Pat Warren - Her Kind Of Cowboy

“No, thanks.” Jesse tossed his napkin onto his empty plate, then sat back thinking over what he’d just learned. Abby had never so much as mentioned anyone at college. Must have been a whirlwind romance. Or did she marry him on the rebound when Jesse didn’t return? No, they’d never discussed marriage or even love. Still, she hadn’t struck him as the type who’d quickly move into another relationship. Well, he’d likely find out soon enough.

Rising, he cleared his plate and walked outside while Casey stopped to talk to Carmalita. The sun was just sinking beyond the far horizon, bathing the hillside in oranges and yellows. At home in California, the sun usually set beyond the mountains surrounding the Triple C, nothing at all the way it did here. Jesse had never seen more beautiful sunsets than in Arizona.

Turning toward the house he was to occupy for a while, he noticed two little girls playing with a brown puppy in front of his porch. They had to be four or five, one very blond, the other with a dark braid down her back. Smiling, he walked toward them. As soon as the puppy spotted Jesse, he ran forward, all big feet and pink tongue, then rolled over onto his back, inviting a belly rub. Jesse squatted down and obliged the little guy as the two girls came rushing over.

“What’s his name?”

“Spike,” they both answered.

“Whose puppy is he?” Jesse asked as the little dog squirmed in ecstasy.

“Hers,” said the blond child, indicating her friend. “I’m Grace and she’s Katie. What’s your name?”

Pleasantly surprised that she wasn’t the least bit shy, he smiled at her as she plunked herself down in the grass. Katie sat down close to her friend, obviously a little bashful. “Jesse. Where do you girls live?” he asked, thinking the two must be holdovers from the little schoolhouse.

Grace pointed toward the big house. “I live over there and Katie lives in town but she’s staying over ’cause her mom’s sick. Where do you live?”

He couldn’t help but be taken by the precocious little girl with the big blue eyes. “I guess I’ll be living over there for a while.” He pointed to the cabin Casey had said was his.

Before he could get in another question, he saw from the corner of his eye that someone was running toward them. Standing up, Jesse recognized Joyce Martin as she stopped in the middle of the drive and called both girls by name, urging them to go to her immediately. Thinking to introduce himself, Jesse took a step closer, but Joyce sent him a warning glance before hustling the girls inside.

Casey came alongside. “I see you’ve met Mrs. Martin.”

His tone told Jesse that the woman wasn’t one of Casey’s favorites either. “Not exactly. Is she always that friendly?”

“Pretty much,” he answered, chuckling. “She’s over-protective of her family. Guess she’s got her reasons.” He pulled a ring of keys from his pocket. “Why don’t you go get your bag and I’ll show you through your cabin?”

“Okay.” Jesse had parked his Bronco in the wide apron by the big house and decided to move it nearer the cabin. As he got behind the wheel, he glanced up to the second-story window that he remembered used to be Abby’s room.

She was standing there, holding back the sheer curtains on both sides, watching him. Too far away to read her expression, he stared back for several long seconds, then pulled his gaze away and parked the Bronco by the cabin. Stepping out, he saw that she hadn’t moved, her head still turned toward him.

Right then, he’d have given a lot to know what she was thinking.

Abby Martin stood looking out her bedroom window watching the new hire follow Casey into the cabin. She waited until the lights went on and the door closed. Oddly uneasy and not quite sure why, she pulled the sheers over the window and picked up her hairbrush.

Dad had told her all about Jesse Calder, the man from California who’d had great success in working with traumatized horses. Apparently his father had learned from the teachings of Monty Roberts, the original horse whisperer who’d taught himself to communicate with horses starting years ago when he was a child.

At first, she’d been skeptical, worried a stranger might set Remus back even further. But Casey had researched the Calders and learned that they were not only legitimate, but owners of one of the largest horse ranches in the west. The ranchers they’d contacted who’d used Jesse’s services had nothing but praise for him and his methods. Casey had convinced her and Dad, and they’d invited the man to visit to see what he could do.

Abby pulled her long blond hair free of the band and began brushing. She was aware that one thing that had bothered her was the name. Jesse. The mere sound brought memories, sad ones, from a time she’d worked so hard to forget. Then, just when she’d convinced herself that there really was nothing to a name, a man named Jesse had shown up today.

Undoubtedly, her mind was playing tricks on her. But when she’d seen him walk over and get into the Bronco just now, then sit and gaze up at her, she’d felt something eerily familiar. Of course, she was being paranoid. He was tall and lean, like that other Jesse, but more muscular. And he had a beard, but then, any man could grow one. Then there was the limp. Not pronounced, but he walked slowly and carefully, as if denying he had a problem. She couldn’t see the color of his eyes from this distance, but, even if they were the same, all manner of people had blue eyes.

Bending over, she brushed her hair vigorously, as if she could brush away the errant thoughts. Foolish mind, conjuring up images of a man who’d pretended to care, then left her with a mere moment’s notice. That had been Jesse Hunter, not Jesse Calder. She would have to keep that in mind. She would make an effort not to prejudge and to give him a chance to help Remus.

