A McKaslin Homecoming

Thrills shivered through her, and she leaned forward. She’d never been this close to horses before.

“Malia’s the lead mare, the white Arabian,” Caleb explained. “She must be real proud of herself, figuring out that new lock I installed. Took her long enough, the rascal.”

“They’re beautiful, all color and grace and motion.” She itched for her sketch pad so she could put the image of them on the page. She tried to memorize the way the sunlight glossed their flanks of black, brown and white.

“They know they’re in trouble. Look at ’em.”

Lauren watched in amazement as the horses fell into a single line at the shoulder of the road, as if to make room for the truck to catch up with them. A warm breeze skittered over her face, tangling her hair, as they raced closer and closer to the horses.

“They’re havin’ fun.” Caleb shouted to be heard over the pounding hoof beats and rush of wind through the cab. “Watch, now, how Malia stretches out. She likes to stay in the lead. She’s getting a kick out of this.”

Surely this couldn’t be safe. She knew the driveway ended around the next turn in the road, which she could see up ahead. They were neck and neck with the last horse of the small herd, giving Lauren a closer look. Foam flecked those sleek glossy coats, but she felt their happiness as they ran free and safe, penned in between the truck and the long, endless row of fencing.

“You think this is fun?” she asked. “What happens when you hit the main road?”

“You’ll see. This isn’t the first time we’ve done this.”

“Isn’t this a little dangerous?”

“It’s a private road.” He didn’t seem concerned, but she wasn’t fooled. He kept a careful watch on the driveway up ahead and on the horses to make sure there was plenty of space between his truck’s fender and the wide grassy shoulder the horses were running on.

When the road curved to the left, the horses kept following the fence line, wheeling right like a flock of close-knit birds. The truck swung wider, keeping up with them, bouncing over wild grasses and wildflowers. Up ahead, an intersecting fence line cut off the horse’s charge. As if the horses knew just what would happen, all but the leader began to slow. Their run for freedom was over. Caleb skidded the pickup to a fast sliding stop, nosing up close to the fence, corralling the horses safely. Lauren watched in amazement as the white mare sailed over the six-foot rail.

“She’s mad at me today. She’s probably jealous of you.” He swung out of the truck and went to the horses.

“Of me?” she called out to him.

“Sure. She’s the only female in my life.”

When she twisted around in her seat, she caught a view of him in the side mirror. He was reaching into the back of the truck for a handful of colored nylon ropes, all the while talking low to the horses.

The dust was settling and she could see the friendliness between the man and the horses, who seemed to know him well. If she opened the door, would it startle them? She was way out of her element here, but Caleb had said he needed help. She leaned out the open window, studying the enormous horses from the safety of her seat. They were much larger and more powerful up close. One of them snorted and stomped its front foot like a bull getting ready to charge. Definitely not safe just yet.

“Leopold, stop showin’ off for the lady.” Caleb shook his head, tossing a look to her. “Lauren, he’s such a show-off. It’s okay to come on out. I could use a little help.”

“You don’t look like it.”

“It’s always good to share the load.” He snapped a rope onto the stomping horse. “You, buddy, calm down. Yes, we’re all impressed with you.”

Lauren opened the door, watching as the other horses sidestepped in response. They watched her with what she hoped was interest—and not dislike. She felt very small next to the animals and she was in awe. Caleb snapped a rope onto another horse’s halter and the remaining two animals looked mischievously at the opening, beyond Caleb.

“No, you don’t.” He’d noticed, too. “Lauren, would you mind standing behind me. These two still have a few ideas.”

She was already moving through the sunbaked grass that tickled her ankles. “And exactly how do you think I’m going to stop them if they act on their ideas?”

“Well, I’m banking on the hope that they’ll believe your bluff.”

“I don’t bluff.”

“We might be in trouble, then.” He didn’t look troubled by it as he went after horse number three.

It was hard not to like Caleb, Lauren decided. The sunlight chose that moment to find him, highlighting his stony quiet strength. Like some Western hero of old, he approached the last free horse with a low word, brushed his big hand over the animal’s velvety nose. He made an image of rugged masculinity that made even her want to believe.

“Lauren, would you mind driving the truck back for me? I’ve got my hands full.”

“What about Malia?”

“Don’t you worry, I’ve got her number.” He reached into the back of the truck and held out brown squares. It had to be some kind of horse treat. Amusement sparkled in his dark eyes. “Watch.”

He offered a cube to each horse and, sure enough, the breathtaking white mare hung her head over the board-rail fencing, nickering for her share of the treats.

“Sorry, Malia. You’ve got to come to me if you want some.” Caleb didn’t seem too troubled. As he gave attention to the other horses, Malia sailed back over the fence and pranced up to him, expecting her treat.

Wow. Lauren held down a sigh. The wind blew against her face, tangling her hair and breezing over her like a reassuring touch. It wasn’t a sign from above, really, although the warm peace of the afternoon did feel like a rare blessing. The struggle of her life seemed far away.

She was glad that she’d come all this way.

Chapter Two

“What are you doing carrying your own bags?” Caleb didn’t mean to startle her, but he could see by the look on her face that he had. There she was, teetering up the walkway toward the porch steps, a heavy, battered duffel in each hand. While the bags weren’t big, they were heavy. He remembered that. “Put ’em down. You’re in Montana now. I can’t let a woman do the heavy work while I watch.”

“Isn’t that a little chauvinist?”

“Maybe where you’re from, but I call it doing the right thing.” He crossed over Mary’s lawn. “Besides, you don’t know where you’re going.”

“Uh, how about into the house?”

“So you think.” What was a guy to do? “It’s one thing to have an independent streak, it’s another to let a man stand around gettin’ lazy.”

That made her smile and he liked this because her shyness faded away and her unique loveliness shone.

“One thing I don’t approve of is a lazy man.” Amusement warmed the violet of her eyes. “I suppose I should put you to work and keep you respectably useful.”

“Exactly. It’s for the greater good.”

She lowered the bags with a thud at his feet.

“Mary has the carriage house ready for you, out back.” He got a good grip on the crackled handles of the bags and heaved. “Are there rocks in here? Weights? Or really big shoes?”

“Books.”

That explained it. He’d noticed the backpack. “Are you a student?”

“Yep. Classes start in three weeks.”

She was a little old for a college girl, although she might be putting herself through. That could slow a student down, working full-time and juggling classes. He should have noticed the little details. Her car was twenty-years-old and if he’d described it as having had seen better days, he would have been kind. She was as neat as a pin, but her clothes were simple and not exactly designer. Her flip-flops were wearing thin. And then there was the backpack—typical student ware.

Curious, he led the way along the path curving around the house. “What’s your major?”