Storm Chaser (2 page)

Jessica pulled a chair up to the large counter that stood in the middle of the kitchen and began snapping the pile of string beans that lay on the cutting board. “We just had another visit from a travel agent.”

Mrs. Warner took the chair next to her daughter and reached for a handful of beans. “And what did your father say? Let me guess.”

Jessica grinned. “Well, he was more polite to this one, probably because she was a woman, but he said the same thing he always does.” Jessica deepened her voice and did a perfect imitation of her father.

Mrs. Warner laughed. “You really shouldn't poke fun at your dad like that, honey. You know he wants what's best for us.”

Jessica snapped a bean into three sections, tossing them into the strainer. “What do you think, Mom? What if we turned Wild Hawk into a guest ranch?”

Mrs. Warner looked down at the counter, busying her hands with the beans. “I think it might be a good thing if we did it on a limited basis. I've had an agent or two catch me when your father wasn't home. They talk a good game, and they gave me a lot of information on what it would take to turn Wild Hawk Ranch into a vacation place.”

Jessica kept quiet as her mother stared out the big kitchen window to where her dad and Duncan were unloading hay at the end of the barn.

“Lord knows it has been a tough year,” her mother sighed. “Beef prices are down. Feed costs are up. And I hear the Bureau of Land Management is talking about raising the grazing fees again. If we don't get this year's calves fattened up enough to get a good price out of them, we're going to be in trouble. We could use a little extra help.”

“We've got those empty cabins out back,” Jessica said. “It wouldn't hurt to clean a couple of them out and use them. I think it would be fun to have some new people around here.”

Mrs. Warner dried her hands on her apron, then ran a loving hand over her daughter's hair. “I know it gets lonely out here for you, Jess. Marybeth's a little too young, and Duncan's got Wyatt and Gator.” She picked up the bowl of snapped beans and took them to the pot of boiling water on the stove. “It's a good thing you've got your horse.”

Jessica smiled. Her parents had given her Rusty on her third birthday. He'd been old even back then. Now that she was thirteen, poor old Rusty needed to retire. His gaits were slow and most of his energy gone, but she still loved him with all her heart.

“Go tell your father and brother that supper will be ready in about forty-five minutes,” Mrs. Warner said. “That should give them enough time to finish stacking the hay in the barn.” She winked at Jessie. “And if you hurry, you could probably get old Rusty brushed and have plenty of time left to make friends with that pretty little paint filly I saw you eyeing.”

Jessica grabbed a couple of carrots from the refrigerator and headed for the horses. Duncan was just pulling the tractor and empty flatbed trailer from the end of the barn. They'd gotten an early crop of hay this year. They might be able to get an extra cutting by the end of the season. That would mean extra money in the bank. Jessica didn't know a lot about finances, but she knew her parents struggled to keep the ranch afloat.

Mr. Warner climbed down from the loft, dusting his hands on his shirt front. “That does it. All the hay from the first crop is in the barn,” he said with a satisfied smile. “We were lucky to have such an early spring.” He shaded his eyes and looked toward the nearby mountains and the gathering clouds. “And not a moment too soon. Looks like we might be in for a summer storm.”

Duncan parked the trailer, then walked to the nearest horse trough and dunked his head into the cool water, shaking his blond hair like a wet dog when he stood up.

Jessica squealed, holding up her hands. “Thanks a lot, Dunce” She saw the grin cross her brother's lips and bounced a piece of carrot off his noggin. Duncan just laughed as he caught the carrot chunk and popped it into his mouth, crunching the tidbit like one of his horses.

Jessica smiled to herself as her brother turned and gazed at the gathering clouds. Duncan liked nothing better than to ride his horse into a storm. She saw the longing on his face, but her father shook his head and pushed Duncan toward the house. She hoped that someday her brother would invite her to go on a storm ride with him. The thought both scared and excited her.

A nicker drew Jessica's attention and she turned to the pen that held the new horses. The young stock in the corral snorted and huddled at the far end of the pen, but the paint filly stepped near the fence and pricked her ears, staring curiously.

