A Rush of Wings Read online

  He held her case to his chest. “Why don’t we search out some fun instead?”

  “No thanks.”

  He sighed. “You’re certainly stuck in the ‘no’ mode.”

  She reached for her case. “Will you excuse me?”

  He handed it over reluctantly. She headed down the stairs, then frowned as Rick led out the mare again. She was a nice horse but stolid and mild-mannered. Noelle craved an animal with spirit. Hadn’t she shown what she could do?

  He obviously caught her look. “Aldebaran’s a good horse. She knows her way home if you get into trouble.”

  Noelle stroked the dark muzzle. “I won’t get into trouble.”

  “Or stray from the ranch.”

  She glanced up quickly. Was he referring to her episode in town?

  “You do understand the boundaries stop here at the stable?”

  She nodded, chagrinned. If he’d hollered or scolded or revoked her privilege she would have insisted he hadn’t mentioned that boundary before. But he did none of that.

  He tied the wooden box to the back of the saddle. “Then this mare’s a good choice.”

  “Have I another?”

  “String horses.” He tightened the cinch. “They work pretty well for riders who don’t know a stirrup from a rein.”

  That was a compliment at least, an acknowledgement of her ability. “I could take the buckskin…. What’s his name?”

  “Orion.”

  That gelding at least had size and power. “Well?”

  “Nope.”

  She sighed. Better not push her luck just yet. She recalled Rick’s blessing that morning, thanking God for all he’d been given. No point arguing with someone who thought God gave him dominion over everything that crawled the earth.

  She mounted. All she wanted to think about was the sunshine on the meadow above her, the willing horse beneath her, and the scene awaiting her brush. She brought the mare around and started up the slope.

  The morning chill lingered, though the sun was sharp in the sky. The creek in its stony bed called to her with the voices of naiads. She almost expected to see the water spirits take their maidenly shapes and dance along the banks. She dismounted and dipped her fingers into the flow, stunned by the icy touch. Even the summer sun did little to warm the water, fresh from some spring or glacier melt.

  The professor said all the rivers in Colorado sprang from the mountains and flowed outward. No other rivers flowed in. Touching the water now, she felt the newness. This was a beginning for her too. She remounted and continued on, turning into the woods. Light and shadow played over her as she rode.

  Aldebaran stepped nimbly through the woods, and Noelle patted her neck. She was a sweet-tempered horse, if lacking in spunk. Unfortunately they were too well suited. But Noelle was changing that. It wasn’t spunk that had driven her here, but now that she depended only on herself, something stirred inside. She emerged into the bright sunshine of the meadow, the high pasture and the fenced corral ahead. Rick had driven up in his truck and was there running the colt around and around on the long rope.

  She stopped to watch. Slowly he pulled in the rope, talking low. The roan’s hide rippled with the sleek muscles beneath, quivering as Rick reached out and stroked him, then ran his hand down the neck and wither. Rick’s own muscles bunched as he gripped the saddle horn. With a smooth motion he was up.

  The horse reared and kicked, bucked stiff legged, then jackknifed. Rick landed in the dirt and the colt stopped kicking, wasting no effort once his goal was met. Rick got up, shook himself off, and caught colt’s rope, then led him to where Noelle stood at the fence. “He thinks he has to do that.”

  The horse tugged against his hold, and she reached a hand to his muzzle. “I’m sure I could ride him.”

  “Yeah, he’s just itching to carry you.”

  “Maybe it’s only you he fights.”

  “I kind of doubt it.”

  “You won’t know until you let me try.” She gave him her full, most winning smile.

  Rick returned it with his lips only. “Sorry.”

  She cloaked her annoyance. “Why doesn’t Morgan work the horses with you?”

  “He doesn’t like pain.”

  She laughed. “And you do?”

  “I don’t exactly like it, but I accept it as part of the process.”

  “Why is he here at the ranch?”

  Rick rubbed his forehead with his sleeve. “He’s between things.”

