FORBIDDEN SPIRITS

BOOK 10: DANCING MOON RANCH SERIES

Patricia Watters

DANCING MOON RANCH SERIES

Prequel: Justified Deception

LIVING WITH LIES TRILOGY

Book 1: Righteous Lies

Book 2: Pandora's Box

Book 3: False Pretenses

THE LIES UNCOVERED TRILOGY

Book 4: Uncertain Loyalties

Book 5: Becoming Jesse's Father

Book 6: Bittersweet Return

CUTTING THE TIES TRILOGY

Book 7: Cross Purposes

Book 8: Dancing With Danger

Book 9: Bucking the Odds

BOUND BY LOVE TRILOGY

Book 10: Forbidden Spirits

Book 11: Imperfect Magic (late 2014)

Book 12: Sheer Combustion (early 2015)

Sequel: Finding Justice (mid 2015)

DESCRIPTION: Tyler Hansen has two passions: Roman riding his horses as a rodeo special event and learning the source of the voices
in Whispering Springs. All his life he's had a curiosity about the humanlike sounds in the mountain, and he's determined to learn the
source. Rose Starbright, a tribal member who works at the living museum on the ranch, also has two passions: weaving baskets, which
she sells in galleries, and documenting and preserving sacred sites, Whispering Springs being one of them. As legend goes, when a
person sits immersed in the pool and listens to the voices, that person is cleansed of evil spirits. Tyler has his own theory about the voices
and it has to do with trapped geysers, not spirits, so when he starts opening fissures Rose warns him to stop, that silencing the voices
could have dire consequences. But Tyler doesn't believe in spirits, only science, so he continues his crusade to find the source. And then
one day, the mountain is silent. And that's when Tyler's troubles truly begin.
.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or were used fictitiously and are not to be

construed as real. Any resemblance to events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

Copyright

2014 by Patricia Watters

Created by Patricia Watters

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part, or transmitted in any form or by any means by any electronic or mechanical or

other means, not known of hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system. The scanning,
uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Title of Work: Forbidden Spirits / by Patricia Watters

Domiciled in: United States of America

Nation of 1st Publication: United States of America

PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19

Did you know that trees talk? Well they do. They talk to each other, and they'll talk to you if you'll listen. Trouble is, white people
don't listen. They never learned to listen to the Indians so I don't suppose they'll listen to other voices in nature. But I have
learned a lot from trees: sometimes about the weather, sometimes about animals, sometimes about the Great Spirit." - Tatanga
Mani (Chief Walking Buffalo)

PROLOGUE

Oregon Coast, North of Cape Meares

Rose Starbright knew she was drifting between sleep and wakefulness, not quite in either reality.

The dampness of the fog that had wrapped around her like a blanket during the early hours before
daybreak seemed more real than dream, but the relentless ebb and flow of the ocean kept her in a
dream state. Shadowy figures move around her, like things reaching out, but below the rise where she
lay was an open beach washed with silvery foam from waves advancing and receding in the ethereal
light of dawn. In her dream she stood because something caught her attention. It was moving toward
her from a distance, but she couldn't make it out because of the fog that enclosed it, only that it was
moving fast. Then it began to take form. Horses, several of them running in pairs, silvery-white horses
they appeared to be as they came closer.

The horses emerged from out of the mist and became clearly visible in the pearly-gray light of

dawn. Three pairs of horses in a column galloped through the surf, moving in perfect unison while
running in the water where it washed up onto the sand then receded, leaving a glassy surface that
reflected the undersides of the horses. But what made Rose know this was a lucid dream, one in
which she was aware that she was dreaming even though she was still asleep, was because a man
stood on the backs of the pair of horses at the rear, one foot on each, the man's long hair streaming out
behind him, like something out of a mythical legend.

The horses turned then, making an elongated figure eight in the surf. The man seemed perfectly

balanced on the horses' backs as the team moved at a breathtaking speed, the dazzling brilliance of the
scene bringing Rose back to a time when she had a childlike fascination with magicians, and one had
just conjured up a beautiful mythical god, a centaur, half horse, half man, because no mortal man
could stand on the backs of horses while they galloped full out through the surf. The power of the
horses and their mysterious beauty, with their flowing manes and tails, and the intimacy of the
connection between the man and the animals at his command belonged in another world, like
something straight from a fairy tale or a heroic epic. Watching the man and horses moving freely was
something that a thousand over-used adjectives could not begin to touch because the scene was deep
in her core, deep in her dream state.

The horses turned in unison again, the relentless rhythmic motion of the waves lapping the shore

and the silvery-white reflections in the surf making the man and animals appear like a phantom from
the sea. They made one last sweeping turn and headed away, disappearing into the billow of low
clouds that seemed to swallow them. And then they were gone.

Rose found herself standing and looking at the vacant seashore. She was tempted to walk down

to the beach and see if there were hoof prints in the sand, but she knew it was pointless because it had
been a lucid dream, or maybe a hallucination as she emerged from a dream state. She held her hand
out in front of her. She was fully awake now because she saw her fingers clearly and felt the morning
mist against her skin.

And then it came to her, what her grandmother told her so many years ago, that if she led a pure

life her one true love would come to her in a dream. He'd have long flowing hair and would be riding
on the backs of white horses. Of course the long hair meant he'd be an Indian, her grandmother's way
of solidifying her wish that Rose marry within their culture, and the lucid dream had no doubt been

triggered by her grandmother's prognostication. In the end, though, the man did not come to her. He
simply disappeared into the fog.

CHAPTER 1

Dancing Moon Ranch, Sheridan, Oregon

Rock hammer and chisel in his hand, Tyler Hansen headed for Whispering Springs, determined to

test his theory while Marc was away. Marc and Kit and little Lizzy were staying with Ryan and Annie
at the Kincaid Ranch while Marc did a site study of the petroglyphs in the box canyon near the ranch,
and they'd be there for several weeks.

Tyler had waited intentionally until Marc was gone because Marc guarded Whispering Springs

like it was sacred, when in fact it was nothing more than a hot spring pool fed by what he suspected
was an underground geyser that cycled at regular intervals, and the voices emanating from inside the
mountain were the result of hot air seeping through cracks and fissures. The family and ranch guests
and tribal members from the nearby reservation credited the voices to spirits and legends and
idealistic imaginings, which was fine for its purpose of romanticizing something that was in reality
nothing more than a glorified hot tub.

He'd set out for the hot spring at daybreak when the surroundings were still a colorless gray so

no one would be there. Dawn was his favorite time of day and always had been, that and at night
when the moon was out. Midday became too congested with people and activity, something he
avoided, which wasn't easy to do on a guest ranch that included a winery and a living museum
comprised of a plankhouse, several pit houses, and a few other structures representing a village that
once stood where the Indian mound rose, something that attracted numerous visitors during the
summer months.

As he approached the entrance to the cavern, Tyler wasn't sure, but it looked as if light was

coming from inside, and as he moved closer, he got a whiff of smoke, like cedar or fir burning. He
walked beneath the arched rock opening and went far enough into the cavern to see that he was right
on both counts.

