degree of trust from her would take time, even longer to gain acceptance of the friendship he was moved to offer, but he vowed he would try. He could see she was lonely, isolated and culturally deprived, but the reasons behind those traits were harder to discover. For now, a casual and oblique approach was clearly the only one possible.

She finished the coffee and set the mug down gently. "That was good. Thank you. I--I'd better get going. I need to get back and finish my chores."

Dusty stood first, watched as she rose from the chair with her natural horsewoman's grace. "Okay. Nice seein' you again. You're welcome to stop by anytime you're out this way. The coffee pot is always on and there's sodas and beer in the icebox."

"That'd be nice. I wish I could return the favor, but...."

The wistful tone that crept into her voice tugged at his emotions. "No problem," he said. "I know how it is. Never enough time and money to cover necessities, much less any frills. I grew up on a little cow-starving ranch down in New Mexico."

"Oh." She looked at him a moment, hope and something else in her eyes. Then her glance slid away again, as her hands moved restlessly. She turned to pace over to the mare. "Well, like I said, I've gotta go. Thank you again. If I can ever help you some way...," her voice trailed off as if she couldn't visualize any way she could possibly repay his kindness. She swung onto the mare's back and turned around to face him. There was defiance in her pose and yet her eyes begged. For understanding? Forgiveness? Maybe just acceptance of her as she was.

"Bye, Mari. Take care. Be seein' you around."

"Yeah, you take care too." She heeled the mare sharply and headed for the gate.

* * *

Nearly two weeks had passed since Mari's visit. Dusty began to wonder if she was avoiding him. Then he cursed himself. Why should he notice or care? She was still around, of course, as he had seen her near home, but hadn't felt he should stop. She's just a kid, just a few years older than Pam. I'm way out of her league. I ought to back off and leave her alone.

The few times he went into Red Canyon City after work to have a beer with some of the other guys, he noticed there was no shortage of women at the various hang-outs--Anglo, Indian, Mexican and mixtures of all three. More than one pair of feminine eyes looked at him appreciatively, some in open invitation, but he didn't respond.

After the debacle with Deborah and fourteen years of marriage down the drain, he knew he wasn't ready for a relationship, but it was a weak excuse. Most of these ladies had neither expectations nor even desire for anything serious or long-term and he knew it. They were available for an evening or a weekend, but their painted faces, revealing clothes and bold flirting seemed much too blatant.

Funny, too, because Deb had always worn quite a bit of makeup and had a vivacious manner that could easily be seen as flirtatious. She'd always liked striking clothes, too. Now none of those things appealed. More than one evening, he left long before the others were ready to call it a night and drove home, grumpy and alone.

Those times he always glowered at the untidy sprawl of buildings, corrals, old vehicles and junk comprising the McCabe Stable. Even in the dark, the place looked squalid and depressing. He'd heard in town that McCabe was half Indian, more than half surly, and perhaps a little crazy as well. They said in his younger days he'd been mean in a fight, and probably still could be if he chose to, though he stayed out of the bars now. But, to give the devil his due, he was a good horse trainer--or was it that girl?

From there the speakers usually went on to discuss Mari, their conjectures perhaps less bawdy than might have been expected, but still offensive. Dusty had to fight down an urge to shut them up. Especially when one opined with a leer, "I bet that filly could give you quite a ride if old Berne wasn't around."

"Huh," another one put in, "Who says old Berne hasn't already saddle broke her? I mean, he's an Injun...."

"Hell, she's his kid, ain't she?"

"There's them what says not, but I don't know. Not that it would matter to an Injun, him drunk enough...."

"Well, don't try," another voice contributed. "That gal is colder than dry ice and 'ud sooner run you down with one of them half-wild horses than have a good time."

"Oh yeah? Whatsa matta, buster? Did you try to score and miss?"

Before the raucous laughter died, Dusty got up and stalked out. He couldn't handle it any longer. He saw the utter folly in picking a fight with a half dozen local rough necks just because they were talking--obviously with no real knowledge--about a girl he barely knew. So said the voice of sanity, but his feelings said something else.

March became April and the days grew longer and warmer. Finally, Dusty figured out Mari rode almost every evening to exercise some of the colts or whatever horses she was currently working. Then, he noticed the hoof prints leading north from the highway along the fence, on a trail too rutted and narrow to be termed a road. Twice, when he was able to get away, he drove a short ways along that track and waited, but to no avail.

