Jun 11

Jun 11 Wild Horses On The Salt

Wild Horses On The Salt - book excerpt

1

An unfamiliar place.

Becca blinked at the mid-morning sun that streamed through the room. She closed her eyes and opened them again. White-painted walls. Thick, unfinished beams crossed the ceiling. Where was she?

She longed for a drink of water and was surprised to see a bottle on the square-topped table beside the bed. She sat up, grimaced at the pain in her side, and hugged the blue-and-white patterned blanket to her chest, noting the string of horse figures that galloped along the edge. She reached for the bottle, popped the top, and gulped.

Then she remembered her aunt making the frantic phone call and paying for the plane ticket. The woman’s tears as she placed a few folded bills in Becca’s hand. The red-eye flight: four and a half hours in the darkened cabin and the rumbling white noise that purred her into a series of uncomfortable dreams. The bleary arrival at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix, where a tall man wearing a tan cowboy hat held a piece of cardboard bearing her name in black marker.

She’d been surprised by the chill in the air as she was ushered to the front seat of a pickup. Wasn’t this the desert? The place the TV weather folks always talked about when the temperature hovered near 110 degrees? She shivered, and the man turned up the heat.

Later, under a star-splashed sky, she mounted several steps.The man motioned for her to follow, so she trailed him across a pathway composed of smooth river rock embedded in cement. When they arrived at a small cabin, he removed his hat and held the door open. He smiled, nodded, and disappeared.

Becca studied the now bright room, which boasted an intricately designed Native American rug hugging a hardwood floor. A three-drawer pine dresser topped with a mirror rested between two large windows framed with white curtains. A radiator kicked on. Becca eased under the warm covers and quickly fell back to sleep.

A knock on the door.

“There’s still some lunch left. If you’re hungry, you’d better hurry.”

Becca curled into a ball beneath the soft cotton sheets and the horse-adorned bedspread. She didn’t want to move, but then her stomach growled. How long had it been since she’d eaten?

She stretched, and her assorted injuries made her wince. She crawled from beneath the bedding, holding her side, surprised to see that she had fallen asleep in her clothes. Becca eyed the small garment bag that rested unopened on a chair in the corner. She needed to brush her teeth. She eased herself slowly off the bed. The bruises on her hip and shoulder were still fresh and achy. Becca didn’t glance at the mirror as she crossed the room. She’d had a black eye before. Understood the rainbow transformation that would render the area purple, green, then a sickly yellowish-brown before the wound would finally disappear from her skin, but not from her soul.

Becca ran her fingers through her wavy hair, then opened the door.

“Hello, Becca.” Gabriella Strand was tall with streaks of gray in her dark hair that was cut short and looped behind her ears. She wore teardrop-shaped turquoise earrings set in silver, a black sweatshirt that boasted a herd of galloping horses, black jeans, and a pair of worn black cowboy boots.

If the woman standing before her was surprised by her appearance, she didn’t show it. Becca turned her bruised eye away. “Ms. Strand.”

Gabriella laughed. “Oh, honey, no one has called me Ms. Strand in a very long time. It’s Gaby. Didn’t your aunt tell you?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. She did…Gaby.”

“No need to be sorry. Now, let’s get you something to eat.”

Later, Becca stared at the empty plate before her. She’d devoured the ham, egg, and cheese scramble, four pieces of thick smoked bacon, a stack of fluffy pancakes smothered in real maple syrup, and a large pot of hot black tea.

Gaby sat and wrapped her large hands around a mug of strong hot coffee. The older woman gazed at Becca with dark eyes, her face etched with fine lines that indicated a lifetime spent outdoors in the Arizona sun.

Becca didn’t know what to say to this woman who she knew only through stories told by her Aunt Ruthie. The two women had been college roommates, both history majors at Northern Arizona University. After graduation, a continent had come between them, with Ruthie moving back to New Jersey and Gaby remaining in her home state. But the two women never lost contact, had often visited over the years. When it became clear that Becca needed to leave, her aunt had insisted she would be safe with Gaby.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Gaby smiled. “I left some towels in your room. You can shower or take a bath, if you’d like. Then, rest. We’ll talk later.”

