Appaloosa Blues (Sisters of Spirit #8) Read online

The last time she’d seen him, she had been in town with her grandfather. Adam had said "Hello, neighbor," a bit sarcastically, and her grandfather had turned and walked the other way. Jo had turned and gone with him, feeling caught between the two of them, with no way out.

  The figure in the corral was busy, working on one of the gates, his back to her. Praying he wouldn't turn around, Jo ran closer, slipping through the wooden rails of one of the corrals, scurrying silently across the dusty enclosure, and climbing up and over the other side.

  A few more steps put the bulk of the barn between them and Jo grew confident she could get the wire cutters undetected. The door to the tool shed hung open and she slipped inside, pausing to accustom her vision to the dark room. Walking around slowly, she found the area where the hand tools were stored. Someone had painted white silhouettes behind each tool, so it took but a few moments to locate what she wanted.

  Elated, Jo took the cutters and dashed towards the door... only to collide with the solid body of the man just entering.

  "What the...?" His voice rose in angry protest.

  "Oh!" The impact threw her back and she sat down, hard, on the concrete floor, feeling the fine particles of grit that covered it. She felt embarrassed at first, then guilty—then frightened. Backlighted against the door, his face in shadow, the tall man looming over her seemed too large to be Adam.

  The man raised his fists. "What do you think you're doing?"

  Adam's voice...Jo remembered it well, although it was deeper now. Her fear left.

  "Who...?" Adam bent closer, the better to see her in the dark tool shed. "You! I might've known. No one else would dare sneak around here."

  Filled with guilt, Joanna's mind raced erratically, unable to form a coherent sentence. She felt lower than low, caught acting like a thief. It would have been so much better if she had just walked up to Adam and asked for the cutters.

  He scowled at her as she sat upright, his face twisting with bitterness. "I take it you hoped to come and go without being seen."

  He sounded angry enough to wallop her, yet Jo felt no fear. Adam was the one who had always rescued her when she got into trouble as a child. Surely he would help again— although, after seven years, he might not even loan her the wire cutters.

  "Well, when did you get back home? Or are you still not talking to me?" he demanded, spitting out the words as if they had a bad taste.

  "Late this morning." Her throat constricted, making her voice come out weak, ineffectual. She gasped for control. "I spent a week in Seattle." The words sounded awkward, sitting there alone, so she explained further. "I’d gone to a wedding.”

  "Huh...she's got a tongue. That must have cost you something." He removed his Stetson to wipe the sweat from his broad forehead. "So...your first day back and you throw yourself at my feet. There has to be a reason." He stared hard at her. "Well?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

  "These." She held up the wire cutters.

  "You planned to take them? Without asking?"

  She nodded. Guilt flooded her face with a hot blush and she felt thankful for the room's darkness.

  "Figures. What happened this time?" he asked, reaching down and hauling her to her feet, his strong hand encompassing her wrist. "Well?" He flicked on the light.

  The reality of the man took over the image of the youth she remembered. A very powerful man. One who would make a dangerous foe.

  Adam was burned brown from working outdoors, his broad-brimmed hat unable to protect him entirely. Sweat trailed narrow streaks on his dust-covered face and his troubled eyes held the tiredness of long hours. A dark stubble covered his squared chin, emphasizing the tight line of his mouth.

  "What on earth...?" His gaze roved over her, piercing as an eagle's as he examined her dirt-torn condition. "What happened to you?" His deep voice sharpened in concern. He must have spotted the scratches under the dirt.

  Without warning, he swung her up into his arms and carried her outside into the last of the light, sending her heart skittering in alarm. "Let's get you to the house. Couldn't you even wait a day to get into trouble?"

  "I didn't plan this." Even in her distraught state Jo noticed the ease with which he held her and the broad, muscular depth of his shoulders and arms, the work-hardened build of a man who was no longer a boy. "Put me down." She shoved hard against his chest.

  "Nothing doing." He looked around the barnyard, the iron bands of his arms effectively limiting her struggles to get away. "Stop squirming," he demanded. "Where's Paca?