On the third try, his patience was rewarded. Before he reached the wash ending the portion of the track his truck would navigate, he saw her coming towards him. She was riding a big rangy Appaloosa, a horse he hadn't seen before. The low golden rays of the late sun gilded her hair and lent a special glow to her healthy outdoor complexion. Without aid or artifice, she was really beautiful. She smiled when she saw him and urged her mount to a quicker pace.

As she drew near, he called a greeting. "Hi! Haven't seen much of you lately. Is everything okay?"

She reined in beside him and nodded.

"Yes, it's been busy. Berne hired a guy and then fired him three days later, but not until he'd contracted for three more horses. This is one of them. I said I'd take him. The kid who had him was having trouble. I'm not sure why. He seems to be a real nice horse."

Dusty slapped the horse's neck lightly and combed his fingers through the sparse and bristly Appaloosa mane, simply because he needed something it occupy his hands. "No more accidents?"

She shook her head and laughed a little. "Oh, no. I'll never live that down, will I? Really, I'm a good rider. I don't make a habit of falling off. It was that saddle, the darn cinch."

He gave her a wry grin. "I figured that. Just making conversation."

She studied the horse's neck, glanced off at the trees along the river bank, finally quickly at him and even more quickly away again. "How's the job going?"

He shrugged. "Fair so far. We're not far behind schedule. Those threatened protests haven't happened yet, nor has the bunch from Ecolojihad showed up. Nothing but the usual kinds of problems, really."

For a moment, both were silent, looking at each other while trying to pretend they weren't. "You look tired." They both spoke at once, saying the same thing.

"Well, you do," Mari said.

"You do too."

This time she shrugged. "It's the long days. I can't seem to get all my chores done plus my homework and still sleep a few hours. It's only five more weeks, though. I guess I messed up, taking on this horse, but if I can solve his problem, I'll have the money to buy a dress for graduation. That's the only way I'll get one."

He had to bite his tongue on the impulse to offer. He had no business buying her a dress. "Isn't--doesn't--I'd think your dad would be proud of you."

She looked at him incredulously. "Berne proud of me? You've got to be kidding! Whatever for? He doesn't think school is worth much, 'specially for a girl. I did quit for two years. He wasn't very happy when I went back this year to finish. I--well, it was just something I wanted to do, really graduate, not just get a GED."

Dusty bit back the harsh words that welled up. She wasn't the one he was angry with, anyway. He struggled to gentle his tone. "I happen to agree with you. That diploma is pretty essential, whatever you want to do, and it's quite an accomplishment, especially the way you're doing it."

She shrugged again, dismissing it all. "Horses don't care. It's just another piece of paper. Maybe I put too much stock in it, making a big deal when it really isn't."

He had to reassure her, try to counteract the eroding harshness of Berne McCabe's narrow-minded ideas. "It is a big deal. Don't start doubting yourself, Mari. It's important. For one thing, you've set a goal and you're going to reach it. That's a big deal any way you look at it."

She nodded, then tore her gaze away from his to study her right boot toe for a long moment.

"I--well, I'm glad you agree with me. I was beginning to have doubts. Berne said it was bunk. He wasn't wasting time to go see them hand me a stupid piece of paper that won't even buy a cup of coffee. He did say he'd feed that night though. Well, he more or less agreed to, anyway."

Sudden irrational rage flooded him. "Oh, sh--for gosh sakes, what's he got against education, anyway? Does he think it isn't macho enough or something?"

"It's just not worth much to a horse trainer. He's done well enough with just eighth grade. He says engineers and doctors and lawyers might need it, but that's 'cause they're a passel of fools to begin with. If he doesn't want to go, it's okay. If I don't get a new dress, I guess it doesn't matter either, 'cause the gown will cover it up, anyway."

"You know, I'd like to go," he said, surprising himself. "Do you 'spose they'd let me in?"

A flash of shock swept across her face, followed by doubt mixed with delight. "I get two tickets. Every graduate does. For their parents, I guess. My mom's been dead for years, and Berne won't go, so I could give you one. Are you sure you want to? I mean it is just a little hick country school, almost half Indian...."

Dusty fought not to glare at her. Why does she belittle everything she does? "Yeah, I'd really like to. I haven't been to a high school graduation in years. Unless you don't--unless you'd rather I didn't."

A wave of pink swept over her face. "No! Oh, no! I'd love for you to come, really. I don't--there isn't anyone else I want to invite. It would be nice to have somebody there. I'll get a ticket for you as soon as they issue them."

"Okay, Mari. Don't make yourself late, now. Take care." He stepped back, giving her and the horse room to move.

