Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

Why was Eli being so pushy? “He’s really busy in his practice during the week.”

“True. But he’d make time for you if you asked.”

Putting herself out there any more than she already had might give Fletch the wrong idea.

Or the right idea.

Or cement the idea that she wanted him as much as he wanted her and she oughta quit lying to herself about it.

Eli pushed off the fence. “I won’t badger you. Let’s enjoy this morning before the sun tries to fry our heads, eh?”

Tanna chose an older model ATV and was relieved when Eli didn’t drive a million miles an hour. He made an effort to point out things of interest as well as some of the more challenging trails.

They spent a couple of hours traversing the land. Part of Eli’s acreage bordered federal land home to wild horses. Eli handed her a pair of binoculars and she watched the animals grazing. Even from a distance they seemed more skittish than horses she’d been around, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“How long have you been doin’ this?” she asked. He had mentioned that he received money from the Bureau of Land Management to care for the wild horses—as much as one could care for creatures that had always run free.

“Eight years. I know what equestrians say about these wild ones as compared to horses that are bred for their breed expectations and limitations. But these beauties . . . there’s no greater feeling than breaking one but keeping a part of that wild spirit.”

“I take it you’re not sending me out there to round them up as some sort of initiation into the Wild West?”

“Nope. But let’s head back.”

Driving the ridge, something tightened inside her. She had such an overwhelming sense of loss. She felt burdened by the weight of her loss and the sense of futility, even though it was nothing new. It had been happening off and on since her mother’s death. Never regularly, always at the oddest moments.

Suck it up. This is your life now. Be grateful for what you’ve got.

By the time they reached the barn, Tanna swore if Eli asked about her blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes, she’d blame any tears on Wyoming dust and wind.

But Eli didn’t say a word. He grabbed a bucket and dumped a few oats in. “Come on. Let’s mingle.” He started for the horse pasture, leaving Tanna no choice but to follow him.

And sure enough, as soon as the horses noticed Eli held the bucket, they trotted over. All twelve of them.

Her heart was in her throat when they were surrounded. She nearly passed out from fear when a big gray mare bumped into her with those muscled shoulders. Then the horse immediately tried to crowd her into the fence.

Tanna balked. She started to duck and move. But the mare pinned her in place.

“Aggie. Behave.” Eli’s soft command forced the horse to freeze. “Tanna. You need to get your head on, girl, and remember who’s in charge.”

“Right.” Tanna backed into Aggie’s left side and kept the bucket of oats low.

But the horse kept pushing and crowding. Tanna dropped the bucket and scrambled away so fast she fell on her knees in the dirt—causing a sharp pain in her knee. Then she was on her feet, running, not caring how foolish she looked. She just needed to find a place where she could breathe without fear.

Tanna didn’t stop running until she cleared the gate and had trekked halfway up a small rise. She noticed a crude bench, crafted from old logs and balanced on two flat rocks. She sat on it and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her shins. That’s when the tears fell. Not the silent type that she’d cried on the ATV. But huge, gasping sobs.

She’d never ever been afraid of horses. And that’s how she reacted the first time she’d gotten close to one in nine months? A panic attack that’d forced her to flee and left her f**king bawling like some big goddamn greenhorn baby?

You’re pathetic. Give it up. If you can’t even touch a horse how will you ever be able to ride one again? Say nothing of competing on a national level?

Those reminders got louder and louder until she wanted to scream to drown them out.

Instead she curled up tighter, cried harder and wondered why she even bothered coming here. To Wyoming. To Eli’s. She should just go back to Texas where she belonged and . . . do what? She had nothing there either.

After a while, cried out, tired of self-flagellation, she lifted her face to the sky, not knowing how long she’d stayed immersed in her own misery.

A noise echoed to her and she turned, expecting to see Eli. But an Indian woman of indeterminate age—she could’ve been nineteen or thirty-nine—rested her backside against an old pine tree stump.

At first Tanna thought she might be an apparition, since she held such a stoic demeanor. But then she offered Tanna a tremulous smile.

“I know how you feel,” she said softly. “I have more fears than are healthy. Hiding them doesn’t help. Sharing them doesn’t help. Ignoring them doesn’t help. Sobbing about them doesn’t help.” She paused. “Maybe this will sound horrible, but I was glad to see you break down.”

“Because you get off on seeing other people suffer?” Tanna asked sharply.

“No. Because it proves to me that I’m not alone in dealing with a fear that can be overwhelming. But it also shows me that you’re brave enough to face it.” She paused. “So, are you crying because Eli couldn’t help you?”

“Maybe I’m crying because it’s obvious I’m beyond anyone’s help.”