The light inside was dim, no more than what came from a wind-up lantern, which sat on the rock

floor off to the side of the hot spring pool, but from that glow he made out a tiny vessel with a curved
handle and smoke curling from its mouth, and in the pool was a woman. He could tell from the golden
light on her bare back, small waist and tapered hips that she was naked. She wouldn't know he was
there because her back was to him and the area where he stood was in shadow. Still, not wanting to
embarrass her, he backed out of the cavern and moved a short way down the trail so when she would
come out, it would appear as if he were just arriving.

It was some time before the woman emerged from the entrance. She wore jeans and a snug damp

T-shirt that clung to her slender figure, and she had a towel tucked in a roll under her arm. In one hand
she was holding the incense vessel, and in the other, the lantern. It was light enough now to see that
she was Native American, probably from the reservation down the road. She was clearly startled to
see him though, and maybe a little alarmed. It was an isolated place for any woman to be approached
by an unfamiliar man.

"Relax," he said. "I'm harmless."
She smiled vaguely, but it was a feigned smile because he could tell from the way her eyes

moved in an arc around his head that she was sizing up his long hair, which fell halfway down his
back and which he usually gathered into a horsetail, but hadn't bothered at this early hour.

The woman focused on his face again, and said, "I was just meditating and listening to the voices,

but I didn't expect to find anyone at the spring so early. Do you come often at this time?"

"When I come it's always at dawn so I can avoid people," Tyler replied.
The woman glanced down at the tools in his hand then looked at him with curiosity. He raised his

hand holding the hammer and chisel and answered her unasked question. "I'm doing a little research
here."

"Research with a hammer and chisel?" the woman asked.
"Something like that," Tyler replied. "I take it you're from the reservation."
The woman shrugged. "I could say the same of you from your facial characteristics. You have

high cheekbones and a prominent nose, and with your dark eyes and long dark hair, you're obviously
Indian."

Tyler was surprised she was so open with her assessment. Most people studied him in curiosity

but said nothing. "There's Nez Perce on my father's side," he replied, "but I'm the only one of us who
got the gene."

"There are more of you around here?" the woman asked.
Tyler nodded. "I have five brothers and a sister."
"Then you're… Marc Hansen's brother?" she asked, looking surprised.
Tyler laughed. "He and I are the oddballs in the family. I started out looking like every other

brother except Marc, then over the years broke the Jack Hansen mold and turned Indian."

"Are you okay with that?" the woman asked.
Tyler shrugged. "It makes no difference to me one way or another." He turned and looked down

the trail, and wondering how she got there from the reservation, asked, "Did you walk here from
wherever you live, or are you a guest at the ranch?" When he turned back she said nothing, just stared
at him in sustained silence, her eyes again moving in an arc around his head, and he knew she was
contemplating his hair again.

To partially answer her unspoken query, he said, "Long hair isn't to reaffirm my Indian blood. I

have other reasons. But you didn't answer my question about how you got here, not that you have to.
I'm just curious."

She blinked several times, like she'd just come out of a deep thought, and said, "I'm staying at

Marc and Kit's house while they're gone so I can run the living museum. I started working for them
last week." She again glanced down at the hammer and chisel in his hand. "What kind of research are
you doing with those?" she asked. There were distinct negative undertones.

"Proving a point," Tyler replied. "Everyone around here can do what they want with the

information when I'm done."

"I hope you don't plan to use those tools inside the cavern," the woman said, "because the place

is a sacred site and can't be tampered with."

"That hasn't been established," Tyler replied. "The petroglyphs on the wall indicate that it was a

place where couples came to increase fertility by soaking up the minerals in the water, but it's never
been designated a sacred site. Besides, I don't plan to chop holes in it, only open up a few fissures
and see what happens. By the way, I'm Tyler Hansen, and you are…?"

"Rose Starbright," the woman replied. "Does Marc know what you're about to do?"
Tyler had hoped to direct the conversation away from his objective because Marc and Kit, and

everyone else, would be against it, even though he had no intention of tampering with anything inside
the cavern where the images were, only the rock floor in an area that extended back into the mountain,
the section where he was fairly certain the sounds emerged. "Marc doesn't want anyone damaging or

altering the petroglyphs and I'll respect that," he said.

"Which means he doesn't know what you're about to do," Rose reaffirmed.
Tyler sucked in a long breath to stem his annoyance with this glitch in his plan. "Look, this place

belongs to my family so this is between them and me."

Rose eyed him with a direct gaze that let him know she wasn't backing down, and said, "Actually,

I'm involved with a group that's in the process of identifying and preserving sacred places, and
Whispering Springs is on our list. If it's established that it is a sacred site you could be prevented
from entering it at all, even if it is on your family's property."

Tyler stared at the woman. Dawn had broken and the surroundings had taken on the colors of

daylight and it bothered him that he was attracted to Rose Starbright, her big brown eyes and fine-
bone features framed by dark cascading hair having the effect of revving his heart up some and
making him want to reach for her, a reaction he hadn't expected and didn't want.

She was also making a hollow threat because Marc had designated Whispering Springs a

gathering place, not a sacred one, which made it exempt from regulation. But the woman had a very
determined look on her face, like a site exempt from regulation was only a temporary condition that
could be changed. It didn't matter though. He'd be finished testing his theory long before she could
begin a crusade to declare the place sacred, so her threat was irrelevant.

"I tell you what," he said. "I'll tinker around inside the cave and you can get on with your job at

the living museum and we'll both be gainfully occupied for the day."

Saying nothing, but shooting him a look that pretty much said it all, the woman made her way

around him and started down the trail. But partway down, she stopped and turned. She held a puzzled
expression on her face, and her lips were parted as if prepared to speak, stirring his curiosity as to
what she was about to say.

***

Rose hadn't planned to stop and look back but couldn't help it. She'd gone to the spring

specifically to try and get some answers as to why the dream at the beach had come to her when it
had. She'd even brought along a pot of cedar bark to burn. The day before, she'd asked her
grandmother about incenses to use when meditating, and her grandmother gave her a little packet of
cedar, claiming that the smoke from cedar, when burned as part of a ritual, carried prayers to the
Great Spirit. But her grandmother also warned that cedar was associated with sexuality and love and
to guard against impure thoughts that could become associated with the wrong man.

And then she walked out of the cavern to find a long-haired man, like the one in her dream,

standing just down the trail, looking at her as if he'd been expecting her. Even now, the way he was
standing with a breeze blowing his hair brought back the image of the man on the white horses, just as
the incense had done not more than twenty minutes before, when the dream in its clarity replayed in
her mind.

She was familiar with lucid dreaming because her grandmother had practiced it all her life and

relied on it for her vision quests, considering such dreams to be the foundation of all spiritual matters.
But the morning on the beach was the first time Rose had experienced one herself, though afterward
she decided it had been a hallucination brought on by a combination of coming out of a deep sleep
and the hypnotic effect of the ocean below the rise where she'd slept out that particular night.

And yet, here stood a long-haired man about the same proportions as the one in her dream, and he

arrived at the spring shortly after she'd heard the voices in the mountain and quieted her mind for

answers, and she couldn't help but puzzle at the coincidence. But she did know, without question, that
Tyler Hansen was not her one true love, nor was he aligned with Marc when it came to the living
museum and appreciating the ways of different ethnicities. Marc was dedicated to preserving cultures
and passing on the information, but with Tyler, she sensed that he possessed a spiritual void, which
both baffled and disturbed her.