She flashed him a quick dazzling smile. "You too. Bye, Dusty." She spurred the Appaloosa lightly and the horse leaped forward into a lope. Dusty followed her back down the narrow trail, pondering the things she'd said as well as those she hadn't.

From then on, he figured out the pattern of her rides and became adept at being at the right place at the right time. With warmer weather, the crew was starting an hour earlier and quitting earlier too, which usually let him leave early enough to catch her. It wasn't quite every day, but not many days passed without at least a few minutes together.

Her shyness and diffidence fell away like a snake's old skin to reveal a delightfully quick mind, a vivid imagination, keen curiosity and quirky humor. The boundaries of Mari's world might be narrow, but she did not let that confine her, at least not her mind. He learned she was an avid reader, her favorite subjects were English and History, and her favorite color was turquoise. She favored Mexican and Indian food, and liked and missed her older brother Danny. As he gleaned knowledge of her from their conversations, he shared a few personal facts, preferences and interests too. Her face lit like a rainbow now when she saw him. He looked forward to their meetings as the high point of his days.

* * *

The first Saturday in May, Berne made a surprising announcement at breakfast. "You can hold things down here a couple of days, Mari. I'm going to the Reservation to take care of some business with Martha."

Martha was Berne's older sister. Married to an InDinay medicine man, she was firmly committed to tribal ways and denied her Anglo heritage completely. Mari had only met Martha twice but had found her totally intimidating. Martha had several sons and daughters, ostensibly Mari's cousins. She had no desire to meet them if they were anything like their mother.

Now, hearing this peculiar news, Mari hardly knew what to think. "Okay," she gulped. "What do you want me to do besides feed and stuff?"

"Nothin' special. You better doctor Lightfoot's leg every day and work on Duchess and the Appy. I oughta be back by noon Monday. Make sure they're all fed and watered Monday before you leave for school."

An hour later, the pickup rolled out the gate and turned east, leaving Mari looking at forty-eight hours or more of comparative freedom. Not total freedom, of course, but at least freedom to schedule her own work, set her own pace, and perhaps find time to ride to town and buy a dress.

When she dug out her cache of money, saved piecemeal over a number of years, she found there was more than she expected. Then too, Duchess' owner had come by and been so pleased with the mare's progress that she slipped Mari a ten dollar bonus on the spot. Fortunately Berne had been occupied elsewhere at that moment. He considered all the receipts from the Stable his and doled out money to Mari with greatest reluctance. In all, it should be enough. Perhaps not enough to purchase the most elegant dress in Red Canyon City, but surely one much better than the two in her closet, which were worn, out of style, and now much too small.

She led Lightfoot out and tied him to the hitching rack. He had pulled a tendon the previous week.

Genuinely fond of the big bay, she had been as disturbed as Berne by the injury. Still, she had said a silent prayer of gratitude that she hadn't been riding him when it happened. As it was, she could hardly be blamed, although she did catch the brunt of Berne's ill temper that day. Per the vet's instructions, the gelding had to have hot packs and liniment rubdowns twice a day until it healed.

She watched closely as she brought the horse out of the corral. He wasn't favoring that leg quite so much today. The swelling was beginning to go down, too. Finally the treatment was over. She put the bay back in his pen before she caught and saddled Duchess. Feeling one last time to be sure her money was tucked securely in the deepest pocket of her jeans, she swung into the saddle and headed for town.

The eastern city limits of Red Canyon City were almost exactly a mile from the stable gate, but her goal was the new mall on the southwest side of town, close to the high school. That was roughly a half mile farther. Mari knew Berne would not approve of her riding through town, but since she did not have a driver's license--and the only operating vehicle on the place was the cantankerous old flat-bed hay truck anyway--she didn't have much choice. She could certainly ride the distance a whole lot faster than she could walk it.

She picketed Duchess at the edge of the school grounds, in an area secluded by a small grove of cottonwood trees. She made sure the cinch was loosened, removed the bridle to replace it with a halter and tied the mare securely to a branch a little higher than her head. "There, girl, you'll be all right, won't you?"

Mari patted the mare and hurried away, across the parking lot to the mall. Actually, it wasn't all that much--a J. C. Penney store at one end, Wal-Mart at the other, and about a dozen smaller shops in between. It had been open just long enough for the novelty to wear off, so at ten on a Saturday morning, there were only a few cars in the parking lot, mostly those of people who worked there.