Jessica grinned. Wyatt would call that a sign. She felt it, too. A plan began to form in her mind, and she put a little extra spring in her step as she walked to Rusty's stall.

She stopped in front of the stall and scratched Rusty on the neck as he leaned his head over the door to accept the carrot. She'd been honing her riding talents on the old gelding for years, dreaming of the day she could join her father and brother in the training pen. Somehow, some way, she was going to convince her father to let her train this year.

Her first project would be the beautiful paint filly.

TWO

“Mom said dinner would be ready soon,” Jessica called to her father as she gathered the bucket of brushes outside Rusty's stall.

Mr. Warner climbed down from the loft and dusted off his jeans. “Don't be long,” he cautioned. “The wind is picking up out there.” He waved to Jessica and followed Duncan up the path to the old brick house on the rise.

Jessica let herself into Rusty's stall. “Hey, old man, how are you doing?” She hugged his neck and scratched the chestnut gelding behind the ears, laughing when he nudged her pockets looking for the treat he knew she would bring.

She broke the carrot into several pieces, feeding them to him one at a time. Rusty munched them slowly and purposefully. At twenty-two years of age, his teeth weren't as good as they used to be.

Jessica pulled out the rubber curry comb and rubbed it in circles across Rusty's swayed back. The gelding cocked his hind leg and sighed. Jessica lost herself in thought while she swirled the curry over the horse's body. She knew her aging friend wouldn't be rideable for much longer. She had overheard her mother and father talking about getting her another horse when they could afford it. She smiled. Maybe it would be that pretty black-and-white filly.

She closed her eyes, imagining the feel of wind in her hair as she galloped through the valleys on the swift little paint. She'd be able to keep up with Duncan if she were to get the new filly, no problem.

Rusty blew through his lips, bringing Jessica back from her daydreams. She looked into the old gelding's soft brown eyes, feeling guilty for even thinking of replacing him. She threw her arms around his neck again, breathing in the warm horse scent, then kissed him on his whiskered muzzle. “We'll keep riding as long as you feel up to it,” she promised.

Jessica glanced at her watch. She had just enough time for a quick visit to the corral before she had to wash up for dinner. She put away the brush box and grabbed the last carrot, then headed out the barn door to the large pen that stood on the east side of the barn.

The young horses tossed their heads and snorted when Jessica approached. They trotted nervously to the other end of the pen and stood with their heads high, their nostrils distended to catch her scent.

Jessica looked over the fifteen beautifully muscled animals that stood in the corral, pawing the ground and eyeing her suspiciously as they milled about the enclosure.

Wyatt and Gator, under the guidance of their father, were the horse breeders for the reservation. They knew the animals well and chose their stallions and mares with care. The resulting offspring were perfect examples of American quarter horses and paints. The young horses had broad and well-muscled chests, short strong backs, and powerful hindquarters. Their small, perfectly formed heads had pronounced jaws and kind, intelligent eyes.

Most of the ranchers in the area owned Lightfoot horses that her father and brother had trained. They proved invaluable for ranch work. Their ability to carry a rider all day and twist and turn sharply to work cattle made them a favorite of local cattle ranchers.

“Easy, there,” Jessica said. The skittish animals' ears flicked back and forth at the sound of her voice. Several of the horses pushed deeper into the herd, but the little paint filly took one step forward, her petite muzzle extending to catch a better scent of the carrot Jessica offered.

She held the carrot out for several minutes, but the filly refused to come any closer. Jessica sighed and tossed the carrot into the pen. The little filly jumped when it hit the ground near her hooves. Jessica backed up a few steps and watched the paint lower her nose to the ground, poking at the carrot before biting off a piece.

The filly bobbed her pretty head and spit parts of the carrot back onto the ground. Jessica covered her mouth to keep her giggle from spooking the filly. “Don't worry,” she whispered as she turned toward the house. “Someday you'll learn to love carrots.”

She ran across the backyard, covering the distance to the house in no time. At least she had made a connection with the beautiful paint—if only to offer the horse a treat she didn't like. It was a start.