How could he not feel something deeply spiritual when sitting in the pool? She felt such strong

vibes with something beyond her grasp that she didn't question a higher power with which she
connected and communicated, whether a person chose to call it God or the Great Spirit...

"You stopped for a reason?" Tyler asked.
Her mind still focused on the magic of the spring, Rose replied, somewhat distractedly, "Do you

ever sit in the pool?"

He looked at her curiously, like her question caught him off guard, then he shrugged and replied,

"Sure. It's a great place to be alone and connect with your subconscious and unclutter your mind."

"It's the voices," Rose said. "Without them you'd feel no connection. It would be like taking a

bath, nothing more, but when the voices come, things happen."

Tyler laughed in a way that irritated Rose because it was the laugh of a skeptic. "Being immersed

in warn water while surrounded by semi darkness gives your mind a chance to focus on issues that
matter to you," he said, "and what comes to you comes through the working of your logical mind, not
from some fantasy beings inside the mountain."

"Then you don't believe in any kind of spirits, or angels, or even a higher being who directs the

things we earthlings do?" Rose asked.

"I believe in facts when they're presented in a logical, reasonable way," Tyler replied.
"And you think you have the answer to the voices in the mountain," Rose said.
Tyler shrugged. "I have several theories, none of which include spirits or angels."
Rose folded her arms. "Go ahead then. I'm curious as to what your theories are."
Tyler smiled in what Rose construed as amusement, which had the odd effect of sending a little

ripple of awareness through her, awareness that she could be attracted to this man who looked, from
her lowered viewpoint, like an Indian from out of a Hollywood movie—tall and muscular and
unusually good-looking.

His eyes sharpened, like he'd just picked up on her musings, which bothered her and made her

determined to suppress such thoughts. "Well?" she asked. "You claim you have theories so go ahead,
convince me."

Tyler set his hammer and chisel on a rock and started toward her, while saying, "First, there's

sound amplification. Sound travels well through rock, even from miles away, so sounds from a
distance can be perceived as coming from inside the mountain. Caves also act like giant hearing aids.
When you're very quiet you begin to hear things you normally wouldn't hear because you are so quiet,
and when you can't identify the sounds, you compartmentalize them by labeling them as the voices of
spirits or angels or whatever gives you peace of mind. There are also auditory hallucinations, which
are part of the sensory deprivation you could experience when sitting motionless in a pool of warm
water in the dark. It's not so uncommon."

"That's all well and good," Rose replied, "but none of what you just said explains why the sounds

are like human voices, or why they always start out like wailing, as if women were crying, then
gradually diminish into sighs. You must have heard them, it's common knowledge around here, and
legends about spirits in Whispering Springs go back as far as verbal history. The mountain this ranch
backs up to is called Spirit Mountain for a reason."

"The source of the voices is what I intend to identify," Tyler said. "My theory is that the sounds

are caused by a geyser with constrictions in its plumbing that prevent the boiling water and steam
from circulating freely and moving toward the surface where the heat could escape, so the steam
builds pressure and is forced through fissures and cracks, producing the eerie wailing sounds, and
then gradually, as the steam is released, the sounds diminish into what people construe as sighs. By
then the eruption of the geyser has stopped because the water reservoir is depleted, and the system
cools, then gradually the cycle starts again."

Rose stared at Tyler, speechless, because his theory did offer an explanation. Still, she could not

discount the concept of spirits because there had been so many documented cases of peoples'
problems being resolved simply by sitting in the pool and listening to the voices.

"You're not saying anything," Tyler pointed out.
Rose shrugged. "That's because I believe that if you proceed with what you intend to do you'll

create a disservice. Hundreds of people over the years, probably within your lifetime, and thousands
over the centuries, have found peace here, and your chipping away at rock could upset the delicate
balance of whatever is causing the sounds."

Tyler let out an ironic laugh. "Do you honestly think I could stop what's going on inside the

mountain with just a hammer and chisel?" Tyler asked. "All I intend to do is open up some fissures
and see if the sounds change. If they do I'll know my theory's correct, and the geothermal energy in
this mountain could be harnessed and used to produce electricity to run the ranch."

Rose felt the first tremor of alarm because what Tyler Hansen was proposing would destroy

Whispering Springs if the Hansen family decided to act on it, which they had a legal right to do. But
she also concluded that Tyler was right about approaching this with a hammer and chisel. It would be
farfetched to think he could alter the sounds in the mountain with simple tools.

"You're silent again," Tyler said. "Is this a pattern of yours when faced with scientific

reasoning?"

"No, it's more a pattern when faced with someone I perceive to be totally insensitive," Rose said.

"Take the issue of your long hair for instance. Did you know that for Indians throughout history, long
hair represents the strength of their spirit, that the longer the hair, the stronger the spirit within them.
Yet here you are with Indian blood in your veins that you should be proud of, yet you don't seem to
have an inkling about spirits or even an interest, and since you place such a high value on scientific
reasoning, why the long hair? It seems an unnecessary nuisance, having to wash and maintain all that
long flowing mane of yours."

One corner of his mouth tipped up with amusement. "It's simple," he replied, while taking a few

steps toward her. "Hair's an extension of the nervous system, like highly evolved antennae. It
transmits vast amounts of information to the brain stem, the neocortex, and the limbic system. Not only
does it provide an information highway to the brain, but the electromagnetic energy emitted by the
brain enters the environment by way of the hair. It's been seen in Kirlian photography. When a person
is photographed with long hair and then re-photographed after the hair is cut, receiving and sending
transmissions to and from the environment is impeded."

Rose drew in an extended breath to stem her irritation. "So with you everything boils down to

science," she clipped. "With that mindset, you must constantly be questioning the scientific reasoning
behind having feelings. You appear to be a very insular man."

Tyler moved yet closer, so close Rose felt her breath trapped in her lungs as she wondered what

he was about to do, yet she stood transfixed as he raised his hand over her head, and said, "Close
your eyes. I want to prove a point."

Almost automatically Rose closed her eyes, and after a few moments, she felt a tingle at the top

of her head that seemed to radiate throughout her body. "And your point is?" she asked.

"That I'm touching only the bare tips of not more than four strands of your hair, yet you feel it all

the way down to your scalp and into your body, and you're responding to it."

Rose snapped her eyes open and ducked from under Tyler's hand and took a step backwards,

alarmed that she had reacted to his touch, imperceptible as it was, and she reacted in a big way—
heart hammering, breath coming quickly, a heavy feeling in the area of her solar plexus. "You only
proved that scalps are sensitive, whether the hair on them is long or short," she said.

Deciding she'd had enough of this man, who had the ability to set her nerves on edge while

making her react in ways she neither wanted, nor understood, she turned and headed down the trail
toward the ranch while resisting the almost overwhelming urge to look back, yet in her mind's eye she
could still see him standing with his hair blowing about his head, which brought back the dream. But
his words about coming to the spring at dawn so he could avoid people, affirmed what Marc told her
about his youngest brother—he was a loner who lived off by himself and was contented to remain that
way. She now had a fair idea why. To a man with his mindset, the concept of being emotionally
attached to someone would seem illogical.

It came to her that he must be a very lonely man, which seemed incongruous, coming from such a

large family. He was an enigma, and for some odd reason she found herself wanting to, bit by bit,
unravel the solitary man and learn what moved him.