  "In the wire."

  "Huh?"

  "I was chasing the bulls. Yours...ours were fighting in the fence between the pastures. Paca's caught in the wire. I don't know how long she'll stand—"

  "She didn't panic?" he demanded to know.

  "No. But I couldn't get her loose. She must think I've deserted her by—"

  "Where at?" he cut in sharply, giving her a small shake as if to quicken the flow of information.

  "At the corner. Where our pastures join."

  "I know the spot—you always use that gate."

  What he said was true. She always headed for the lookout spot in his pasture area at sunset time, if she happened to be anywhere near.

  Adam stopped abruptly, dropped her to her feet, and plucked the cutters out of her hand. "Stay here. I'll pick you up on the way back."

  He sprinted towards the barn, his long legs covering the ground in a fraction of the time she would have taken.

  Jo shoved back her bangs and watched as Adam disappeared inside to reappear almost immediately and enter the corral. In spite of Gramps' dire warnings about how vindictive Adam had become, Jo had known subconsciously that he would help. He might not think much of her or her family, but he wasn't the type to let an animal suffer.

  A moment later he galloped out, bareback, astride a rangy bay gelding, a strong man astride a powerful horse. Still cantering as he drew abreast of Jo, he reached down and clasped her left forearm, pulling her into a flying mount behind him. She had mounted horses this way before, in relay races, but did not expect the force with which Adam drew her up—and almost flew off the other side.

  Righting herself, she slipped her fingers under his thin leather belt and hung on tightly, avoiding the wire cutters jammed into his back pocket. She sat back far enough to give Adam some room while enabling herself to move with him.

  The bay surged forward in long leaping strides over the rugged terrain, responding to the urging of its master for greater speed. They charged uphill, rocks flying, dodging low branches that were barely discernible in the dim light.

  The reverse trip was made on the fly. Adam wasn't slowing down for anything. Jo realized she would have to stay alert or walk. He shifted away from each branch early enough for her to also duck clear, but just barely, not making any concessions for her.

  A rush of adrenaline swept through Jo. She loved to ride fast, but usually good sense and lack of an emergency kept her from doing so—one false step could break a horse’s leg.

  Adam was a superb rider with an intimate knowledge of the mountainside, riding fast but not recklessly, avoiding the extra push that would send them out of control. He took all the short cuts available to try to reach Paca, yet she felt safe behind him.

  For the first time in her life she felt totally in tune with Adam. They were doing this together, riding to the rescue. If only Paca wasn't in such danger. Her concern kept her from fully savoring the heady excitement of the ride.

  No saddle with its hard cantle lay between them, so when they crested the ridge and began the downward, plunging journey, she was thrown hard against Adam. She altered her grip, put her arms around his waist, and let her head press against his back.

  Adam had changed significantly from the tall, lanky boy she had ridden with years ago. His thin cotton work shirt lay soft and smooth beneath her cheek, enabling her to feel the shifting movement of muscle, the rhythm attuned to his horse’s downward plunge.

  She was relieved to b
e able to talk to him again. The silent years had been uncomfortable ones. It would be easy to say the wrong thing and build that barrier all over again, so she vowed to be extra careful.

  Adam's gelding was large and long-legged compared to Jo's small mare. The rough ground passed swiftly underneath and they soon approached the section of torn-up fencing.

  "Just ahead," she warned. “We need to stop.

  He slid his horse to a halt, threw his leg over the bay's neck and vaulted off. Jo jumped down behind him. Dropping the reins to ground-hitch the bay, they walked quietly over to Paca.

  Paca stood in the same position as before, except with one back foot stretched out awkwardly behind her. She lifted her head and nickered softly as they moved nearer.

  "Stand here while I cut her free," Adam directed, stopping Jo with a hand on her arm. "She might try to break loose before I'm done."

  The words made Jo's heart jerk in fear, and she grabbed his hand. "Wait, Adam. She doesn't know you. I'll go in and cut—"

  "No." His voice was low but harsh, and he yanked his hand away. "What kind of a man do you take me for?"

