CHAPTER THREE
Raw-eyed and edgy after a sleepless night, Kira was up before dawn. On most mornings, she looked forward to a day with her students and the horses. But right now, she wasn’t ready to deal with seven impulsive teens, let alone Jake’s presence on the ranch. She needed to get outside, to move, to stretch her cramped muscles and calm her frayed nerves before facing the day.
Deciding on a walk instead of a ride, she pulled on a clean shirt, jeans and tennis shoes, splashed her face and brushed her teeth. After checking on Paige and her grandfather, and finding them both asleep, she stole out of the house.
The cabins were dark, the ranch yard quiet. The call of a passing crow and the subtle stirring of horses in the barn deepened the morning peace as she crossed the yard and passed under the high arch of the gate.
The moon was a fading crescent in the western sky, the sun barely streaking the east with the colors of dawn. The air was cool on Kira’s damp face. She closed her eyes a moment, filling her lungs with its freshness.
Cactus blossoms, still in bud yesterday morning, had unfolded into full bloom. The saguaros were crowned in white. Crimson clusters fluttered from the tips of ocotillo spears. A low hedgehog cactus bore flowers of blazing pink.
As she strode down the trail, Kira could feel her mind and body coming awake. She could always count on these desert mornings to freshen her spirit and prepare her for the day—and today, of all days, she would need to stay calm and positive. Whatever happened, she mustn’t let Jake’s presence distract her from her work.
Her path wound among stands of mesquite and paloverde and outcroppings of chunky rust-hued rock. Just ahead lay an open spot with a view. Kira was nearly there when she came around a bend in the trail and discovered she had company.
Seated on a flat boulder, gazing out over the valley, was the last man she wanted to be alone with today.
Tension shot through her body. She wheeled in her tracks,
hoping to slip back the way she’d come. But she was too late. Jake had already turned to look at her.
His startled expression froze, then hardened into something unreadable. “Good morning, Kira,” he said.
“Goodness, you’re up early!” she said, feeling awkward. “I was thinking you might want to sleep in, this morning.”
“I wasn’t that tired.” His gaze scanned the cactus-studded foothills as if searching for some hidden enemy before he glanced back at her. He looked as if he’d been awake all night, just as she had. “Feel free to sit if you want,” he said. “There’s room.”
“Thanks.” She lowered herself to the space on the boulder beside him. Maybe a little polite conversation would help to ease the tension. Her mind raced through a list of off-limits topics—Wendy, the accident, his war experiences, his PTSD, maybe even Paige. She would have to weigh every word.
“You’re up pretty early yourself.” He was wearing a faded brown tee, with what appeared to be a traditional Army Ranger tattoo just visible below the short sleeve.
“I like to start my morning with a little quiet time. It helps get me centered for the rest of the day, which can become pretty hectic.”
“Dusty told me you were working with kids.”
“We’ve got seven of them here, getting four weeks of therapy with the horses. Three girls and four boys. They’re not bad kids, or violent, just troubled.”
“Troubled?”
“Self-destructive behaviors, mostly. Or problems getting along with others. A lot of the kids who come here are depressed, some of them traumatized.”
“And I’m guessing they’re rich and spoiled.”
He seemed to be prodding her, looking for a sore spot. Refusing to give him the satisfaction, Kira answered calmly.
“Unfortunately, the program’s expensive. Right now, while it’s new, we can only afford to take students whose families can pay. Later on, if we can expand our services or get some government funding, we’re hoping to include some low-income kids. I’ve stayed up nights writing grant applications. So far, nothing’s come through.”
“I see.” He fell silent, his hands resting on his knees. In the stillness, the rise and fall of his breathing mingled with the cry of a circling hawk.
Kira shifted on the rock. She was about to get up, make some excuse and leave, when he spoke again.
“So what is it with the horses?”
Kira settled back into place. At least it was easy to talk about her work. “There’s a lot to it. The students choose a horse and work with it every day, taking care of it and earning its trust. If they can do that, they eventually get to ride it.”
“And that’s therapy?” He picked up a pebble and tossed it down the slope, startling a flock of mourning doves into flight. “Sounds like more bother than it’s worth. Why not just get the kid a damned dog?”
“Dogs are too easy. What you get from a horse, you have to earn. The horse doesn’t care who you are, only how you behave with it. That’s the therapy—creating trust, creating cooperation, learning to get along, to be relaxed and peaceful and follow the rules. I’ve seen it work with these kids, time and time again.”