  “Oh.” Unemployed, downsized, canned. All the situations that “between things” euphemized. Noelle tickled the horse’s chin, and he nodded. “I think he likes me.”

  “Morgan?”

  She frowned. “Destiny. I think he’d carry me.”

  “Forget it.”

  She added stubborn to her listing of Rick’s nature and left him to find a suitable scene to paint. She hadn’t gone far enough though, as Shelby’s boys swarmed her from the woods with a hundred questions, killing both the wisdom of the trees and the naiad voices.

  “Where’d you get the paints?”

  “Can I try it?”

  “How come you get a horse by yourself?”

  “Can we ride it?”

  Yes, take her and leave! But then the morning light was gone on her subject, and the creative flow strangled. She packed up her materials and folded the easel back into the case. Then she looked at the three boys, noting their eager freckled faces.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “She told us to scram.”

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? “Did your parents sign a waiver for you to ride?”

  The oldest shrugged. “I don’t know. They didn’t want to pay extra for horse riding.”

  Pay extra? Rick had said nothing about that.

  “They don’t like horses.” The oldest boy ran his forearm under his nose.

  “I do.” That one was Sean, who had dropped the popcorn into fire.

  She nodded to the oldest. “What’s your name?”

  “Sam.”

  “Climb into the saddle, Sam.” She held Aldebaran’s head while he mounted clumsily. “Have you ever ridden?”

  The boys shook their heads. She was probably on shaky ground, but refusing them now seemed cruel. Every child should experience a horse at least once. Her first ride had been magical.

  She helped Sean up behind the saddle, and he wrapped his arms around Sam. She lifted the youngest into the saddle with Sam. A tight fit but manageable. “What’s your name?”

  “He’s Scotty,” Sam said.

  She placed the redhead’s hands on the saddle horn. “Hold on tight right there, Scotty.”

  She took the reins and walked Aldebaran carefully from the trees into the meadow. The boys’ grins bunched their freckles, but they held still and stayed quiet, a feat she hadn’t thought possible. They were probably terrified. She walked the mare all the way to Rick’s corral, where he once again circled the stallion on the long rope.

  Seeing them approach, he slowed the horse and drew it in. As she stopped Aldebaran, he caught hold of the rope at Destiny’s halter. Without speaking, she wrapped the mare’s reins and removed the boys one by one from Aldebaran’s back. They clambered onto the fence, peppering him with questions. With a smile she mounted, turned the mare’s head, and went back for her wooden case, satisfaction fairly oozing from her pores.

  Just before dinnertime that evening, Rick approached her on the porch. “I don’t suppose the boys told you their family didn’t sign a waiver.”

  “They thought probably not.” She smiled. “Sure enjoyed the ride, though, didn’t they?”

  He hung his thumbs from his belt and eyed her. “The reason I have the waiver is so all parties understand the possible dangers.”

  “Is Aldebaran dangerous?”

  “Noelle …” He seemed at a loss. “Do you have a problem with rules?”

  Yes. More so than she’d ever realized. “I thought they’d enjoy watching you work.”

&
nbsp; He held her gaze straight on. “Was that what you thought.” His tone made it an untruth, not a question. “Their noise and monkeying on the fence put Destiny so far over the edge, I had to quit.” He lifted one foot to the middle step. “But that’s not the point. I run a careful operation. I can’t have people crossing highways on my animals and giving rides to kids without permission.”

  She winced inwardly but had no answer.

  “I pay plenty in liability insurance, but I’d prefer not to place a claim. This ranch has a reputation, and so do I.”

  He did have a point. She said, “I understand.”

  He drew himself up. “Good.” Then he took the steps purposefully and went inside.

  Noelle took a slow breath. What was she doing, antagonizing the man who’d given her a place to stay? What if he asked her to leave? The thought was sobering. She didn’t want to leave.