CHAPTER 2

Her wolfdog, Tundra, curled beside her, Rose sat cross-legged on the mat-covered floor of the

plankhouse while making a basket in the tradition of the Kalapuya Indians. The long wooden building,
which was one of the life-size displays of the living museum on the ranch, was made of hand split red
cedar planks, with a roof comprising slabs of bark held in place by long poles. The interior was open
and spacious, with several fire pits, one for each family that would have inhabited the building, and
running along the inside perimeter were bunk beds. In an actual plankhouse the bunks would have
been covered with layers of animal hides, providing bedding and seating for the resident families, but
only a couple of bunks were covered with furs. The others were used to hold and display tools,
utensils and articles of clothing that Marc and Kit had rounded up, some donated to the museum,
others on loan from families.

Typically, a plankhouse would be dark inside, but because it was a display building, double

plank doors in a section of wall could be opened to enable visitors to watch the demonstrations
presented by volunteer tribal members, such as making tools, sewing moccasins, and weaving
baskets. The museum was being on Sundays and Wednesdays, there were no volunteers or visitors at
the moment, so Rose would not be interrupted while she worked on her basket. Still, she opened the
plank doors to allow light to filter inside.

As she interwove strands of bear grass through spokes made from hazelnut shoots, she could

almost hear her grandmother's words. "Weaving baskets brings one back to the center, to the spirit,
because when you weave you have to be in a meditative state of mind," Granna said. "It’s yourself
going into what you weave. It’s who you are and who you came from."

Maybe it was so because, when she wove, it took her back to a time when she'd be picking

crabapples with her grandfather, or gathering medicinal herbs with her grandmother. But this
particular basket took her back to Mrs. Nessy, her high school PE coach, who was going through
chemotherapy, so instead of her usual baskets woven in muted colors, this basket was a black and red
basket, a tightly woven vessel to show the determination of a woman battling an illness. Red flowers,
made from soaking weavers—the basket strands she wove between the spokes—were being woven
into a black background made by soaking other weavers in charcoal. The red flowers against black
represented a woman who stood out because she was admired, and the gold beads Rose would
interweave into a row of bear grass would mirror Mrs. Nessy's generosity and heart of gold.

"The strength of women can help bring us through," Granna always said, which was why Rose

intended to fill the basket with cards having inspirational notes and prayers from as many of Mrs.
Nessy's girls as she could locate.

Rose loved making baskets, which she sold through several Northwest galleries. When asked

during an interview what lessons from her tribal heritage influenced her designs, she was quick to
reply that not only did basket weaving give her a sense of inner peace because it gave her a way to
express her relationship with the natural world in her basket art, but it gave her a sense of pride in her
culture and who she was, and she could imbue that spiritual and cultural content into her baskets to
pass on to others to enjoy.

Ironically, her baskets were in one of the galleries where Marc and Tyler's sister-in-law, Annie,

sold her silverwork. Rose met Annie and her husband, Ryan, at a gallery reception in honor of the
artists, and they hit it off from the start, although Rose had never met anyone from the Dancing Moon

Ranch at the time. She wondered now at the coincidence. Her grandmother would tell her that there
are no coincidences, that everything happens for a reason…

Suddenly, Tundra raised his head and pricked his ears forward while looking toward the opening

in the sidewall of the plankhouse, then he got up and trotted to the end of his long leash while wagging
his tail. Rose turned to find her mother walking toward her.

"Rose, is everything okay?" her mother asked in a worried voice, while stepping between the

two plank doors.

"Things are fine," Rose replied. "I just thought since you were going to town today you might stop

by since the museum is closed and I won't be interrupted by visitors."

Helen Starbright eyed Rose with a certain amount of skepticism because this wasn't Rose's way,

asking her mother to make a sixteen-mile round-trip detour on the way to town from the reservation,
just to stop by, so it was clear she knew something was up, which it was, in a sense.

After a stretch of silence, which Rose knew her mother expected her to fill with the real reason

she'd asked her to stop by, her mother said, "You sounded troubled on the phone. Is there a problem
here?"

Rose drew in a long breath. She was close to her mother and always confided in her when she

felt a need, but this was awkward because it had to do with a man she barely knew, but couldn't seem
to put out of her mind.

After taking a few moments to frame her words, she said, "Do you remember years ago about the

dream Granna said I'd have one day about a man coming to me on white horses?"

"Yes, you were around twelve or thirteen at the time."
Rose nodded. "Well, a couple of weeks ago I had the dream. It was when I was at the coast at

Cindra's folk's place. I slept out near the beach that night and that's where it happened. The dream was
amazingly real, much more so than an ordinary dream, which is the way Granna described lucid
dreams. The man had long hair and was standing on the backs of some white horses… well, actually
six horses."

"And now you've met the man," Helen stated.
Rose looked at her mother with a start. "No… I mean, not exactly. I had a short encounter with

one of Marc's brothers, the youngest of the Hansen boys."

"And you were attracted to him."
"No! Well maybe a little, but I didn't like him. He's determined to tamper with cracks and fissures

in Whispering Springs to figure out what's causing the sounds. He even had a hammer and chisel in
his hand to start chipping away. I don't think he believes in anything of a spiritual nature. With him
everything boils down to science."

"Then he can't be the man in your dream and you don't want to find yourself in a relationship with

him," Helen warned. "There would be constant misunderstandings and disagreements, and a greater
chance for divorce if the relationship led to marriage."

Rose knew her mother was right. "Don't worry, Mom," she replied. "It's something I can handle

because I'm definitely not attracted to the man's personality. He's a very irritating guy."

"Why did you bring up the dream then?" Helen asked. "He can't be the man Granna described

because that man was an Indian, and the Hansens aren't Indians."

"Well, actually they are," Rose said. "I found out there's Nez Perce on Tyler's father's side, and

Tyler looks Indian. He could show up at a powwow and no one would question." She let out a little
chuckle. "If it turns out that he rides on the backs of white horses then I'll start to worry."

Eying Rose with concern, Helen said, "Have you told this to Granna?"

"No," Rose replied. "I don't want her jumping to false conclusions that I met the man in my dream

because I can tell you for certain, Tyler Hansen is not that man."

"Your grandmother does not jump to false conclusions," Helen pointed out. "To her, not one

dream should go without being interpreted. She's highly respected for her interpretations and her
advice is often sought, which is why you should tell her about this. I'm surprised you haven't."

"I didn't tell her because, before meeting Tyler, it was nothing more than a vivid dream brought

on by the images Granna put in my head when I was younger," Rose replied. "Besides, dreams don't
have to be literal. The long hair probably did mean the man I'd marry would be an Indian, mainly
because you and Granna and the rest of the family are insistent that I do, but Tyler Hansen isn't that
man because to him, spirits are figments of people's imaginations."

Still, Rose had been caught by surprise to step out of the cavern and find a long-haired man, right

after she'd recalled the dream in vivid detail. "Has Granna ever predicted a dream for you, and later
it happened?" she asked.

"No," Helen replied, "and she doesn't talk about what happens to others. People like Granna

don't want to be recognized. It's known that they have special gifts but these gifts can be taken away,
so they use them only to serve others and say nothing."