Clothes in the trendy "Foxy Ladies" shop were too expensive for her, of course. The only girls who even claimed to shop there were the school's topmost clique: the banker's twins, the daughter of the head doctor at the BIA hospital, and the mayor's two girls. They wouldn't so much as acknowledge people like Mari existed. She didn't even sneak a look at the windows as she hurried past. Actually Penney's might be too high, but she could at least look. She stepped through the doors.

Her pace started to slow as doubts and insecurity assailed her. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. More than one of the sales clerks gave her a dubious look as she passed. Oops, I probably should have stopped to change and clean up a little.

Then, she saw it--a dress on a manikin in the junior size section. She stopped, caught her breath, and just looked. It was ice blue, a jacquard fabric with a pattern of dainty roses worked in a silvery thread. The cut was plain. A gently rounded neck, cap sleeves, and a straight line from shoulder to hip where a crushed sash of silver-blue ribbon adorned with a brighter blue rose topped a short frothy skirt.

"Oh!" It was a sigh, a wish, a hopeless plea. Then she saw the price tag--$52.99---six dollars and change more than her hard-earned hoard. Her spirits plummeted. With a last longing look, she walked slowly to the racks and began to look through the other dresses.

Most of them cost at least fifty dollars and most were too outrageous or much too dowdy. She couldn't afford and didn't want a strapless red dress, a sparkling sequined gown of black with red and silver 'lightning' patterns down the front, or a neon green fishtail skirted dress that left one shoulder bare. But then, she didn't want a drably prim pink shirtwaist or a gaudy Aztec print sun dress, either. There was a floral print with a full skirt and dropped waist that might do, although she really didn't like the huge pink, mauve and violet cabbage roses. Still, it was only $39.89.

She'd also realized she would need shoes, too, since neither her boots nor her dingy sneakers would do. Her $46.83 had seemed like a small fortune when she counted it at home, but it was shrinking fast. Maybe she'd better go check Wal-Mart. They were supposed to have good prices. She had to pass The Dress on her way out. She couldn't resist a final look at it, just one last look. It was so perfect, so very wonderfully right.

Chapter Three

"I like it too."

She jumped at the voice, close behind her, and spun around, stopping barely short of bumping into Dusty's chest. "What are you doing here?" It came out a squeak.

"Just fooling around. It's my daughter's birthday next week. Thought maybe I'd find something to send her. She lives in Phoenix now with her mother and stepfather."

Mari's heart sank still farther. He has a daughter? But the daughter has a stepfather, which means..."Oh, I see." Yes, she did see. A lot, almost too much. A big icy lump settled in her belly.

"And you're shopping for a graduation dress."

She fidgeted, suddenly shy to be talking to him right out in public. "Yeah. I guess I'll go look in Wal-Mart."

Dusty lifted one feathery sun-bleached eyebrow, his expression quizzical. "What's wrong with this one?"

Mari glanced at the dress, back at him and then at the floor. "Well, it's six dollars too expensive."

"But you do like it?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Well, I don't see a problem, then. I was planning on getting you a graduation present anyway, but I wasn't sure what to get. Why don't I just help you with this?"

She looked at him, brows knitting as a troublesome thought emerged. "I read once that a lady doesn't accept clothes from a man, that it wasn't proper. I guess I'm not really a lady, but...."

He chuckled. "Almost though, huh? But I don't think anybody pays that much mind these days. That was back in the eighteen hundreds. Besides, I'm only helping you a little, not giving it to you. Here." He took a ten out of his wallet and held it out to her.

She took the bill, but still hesitated.

Dusty frowned. "What's wrong, Mari? Don't you want this dress? I saw the way you were looking at it. I think it's beautiful, and it will look great on you, no question about that."

She sighed, shook her head slightly, still loath to let the dream go. "Oh, I like it. It's fabulous. But--well, it's awfully expensive. And I still have to get some shoes, too."

He shrugged as if that was of no significance at all. "No problem. Get the dress and we'll go find you some shoes to go with it. Whatever it takes...."

She looked at him, not believing what she heard. "You--uh--you've got to be kidding! Or else you must be really rich."

He shook his head and gave her a wry grin. "No, I mean it, and no, I'm not rich. I'm not exactly poor, but I'm most assuredly not rich. But sixty or seventy dollars isn't much, Mari. You only graduate from high school once. It's a big event, almost like getting married. Why, there are lots of girls who'll spend five hundred dollars on their graduation outfits."

She felt the waves of heat and chill wash over her. When she tried to smile, her lips trembled. He gave her a little shove.

"Go on, girl. Get your dress."

