Promise Canyon

When Nathaniel had seen the horse a couple of days earlier in Ginny’s small backyard stable, he had asked her to let Will bring him over alone, give them a few days with the animal before any assessment was made. So Ginny was not here as they first observed him in his new surroundings. Inside the round pen, Streak ran in circles as if he had months’ worth of pent-up energy to burn off.

While Nate and Annie spoke with Will, Clay leaned his forearms on the fence and watched the two-year-old work off some steam. People had many and varied reasons for selling a horse. Could be they took stock of their stable and decided to thin it out to make room for better investments; they could have decided putting more into this particular animal was throwing good money after bad and chose to cut their losses. Only time would tell with Streak, but he was too young to write off. As Clay watched him run, throw his head, snort, rear and dig at the ground, he found himself hoping it was something a little experience and intuition could resolve because the horse was so damn beautiful.

He was chestnut in color, had four white stockings and a white blaze that ran down the bridge of his nose. He was big for a young Arabian—sixteen and a half hands at least, maybe thirteen hundred pounds. Willful, energetic, maybe a little crazy. For about the millionth time Clay was asking himself why some of God’s most amazing creatures were so difficult to harness. So much trouble to befriend. He just shook his head and laughed. The horse shook his head and snorted at Clay, then ran another lap.

That horse needed to be let loose in the round pen for a few hours. He had a bad case of stable fever.

Clay heard Will’s pickup depart and then Nathaniel and Annie were flanking him. With all eyes on Streak, Nathaniel said, “Some days are better than others with this horse, Will says, but even brushing him is dangerous. When Will can get a harness on him, he’s fitful. When Ginny attempts to touch him, he shies. She’s afraid that even if they eventually saddle him, she’ll be thrown.”

“She should be afraid,” Clay said. “Look at him. He has some serious trust issues.” Clay turned to Nate. “I’ll try to catch him, put him in the stallion stall and feed him.”

“Want help?”

“Nah,” Clay said, smiling. “But I’m going to let him get good and tired before I try to catch him.”

Nate gave him a slap on the back and went back to his office.

By the time Clay got around to the horse, he was still skittish, but Clay had seen far worse. Streak had worked up a lather, but Clay wasn’t going to attempt any grooming; getting him acclimated was enough for today. Besides, just catching him was a huge accomplishment. They communed in silence, but all Clay was picking up was a nervous colt. He decided to work with him in the morning.

Once Streak was fed, settled in his stall and alone for the night, Clay’s mind moved on to other things. He hadn’t yet had a chance to get acquainted with Nate’s computerized records and if he was going to contribute to animal care and stable management, he’d have to be up to speed on that. Annie had offered him dinner again but Clay declined. He didn’t want to set a precedent of spending all his time off with them. Although he considered Nathaniel a friend, he was also a boss. So Clay made himself a couple of sandwiches in his room and worked on a list of things he’d like to accomplish his first week.

He eventually pulled a book out of his duffel. Clay liked to read about earth sciences—geography, geology, meteorology, ecology. He also liked astronomy and still packed in that horse trailer, due to the lack of room afforded by his current living quarters, was a state-of-the-art telescope. But when the book dropped into his lap and he lay reclined on his bed, his sleepy thoughts drifted toward the long-legged blonde he had been married to and he wondered if she was all right, if her loneliness and anxiety plagued her now that he was no longer there for her.

And then, inexplicably, he began to think about that little Hopi girl who was certainly in love with a horse …

He hadn’t been asleep long when his pleasant man-dreams shifted to oppressive darkness. He didn’t know whether he moved in his sleep, but in the dream he was thrashing around. He was looking up at a black, starless sky from a deep hole and his entire being was suffused with panic, his heart racing with fear. There was no way out; he used his hands to claw at the sides of the hole, but without success. He tried to yell for help, but no sound came out. And it seemed to go on for an intolerably long time.

When Clay’s eyes finally burst open, he was panting and drenched in sweat. His reading lamp was still on, of course. The darkness was all contained in the dream, not his surroundings. He had to work to slow his pulse and control his breathing. His immediate thought was, What the hell was that? He hadn’t had a nightmare in so long, he couldn’t remember the last time. He thought it might’ve been more than a dozen years ago, in his early twenties, when his life had been very unstable and his future impossible to envision.