"I don't know why I'm going on about this," Rose said. "I have no intention of being involved

with the man in any way, shape, or form." Deciding to get off the subject of Tyler Hansen, she added,
"Come on. Now that you're here I'll give you the official tour of the Dancing Moon Ranch Living
Cultural Museum. Marc and Kit have done a wonderful job with the pit houses, and Jimmy Behr's in
the process of making a canoe out of a cedar log the old traditional way by burning and gouging, and
in three weeks Marc has a well-known bow maker coming from Washington for a week-long bow-
making day camp for kids."

Rose set her basket on the bench then gathered Tundra's long leash into several wide loops. With

Tundra beside her and her mother following, she stepped onto a platform riser and walked between
the double doors and was surprised to see Tyler standing a short distance away, watching her. She
hadn't been aware of him and wondered how long he'd been there.

Her mother followed her gaze, and said, "That must be the man."
Rose nodded vaguely, her heart thudding, a heavy feeling settling in the area of her solar plexus

as Tyler started toward them. She had no idea why she was reacting so strongly to a man she barely
knew and didn't even like, but to her surprise, she heard low growls emanating from Tundra. "That's
odd," she said. "Tundra's never growled at anyone before. He's usually very shy of strangers."

Her mother's gaze shifted between Rose and Tyler, coming to rest on Rose, who was having

trouble catching her breath. "Maybe Tundra's responding to reactions coming from you," she said.
"Dog's senses are very acute."

Rose didn't answer because she'd momentarily lost her train of thought. Tyler's hair was gathered

into a horsetail, and with it swept back, the sunlight splashing across his face emphasized his
cheekbones and reflected in his dark eyes, making him look even more Indian than when she'd first
met him at the spring.

As he approached, Tyler looked at Tundra, who continued to growl, but Rose could see that Tyler

wasn't intimidated by him, nor did Tyler react the way most people would on seeing a dog that was
obviously mostly wolf behaving aggressively. Instead, Tyler walked up to Tundra, ran his hands down
his neck on both sides, and taking him by the collar, stared directly at him. Tundra immediately
stopped growling and all signs of aggression seemed to vanish. Rose was puzzled because it was as
if Tundra had met his match and didn't intend to challenge.

Releasing Tundra's collar, Tyler ignored him, and said to Rose, "Marc called to say he faxed the

registration form for the bow-making camp to the lodge and for you to print some copies and have
them since there's an announcement running in the newspaper right now."

When Rose started to reply, her throat was strangely dry, not from the interaction between Tyler

and Tundra, but because Tyler's presence was affecting her. She also wondered if her mother was
right about Tundra picking up on that.

"I'll… umm... print out some registration forms," she said, her eyes drifting down the length of

Tyler, who looked like the quintessential half-breed cowboy hero, with his broad shouldered stance,
weathered denim shirt, faded jeans, and scuffed western boots. When her gaze moved upward to
settle on his face again, she saw perception in his eyes, and she knew he'd been aware of her
unintentional inspection. Annoyed and embarrassed, she pulled herself together and said, "This is my
mother, Helen Starbright."

"Yes, I see the resemblance," Tyler said, shifting his gaze to Rose's mother.
Her mother nodded in acknowledgement, then said in a clipped dry tone, "I stopped by to see the

museum since Rose is passionate about passing on the old traditions of our culture and in preserving
our sacred sites." The last phrase was emphasized.

Rose saw the expression on Tyler's face sharpen and she knew her mother's statement was as

obvious to him as it was to her. He did not belong in her daughter's life, and her daughter needed
to understand that clearly, which Rose did. And Tundra, who seemed to have a sixth sense about
people, had just affirmed it.

***

The following morning, with Tundra off his leash and coursing a zigzag path up a ranch road that

branched off from the road behind the stable, Rose set out just after sunup to exercise Tundra before
the museum opened. Among the things she'd learned during the two months she'd had him were first,
that wolfdogs were usually fearful of strangers and not protective, which surprised her when he
growled at Tyler, and second, if they didn't get daily exercise they'd pace restlessly unless they found
something to chew up or destroy. Just about anything handy was fair game, she'd learned the one time
she left Tundra closed in her bedroom for less than an hour, only to return to find the inside of a solid
wood door almost dug through and several shoes destroyed. His message was clear. Take me to run a
couple of times a day and I might not destroy the house.

This particular morning, Rose had combined exercising Tundra with searching for materials for

her basketweaving demonstrations and classes at the living museum. Marc and Kit were adamant that
every artifact produced be made the traditional way with authentic materials, which was the way
Rose made baskets for galleries. It was fortunate that hazelnut trees grew in the area because the
shoots were one of the strongest and most resilient material for the uprights or radials for her baskets,
and it had been widely used by Indians in the region.

Hanging from Rose's back was an empty backpack, except for a dozen or more plastic grocery

bags in it for holding basket-making materials. In addition to locating hazelnut trees, she'd be scanning
the forest for maidenhair ferns and tall bear grass, with a goal of collecting the materials for her own
baskets while pinpointing locations where materials would be available for demonstrations and
basketweaving workshops.

She loved the idea of teaching the art of weaving baskets, and already she had several women

signed up for workshops starting in a couple of weeks. Among them were Emily, who was married to

Marc's brother Adam, and Sophie, who was married to Marc's half-brother, Rick. Rose looked
forward to getting to know the women, and they seemed eager to learn how to weave baskets. For the
two-hour basketweaving sessions, Grace, Marc's saint of a mother, offered to babysit Sophie's four-
year-old triplets and three-year-old twins, as well as Emily's three-year-old daughter.

Rose was also looking for rocks to use in cooking demonstrations. The rocks she was searching

for would be heavy with iron so they'd be durable enough to withstand heating to red hot, after which
they'd be dropped into watertight baskets to heat liquids held in the baskets.

She was in the process of stripping the leaves from the fronds of several maidenhair ferns and

bundling the stems into a plastic bag, when she looked up to see Tundra standing at alert—ears
forward, eyes focused, body stiff, nostrils picking up a scent.

"What is it boy?" she asked, not expecting a response, just a natural question to be asking a

wolfdog she talked to on a regular basis.

Tundra glanced at Rose then returned to whatever had caught his attention. After taking a few

steps forward, he looked back at Rose again, as if asking her to follow, though he didn't wait for
Rose's response before starting up the road at a trot.

Worried that he might run off, Rose called out, "Tundra, come." Tundra slowed some, paused

briefly, then continued on. "Tundra, come!" Rose said in a commanding voice. Tundra stopped this
time, which surprised Rose because half the time if he had a mind to do something, he'd simply ignore
her. When she caught up with him, she said, "You can go on, but stay close." To her surprise, Tundra
slowed his pace some, although he still headed in the direction of whatever had caught his notice.

Rose took a moment to shrug out of the backpack and leave it by the side of the road, then she

started after Tundra at a fast clip. A short distance ahead, Tundra left the road and turned into the
woods. Because the forest was a stand of tall, big-leaf maples intermixed with old and second growth
fir, the canopy of the trees high above was dense enough that little light sifted through to the forest
floor, so the undergrowth was mainly ferns and low brush, making it fairly easy to get through. Rose
followed Tundra, trusting they wouldn’t get lost because she could see light through the forest,
indicating a clearing, but just on the edge of a glade, yet still inside the woods, Tundra stopped, taking
on his earlier stance—ears pricked forward, body stiff, eyes straight ahead—while watching intently
something beyond the forest. Rose quickened her pace and caught up with him, then stared in stunned
silence at the scene before her.

