CHAPTER 4
Two weeks later
Sterling huddled deeper into his coat, squinting into the snow flurries. They were going to have to break for the day if the visibility got any worse. Weather reports had called for blowing snow. He didn’t realize that meant nearly whiteout conditions even though less than six inches covered the ground.
Axel pulled up next to him. “I’d give my left nut for a hot shower right now.”
Sterling chuckled. “Suck it up. You’ll have your shower tomorrow. We still have two weeks.”
“I don’t know how you guys do it.”
“Easy. This ain’t so bad.” He’d loved every minute, so far. Sure, parts had been brutal. Slogging through ice had sucked. Unfreezing his hands hurt. Working to forge a connection with his horse, Bingo, and his pack horse, Trixie, was an ongoing challenge, but he was getting there. “For starters, no one’s shooting at us.”
“Hope’s meeting me at our rendezvous point tonight.”
No chance of breaking early, then. No problem. He was tired, but nowhere close to breaking. The weather would have to throw much worse at him before he’d throw in the towel. And if the horses could hack it, he could too.
Axel reached to pat his horse, Ricky, on the neck. “I want you to focus on one thing with your mounts the last phase of this journey.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re still treating your horse like an obstacle to overcome. That’s why she gets tetchy. You’re like a wolf hunting prey, and she picks up on that. You’ve gotta bring it down. Dial into Bingo’s feelings, Bingo’s anxiety. What makes her tick. If she’s anxious, it’s probably because she doesn’t feel safe with you yet.”
That stung. He liked Bingo. This was the most riding he’d done in years, and he’d forgotten how much he loved being out on horseback. The sore, achy muscles were worth it. But Axel was right. Every morning he went through the same ordeal with Bingo, struggling to settle her. Struggling to get her saddled, to clean her feet. Like he was starting all over with the horse again. It frustrated him that he couldn’t wrap his head around that part of it.
“I don’t get it. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”
Axel shrugged. “It’s hard to say. On the outside, you’re doing all the right things.”
“So it’s me,” he said, trying not to let disappointment creep into his voice. “You’re saying she has a problem with me.”
“You’ll probably hear Hope say this when she joins y’all. A horse can sense your bullshit long before you do. They won’t trust you unless you’re completely honest with them. Or yourself.”
Huh. Sterling blew out a breath. “So you’re saying I haven’t been honest with the horse?”
That sounded far-fetched. But Bingo was right.
He’d wrapped himself in a cloak of supreme confidence for the sake of the mission for so many years, he wasn’t sure it could come off. It was baked into his skin, like an exoskeleton. Was that what Emma had reacted to for so many years? She’d grown up around horses, so it was possible. It was also possible she had a sensitive bullshit meter.
Was that why she’d fled on New Year’s Eve? Her bullshit meter had gone haywire? For a shining, sweet moment, he’d felt a connection with her. Something true and deep. He’d never have suggested a kiss otherwise. He was a risk-taker, not a glutton for punishment. But he’d fallen back on his favorite MO – his irresistible charm.
Still, she hadn’t said no.
He’d take not tonight. Those words held a glimmer of hope. She could have told him to fuck off. He’d half expected her to, so he’d count not tonight as a win.
Grief stabbed through him as Johnny’s laugh rang through his head. Someday, Walker… You’re not going to know what hit you. And I’ll be laughing my ass off when the woman of your dreams conks you on the head with a two-by-four.
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. Nope. There would be no woman of his dreams. Not if he couldn’t guarantee her happiness. And nobody could do that. Not even Superman.
He tossed and turned that night, tent flapping in the wind. A rock dug into the small of his back. Cold seemed to permeate his sleeping bag. His dreams were haunted by faces. Jason’s grimace of agony at Walter Reed. Johnny’s vacant hopeless stare the last time they’d shared a meal. Macey’s face pinched with grief. Emma’s sparkling eyes on New Year’s Eve, her smile reflecting all the light in the room. He woke grouchy and bone tired. His knee ached.
The tent rattled.
“Up and at ’em. We’re burnin’ daylight,” Hope’s voice called from the other side.
He dressed quickly, hands stiff from the days of holding reins and pack-lines. A fire crackled in the crisp air and the few remaining clouds fired in shades of orange and coral. It was quite a vision, three-hundred-sixty degrees of white expanse, hardly a tree in sight. Today would be a long ride. They’d finish in the dark, passing through the Rita Blanca National Grasslands and making camp somewhere outside of Clayton New Mexico. This part of the United States was as desolate as any place he’d been in the Sandbox. He appreciated the stark beauty of it. The myriad of stars by night, and the vast emptiness by day that reminded him of his insignificance. Demanded his respect.
Hope handed him a steaming cup of coffee. He wrapped his hands around the camp mug, drawing warmth from the sides.
“Axe mentioned you’ve been having trouble with Bingo?”
“It’s nothing. She’s just ornery.”
“I trained Bingo. She’s not ornery. But she is particular. And mistrustful.” She eyed him critically. “How much time do you spend with her not riding?”
“None.” He shifted uncomfortably. He’d been too busy helping make camp or taking his turn at meal prep. Besides, Bingo was just a horse.
“Finish up your coffee and go spend ten minutes with her. Don’t touch her. And don’t look her directly in the eye. That’s a predatory move. Just stand there. Be with her. Get your breathing in sync with hers. And then talk to her. Can be about anything you want. Keep your voice soft and low. I’ll come check on you when you’re done.
“That’s it? You want me to talk to my horse?”
Hope flashed him a grin. “Or you could continue with your current struggle.” She shrugged. “Up to you.”
Johnny was surely laughing down at him now.
He gulped down his coffee and jammed his hands deep into his coat pockets, making his way to where the horses were corralled. Bingo stood on the end, next to Trixie. She swung her head his direction as she heard him approach. He stopped a little more than an arm’s length away. Her tail flicked, and she turned her head away, pawing the ground. Same as every morning. But this time he stood there, studying her, trying to sync his breathing to hers.
After a minute or two, he caught it. All at once, his belly warmed. His awareness expanded. In the distance a songbird chirped. Behind him, he could hear the camp noises as Cash prepared breakfast. The smell of sausage drifted over. This was different than the adrenaline driven hyperawareness of a mission. This was… softer. Scarier.
It hit him. He wasn’t in control. Fear and excitement pressed on his chest, squeezing his throat. He’d never felt so vulnerable… so exposed. After a minute she turned her head back toward him again. Like Bingo was looking right into his soul.
“Hey, girl.” The words rose unbidden. “Did you rest okay? Ready for a big day?” He took a shuddering breath. “I didn’t sleep so well.”
It felt so strange. Talking to a horse like little Sophie talked to her stuffed animals. But if she could do it, so could he.
He started again. “So… I have a friend who died.” The air in his chest squeezed out. “I really miss him, and I’m having trouble figuring out my life. I’ll tell you, because you’re a horse and you’re not going to say anything, but I think I’m doing a piss-poor job of it right now. And I want to help other guys like us. And I don’t know how. And I’m cold and tired, and we still have two weeks left on this crazy Santa Fe Trail trek, and I can’t stop thinking about Emma.”