Clay meditated briefly. It took only moments for him to calm his body and mind. He took a deep, cleansing breath. And then he heard a thump from the stable.

He rose from his bed, pulled on his boots and went to check things out. He walked down the aisle between the stalls and all seemed under control. Then he heard another thump, this time accompanied by a soft whinny.

Streak. Anxious in his new surroundings? He went to the stall and looked in. Streak was facing a corner, whinnying in his sleep and pawing the wall of the stall with one foreleg. The second Clay was near the colt, he felt his fear. He sensed the deep, dark, muddy hole; entrapment. It was dark and cold in the horse’s dream.

Not a good time to enter the stall, so he reached a hand in. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said very softly. “Easy now.” The horse’s head came up, turned and his large brown eyes took in Clay. He snorted and shook his head. In a few moments the horse calmed enough to wander over to the half door, close enough for Clay to stroke him. Alone and frightened, Streak was willing to take a chance and trust Clay. This was a huge bonding moment. Clay stroked him gently. “There now, young man,” he said. “Those weren’t sweet dreams, were they, boy?”

Clay only enjoyed the bonding for a short time, then closed the horse in and quietly walked away, leaving Streak feeling the trust and wanting more. Clay realized he’d been caught in the colt’s dream. He’d been trapped in a hole, afraid, left too long, traumatized. There had been many times he felt he’d picked up an animal’s thoughts, but he’d never had this kind of channeling experience before.

“That’s a first,” he said to himself.

He leaned against the wall out of Streak’s sight and waited for any more uproars in the stable. But it remained quiet for a long time, so Clay went to bed, this time turning off the lights. He rested comfortably through what remained of the night.

Clay tended all six horses in the early morning, turning out Nathaniel and Annie’s four horses into the big pasture and Blue into her own paddock. He kept Streak in the round pen for now; he wasn’t going to integrate the horses until he had time to observe and manage them. He wouldn’t be surprised if Streak caused trouble.

It wasn’t yet seven when he went to Nate and Annie’s back kitchen door. It was almost time for the practice to open for business; Nathaniel might have house calls to make first thing for all he knew. Clay needed to talk to him before he got too busy.

“Good morning,” Nate said, opening the door. “Coffee?”

“Sure. I want to talk to you about Streak before start of business.”

“Come in. Grab a cup. Hungry?”

In honesty, he was. He was going to have to steal a couple of hours later, run into Fortuna and buy a few things for his quarters so he could take care of the majority of his meals without imposing on Nathaniel and Annie. Not only didn’t he want them to feel obliged to watch over him all the time, feeding him at every turn, but they were a relatively new couple with a wedding in the plans. They didn’t need some third wheel in their space all the time. So he said, “No thanks, I’m fine. About the horse—he appears sound, but I think there’s something emotional going on with the guy. Here’s what I recommend. First, I need to talk to the previous owner or trainer. I know he or she wasn’t obligated to give a complete disclosure besides bloodlines to the buyer, but maybe they’ll talk to me. If I know what went on with the horse, I might have some ideas. Second, tell Miss Norton not to visit the horse for at least a week, then we’ll reappraise. I think Streak is developing trust and I want him to focus on me. And, we’re going to need a night-light.”

“A night-light?” Nate echoed. “What went on last night?”

“Night anxiety,” Clay said with a shrug. “I think the horse had an accident of some kind. Obviously, if he’d been physically hurt there would be evidence on the exam or X-rays, but I think he has nightmares.”

A short burst of laughter escaped Nathaniel, but Clay didn’t even crack a smile. “Nightmares?”

“He’s fitful in his sleep.”

“In his awake, too,” Nathaniel joked.

“He’ll need a lot of reassurance, but thankfully the equine practice isn’t overflowing yet and we have time for him.” He lifted a black brow. “If his behavior is accountable to a trauma, once he’s fit, he’ll be an excellent stud candidate. His breeding is excellent. Damn, but that’s a fine-looking horse.” Clay sighed appreciatively, almost reverently. “Get me the owner’s phone number, Nathaniel. Since Miss Norton can’t return him, there’s no reason for the previous owner to keep secrets.”

