Nowhere to Hide(96)
“Well,” he drawled, “This is your surprise. They have trail rides into the woods. They’ve kept some of the mustangs as trail horses. We can rent them by the hour and go out with or without a guide.”
He loved to create opportunities for the little girl in her to come out and play. And that was exactly what Cav had in mind today: play. “I know how much you love to ride and since you’ve been back here to the States, you haven’t had a chance to do it. As I recall, one of the families in La Fortuna used to let you ride their horse, and you’d go down jungle trails for a few hours every week.”
She smiled. “You found that out, did you?”
“I’m a SEAL, remember?” He couldn’t resist teasing her. As he met her smile, he saw the gratitude in her eyes. “So? Are you ready to put our lunch in a set of saddlebags, throw a leg over a good horse, and go take a ride into those woods behind the farmhouse?”
“Cav,” she said, her voice suddenly strained, “This is beyond wonderful.” She reached out and gripped his hand. “Thank you…”
He closed his fingers over hers, watching her blink back tears. Some day, Cav hoped that Lia would allow those tears to fall whenever they wanted. He would be there to hold her when she cried, but right now, she didn’t know that. Lia squeezed his hand again, released it, and eagerly climbed out of the Jeep.
Deb Fagone met them on the porch, smiling and shaking their hands. For the next hour, she gave them a tour of the facilities. The black dog, Champ, followed them everywhere they went. Lia felt so many old memories surfacing as Deb took her through the huge, airy barn. It was over a hundred years old, but freshly painted and well cared for. She saw a number of mustang broodmares nearly ready to foal, standing in large, clean stalls on the first floor. She sighed as she inhaled the sweet scent of timothy hay. It brought back so many wonderful memories of her childhood, and of being with Goldy.
Jack Fagone was out in a smaller wooden corral as Deb led them down to the rear of the barn area. Lia saw two horses with western saddles and bridles standing with legs cocked, half asleep. She instantly liked Jack, a man of about forty-five with a big, welcoming smile as they drew up to the gate. He shook both their hands, handed Lia a trail map encased in plastic, and pointed out several trails they might take. And then he opened the gate, inviting them in.
Lia immediately zeroed in on one particular mustang—a palomino like her Goldy. Jack was actually leading him out to where she stood. Glancing to her right, where Cav stood, his hands on his hips, she whispered, “You found a palomino!”
He leaned down, placing a kiss on her hair. “Yep, I got lucky. I explained to Jack and Deb that you’d once owned a palomino and they just happened to have Sunny, here, as one of their trail horses.” He became serious and touched her ruddy cheek. “I want you to be happy, Lia.”
The gruffness in his voice, the thickening of emotions carried within it, made her heart open as nothing else ever had. The care burning in his eyes for her, the love she knew Cav had never spoken about to her, was there. She turned, throwing her arms around his shoulders, crushing him against her with the strength of her own love. “This means so much to me, Cav,” she cried, closing her eyes, she held him as his arms slid around her waist. “Thank you…thank you!”
She reached up and kissed him.
He embraced her, kissed her cheek and when she offered her mouth, he took it gently. His gift to her was a day to be with horses again. His breath was stolen by the incredible joy her kiss conveyed against his mouth. While Cav wanted time for them to simply be with one another, he knew that wasn’t today’s reality, but he felt it coming.
“Hey,” he grinned, “Let’s go for a trail ride.”
Just the clip-clop of a horse swaying rhythmically beneath Lia made her want to shout to the sky. She led on Sunny, the beautiful, gentle mustang gelding. The horse obviously knew the quiet, wide trail that wound through the hills and vales of the woodlands. Behind her, Cav was mounted on a much taller mustang called Ziggy. He was a grulla dun, a gunmetal gray color with a black mane and tail and lower legs. He even had that telltale black dorsal stripe running down the center of his back, proclaiming his Spanish heritage.
Lia knew that the Spanish had ridden their horses into America, and some of the Spanish horses, part Arabian, had escaped from where they were tied each night. It was from those escapees that mustangs had been born and ran the plains and mountains of western United States.
She knew her mustang history well because when she found out from her father that Goldy was half mustang, she’d hungrily explored their history. At one time, ten thousand years ago, a small type of horse had lived in North America, but eventually died out. When the Spanish explored the Southwest, the stallions and mares that had escaped from their owners populated the West. The horses were later caught and tamed by Native Americans.