The sales clerk deftly folded the dress, wrapped it in protective tissue paper, and slipped it into a white box. Then the woman handed Mari back the change, two dollars and a few cents. She hesitated, counting, and then realized she hadn't thought about sales tax. Boy, am I ever dumb about shopping.

Dusty waited for her, across the aisle in the house wares section. As she approached, he returned her still-shaky smile. "Okay. Let's go get some shoes. Where to?"

"Footsavers, prob'ly. They're not real expensive."

He started to shake his head but saw at once it was useless to discuss finances with her at this point, so he fell in step, letting her lead the way. Two doors down, they entered the shoe store. She selected a pair of simple white sandals with small heels, among the least costly shoes displayed. After that, he suggested she needed a pair of nylons too. She blushed, but obediently picked them out. The bored gum-chewing clerk rang up the sale. Mari stood aside, trying to look nonchalant as Dusty paid for them. They walked out together.

Dusty paused when they emerged into the parking lot. "How'd you get to town? I don't suppose your--uh--Berne brought you, did he?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh no! He's gone to the Reservation for a few days. I rode in on Duchess. She's tied over by the school."

He stopped to look at her, torn between being amazed and appalled. "You can't ride home carrying all this stuff!"

She grinned, almost cocky. "Oh yeah? Duchess is real steady. She won't mind. "

Recalling the accident, he couldn't shelve his misgivings. What if something spooked the mare and Mari was too busy trying to protect her purchases to take care of herself? "Why don't I take them and meet you there?"

She hesitated. "It won't be out of your way or anything?"

He wanted to roll his eyes before he remembered who he was talking to. "Of course not! How can I get back to the site from here except right past your front gate?"

"That's true....Okay." She handed him the box with more than a trace of reluctance and an awkward little giggle. "I know. I'm being silly. Of course you'll take care of them. I just never had anything so beautiful before. I'm going to feel like Cinderella."

He picked up on her whimsy. "I promise I'll be a good coachman and not turn into a lizard or whatever it was."

"Okay, I'll see you there in--oh, make it about forty minutes. I can't let Duchess run 'til I get out of town, on the unpaved shoulder."

He still worried. There were too many motorcycles and noisy cars from the Rez, smart-ass young guys who'd consider it great sport to spook a horse, especially one ridden by a pretty girl. "Don't hurry."

"Oh, I won't. I'm very careful, 'specially with other people's horses." She smiled up at him quickly, a full dazzling smile, expressive of giddy joy. Then she trotted off toward her waiting mount.

Her smile and the unaffected happiness shook him. It had taken so little. He couldn't help contrasting Mari to Pam and Deborah. Whatever he got them was always too little, too cheap, too tacky--somehow completely unsatisfactory. Deborah usually told him he had no taste and Pam would wail "Oh, Daddy," in such a petulant tone he cringed and had to fight the urge to slap her.

Once he saw Mari mounted and trotting away, he went back inside and finally picked out a pair of earrings with small but real emeralds, Pam's birthstone. Although they cost more than he'd intended to pay, he had to wonder what she would find wrong with them.

Dusty experienced his usual sharp pang of disgust as he drove past the leaning unpeeled poles holding the "McCabe Stable" sign at the gate. The place looked so derelict and dismal. The main barn was relatively new and in good repair, but all the other buildings were shabby to dilapidated, the house worst of all.

The small house had probably once been painted white, but was now mostly gray. Screens curled off warped frames. The porch sagged away from the wall, and the water running off the tin roof had dripped rusty streaks down the sides. Around the yard, several old vehicles sat on blocks or long-flat tires. Old gear, odd pieces of metal, fence posts and spools of wire were piled in every corner. A stack of moldering old hay slumped against one shed. Another shed had fallen down to be left as it lay in a tangle of gray boards and rusty metal.

He'd wondered before but today the question arose again. How could anyone trust a valuable animal to such a place? It was unconscionable Mari had to live here, and the blatant squalor was only the most obvious problem. He swore as he braked to a stop near the house.

Just then, Mari came out of the big barn, a headstall in her hand. "I thought I heard someone drive in." Her face lit up as she approached him. He got out then reached back for the box, which he handed to her, the bag with her shoes and hose sitting on top of it. "Here you go, kiddo; all safe and sound."

She took the box with an expression almost reverent. "I don't know how to say thank you--not so you'll really understand how much I mean it, how much I really feel it inside. I hadn't dared to dream more than a little bit."

Her gratitude and appreciation embarrassed him. "It's okay. Not all that much. Don't carry on about it, Mari. You're making me uncomfortable!"

