Country Roads (12 page)

Julia stroked the mare’s nose, admiring the delicate shape of her head. She found herself gazing into Willow’s eyes, deep, velvety wells filled with a spirit of kindness and compassion. As sweet as she looked, Julia felt no urge to talk to the horse. “So how does this whisper horse thing work?”

“It just does.” Sharon gave Willow a pat and headed back to her office, with Julia following. “You’ll know when you find the right horse to talk to.”

Julia picked up her tote bag, thinking of Darkside. She didn’t want to tell him things, either. She felt as though it was the other way around: he had something to say to her. After all, he’d already tried to grab her attention. “I’ll get out of your hair now, and do some sketching.”

Julia walked out of the office, closing her eyes as she drew in the smell of sweet, fresh hay and big, warm animals. She lost herself in the distinctive music of the stable: loud huffs of breath, the clomp of weighted hooves, buckles rattling against water buckets.

“You okay, ma’am?”

Julia’s eyes flew open to find a lanky young man standing in front of her with a confused expression on his face.
Had she had an absence seizure?
Her epilepsy hadn’t taken the form of blank staring in the past, but maybe her encounter with Darkside had triggered it. “Have I been standing here a long time?”

“No, ma’am,” he said, looking puzzled.

“Were my eyes open?”

“Not till just now.”

Relief flooded through her. He simply wasn’t used to people standing and doing nothing in a barn. “I was enjoying the atmosphere.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a tentative smile and continued on with the sack of feed he was carrying.

She gripped the handles of her tote bag as she waited for the flare of anxiety to dissipate. It had been seven years since her last seizure, including the two years since she’d taken her final dose of medication, but she couldn’t shake off the sense of dread.

At least there was one fear she could face head-on. She spun on her heel and headed back for the barn where Darkside was stabled. As she stepped outside, her attention was caught by a sudden commotion just inside the other stable’s door. Darkside exploded out into the sunlight, his black coat gleaming like watered silk in the sun, his muscles bunched in resistance. The stallion had a groom on each side of his head, the lead lines taut in their hands as they leaned their weight against his plunging.

“Vader warning!” one of the grooms called out. “Evil Jedi coming through.”

Julia caught her breath as people and horses scattered while the magnificently foul-tempered animal practically dragged his handlers across the pine bark to a paddock gate. A third stable hand swung the gate open, then latched it behind the stallion. The two grooms counted to three, unhooked their lead lines simultaneously, and bolted for the fence as Darkside bucked
twice before he came after them with ears laid back flat against his neck. They slipped safely between the rails just as the stallion snapped at them.

“Better luck next time, Darth-side,” one groom said, good-humoredly flipping the bird at the frustrated horse.

The stallion gave an angry whinny and took off across the grass, half galloping and half bucking, his tail streaming out behind him like a banner of war.

Julia trotted over to the paddock fence and peered between the boards. She had seen him in her mind’s eye so often, but in the flesh, he was both more and less disturbing than her imaginary Night Mare. The sense of physical power was heightened, but she felt drawn to him rather than afraid.

She propped her hip against a fencepost and bent to her sketchpad, fingers flying as she tried to capture the essence of his motion. It took three circuits of the paddock before Darkside wore himself out and dropped to a trot, his gait fluid and muscular. She continued to scribble furiously, her memory spilling impressions onto the paper.

“What a spectacular creature!” she muttered under her breath as she stuck the pencil behind her ear and flexed her exhausted fingers. Looking up again, she saw the horse peering at her between the boards of the fence, his ears pricked forward. “Yes, I’m admiring you, buddy, even though you ruined my new blouse.”

Darkside stomped and shook his head with a short, angry squeal.

“Why are you so grouchy? If I were you, I’d be strutting my stuff in front of all the mares. Do you know how lucky you could be getting?”

A bark of laughter came from behind her as one of the grooms overheard her one-sided conversation. She tossed the woman a smiling wink and turned back to her new model. “You know, if you behave, I might wangle you a carrot.”

“I wouldn’t get within biting distance of that devil, if I was you,” the groom said.

“I can toss it to him,” Julia said, stowing her drawing materials in her tote bag. Sharon had shown her where they kept the horse treats, so she headed to the barn to pilfer some.

When she returned, the stallion was still standing by the fence, his large, dark eyes fixed on her. As she came closer, his ears went back and he huffed out a loud breath. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re the big, bad stud who hates everyone.”

She took a quick look around to make sure no one was paying any attention to her before she sidled up to the fence, holding out several pieces of carrot on her flattened palm. She knew she was taking a huge risk, but she wanted to touch this creature from her dreams.

No one yelled at her to stop, so she thrust her hand close enough for Darkside to reach it through the fence. He snorted again and did a threatening drumroll with his hooves. When she didn’t move, his ears flicked forward and he sniffed the air above her palm, his wiry whiskers tickling her skin. She stood still, and he threw up his head.

Julia chuckled softly. “You don’t know whether I’m crazy or dangerous, do you?”

She and the horse stared at each other. Then Darkside arched his neck and delicately lipped the carrots off her open hand, the velvet of his nose soft against her palm. When she reached up to stroke him, he yanked his head back and bolted across the paddock at a full gallop.