CHAPTER 3

In a high-mountain meadow, not more than twenty feet from where Rose stood with Tundra inside

the woods, Tyler was jogging through the tall grass with six horses following behind. Unlike the
horsetail he'd worn the day before, his hair was loose and flowing out behind.

The horses, some almost pure white, others moving into shades of misty dappled grays with dark

and light manes and tails, followed Tyler as he jumped over a downed tree, stripped of its limbs, that
lay in his path, all six horses leaping over the log as a group behind him. Tyler circled back, jumping
over the log again, and the horses followed. Then Tyler stopped and the horses gathered around him
like children wanting to be praised. He patted their necks and stroked their faces and said words
Rose couldn't catch, but their meaning was clear to the horses. In fact, she was in awe of the affection
the horses displayed for Tyler, and he for them, like there was a perfect communion between them, a
relationship of complete trust and understanding.

When Tyler turned away as if to play a new game, one horse followed, staying close to him, like

a child clinging to its mother on the first day of school. The horse seemed edgy with the other horses,
as if it was new to the herd and hadn't yet been accepted, but when Tyler stroked its neck and said
what were obviously comforting words, the horse seemed to perk up. Other horses came up to Tyler
too, giving and receiving affection, which Tyler returned, the interaction between man and horses
stirring in Rose a reaction that was both curious and humbling.

Tyler began coaxing the horses into doing something he was asking. Some of the horses reacted in

a way that said. "We're having fun," while others seemed to be saying, "I don't understand what you
want," but before long, Tyler was directing them in a maneuver so subtle that Rose couldn't catch
Tyler's signals, but the horses did, and slowly, with a quiet grace, they came together, all six animals
lining up side-by-side and facing Tyler, all looking like they were enjoying what Tyler was instructing
them to do, which was obvious to Rose the next moment when all six horses nodded their heads, as if
thanking Tyler for the fun.

It appeared that Tyler was controlling the horses with only hand signals, vocal commands and the

whip he held in one hand, which he didn't seem to use except to indicate direction because he never
touched the horses with it. When he turned and circled back, the horses moved together like a
choreographed act, all the while the expression on Tyler's face as he watched his horses was one of
pure joy. The horses, at the same time, were relaxed and animated and spirited, as if excited to be
doing what they were doing, which was prancing and playing, full of energy, while moving single file
in a circle around Tyler, like a carousel that had come to life in a mountain glade, yet, the horses
remained unbridled and free to run off if they wanted.

The group paused at Tyler's command and he took the moment to vault onto the back of one of

them and stand. After placing a foot on the back of a horse that had moved beside the horse Tyler was
standing on, the horses, which had arranged themselves so they were six-abreast, with Tyler standing
on the backs of the two in the center, started at a lope toward the fallen tree, and in what looked like a
perfectly synchronized maneuver, sailed in unison over the log, as if harnessed together, while Tyler
remained perfectly balanced on their backs, one arm raised into the air as if addressing an invisible
crowd.

As Rose watched the scene before her, the feeling it invoked was a mixture of reverence and

astonishment. What she was witnessing were horses playing and socializing as they would in the

wild, but with a man among them, every bit as much a member of the herd as they, except that he was
obviously their leader.

Before Rose could stop Tundra, he moved into the clearing. The horses, catching sight of him,

immediately bunched up and stopped in uncertainty. Tyler caught his balance, and when he looked to
where Tundra stood, Rose stepped into the clearing so he wouldn't mistake Tundra for a renegade
wolf, then clipped on the leash she had tucked into her back pocket.

Tyler jumped off his horses, and after taking a few moments to calm them, he started over to

where Rose stood with Tundra. The horses followed behind for a few paces then stopped in a huddle
and watched from a distance as Tyler continued toward Rose.

Rose again experienced the range of physiological reactions as she had the day before, though

even stronger this time because she'd just witnessed something so counter to what she'd expected of
Tyler that she couldn't seem to process it. It was also clear that Tyler was the man in her dream, if it
had actually been a dream. Maybe the vision at the beach that she'd convinced herself was a lucid
dream or a hallucination, because the sight of it had been so unbelievable, had actually happened.

As when Tyler had approached her at the plankhouse, low growls emanated from Tundra's throat.

Again, Tyler walked up to Tundra, took him by the collar and stared at him, and after Tundra settled
down, Tyler scratched Tundra's chest long enough for Tundra's eyes to close slightly in pleasure, then
he removed his hand and looked at Rose, and said, "Are you lost, or did you come here for a reason?"

Rose was determined to pull her thoughts together and not be distracted by her reaction to Tyler,

which she found both baffling and annoying. "Neither," she replied. "I was looking for basketweaving
materials while giving Tundra a chance to run, otherwise he gets restless and gets himself into
trouble."

Tyler held her gaze long enough for Rose to see that he was disturbed, then he looked down at

Tundra, and said, "Why do you have a wolf hybrid anyway? Wolves aren't meant to live with people.
They need to be free to roam miles every day. You only have to look into that animal's eyes to see the
confusion and unhappiness there."

Rose too had seen confusion and unhappiness in Tundra's eyes, though it took her several days to

figure out what Tyler saw instantly. "It was never my intention to own a wolfdog," she said. "I went to
the animal shelter to get a dog and found instead an abandoned wolfdog who'd been given two
choices and little time for the decision—find someone to take him home or be euthanized. He was
pacing continuously, but when I finally caught his eye he looked so sad and lonely I took him home."

"He would have been better off euthanized," Tyler said. "He has no pack so that loneliness will

always be there."

"He's not so lonely now," Rose replied. "After a few days he was okay with my family, so I

figure he's more dog than wolf, but they didn't know his mix at the shelter because the previous owner
dropped him off for being unmanageable and left."

"Most hybrids are unmanageable," Tyler said. "You have an animal trapped between two worlds,

not belonging to either, so he'll always be restless, and unlike a dog, he'll never look to you for
guidance or anything but to live together as equals."

Rose couldn't argue his point. She learned early on that you never tell a wolfdog what to do. You

have discussions with it, mainly whether or not you're going to share your sandwich with it. But she
didn't believe Tundra was as unhappy as Tyler implied. "He listens pretty well and he's intelligent so
I think he got the best traits of both wolf and dog," she said. "What I read is that if you breed the best
wolfdogs with each other, after a few generations you get nice animals."

"Actually, what you get are dogs because you’ve re-domesticated the wolf into a dog," Tyler

said. "Meanwhile, you have the problem of what to do with the culls—euthanize them or put them in
overloaded rescues where they spend their lives pacing around in a world that doesn't work for them.
And I hope you don't plan to breed him."

"Don't worry," Rose said. "He's already neutered." Looking at Tyler with curiosity, she asked,

"How do you know so much about wolfdogs? I assume you've never owned one."

"I haven't, but I worked one summer at a wolf sanctuary up in Washington, which was long

enough to know that a wolf hybrid is a complete misfit," Tyler replied. "It doesn't think like a dog,
respond like a dog, or relate to its owner like a dog, and it isn't a wolf because without its pack it's
socially crippled. A low content hybrid may appear gentle, but when you look in its eyes you know
you can never trust it because you'll always see the call of the wild in them."