She blushed, flashing a shy smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. Here, let me put it away. I-I'm not going to invite you in. It's just too awful. I should clean some today, while Berne is gone and I have a little free time. I couldn't let anybody see it right now."

Dusty's next words even surprised him. They were certainly not planned, but out they came, and he had no wish to retract them. "What you should do is forget all that and have some fun for a change. We could have a picnic out by the creek. I walked down stream a ways the other evening and found a real nice place. And then, how about going to a movie this evening?" The impromptu invitation was driven by a sudden need to get her away from the work and the ugliness, at least for awhile.

"A movie--me 'n you?" She stopped in mid stride and spun back to face him. "But I have to feed and all...."

He leaned back against the truck bed, crossed his ankles and relaxed. "I'll help you. What do you really have to do today?"

She paused, and he could almost see her enumerating. "Well, I could wait 'til tomorrow to clean stalls. I prob'ly should ride the Appy at least an hour or so and doctor Lightfoot's leg. He's got a bowed tendon. And feed. That's it, I guess, the really essential stuff."

He nodded. "Okay. How long on Lightfoot's leg?"

"Forty-five minutes."

"And to feed?"

"An hour, maybe a little more."

He uncrossed his arms, rested his elbows on the edge of the pickup's bed, carefully acting completely at ease. "So we'll go out to the site and fix lunch, walk down the creek and have our picnic, and then come back here about 4:00. You can tell me about the feed and while you ride the Appy and doctor ole Lightfoot, I'll feed. How's that?"

She hesitated, digging one boot toe in the dust. "You make it sound so easy, so reasonable."

"You mean it isn't?"

She huffed out a breath. "Oh, Dusty...darn it, I don't know what to say. It isn't that I don't want to, but I know I really shouldn't." She glanced at him out of the corners of her eyes, worrying her lower lip with her teeth.

"Why the heck not? Can you give me one good reason? Why not just say 'That sounds like fun. Let's go'."

"It's too easy. I don't know...."

"Put your stuff away and come on." He realized he sounded almost gruff, but a touch of command worked wonders. Mari scurried to obey, all reluctance apparently gone. The floppy screen door had scarcely banged behind her when she was back out. He held the passenger door of the truck open and waited for her, catching her somber and half startled expression as she climbed in, and deliberately winked. She went pink and rewarded him with a very girlish giggle.

It took only a few minutes to reach the site. Mari was surprised how quickly they got there, until she remembered she had previously only made the trip on horseback. Dusty led the way into his motor home. She should stop and make sure her boots were clean, but he was holding the door for her, so she walked on in. Inside, everything was cozy and only the least bit untidy.

A desk sat in one corner, clearly not part of the original furnishings. Papers, blue prints, and forms covered it in towering, tilting stacks. Nearby, there was a small couch and a matching chair, upholstered in a rich brown. On one wall, a TV set in a niche along with the components of a stereo, and around them were shelves holding books and tapes. There was a tiny kitchen with places to store everything securely. It was so much like a perfect little house all Mari could do was stand and stare.

Through the kitchen, a short hall led to a bedroom area, and perhaps a built-in bath. It was utterly marvelous. Dusty interrupted her dazed wonder and put her to work making sandwiches while he collected apples, sodas and a bag of cookies. He put everything into a day-pack, which he slung over his shoulder by one strap. "Shall we go?"

They followed the creek bed downstream for roughly a quarter of a mile to a spot where the ground leveled off, letting the stream slow and deepen. It was muddier than normal, having picked up a lot of the dust kicked up by the machinery, but here, where it slowed, much of the silt settled out. On a carpet of short green grass beneath a spreading cottonwood, Dusty halted and shrugged off the pack. He dropped down to sit cross-legged on the grass.

After a moment's hesitation, Mari folded down like a long legged colt, leaving the pack between them.

"Relax," Dusty ordered. "That's what today is about--forgettin' all the worries and responsibilities for a few hours and letting yourself rest. Everybody has to do it now and then. That job of mine would drive me to distraction if I didn't get to goof off now and then. I have to have a lazy day every couple or three weeks to stay sane. You've got to need it too."

"I guess I hardly know where to start," Mari admitted, "because there's always a crisis."

"Only if you let something become one," Dusty replied. "There's none today, I promise. Hungry?"

She slanted a look at him and then nodded, as the question registered. She reached for the pack, unbuckled the main flap, and took out two sandwiches. Simple lunch meat and cheese had never tasted better.