All Becca could do was nod.

2

“Sorry, I’m late. I had a visitor come in early in the morning. I wanted to be there when she woke up.”

“No worries, Gaby. We’ve had a lot of folks show up to help.” Beverly Winthrop, blond hair pulled into a tight ponytail, peered from behind dark designer sunglasses. She pointed a red-manicured fingernail at the rocky beach beneath her feet. “They found her right here, poor little thing. Someone shot her in the neck. Shotgun. She was already dead when we got here. She was only six months old.”

Gaby stared across the sparkling Salt River, splashes of light igniting as the water rolled over colorful river rocks. “No matter how many times I see this kind of animal cruelty, I just can’t wrap my head around it, Bev.”

“Me either. But we have work to do. Two other horses were wounded and ran. A kayaker saw one down in the river, but the animal got up and bolted before anyone could get to it.” The executive director of the Salt River Wild Horse Volunteers tugged on the brim of her green cap, which bore the organization’s logo: a brown horse with a white blaze rising up out of the water, pawing at the air.

“How long have they been searching?”

“First light.”

“I’ll go set up the table. I’ve got sandwiches and hot coffee in the truck.” Gaby turned and headed back toward the pickup.

“You’ll be the most popular person out here,” Bev called as Gaby mounted the knoll that led to the parking lot.

A short time later, Gaby was unloading another cooler of food from the back of her truck. A white SUV with a red-and-black logo depicting a happy-looking cow and the words River Rock Ranch emblazoned on its side pulled up and parked next to her vehicle.

“Hola, Noah!” Gaby raised one hand in greeting as a tall, dark-haired man descended from the truck.

“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I had some work to do in Phoenix and couldn’t get away until now.” Gold flecks sparkled in his light-brown eyes.

“No apologies needed, Noah! I live just a few miles away, and I didn’t make it until about thirty minutes ago. Had a guest come in late.”

“I didn’t know the inn was open.”

“Well, it’s a long story.” Gaby nodded toward several people on the riverside. “Luckily, about twenty volunteers beat us here.”

“Good people.” Noah reached into the bed of Gaby’s truck and hoisted a container filled with hot coffee.

As soon as they arranged the food on the table that Gaby had set up in a rocky area near a tall stand of bamboo-like plants called giant reed, volunteers almost miraculously appeared from the brush.

“I can smell that coffee from here!” An elderly bearded man smiled as he approached the table.

“Any sign of the injured horses, Bob?” Noah handed the man a cardboard cup filled with black coffee.

“Nothing.” Bob took the paper-wrapped sub sandwich Gaby proffered. “Maybe that means they weren’t hurt too bad.”

“Here’s hoping,” Noah said. “Condiments are at the end of the table.”

“This ain’t my first rodeo.” Bob squinted. “I know where they are.”

“Yes, sir.” Noah grinned and tapped the brim of his brown Stetson.

A few hours later, when the sun had slipped behind the McDowell Mountains, not a sandwich remained, and the coffee containers had been drained dry. Gaby and Noah folded up the table.

“Just saw the last of the volunteers off,” Bev said. “Anything I can help you with?”

“We’ve got it.” Gaby hoisted her end of the table off the ground and helped Noah carry it up the hill. “Are we on call for tomorrow?”

Bev followed as they made their way to the parking area, the only sound the crunching of their boots on the rocky ground. “No. We found nothing. Maybe they’re not badly injured. I’ll post a notice on our website with the emergency number. Hopefully, someone will call if they see anything.”

“Any word from the sheriff’s office?” Noah helped Gaby slide the table into her pickup.

Bev shook her head. “Nothing, except that description of the guy in the green shirt and black shorts. And the fact that there may have been two other idiots with him.”

“Are we thinking just typical dopes with guns who want to shoot something?” Noah lifted the tailgate of Gaby’s 20-year-old truck, and the door latched with a clang. “Or something more politically motivated?”

“Who knows?” Bev waved one hand in the air. “Thanks for coming out.”

“See ya, Bev.” Gaby opened the driver-side door. “You didn’t eat anything, Noah. You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

“I was hoping you’d ask.”