“Ahhh, how about the lawsuit reason? What if something happened to render the animal unfit and the owner didn’t come clean before the sale?”

“I’m not worried about that,” Clay said. “I have an old tried-and-true Navajo method of getting to the truth.”

“Is that a fact? And what would that be?”

He took a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Listening like a horse,” he said with a sly grin. “Nathaniel,” he said, once again serious, leaning toward his friend, “will you leave the colt to me? It will require patience.”

Nate just smiled and said, “He’s all yours.”

Lilly made it a point to drive to the Jensen clinic before work started at the feed store on the days she wouldn’t be delivering. She liked to check up on Blue; in just days it was clear she was thriving. Before a week was out she’d been integrated with the Jensen horses in the big pasture. No surprise, she fit in. Lilly had known from the first time she touched her, she was an amiable mare who could get along with anyone.

It was a bonus to watch what Clay was doing with the stud colt in the round pen. It looked like the two of them were taking it real, real slow. Clay haltered him and after the colt had time to work off some steam from being pent up in the stallion pen, Clay worked him out on the lead rope, taking turns running him in larger then smaller circles. At intervals, he’d pull the colt in and talk to him a bit, touch him. Sometimes Streak seemed to go along with that idea; sometimes he resisted.

But what was fascinating was the way Clay managed the horse—his focus was amazing. Lilly was sure he had never once noticed she watched.

“How’s it going, girlfriend?”

Lilly turned and found Annie boosted up on a rail beside her, watching Streak with her.

“Never better, Annie. How about you?”

“Busy and happy. I see you know our newest guest ….” Lilly simply nodded, unsure whether Annie meant Streak or Clay. “He’s coming along.You should’ve seen him the first day.”

“The horse or the new assistant?” Lilly asked with a laugh.

“They’re both acclimating well, I think.”

“I noticed you put Blue in the big pasture with your horses. They seem to be getting along.”

“Very well. She’s a good horse.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to Nate about her ….”

“Talk to me,” Annie said.

“I called some people and put up a notice on Yaz’s bulletin board, but there hasn’t been any response yet. I think if anyone saw her, they’d jump on a chance to adopt her. And if they met her … By the way, what does it cost to board here? “

“Without training, feed, grooming, et cetera? Three hundred a month,” Annie said. “Listen, you’re not kidding me—you like her. A lot.”

Lilly shook her head. “But three hundred is out of my range.”

Annie turned toward her. “Still, the two of you are good together. And I bet owning your own horse would be perfect for you. And this one—you wouldn’t have to buy her—just run some ads saying you found her and if she has an owner, give them a chance to claim her. If no one responds to the ads, she’s yours.”

“I’ve never even imagined I could own a horse,” she said. “When I was a kid I was surrounded by horses, took some instruction from the neighbor—I think Yaz worked out a barter or something. Since moving here, I’ve only ridden a few times. I have a lot going on between my job, my house and my grandpa’s place.”

“I know,” Annie said. “We could put a saddle on her for you,” she offered.

“No, let’s not do that,” Lilly said. “I’m on a tight budget. Not a good time to fall in love.” She smiled at Annie. “I better get to the feed store. Yaz will be looking for me.”

“See you later, then. And if you change your mind …”

“Thanks,” Lilly said, her mind changing even as she walked away.

When Clay went to the clinic office, Annie was at the computer. She looked up, smiled and asked, “How are things going with Streak?”

“Slowly, but he’s doing a little better every day. I noticed I have an audience every day, also. Is that typical of Lilly? Observing the animals?”

“We’ve been seeing a lot of her since she rescued Blue and since you started working with the colt. I think all of the above has caught her interest.”

“Have you known her a long time?” Clay asked.

Annie pushed away from the desk on her roller chair. “Longer than I’ve known Nathaniel,” she said. “In fact, Nathaniel has known Lilly longer than he’s known me. She’s been delivering his feed since he took over the practice from his father. And I cut her hair.”

“Huh?”