  Checking her watch, she went inside for dinner. Morgan must have found his excitement elsewhere, because he didn’t join them. A new family had taken the Pathfinders’ cabin, and the professor turned his welcome on the lanky couple and two preteen daughters. The honeymooners also appeared, and the talk turned spiritual—the professor probing and the others responding enthusiastically.

  Professor Jenkins’s esoteric input contrasted with the newly married couple, who talked as though faith in God was a relationship as real as their own, not one mythology among many. Noelle tried not to stare. The husband was probably her own age, but the wife spoke like a child with embarrassing naïveté. Could she actually believe the things she said?

  Noelle stayed quiet but studied them all with interest. Rick said little as well, though what he offered seemed pithy in a way she wasn’t sure she understood. As soon as she could, she went upstairs with a history of Western women. She slept deeply that night without dreams—at none that made her shake and whimper. Maybe the ghost that chased her there would stay away for good.

  Only birdsong and crickets broke the silence the next morning as she slipped out into the pre-dawn glow. She had wakened early, eager for the day in a way she’d never been before. She glanced at Professor Jenkins, who leaned on the porch rail, pipe in hand. His piquant tobacco mingled with the ranch smells and the mountain flora.

  She raised her face to the coolness. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning to you.” He lifted his pipe to her.

  “Ruminating?”

  His smile formed crescent creases around his eyes and deepened the lines beside his mouth. “Have to. You see, my treatise is on expansion itself, the drive behind it and the human spirit that longs for it.” He cradled the bowl of his pipe with his palm. “To capture the essence of the human spirit … now, that’s a challenge.”

  “Quite an undertaking. Why does it matter?”

  He turned. “You are an artist. Why?”

  “Well, I’ve had—”

  “Please don’t tell me because you were instructed in art. I passed you in the woods yesterday as you worked, and I saw no trained animal.”

  “What did you see?”

  “Someone in love with the beautiful, transcending the natural.” He puffed on his pipe. “I think, like me, you seek that same human spirit and perhaps a part of the divine as well.”

  She regarded him closely. “How did you come to that just from seeing me work?”

  Professor Jenkins smiled. “Not just from that. I’m also a student of human nature.”

  Noelle looked out at the paling sky. “I don’t think my work is as lofty as that.”

  “Do you paint for money?”

  Now there was a thought. “If I could.”

  He motioned with his pipe. “A touch of the practical perhaps, but it’s not at the heart of what you do.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’ve never made a cent on it.” Nor even tried.

  She laughed. “Well, I’ll miss the sun if I don’t hurry.”

  “It’ll rise again tomorrow.”

  “But it won’t be the same as today’s.”

  “Ah. You prove my point.”

  She found Rick in the stable and waited while he picked Orion’s hoof, then applied a thrush-prevention product to the sole and frog. He looked up as he released the left hind hoof and raised the right. “Out early today?”

  “I want to catch the sunrise.”

  “Your mount is ready.” He nodded toward the mare.

  Noelle took Aldebaran’s reins and led her out. There was no point arguing. Rick was as implacable as the crag that rose up from his land. But he’d made his position clear. It was his ranch and he ran it with integrity, a value she could respect. Last night’s conversation had clarified exactly what sort of place she’d come to. She wondered for a moment what direction the table talk would have taken with Morgan there. Was he the dark horse he appeared, or did he espouse the same beliefs?

  Noelle shook her head. It didn’t matter. As she rode, she matched her motion to the steady rhythm of the horse. She crossed the stream and climbed the slope, until she saw what she wanted. Then she dismounted, tethered the mare, and unstrapped the wooden box.

  The birth of sunlight sent shafts through the trees that illuminated them with gold and glanced off the dew-dropped aspen leaves. Clumps of mountain mahogany and sumac huddled beneath the trunks, while a wild rose rambled above the kinnikinnick. Wild strawberries bloomed with tiny white petals surrounding a raised yellow button.

