Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 51792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51792 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
His head bobbed. “I thought so. My life pretty much ended the day she died. But…”
I turned to face him. “But?”
“But even if a love like I had with my wife only happens once in a lifetime, it doesn’t mean I have to be lonely.”
I would have asked more questions if a once-in-a-lifetime sight wasn’t galloping in our direction. “That couldn’t be—”
“A wild mustang,” he said, getting to his feet.
My gaze never left the spotted horse as he came near. “Does this happen often?”
“No, and stay here,” James said, moving toward the porch stairs.
I couldn’t, following in his wake.
“Whoa, boy,” James called out with his hands raised.
The mustang reared on his hind legs, snorting out his displeasure.
“Uwoduhi soquili,” I said, trying to soothe the mustang. He neighed in my direction.
James stepped back as I held out a tentative hand. “O’siyo,” I said in greeting. The mustang calmed more, enough for me to place a hand on the bridge of the horse’s nose. “Do hi tsu, uwoduhi?”
The roar of an engine barreling in our direction unsettled the horse, and he pulled back to run. I watched him flee toward the cover of trees at the base of the mountains off in the distance.
Mitchell pulled the truck to a stop and jumped out. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted at me.
I narrowed my eyes. “What’s your problem?”
He jabbed his hand in the direction of the fleeing horse. “Wild mustang. They can be dangerous, and you were close enough for it to nip at you.”
“Whoa there,” James said with his hands outstretched, much in the same way he’d done to not spook the horse. “That mustang took to her like a foal to its mare.” James looked at me. “What was that language?”
“Cherokee,” I said, standing proud of my heritage. “My mom was Cherokee.”
“Ah,” James said, tipping his head back. “What did you say to it?”
I shrugged. “I called him a beautiful horse before greeting him. ‘Uwoduhi soquili’ means beautiful horse. ‘O’siyo’ is hello.”
A glance in Mitchell’s direction showed he was trying to decide if he wanted to remain pissed off or be intrigued, if the wrinkle at the bridge of his nose was any indication.
Mitchell asked the question I usually got when I revealed my mom was Native American. “Your hair?”
“My dad is of Irish descent and blond. Mom said when I was born, she was surprised by the band of golden curls on my head. She said they were like sunbeams had attached themselves to me.”
“Sunshine,” Mitchell said, his magnetic focus drawing me in. I nodded. “It suits you.”
It wasn’t until James cleared his throat I remembered Mitchell and I weren’t alone. “I could leave you two.”
Mitchell snapped out of it. His eyes narrowed. “I think it’s about time we talked.”
“I’m going for a walk,” I announced. I wanted to give them privacy. But I also needed distance.
My heart still raced in my chest at the same pace the mustang had raced away. This weekend couldn’t come soon enough. I needed a distraction. In the meantime, I also felt the pull toward the horse. James said they didn’t run wild here on his ranch. What had brought the horse here? Mom had always said wild mustangs ran in herds. Yet this one had been all alone.
He was likely hurt or had been cast out by an alpha male when he’d matured enough to take a mate. I’d ridden a wild horse once when I was young. Mom said I had the gift. But we rarely saw a wild herd. They usually stayed far enough away from people. Even though we’d lived in a remote area of our mountain, they could sense us the way we sensed them.
As I walked, my mind traveled back to Mitchell. I wondered what had gotten him so surly. Had things gone well with Zoe at the new school? I hoped so. That child had been through more than most in a short time.
THIRTEEN
Mitchell
It was obvious Dad had decided to talk to me. He could have easily taken off like he’d done every morning since I’d arrived. But he was here. And I was glad. Sunshine was too trusting. I’d heard enough stories about encounters with a wild herd to know how bad things could have gone.
I met my father’s hard stare with my own. “Are you going to tell me why you kept my daughter from me?”
Dad didn’t back down. “Are you ready to listen?”
Parents often claimed they didn’t have favorites. But the truth was, Dad and Nate got along better. Same with me and Mom. Dad was a guy who worked with his hands and might have a been a baseball legend if not for an injury that had sidelined him. I was a thinker, which often confounded my father, especially with my questions and the logic behind them.