Rose too had seen something in Tundra's eyes at times but she'd never been able to define it. "I

know he's restless and I want to understand him, so what exactly do you see when you look in his
eyes?" she asked, while looking down at Tundra, who was watching the circling of a hawk.

"I don't know. I can't explain. It's just there," Tyler replied. "It's a feeling that comes when our

eyes connect, like the animal's silently talking to me. Sometimes it works with humans too."

When Rose glanced up she found Tyler looking at her, like he was studying her, for whatever

reason. He was a baffling man. "Is that how you knew it was okay to walk up to him when he was
growling, by reading what was in his eyes?" she asked.

"No, I applied pack instinct," Tyler replied. "A wolf in a pack can stop something instantly with

just a look, so when you force them to look into your eyes they can't bite you. I'm curious about one
thing though. Both times he growled at me he had his ears up and his eyes wide open, like he was
excited. It's a mixed message. Does he do that with everyone who approaches you?"

The question caught Rose off guard. She hadn't been aware of anything when Tyler approached

her both times, except how strikingly handsome he was, so the idea that Tundra was reacting to her
response to Tyler was not so implausible, but she wasn't about to let Tyler know what she now
suspected. "He has a kind of sixth sense about people and his own reasons for not liking certain
ones," she replied. "Are you still planning your attack on the spirits in Whispering Springs by opening
fissures?"

Tyler looked as if he were holding back a smile, as he said, "Are you saying that Tundra growls

at me because I don't believe in spirits?"

"That could be a good assumption," Rose replied. "I guess the only way you can find out is to

stop what you're doing at the spring and see if Tundra changes his attitude."

Tyler's eyes brightened with amusement, making her heart skip some, as he said, "You mean, roll

over and join his pack."

At once, the female silliness of moments before was replaced by irritation. "You're very one-

sided in your quest, having no regard for the feelings of those who place great importance on the
spiritual nature of the spring," Rose replied.

"That spring is no more spiritual than Old Faithful Geyser," Tyler said. "The only difference

between the two is that the geyser beneath the spring doesn't rise to the surface because the water's
trapped, so instead, steam seeps through fissures and cracks while those sitting in the pool let their
imaginations run wild."

Feeling increasingly exasperated with Tyler's callous attitude, Rose said, "Whether you're right

or wrong makes no difference. You're being insensitive in that many people believe there is something
mystical about the spring and you should respect that."

Tyler let out an ironic snort. "If scientists respected everything people considered mystical,

they'd still be teaching in school that the earth is flat and ships could fall off. But to relieve your mind
for now, I won't be doing anything there until after the rodeo in Wyoming where I'm contracted to
perform at the Cody Stampede."

"Perform… riding on your horse's backs?" Rose asked.
Tyler nodded. "I'll be taking them in pairs while demonstrating Roman riding."
Rose found herself blinking rapidly as the dream emerged yet again, almost as clearly as when

she stood on the embankment at the Oregon coast while looking across a wide expanse of sandy beach
at a man maneuvering six horses in an elongated figure eight.

Until fifteen minutes ago, when she peered into the clearing and saw Tyler interacting with six

nearly-white horses, she'd pegged what happened on the beach as a figment of her imagination. She
still wasn't absolutely sure it wasn't a dream.

Brows gathered, she said, "Do you ever run your horses on the beach at the coast?"
"Why would I do that?" Tyler asked.
"I suppose no reason," Rose replied, feeling foolish, realizing once and for all that what

transpired at the coast had been nothing as glamorous and romantic as having witnessed the man in the
dream her grandmother described come to life at daybreak on an isolated beach. Nor did she want to
have romantic feelings for Tyler, so in a sense it was a relief to know that what she'd witnessed had
been a fantasy, by whatever form it materialized.

"Actually I do take them there on occasion," Tyler said. "The sand's good for their muscles,

taking them into the surf tests their complete trust in me, and they like running in the water."

Rose tried to process the reality of it. This man, who lived in an otherwise spiritual vacuum, had

an almost mystical bond with his horses. She was even having trouble convincing herself that she
should stay clear of someone whose short term goal was to desecrate a spring that hundreds of people
praised. But there was still a chance that his trip to the coast and her dream were isolated incidents.
On the long shot that they were, she said, "Did you happen to take them there a couple of weeks ago?"

Tyler eyed her curiously, like her question surprised him. Then he nodded, and replied, "I check

the tide tables and go early in the morning of a low outgoing tide, when no one's on the beach, but
apparently you were there too."

"Yes," Rose said, "but not on the beach. I was on a rise above the beach. The family of a friend

of mine has a weekend house and when the family's not using it, friends can stay. It was a clear night
so I decided to sleep out. I love sleeping under the stars and do it whenever I can, and I especially
love it at the ocean where the sky's wide open and you can see forever."

Tyler looked at her in a way that had Rose's heart hammering because it was the same look she'd

seen him give his horses when he was happy with them—eyes that were soft with affection, a slight
smile on his lips. But the next moment his eyes began moving slowly over her face and pausing, as if
studying her features.

Feeling unsettled with his close perusal, she glanced over at his horses, which were standing in a

group looking their way, and said, "How have you managed to teach your mares all the things you
have? My family has always had horses, but what you do with yours is amazing."

"Not really," Tyler replied. "It's all about herd instinct. Horses are social animals that depend on

a leader for survival, so if the leader turns and runs, the herd instinctively follows."

"That explains why they follow you," Rose said, "but not how you got them to do things in unison,

like loping around you in a circle."

"That's just copycat behavior," Tyler replied. "Synchronized reactions are characteristic of herd

animals. A foal cantering alongside its mother often matches her strides in perfect cadence, and in the

same way, my mares mimic what I do since I'm their leader. Then I show them lots of affection to let
them know I'm pleased, so they have a strong desire to do what I ask them to do."

"How long does it take to get them to do things?" Rose asked, realizing it was a ridiculous

question that had no exact answer, but her thoughts were scattered between her reaction to Tyler's
presence, what he was able to do with his horses, and the realization that she'd never been awestruck
before and she was having trouble processing the unfamiliar feeling.

"It varies with the things," Tyler replied.
"A month? Two months? Six months to train them?" Rose asked, because she'd run out of

questions, mainly because Tyler was a distraction that made her thoughts jump around.

Tyler smiled, which made Rose edgy, not knowing if he was amused with her mindless cross-

examination, or because he'd picked up on her female reactions to him, which had to be evident in the
heavy beating of her heart, which was pulsating in her neck, and her quickened breathing, which she
could do nothing about except fill her lungs with air and try to settle things down, which he no doubt
picked up on because he seemed to be an unusually perceptive man.

"I don't count the days or hours," Tyler replied. "Two of my mares have never performed with the

team, but with luck they'll be ready by the time we leave for Wyoming."

"That's a thousand miles away. Will you trailer them there by yourself?" Rose asked, while

wondering about the whole process of moving and stabling that many horses that distance. His
magnificent mares were definitely not your average rodeo horses. She could not begin to imagine
what they were worth.

"I've contracted with professional horse transporters," Tyler replied. "I have a brother who lives

in southeast Oregon who'll meet me there. Josh raises bucking bulls with my brother, Jeremy and his
wife, Billy, who live… somewhere, and Josh will be bringing a couple of Billy's bulls, so he'll be
helping me at the other end."