  Noelle assembled her easel and laid the stiff rag paper onto it. She squeezed dabs of paint onto her pallette and unscrewed the lid from the distilled water. She closed her eyes and drew the crisp mountain air into her lungs. “Someone in love with the beautiful.” Perhaps, Professor. Perhaps. She dipped her brush and drew it across the white with a swath of beige that would become the crag.

  When she returned to the house, Professor Jenkins was once again, or still, at the table on the verandah, papers scattered around him, pipe puffing. “And were we successful?”

  “I’m not sure.” Noelle dropped down beside him. “Tell me what you think.” She pulled the watercolor from the case and set it before him. Waiting, she caught her lip between her teeth.

  Tipping his glasses down, he gazed at the work, silence stretching. Then, “I’m no artist by any stretch. But it seems to me you could seek a practical avenue for this caliber of work. Have you talked to the gallery?”

  Noelle shook her head.

  “I would.”

  She could tell by his frank expression he didn’t flatter. He believed she had potential. Her spirits soared, but she masked it as she returned the picture to its case. “And you? Is your work progressing?”

  “I’m moving on tomorrow.”

  “You mean leaving?”

  He nodded.

  She felt an unexpected disappointment but said, “In the true spirit of expansion.”

  He chuckled. “Exactly.”

  CHAPTER

  6

  Michael woke in a sweat. The dream had been too real, a reenactment of the one thing in his life he’d undo if he could. No, not the one thing. He would undo most of his life if he could. He passed a hand over his eyes, groaning. The dream had drained him, and he couldn’t afford that. William needed him sharp.

  To the man’s credit, nothing had changed between them professionally these last weeks. William compartmentalized his life, and Michael aspired to that deep a focus. Now was a good time to perfect it. They scarcely mentioned Noelle; an unstated understanding that the other would be informed the moment there was any news. But Michael wondered. If he learned from Sebastian where she was, would he tell William?

  He looked at the red numbers on the clock. He always woke before the alarm, though not usually so rudely. He shook the dream from his mind. Of course he would tell William. But not until he’d made her see, made her understand. What had happened was not what he’d intended.

  He showered, dressed, and took a cab to work. He reported smartly to William’s office. The man looked gray. “William?”r />
  William motioned him to a chair without looking up, then set the paper he was studying, folded his hands, and at last met his eyes.

  “Are you ill, sir?”

  William smiled grimly. “That bad, is it?”

  “I only meant…”

  William held up a hand. “Nothing but the truth.”

  An attempt at humor. Michael smiled obligingly. What was wrong with the man? His chest seized. “Is it Noelle?” Had they spoken? Had she…

  “Did you know that she was kidnapped?”

  “What!” Michael exploded from his seat.

  William shook his head. “Sit down.” He motioned with his hand. “I don’t mean now. Obviously. I wouldn’t be sitting here if she were in danger.”

  Flushing at his foolishness, Michael took his seat, tried to get inside William’s head. What was he doing? Did he suspect…

  “It was years ago. But I spent a terrible night remembering. As you noticed.”

  So they’d both been wrung out. Michael felt a surge of pride that he’d overcome it better than William.

  “She was five years old, about to turn six.” William pinched the bridge of his nose. “You think you’ve covered the possibilities, but you never think of some things until they happen. And it did. A parent’s worst fear.”

  “Who took her? Why?”

  William stood up and walked to the window behind the desk. “I was prosecuting a federal case, a defendant with deep connections.”

  Michael knew William had started out in prosecution, then switched to defense law. Was this the reason?

  “My case against him was tenuous, but I had the reputation, the tenacity to pull it off. So they took Noelle.” He made a sweeping gesture. “Just took her.”

  Michael frowned. He hadn’t known any of that.

  William shook his head. “They found the place I was weak.”

  The place he was weak. What would he do if he knew the truth now? “What did you do?”

  William leaned slowly back in his chair. “Resigned my position as district attorney.”

  “Why not just lose the case?”