  "But she's my horse."

  "Doesn't matter. Stay back." He turned and started toward Paca, the cutters in his hand.

  "Be careful." She spoke softly, the words almost a prayer for his safety. Paca stood with her head up, ears pricked forward, nostrils flared, nervously looking first at Jo and then at Adam.

  Would Paca let him anywhere near, without panicking?

  CHAPTER THREE

  As Adam surveyed the entangled wire, the cutters grasped firmly in his hand, he realized for the first time that Jo could have been killed. He shuddered to think of her in this death trap. If she had been riding any other horse, the outcome could have been tragic.

  They had had enough tragedies. After his father's truck smashed into her grandmother's little car, killing her, his dad had taken his own life, unable to handle the guilt. Adam blamed the suicide on Jo's grandfather, for the old man's ceaseless accusations had driven his father over the edge.

  If anything happened to Jo, he could be sure her grandfather would accuse him, somehow, but that wasn't the reason Adam's heart stopped when he first saw the wire and realized the danger Jo had been in.

  The reason was much more basic. He loved her. He knew it. She didn't.

  He had waited for her return from college. He had waited for her to grow up and out from under her grandfather’s influence. It felt like he had spent his whole life waiting for her. His patience was growing thin.

  Like the eagle, he intended to mate for life, and he had chosen Jo soon after he had driven her away from him with a stupid, irresponsible act. It had seemed harmless at the time, a high school bet, but when her grandfather once again won the battle for her allegiance, Adam had lashed out angrily at her...and paid for his careless words ever since. At first she had just stopped speaking to him, then she had gone back east to college and not returned.

  As soon as he recognized her in his tool shed, he had focused on her ring finger. It was bare. She hadn't committed herself to anyone. The fact made him happy, easing the anger he had first felt upon catching her sneaking into his shed like a thief, knowing she had chosen to "borrow" his wire cutters instead of coming directly to him. He even felt somewhat pleased that Paca's welfare had forced Jo into seeking help at his ranch.

  Now that they were on speaking terms again, maybe he had a fighting chance against the animosity her grandfather had nurtured all these years. As an adult, she might be able to see what her grandfather was doing to her. To both their families.

  He would give it one last try. This summer...or never. He wasn't getting any younger and he wanted a wife to come home to, children to enjoy. If she didn't show any sign of breaking free from her grandfather's influence, then he would start looking elsewhere for a mate.

  Yet even as he thought the words, his mind, body, spirit rejected them. How could he consider anyone else but Jo? He had known her well, before the feud, when the two families were friendly, helping each others as neighbors do. He had admired her spunk as a child, her willingness to tackle a job beyond her abilities. And as an adult—well, he would lay his life at her feet any day.

  He had to find a way past her grandfather.

  With a final nod to her, Adam slipped sideways into the coils of wire, carefully cutting a path as he moved forward. The strands sprang in all directions like startled birds when released from tension, even though he tried to hold onto the ends. They spooked Paca, who jerked back as one whizzed by her head, her front leg pulling against the constraining wire. Her eyes shone white as she rolled them back at this new terror.

  "Easy, girl. Whoa. Whoa now," Adam said, fighting down his own fear of the wire as he moved as rapidly as possible to the mare's side. He quickly clipped the strand that held her foreleg, then watched as she flexed it several times before setting her foot back on the ground.

  She's a marvel of a horse, he thought, blessing the Nez Percé for their selective breeding program, which had produced these calm, intelligent animals. "Steady. That's one leg free."

  Forcing himself to stand calmly, he stroked Paca's neck until her eyes returned to normal. Finally, she turned her head to nuzzle him, breathing in his scent, a low nicker showing that she recognized his help, if not him.

  "Good girl. You're a smart horse. You sure landed in a tangle. My horse, Rocket, would've come unglued in this mess, but not you." Carefully, he snipped away at the wire around her as he talked, his voice quiet and soothing, keeping his movements slow and controlled as he worked.