The family was just sitting down to dinner when Jessica entered the back door. Already her parents seemed to be in a heated debate. She stopped short. It was unusual to hear her parents argue.

“Hurry up, Jess,” her father said, noticing her in the doorway. “You're late.”

Jessica hurriedly washed her hands and slipped into her spot opposite her brother. Duncan's blue eyes bounced back and forth between their parents as they discussed turning the Wild Hawk into a guest ranch.

“I won't have it,” their father said as he heaped a large portion of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “As long as we can make a living running cattle and selling some of our hay crop, I won't have strangers staying on my land—cold cash or not.”

The lights flickered and everyone glanced at the ceiling to see if they would stay on. The wind had picked up heavily and there was no longer a doubt that a major storm was on its way.

“All right, enough of this conversation,” Mrs. Warner said, handing a plate of chicken-fried steak to Jessica. A loud clap of thunder shook the walls of the house. “Let's worry about getting dinner eaten before the lights go out. Are all the horses in?” Mrs. Warner asked.

Duncan nodded, stuffing a big bite of broccoli into his mouth.

“All except the new horses,” Mr. Warner said. “But they've got that big tree that hangs over part of their pen. They can gather under that just like they'd do if they were living wild back on reservation land.”

“The cattle are in the outer fields,” Mrs. Warner said. “Will they be okay there if the storm hits?”

Mr. Warner nodded. “They'll be safe enough. I'm glad they're not out on the range, or they could spook and scatter all over the mountain. The last time that happened, it took us a month of searching to gather them all up, and we lost a few of them. We can't afford to lose a single head this year.”

The meal ended with the din of shutters banging in the high wind and more flickering from the lights. A few drops of rain hit the window, but for the most part, this was a dry storm full of wind, thunder, and lightning.

When the lights finally went out for good at about nine o'clock, Jessica decided she might as well go to bed early. Her parents weren't doing a lot of talking after their argument over the guest ranch, and Duncan never was much of a conversationalist.

“I'm going to check the horses before bed,” she called as she lifted her jacket from the peg in the hallway and pulled on her boots.

“Be careful,” her mother cautioned. “Would you like your brother to go with you?”

Jessica shook her head. “I'll take Shep.” She signaled the Border collie to follow and stepped into the dark, stormy night. Standing on the back porch, she lifted her nose to sniff the air. The wind whipped through her hair, blowing it into a tangle. Jessica loved the pungent smell of the high desert after a light rainfall. It smelled of earth and growing things. She hugged her jacket close to her and ran to the barn.

When Jessica attempted to open the heavy barn door, she wished she'd brought Duncan instead of the collie. The door screeched on its hinges as the wind caught it, almost dislodging it from its mooring.

Jessica stepped inside and quickly pulled the door closed. She paused for a moment, listening to the creaks and groans of the old barn as it stood firm in the wind and breathing in the sweet smell of the newly cut hay. She grabbed for the flashlight her father stored near the door and clicked on the light, pointing the thin beam around the enclosure.

Rusty trotted into the stall from his connected paddock, his eyes rolling wildly in his head. Duncan and her father had locked their saddle horses in, but Jessica had left Rusty a choice, knowing the old gelding became nervous when the wind was high. After a calming word to the horses inside, she stepped out into the storm to check the new stock. Just as her father had predicted, they were all huddled under the overhang of the tree. She couldn't see the little paint filly at first, but she finally spotted her near the center of the herd.

When she was sure all of the horses were okay, Jessica secured the barn doors, pushing with all her might as they flopped wildly in the wind. Drops of rain pelted her face and she ran for the house, Shep close at her heels. As she sprinted across the yard, several bolts of lightning flashed across the sky, temporarily turning the night into day. Jessica let out a frightened squeak and flew up the back porch steps and into the house.

Duncan sat at the table with a lit candle in front of him. He raised a brow and hid a grin as she slammed the door shut behind her. Jessica felt her cheeks color, knowing that her brother must have heard her cry of fright. She punched him good-naturedly on the shoulder, then went to kiss her parents goodnight before going upstairs.