They ate it all, and Mari enjoyed every bite. Finally, she leaned back on one elbow, as Dusty had, and sipped her soda, looking up through the green canopy overhead. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, parting to give glimpses of a sky only slightly less blue than Dusty's eyes, as he sat watching her with lazy warmth and a small secretive smile.

He caught the very instant her eyes drifted shut. Her elbow slid slowly in the grass and she slumped down until she dozed, her face pillowed on her outstretched arm. He catnapped a bit himself, well content with all he had accomplished so far.

It was nearly four when Dusty reluctantly admitted he'd better wake Mari up. "Come on, Sleepin' Beauty, rise and shine." He put a hand on her shoulder and shook her gently.

She murmured a sleepy protest and opened her eyes. "The Prince is s'posed to do that with a kiss," she complained, still partly under the spell of the dream from which he had wakened her.

"Don't tempt me," he muttered.

"Huh?"

"I said I'm not the Prince. I do the best I can."

She smiled, stretched and sat up. "I'm not complaining, not really. For a minute I didn't know where or even who I was....I'd been dreaming. I'm sorry I went to sleep on you."

"Cat-napped a little myself. I said we were going to loaf. I figured we'd better go pretty soon so we can get your chores done at a reasonable hour, though."

Mari started visibly. "Oh, mercy. I almost forgot. Yeah, we'd better. What time is it?"

"Not quite four." He picked up the near-empty pack and started off. Watching Mari sleep had been both pleasant and disturbing. Pleasant because it was rewarding to see her relax and to recognize the trust it implied but disturbing because he had to admit to himself that his interest in her was quickly becoming something quite different from the avuncular sort he had intended--and still did intend--to maintain.

His feelings were turning quickly into something much more personal, elemental and intense. He had fought a strong impulse to do just what she had so innocently suggested and waken her with a kiss. But they were alone, much too isolated. It would have been far too easy for a simple kiss to become complicated. She was sweet and unique, wise for all her naiveté, but young, much too young....

Yet, she did need a friend. She very desperately needed a friend. He could not withdraw what he had offered with what he still believed were pure intentions now that he had gained her trust. That would be the ultimate cruelty. He would just have to be very, very careful. After all, he was a mature man, not some randy, thoughtless teenager.

Though Dusty was uncharacteristically quiet on the walk back to the construction site and the drive from there to the stable, Mari did not choose to comment on it. She jumped out quickly when they reached the stable, almost before Dusty braked to a stop. She scanned the whole area quickly as a wave of guilt washed over her. What if some unthinkable catastrophe had occurred during her absence?

"I was just thinking," she began, as Dusty caught up with her. "The feeding is kind of complicated. Maybe you could put the hot packs on Lightfoot's leg while I ride Paisley--that's the Appy--and then we'll feed together."

He didn't miss a step. "You're the boss, Mari. Just tell me what you want done and show me how to do it."

She stopped a minute, nonplussed. "Uh...I'm not used to being in charge. That's going to take some adjustments." She thought a minute and then grinned. "But I think I could get used to it!"

Dusty grinned back, for the moment looking so boyish she could forget he was in charge daily--of a large group of workers and a multi-million dollar project--and that he was older, how much older she really didn't care to speculate. "Okay. I'll go get--no, you can. Here's a halter and lead. Lightfoot is in the first stall. I'll go get the medical stuff."

When she returned with the bucket of hot water, the rags and the liniment, he had Lightfoot tied to the hitching rail. Then she explained not only how but why the hot compresses were used.

"I think I can handle it. And you're going to ride?"

"Yeah, I'll going to try Paisley in the arena today. That's about the only thing I haven't done. I still can't figure out what his problem is, and the owners were awfully close-mouthed. Holler if you need anything. I'll be right over there." When she waved her hand in the direction, he glanced at the roughly fenced arena, just beyond the old barn.

Mari felt Paisley tense as they entered the arena. His ears flickered nervously, but he trotted obediently in a circle, about six feet from the fence. She slacked the reins slightly and nudged him into a slow canter. He surged ahead, taking the proper lead at once. She reined him in a figure eight, which he executed perfectly, although she noticed he was breaking into a sweat much too quickly for the light exercise.

True, the afternoon sun was warm, but not enough to account for his building lather. She sensed the horse was anxious, almost fearful, as if he expected at any moment to be hurt. Just then, seemingly out of nowhere, a dust devil appeared. The whirling wind picked up a couple of tumble weeds and spiraled them skyward, right in front of the horse. He gave a shrill squeal and reared straight up, pawing at the attack he perceived. Mari slacked the reins at once, grabbing a handful of mane and gripping hard with her knees to keep her seat. She slapped the horse across the ears with her right hand. As she hoped, he ducked away from the blow and dropped down, but only for a moment. An instant later he reared again, teetering precariously on his hind legs.