  With the release of her legs, Paca began to shift uncomfortably. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Jo dart forward, then stop. He knew she wanted to help. He also knew she would plunge into the wire if Paca freaked out.

  He couldn't let that happen.

  "Steady." Adam quieted the mare again before attempting the last cut. "Easy...easy. Just 'cause you can move a little. Whoa." He clipped the last restraining wire and stepped on a waving strand to hold it down. "There you go."

  Paca put her nose to the wire, snorting loudly.

  "Go on." Adam patted Paca on her spotted rump and she glanced back at him. "It's all right now." He picked up the reins and looped them over the saddle horn.

  Paca looked towards Jo's outstretched hand, then picked her way warily, lifting her legs high over the loose wire, skittering sideways as she cleared the tangle. Jo hugged the mare in relief, then stooped to examine her legs.

  Adam stood for a moment, feeling reaction snake its way through him, the aftermath of an adrenaline rush that had fueled him ever since seeing Jo. It quickly passed and he walked out of the wire to look them over.

  Paca had one fairly deep gash on her hind leg, but other than that wasn't too badly cut, while Jo's shirt was dotted with blood. It was not soaked, so he knew Jo's wounds weren't deep, yet Adam shuddered at the sight of the scratches on her arm and hands. She could have been killed.

  "I think Paca came out of this better than you." He sounded unnaturally harsh, but he couldn't help it. "I don't suppose you told anyone where you were riding?"

  "No, but you see, I didn't—" her voice rose defensively, and he knew she wondered why he was upset. He didn't want to sound too harsh, but his turbulent emotions demanded some outlet. He could either yell at her or kiss her.

  "All I see, is that you could have been out here all night, injured or dying, with no one knowing where to search for you. Haven't you learned any common sense after all these years? Or after what happened when you were thirteen?" he snapped, wanting to shake some sense into her.

  Her eyes widened—alarmed, and he shook his head in disgust at himself. He had to be careful not to repeat past mistakes.

  Jo stared at him, confused, not knowing if Adam was angry or not. His harsh words hurt, the more so because she agreed with him. She had been in and out of mishaps all her life, usually because she dove right into a situation, without stopping to analyze it firs
t.

  Shaking his head, Adam moved closer to her and gently wiped some of the dirt off her face with his handkerchief, his hand trembling, his actions in opposition to the suppressed anger in his voice. "Hold still!" he snapped. "You look a mess. Just got home and in trouble again. If you won't admit to your folks that you ride on my land, then at least give them a direction and be home before dark."

  Bristling, she snapped back. "I happened to be intent on the bulls, Adam. I didn't notice the wire in time." She tried to duck away, but he held her face with his hand until he finished wiping.

  "I wish I could count on your not doing it again."

  She lifted her chin. "You need to build your fences better."

  "Huh!" He didn't answer that, instead inquired softly, "Are your tetanus shots up-to-date?"

  The question threw her off-balance. "Er...um...yes." As usual in his presence, she couldn't think straight, so she took a step back, came up against Paca's warm shoulder, and stopped.

  Without warning, Adam placed a work-roughened finger on her lips, drawing it gently across them.

  "Adam!" she protested, startled by the spark that passed between them, her awareness of him sharpening abruptly.

  "Ah. That's better." His dark eyes gleamed like an eagle's, alert, determined. "That's my name. I like the way you say it. You remember our other night out, don't you?"

  She nodded. How could she forget the night he had saved her life?

  He acknowledged her reaction with a smile. "Uh, huh. Seems like you need rescuing more often than most, Jo. I might not always be around, so you'd better be more careful." He lifted his hat and ran his hand through his thick hair—which needed cutting—shifting his weight away so he could study her in quiet speculation.

  Uncomfortable, Jo dropped her gaze, remembering some of those near disasters. She had caused him quite a lot of bother at different times during their lives. Ranch work had its dangers and like most ranch kids, she became part of the work force whenever her parents felt she could handle the job. Usually she could. Sometimes she couldn't.