Annie laughed. “I grew up on a farm, had horses, had a prize-winning bull, in fact. But when I met Nate I was a hairdresser. I have my own little shop in Fortuna, although it’s being completely run by my manager and I spend all my time here now.”

Clay leaned one hip against the other desk in the office. “No kidding? Hairdresser?”

“Not something you have a need for, I take it?” she asked with a laugh. “I plan to sell the franchise eventually, but I’m kind of waiting for my manager to work up to buying it, and she doesn’t have the cash yet. Tough economy, you know. As for Lilly—I think she has a major crush on a horse.” Annie leaned back in her chair and rocked slightly. “I have a feeling we’re going to keep seeing her as long as Blue is here. I suggested we put a saddle on her, but Lilly declined. She said it wasn’t a good time to fall in love. I take that to mean it’s already too late.”

“Maybe she’ll take Blue,” Clay said.

“She asked what we charge to board and said it was out of her reach.”

“But there’s Grandpa,” Clay said.

“And I think Yaz would move heaven and earth for the girl’s happiness—it’s just the two of them, you know. But as you get to know Lilly better you’ll see—she’s very proud of her independence. She works hard to maintain it. We’ve been friends for years and she won’t even take a free haircut from me.”

That caused Clay to smile. “I recognize the tendency to be proud …”

“Oh?” Annie asked, lifting her eyebrows. “Spoken as a man who won’t accept dinner with his friends more than once a week at most.”

“Poor Annie,” Clay said. “Have you and Nathaniel been together long enough that you have already run out of things to say to each other when you eat alone?”

“Oh, get out!” she said with a laugh.

Lilly discovered yoga her second year of college; it kept her flexible, fit and serene. After college she found some yoga and Pilates classes offered at a community center not too far from her little rented house and managed to take them at least three days a week. Then she discovered a funky little coffee shop nearby, in an old storefront that had been painted turquoise and stuck out like a sore thumb. When she could make that late-morning yoga class, she stopped at the Loving Cup for lunch afterward, where she had green tea and a croissant sandwich of avocado, tomato, sprouts and sliced zucchini, or some similar vegetarian treat. Over lunch she’d visit with one of the owners, Dane, who had become her closest friend.

She looked forward as much to seeing Dane as to the tea and sandwich. In the few years she’d been dropping in, they occasionally met for dinner or a movie or even a hike along the coast. Dane was the closest thing to a boyfriend Lilly had. Although he’d never really qualify as a boyfriend, he made an amazing best friend. Even though Lilly had had the occasional date with other guys over the past several years, none of them at all serious, she vastly preferred spending time with Dane.

She couldn’t wait to tell him about finding the horse, about watching her get better and about the new crazy colt they’d taken on. Dane was not a horse person. “Never been on one, thank you, and never tempted,” he said. “I’m more of a cat person.”

“You should let me take you for a ride sometime,” Lilly said. “I go so seldom myself, but I know enough to pick out a very gentle horse for you. And I’d be there to protect you the whole time.” Then she grinned at him.

“We shouldn’t waste our time—I’m not interested. I love hearing you talk about your horse stuff, though. Your eyes sparkle.”

“You should see the new guy at the clinic—Navajo with hair down to his butt. High cheekbones, kind of grim-faced. When he gets alone with that stallion in the round pen, it’s like a kind of hypnotism is going on, he’s so focused on the horse. And when the colt rears or pulls away—”

“Okay, stallion or colt?” Dane asked.

“A very grown-up unbroken colt. A big two-year-old male, a stallion, which means a male that hasn’t been gelded, over a thousand pounds of horse with very long, very strong legs and a lot of attitude.”

Dane whistled. “See now, when I think of a colt, I think of a cute little thing about the size of a rocking horse. This doesn’t sound like a youngster.”

She laughed. “If this guy didn’t like your face, he could stomp you to death in a second and feel no regret. But Clay, the new vet tech, he gets up close and personal, and when the colt resists him, they look into each other’s eyes for a second, the colt calms again and they start over. The colt only gets touched or talked to when he does a good job of minding his manners. It’s very cool to watch. The guy has phenomenal control and insight into the animal. They’re communicating.”

