“Maybe it was a scam. That would be my guess. I’m sorry, Sam, there’s nothing I can tell you.”
He sensed that she was about to end the call. Suddenly he didn’t want to let her go. “Where are you?” he asked. “California?”
“I’m right here in Las Vegas. I couldn’t get a flight out until Sunday.” In the silent pause that passed between them, she seemed to read Sam’s thoughts.
“Don’t come to me now, Sam. I don’t want you with me if your mind is somewhere else. Get this case behind you. Then you can decide how much of yourself you can spare for me. If it isn’t enough, I’ll feel free to move on.”
Her words tore through him like bullets. But he knew she was right—this wise, strong, compassionate woman. Whatever happened, he couldn’t allow himself to lose her.
“I love you, Jasmine,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. Just give me a chance to prove it.”
He waited for a reply, but Jasmine had ended the call. Sam knew better than to call her back. That would onlypush her to say things he didn’t want to hear. And he had a murder to solve.
With the reining Shootout scheduled to run all day, the barn was a busy place. As the riders prepared their mounts for a chance at next year’s Run for a Million, emotions were running high. Even the horses caught the tension, dancing nervously as they were saddled and led out of the barn. Cheers and groans from the fans rose from the arena.
Buck willed himself to ignore the hubbub as he studied the immobilized stallion over the stall gate. He’d seen Fire Dance before, but he hadn’t taken the time to study him closely. The horse was magnificent—that was a given. And he appeared to have no visible injuries. But what Buck saw in the wild eyes and straining limbs was misery and terror.
This horse had killed a man. That was beyond dispute. The question Buck asked himself now was why. As a trainer with a reputation for healing troubled horses—he’d been called a horse whisperer, though he disliked the term—he knew that horses in their natural state were prey for animals like wolves, bears, and cougars. Fire Dance had probably never seen anything bigger than a coyote. But the fight-or-flight instincts, buried over generations, would still be there. When Cheyenne had climbed on a bucket to look over the gate, the distressed horse had seen her as a predator ready to leap from above. And a man on all fours, groping through the sawdust for his phone, would take on the shape of a wolf or bear, about to lunge at the horse’s throat. Fire Dance had fought for his life with the strength of imagined terror.
Now, with his legs hobbled, his head cross-tied, and a canvas sling holding his body in place, Fire Dance was helpless.
“What do you think?” Cheyenne waited next to him.
“I think he’s terrified—which makes him dangerous.Get way back and don’t move. I’m going to try something.”
After Cheyenne had moved to a safe distance, Buck opened the gate of the stall and stepped inside. The stallion’s ears flattened. An exhausted snort rose from his throat, but the rigged restraints held him prisoner. His mane and tail were tangled, and he smelled of urine, manure, and sweat. A bucket of water stood within reach, but it was almost full. If he didn’t get out of this situation soon, the horse would die a miserable death. Euthanasia would be kinder.
That’s what he would tell Cheyenne.
Speaking softly, he took plenty of time to approach the stallion, trying to reassure him that he wasn’t a predator. The horse’s ears pricked, a sign he was listening. That was good. But it was his eyes, the most evident place to spot a sign of a brain injury, that Buck wanted to check. Still talking, he reached out and stroked the stallion’s sweat-encrusted neck. A shudder passed through the powerful body, but he was too spent to struggle. “Good boy,” Buck murmured. “Now, let’s have a look.”
He moved in closer, aware that the stallion could still hurt him. Murmuring and stroking with his free hand, he aimed his phone light into each of the horse’s large eyes. The pupils reacted, contracting to black dots. Good. No obvious sign of brain damage. Or maybe not so good in terms of the work it would take to rehabilitate this animal. Euthanasia would have been a simpler solution, but he knew that Cheyenne would never choose that. She would want to save Fire Dance—and she lacked the experience to do it alone.
Moving slowly, he backed out of the stall and latched the gate behind him. When he turned, Cheyenne was watching him, her face shining with hope.
Heaven help him, what was he getting himself into?
“I didn’t see any obvious injuries,” he said, speaking beforeshe could ask. “But he’s a sensitive horse, and he’s in bad shape. If you can’t get him out of here soon, you might as well put an end to his misery.”
“I’ll do anything—pay anything!” She clasped his forearm with a horsewoman’s grip. “I’ve got cash from my rodeo winnings and a check from the fashion shoot I just did forVogue. I was saving the money for a cutting horse, but—”
“This isn’t about money, Cheyenne, and if you take him, you won’t be getting a cutting horse. I can’t even promise that you’ll be able to ride him.”
“But you’ll try to help him?”
Buck sighed, knowing he was roped in. “Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said. “I can’t trailer him with Chief, and sedating him for that distance could kill him—especially if he has brain damage. But I’ve got a friend in Henderson—that’s the next town over—who does stock hauling with the kind of rig you’ll need to keep him stable. He owes me some favors. If he’s available, I can have him pick up Fire Dance today and drive him to my ranch in Ten Sleep. My cowboys can turn the horse loose in the corral with food and water and leave him till I get there.”
“You’d do that? You’d take him home and work with him for me?” She gazed at him as if he’d hung the moon.
“Not so fast. If my friend can’t drive him, we’ll have to make other arrangements. That could take time—time we don’t have. Also, if I take him on, you’ll have to agree to one thing.”
“I’ll pay whatever you need.”
“We can work that out later,” Buck said. “But here’s what you’ve got to understand up front. If your horse is suffering, or if he turns out to be an ongoing danger to people or other animals, I’ll make the decision to put him down. It will be my decision, and I’ll see it done. Is that clear?”
“Is that your policy with all your clients, Buck?”
“Not all. But some. I don’t want to give you false hope. Fire Dance is going to be a challenge. Do you trust me to make the right choice?”