Dusty looked up at the sound of the horse's cry. His heart stopped somewhere high in his throat. Mari clung like a burr to the horse, but what if the animal fell? Could she shake herself free quickly enough to get out of the way? He stood, transfixed and helpless. Moments before he had watched her trot the horse into the arena, admired the easy way they moved in unison She's good, way too good for this dump. But no matter how good she was, if that damn horse fell....

"Mari, get clear! Let go and jump free!" He wasn't sure if he yelled or only thought that desperate plea. Time skidded to a stop, the whole world in balance with the frightened horse.

Again, Mari slapped across the horse's ears, kicked him hard in the ribs, and attempted to rein him away from the dust devil, which hung persistently right in front of them. Apparently the habit of obedience took over. He turned, coming down again on all four feet as he did so. Now he might buck, but that would be far preferable to falling. But he didn't, he trotted a few paces before she checked him with the reins. Then he stood, shaking as with a bone-deep chill although sweat streamed off his body in rivulets.

Dusty gulped in a great breath of air, almost giddy with relief but also illogically angry. What right did she have to put him through such a fright? What right had she to be so important to him so soon? He tried to rationalize that he simply did not want to witness a horrible accident and have to render the first aid or get help, but his fears went far beyond that, and deep inside, he knew it.

Mari slid off, moved to the horse's head and cradled it against her. "It's all right, boy," she crooned. "What ever happened to you before must have been awfully scary, but it's all right. You're safe now and I'm not going to hurt you." After a moment, the horse's trembling eased. Mari turned and led him out of the arena.

Dusty watched her approach, shaking now worse than the horse was. "I'd kill the son--" he muttered. "Good Lord, he almost fell with you."

Mari shook her head vehemently. "I know, but he was scared to death. Something in an arena really must have scared and hurt him once, maybe more than once. I could tell right away that he was freaked out, but I couldn't figure out why. I still don't know, but it's clear something bad has happened to this poor guy. I wish I knew all about it. Then maybe I could help him, cure it."

"How can you be so damn calm? I died, right then, for what felt like twenty minutes, and here you are, going on about the 'poor horse'."

Mari looked at him, confusion in her expression. "Nothing happened, Dusty. I mean--well, I guess it looked bad, but really, nothing happened. He was scared, that's all. Some horses spook, some stampede, and some rear. It's not his fault, like a kid with a nightmare or something. At least I have a notion of what the problem is, now. He rears when he's frightened. Maybe he fell with somebody. I just wish they'd told me. I could have saved a lot of time. Well, we'll go back in and just trot around once and let him see it isn't all that bad."

Dusty wanted desperately to reach out and stop her, but he had no right. He went back and put another warm, wet cloth on Lightfoot's leg and tried not to watch, but the Appaloosa trotted obediently around the arena twice and Mari decided he'd had enough. By the time she had Paisley unsaddled, he'd finished Lightfoot's treatment. Working together, it only took them about forty minutes to do the feeding.

Once they were done, Dusty paused and looked around. "Do you usually do all this yourself?"

"Not always. Berne usually feeds Cochise and any mares with him, and sometimes the horses he's working. I feed the colts and the ones I'm working. It depends. Sometimes you're working a horse and get in the middle of something and have to see it through, so whoever's free goes ahead and feeds."

Dusty shook his head, a sense of wonder stealing over him. They stood in the barn door, facing each other, an arm's length apart. "I just never knew a girl--make that a woman, I guess--who would or even could do all this stuff. That's it in a nutshell. I'm just trying to come to terms with it. It's pretty amazing, Mari, what you can do." And yet you're here, in this damned dump.

"I don't let being female limit me," Mari broke in. "No reason to, really. I mean, the horses don't care. I guess the thing that's hard is not to let myself forget I am female. Sometimes that's not so easy...." In the span of a few words, her voice slipped from pride to a subdued anguish.

"That's what the dress is for," Dusty answered, his voice rough with feeling. "Then someday, the right man will come along and leave you no room for doubt."

"Do you really think so?"

"I'm sure of it, kiddo." He had to touch her, but in a way that would defuse the moment's poignant intensity. He tousled her hair and gave her head a slight shake, his fingers spread out over her crown. "C'mon. Let's go see a movie."