Dane tilted his head. “You sure it’s the horses that interest you? Sounds like the man has some mystical savage thing going on ….”

“Native men do not appreciate being referred to as savage,” she informed him.

“I bet there are times they’re not totally insulted,” Dane said with a smile. “I think you like him.”

“A Navajo man? Ah—that brings back some very unpleasant memories. I stay far away from Native men.”

Dane held her hand across the counter. “That was all a long time ago, Lilly. Ever consider moving past that?”

“I don’t want to move past it.”

“Did I mention you could use counseling?”

“About a thousand times,” she said.

“Okay then. Want to catch a movie Friday night?” he asked.

“That would be cool,” she said. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Four

Clay Tahoma was honest to a fault and hated to mislead anyone, but when the future of a fine horse was at stake, he was willing to go there. If something wasn’t done about Streak, he could wind up being put out to pasture, gelded, maybe even put down. Unless he could compete, race, breed or function as a family pet, his future wouldn’t be too bright.

Once Clay had the name of the previous owner’s trainer, he realized he knew him. They hadn’t been close, but Clay had met Joshua Bledsoe on several occasions. He called him at once and was direct; he explained they were boarding and training the colt for the new owner. “I’m hoping you’ll tell me the rehab or training techniques you used on Streak following the accident,” Clay said.

“Accident?” Josh answered.

“Yes. Before we got him. There doesn’t seem to be any physical problem—it’s all emotional. But if I know what you did, I won’t cover the same ground. I think he’s salvageable. In fact, I’m sure of it. While we’re on the subject, I could use more details about the accident.”

“Details about the accident?” Joshua repeated.

“Just get me up to speed—how deep was the pit or hole, how long was he trapped and how’d he end up in it—I can’t imagine someone rode him into it. Then tell me what you did after the rescue to get him back in shape. I don’t want to plow the same field twice, if you get my drift.”

In fact, the accident had been no one’s fault—turned out it was a barn fire. Streak had been very young, and when the owners released the animals from the burning barn, a few of them, including Streak’s mother, wouldn’t come out and died before the blaze was under control. Streak got out of the pasture he’d escaped to and in the dark he ran down a nearby road that was under construction, slid on loose gravel and into a pit. He couldn’t get out. By the time stable hands rescued him, using a lift, he was half out of his mind.

As Clay already knew, there was no evidence the horse was physically injured from his mishap, but the fall, the isolation, the separation from his mother, the frustration with trying to find a way out, the lift rescue—or the combination of all these events—had traumatized him.

Clay told the colt, “We’ll start at the beginning, young man—just a little walking around with the harness and lead rope until you get more comfortable.”

And the horse said to Clay, I can’t forget!

As he stroked the horse, Clay thought, Good. Don’t forget. Remembering will keep you sharp and safe.

This was the part that made sense only to Clay—he didn’t hear the voice of the horse, he felt it. When he was sending a mental message to the animal, sometimes the horse seemed to receive it and they were both on the same page. How do you explain something like that? How do you explain getting drawn into an animal’s dream?

In just a week, they had come a long way.

The next time Lilly came by with her delivery, Clay wanted to go help her haul the hay and feed, but the horse felt it and pulled him back. Sorry, Clay thought. I don’t usually get distracted. Let’s just do our job. And he focused again. He pushed the pretty Hopi out of his mind as he slowly led Streak around, creating comforting images in his mind and murmuring soothing sounds and words.

When they were finished, he removed the lead and set the horse free for a little exercise. When he turned he was pleased to see Lilly was still there. She leaned her forearms on the rail and watched him, her booted foot resting on the bottom rail.

Clay walked over to her, detached lead in hand, while the horse romped behind him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you unload today,” he said as he neared.

She shrugged. “I told you before, I can handle it. It’s my job.” She jutted her chin toward Streak. “He’s amazing.”

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” A thought emerged in his mind—how wonderful she would look astride a large chestnut creature like Streak—but he stopped the thought at once. The downside to letting a young horse into your head—you could accidentally send a message you didn’t intend.

“He seems to have calmed down a lot in a week, but he’s still… wild and crazy. But he likes you.”