As she heard four little feet scampering up the steps amidst giggles, she straightened and smiled. Bath time, she thought as she left her room to meet the girls.

Casey stood near the round pen, but back a ways so as not to distract Remus. It was seven in the morning and Jesse Calder had released the stallion from the barn half an hour ago. He’d moved inside, closed the gate and stood there quietly, not moving, a light cotton line coiled and hanging from one shoulder.

Casey waited, gazing from Remus to Calder and back, wondering when the man was going to do something. But he just stood there while the horse snuffled and snorted, first pawing the ground, then trotting around the pen nervously. Finally, Remus stopped near the center of the circle and made eye contact with the man standing so silently, each taking the other’s measure, it seemed.

Behind him, Casey heard quiet footsteps and glanced back to see Vern Martin arrive and stop alongside him. The two men studied both stallion and trainer for long minutes until Vern spoke.

“What’s he doing?” he whispered, not wanting to spook the horse.

“Damned if I know,” Casey answered softly. “He’s been standing there thirty minutes or more, staring him down. At this rate, he’ll be here till Christmas.”

“You’re the one said this Calder fellow could work miracles,” Vern reminded him.

“That’s what I heard, from more than one rancher. But like they said, you got to be patient and let him do it his way.”

A tall man with silver-blond hair thinning on top and a nervous twitch beneath his sharp blue eyes, Vern was not a patient man. He watched for another few minutes, then shook his head. “Well, I can’t stand here all day. I’ve got work to do.”

“Yeah, me, too.” But Casey was obviously reluctant to leave.

“I’ll meet Calder later,” the rancher said. He clapped his manager on the shoulder. “Let me know if anything happens.” Settling his white Stetson on his head, he walked away.

Casey’s curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. Another ten minutes and he saw Jesse walk slowly forward until he was in the center, the stallion backing farther away with each step. Then Jesse did an odd thing. He turned his back on the horse and just stood there as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Casey watched him take in several deep breaths as if to relax himself.

“Braver man than me,” Casey whispered to himself, having seen Remus thrash about in his stall when anyone came too close, those strong legs like lethal weapons.

Clearly, Remus didn’t know what to make of this newcomer who seemed unafraid. He resumed circling the pen, round and round, over and over. Still, Jesse didn’t move.

Suddenly, the stallion stopped about ten feet behind the man, his ears sharply forward, showing his interest. Slowly, he moved toward Jesse as Casey held his breath. Closer, closer. Near enough that Jesse had to feel the stallion’s warm breath on his neck. Then the horse stopped. After a few moments, his head leaned closer and he appeared to be sniffing Jesse’s scent. The trainer let him, not moving a muscle.

Just then, the double steel doors to the barn slid open with a loud thud and two ranch hands walked out leading their mounts, talking loudly. Remus jerked back, startled, the spell broken. He rushed away from Jesse, stopping on the far side of the pen.

Frowning, Jesse walked to the gate and let himself out.

Casey went up to him, wanting an explanation. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but exactly what was it you were doing in there?”

Jesse recoiled the cotton line into a tighter circle. “Mostly just letting him get familiar with my scent, in a non-threatening way.” He glanced toward the men who’d left the barn. “Do you suppose you could ask the guys to use the doors on the other side for a while?”

“Yeah, sure.” Casey shuffled his scuffed boots, still not satisfied. “Okay, so now he knows your scent. What’s next? You going back in there?”

Turning to study the stallion, Jesse shook his head. “Not right now. Later this afternoon.”

“Why was it you turned your back on him? He could’ve hurt you bad.”

Jesse allowed himself a small smile. “I doubt that. Horses are flight animals, not fight animals. They won’t attack unless they’re attacked first. I was just standing there, no threat to him. He was making all the moves.”

“Yeah, but when you going to do something? I mean how long is this going to take, you think?”

Jesse shrugged. “That depends on Remus. He’s in charge of the timetable. I’ve got to get him to trust me before I can help him. No one can predict how long that will take.” With his peripheral vision, he’d seen Vern Martin watching for a short time. “Mr. Martin in a hurry for results? Because if he is, you’ve got the wrong trainer.”

“No, no. I was just wondering.” Casey hoisted up his jeans a notch. “You just take your time, son.” He started walking away, then stopped. “If you need anything, just ask.”

“I will. Thanks.” With one final glance at Remus, Jesse strolled thoughtfully toward his cabin.

No matter how many times he’d worked with damaged horses, especially on their owner’s turf, he always had to justify his methods. Everyone expected a quick fix, as if he had a magic wand. This sort of thing took time. Humans didn’t get over a trauma overnight, so why would they think horses would? It wouldn’t be until they began to see results that they’d finally come around. However, he was used to the reaction so he didn’t take it personally.

At his porch, he heard voices across the wide driveway and turned to see over a dozen children in front of the rainbow-hued schoolhouse playing ring-around-a-rosie in groups of four, led by Abby who was clapping in time to the music from a boom box set under the tree. Jesse sat down on the top step to watch.