Julia looked around again before she pulled her sketchpad out of her tote and climbed up on the fence enclosing Darkside’s paddock. She pretended to be drawing, but she was really keeping an eye on the big animal. She wasn’t stupid enough to put herself in harm’s way a second time without staying alert.

Darkside’s gallop slowed to a trot as he circled back around toward her. She kept her head down and her pencil moving as he pranced closer. He stopped about six feet away, his elegant head high and ears forward.

She kept scribbling as she said, “You’re a big chicken, aren’t you? Afraid of little tiny old me when I just want to see how strong you feel.”

The horse stamped and laid his ears back.

“I have more carrots, but you’re not getting any until you let me touch you.”

He stretched his neck out and shook his head, making his mane whip through the air.

“Fine, be that way.” His nose was getting close to her, and she had a vision of those sharp, young teeth digging into the back of her hand, a hand she needed for her livelihood. “If you bite me, that’s it. I’m done with you.”

She slid the pencil behind her ear and slowly reached into her back pocket for another bit of carrot, hiding it in her right fist. Sandwiching the sketchbook between her chest and her knees, she leaned forward, stretching out her left hand, open palmed and empty.

For a long moment, horse and artist locked eyes before Julia shifted her gaze to the stallion’s ears. As they swiveled forward, she heaved a mental sigh of relief; he didn’t intend to knock her off the fence quite yet.

The horse moved one big front hoof forward, just enough to touch her palm with his nose. She curved her fingers up to tickle under his chin. He jerked his head back, but his ears remained pointed toward her, so she stayed on her perch, her hand outstretched.

This time he took two full steps toward her. She could hear him breathing, and she inhaled the warm tang of the sweat he’d
worked up with his exertions. Now her entire body was within striking distance of his teeth.

She kept her voice low and humorous as she said, “If you knock me off the fence and stomp all over me, Paul will say ‘I told you so.’ ”

The stallion hesitated another moment before he reached toward her, his breath hot on her bare forearm. His nose traveled right past her hand, to the corner of her sketchbook. She forced herself not to flinch backward. He huffed out a breath and drew his lips back from his teeth to nibble at the paper.

Julia had to bite her lip to keep from laughing out loud in hysterical relief. She let him taste the paper and moved her left hand up to stroke his neck. His ears twitched back and forth, but he continued to snuffle at her pad.

Touching his flexed neck was like smoothing her palm over living marble. His coat was as fine as satin, the muscle beneath stone-solid but warm and vital. “You are a beauty,” she breathed.

With a sudden jerk, he ripped off a corner of paper and ground it between his teeth. “Fine, you earned your carrot.”

She unfolded the fingers of her right hand by his nose, and he spit out the soggy paper, crunching on the carrot instead. Encouraged, she dared to run her fingers down the long stretch of skull between his eyes and his velvety nose. He nickered as she fluttered her fingers against the soft skin between his nostrils. Then his ears went back and he wheeled on his hind feet to race away.

Julia decided not to push her luck. She clambered down from the rail and shoved the sketchpad and pencil back into her bag. Swinging it onto her shoulder, she turned toward the barn.

Ten feet in front of her, half a dozen stable hands were standing in a semicircle with Sharon right in the center. “Well, that’s the damnedest thing I ever did see,” Sharon said.

“Plumb crazy is what I’d call it,” one groom said, shaking his head as he walked away. “That stud has a mean streak a mile wide. It’s a miracle he didn’t yank you right off that fence and pound your face into the ground.”

Julia noticed a couple of her audience members had pitchforks in their hands. Her eyes widened and went to Sharon’s face. “Yeah, they were ready to use ’em to make Darkside back off, if necessary,” Sharon said.

“You called it, though, boss lady,” another groom said, letting the tines of her pitchfork rest on the ground. “You said old Darth Darkside was her whisper horse.”

“Okay, show’s over,” Sharon said. “Everyone back to work.” She waited for her staff to disperse before she strolled over to Julia. “I know everyone finds their whisper horse, but not in a million years did I think Darkside would be yours. Or anyone else’s.”

“He’s my whisper horse?” Julia was incredulous. She turned to see Darkside slam a back hoof into the fence as a groom walked by, leading another horse. “He’s not what I’d call a sympathetic listener.”

“Everyone needs their own kind of whisper horse. Your spirit matches his in some way only the two of you know.”

Julia understood why Sharon’s friends didn’t talk much about her theory. However, she couldn’t deny the sense she understood Darkside, and he might have something to offer her in return.

“Oh, Lynnie found this in his stall.” Sharon pulled something out of her pocket. It was the swatch of material the stallion had ripped out of Julia’s sleeve. “You might be able to get it sewn back together somehow.”

Julia took the scrap of silk. It hit her that, despite the danger, she hadn’t once thought about having a seizure while she was with Darkside. She tucked the fabric into her tote. “Maybe I’ll keep it as a souvenir of meeting my whisper horse.”

P
AUL PUSHED OPEN
the outer door to his office on the first floor of a 1850s-era Victorian house. His suit jacket was slung over his shoulder on the hook of his index finger, and he had a brown bag holding a deli sandwich in the other hand. As he walked in, his administrative assistant stopped her high-speed keyboarding to look up at him.

“You’ll never guess who called,” she said, waggling her penciled-in eyebrows.

“Judging by your expression, Verna, someone I wish hadn’t.”