Rose puzzled over Tyler's wording. "You said Jeremy and his wife live somewhere. Does that

mean they live near your other brother or somewhere else?" she asked.

"Somewhere else," Tyler replied.
"Where?" Rose asked, still baffled by the exchange.
"I don't know," Tyler replied.
"You don't know where your brother lives?" Rose asked.
"It's a long story," Tyler replied. "Josh is looking after Billy's bulls until she and Jeremy can

return home from where they are right now, and that's all I can say."

Rose thought about that. It made no sense, but it made no difference either because beyond her

job at the museum, she was not directly involved with the Hansen family. Except that the youngest of
the sons was dominating far too much of her mind.

Deciding it was time to cut this encounter short, she said, "I'd better get on with exercising

Tundra and finding materials for my baskets."

To her surprise, Tyler lifted his hand to her face and said, while tracing the outline of her cheek

and the angle of her jaw, "You have good bone structure."

It was an awkward thing for him to say, and Rose wasn't sure what to make of it, except that for

some reason she thought it was a compliment. The man was perplexing. The only thing she could think
to reply was, "So do you."

Tyler smiled, which she found both arousing and unsettling, arousing because she got the

impression he was interested in her, and unsettling for the same reason. But as she stood looking at
him, he slowly moved toward her, as if he were about to kiss her, and when she thought he would, he

stopped, squared his shoulders and did nothing.

After a stretch of silence, Rose tightened Tundra's leash, and said, "I guess I'd better get back,"

then quickly turned into the woods. But as she retraced her tracks, with Tundra following along on the
leash, her feelings were more conflicted than ever. After having watched Tyler with his horses,
playing with them as if he were one of them, and seeing the affection between them, she knew it
would be impossible to unravel such a man, one who communicated with horses on a level that
transcended normal human-animal communication, yet he refused to believe that the voices in the
mountain could be anything more than steam seeping through cracks because the voices didn't touch
that special place in him that could connect with horses.

Why she couldn't let the man go, and shove all thoughts of him from her mind, she couldn't

understand. But she also realized he wasn't the dispassionate man she'd thought him to be, at least not
with his horses, but it was the human connection that he lacked, which was why he was dispassionate
about what he perceived to be ill-informed people hearing non-existent voices. But now, her
continued attraction to the man was more confounding that ever.

CHAPTER 4

Rose gazed around Grace and Jack Hansen's dining table, where they were all finishing a meal of

pot roast, garden-grown vegetables, and home baked bread, and topping it off with a fresh-baked
blueberry pie. Jack sat at one end of the table and Grace at the other. Beside Rose was Maddy, the
youngest of the Hansen offspring and the only girl. Directly across from them were Maureen and
Howard Barker, Jack Hansen's mother and step-father.

Maureen's mother was the one who brought their Indian heritage to the family. Rose could see it

in her dark eyes and higher cheekbones, but that was all, and Jack Hansen just looked like a man with
dark hair, dark eyes and a face and hands bronzed by years of ranch work.

For the evening, Tundra was penned up in a fenced yard behind Marc and Kit's house, and to

make sure he didn't try to dig under, or tear the fence down, she'd put in some short stakes the day
before she moved in, and stretched an electric wire near the ground and hooked it up to a temporary
fence charger. Tundra kept himself occupied, challenging the wire by nipping at it between pulses and
occasionally getting zapped, which was a reminder to stay back. Rose was amazed that he could
detect the pulses though, because they made no sound.

It had been four days since she watched the big semi-truck with the long horse trailer leave the

ranch, with Tyler following in his truck, but as exasperating and disconcerting as the man was, he'd
been on her mind most of the time. She'd even returned to the spring and lit an incense of cedar, aware
that its sweet balsamic scent was known for cleansing negative energies, and since her goal had been
to dismiss Tyler from her mind, she purposely concentrated on the image of him in the cavern,
chipping away with his hammer and chisel. But as she attempted to hold that image, a swirl of cedar
smoke wrapped around her nostrils, bringing with it her grandmother's words about meditating...

"Begin your journey into the spirit world with prayer and meditation by breathing deeply,"

Granna said, "and when you exhale, release your worldly wants and focus on an idyllic place like
an ancient forest with a mountain stream, or a glen covered in flowers. Move about in this world,
seeing, smelling and feeling everything around you. Open your mind to any and all messages..."

Before long, her vision of an idyllic forest setting morphed into images of Tyler playing with his

horses in the meadow, and interacting with them like a father with his children, and standing on them
as they sailed over a log, which brought her back to the scene on the beach…

"I'm really glad you joined us for dinner, honey," Grace said, drawing Rose's attention from her

succession of thoughts about Tyler. "Marc and Kit are so happy to have you here while they're gone.
We all admire your beautiful baskets, and Sophie and Emily are anxiously looking forward to your
basketweaving workshop."

"This is my dream job," Rose replied. "My degree is in Native American Studies with a minor in

art, and my passion is basketweaving, so this is perfect for me. It's also close to home. I've never
been one to venture off very far. I like it around here."

"Then you still live with your family?" Grace asked.
Rose nodded. "For the moment. My folks like having me with them, and since my dad has a small

cattle operation, I can keep my horse there. But I need to be on my own some too, so I'm looking into
buying a small piece of property nearby."

"We've got it made here," Maddy said. "Dad gave us each a parcel of land to do with what we

want. My piece isn't far from here because I'm the only girl and got first choice." She smiled in jest at

her dad, who smiled back and winked. "My older brothers and I have parcels close to the lodge
where there are people and activity, unlike my brother, Tyler, who's a recluse."

"Where is his place?" Rose asked, and tried not to sound too interested.
"At the dead end of one of the ranch roads," Maddy replied. "Pick any one of the latest

environmentalist buzz words, like living green, or sustainable living, or minimalism, and that's Tyler,
except that he lived that way before it became trendy. His place backs up to BLM land so there's no
one there but him and his mares, which is the way he likes it. He's not really human though. He's a
centaur who looks and acts human, but his long mane of hair gives him away."

Rose caught the twinkle in Maddy's eyes and laughed lightly, although she was surprised at

Maddy's terminology because when she'd seen Tyler on the beach with his horses, the word, centaur,
was what came to her. "I take it you've studied Greek Mythology," she said.

Maddy nodded. "In one of my classical studies classes. Centaurs have the torso of a man and the

body of a horse, which is pretty much what Tyler looks like when he's standing on top of them, and
they lived in caves, and Tyler's always had a fixation on Whispering Springs. He's definitely a
centaur."

Howard Barker eyed Maddy with amusement, and said, "Centaurs were also known to be

violent, live on wine and meat, and carry maidens off to their lairs. Tyler doesn't like wine, he hasn't
got a violent bone in his body, and as far as we know he lives alone with his horses."

"I have a theory on that too," Maddy said. "My theory is that Tyler descended from Cheiron,

unlike all the other centaurs who descended from Ixion, so whereas the other centaurs were known for
their bestial behavior, Cheiron overcame that side of a centaur's nature and became a tutor to the other
centaurs, which is definitely Tyler. He can be a real bore at times with all his scientific theories."

Rose couldn't dispute the part about the scientific theories. Tyler did seem somewhat long-

winded with his accounts about geysers and hair being an extension of the nervous system, but there
was nothing about him that she found boring. Tedious and exasperating maybe, but definitely not
boring.

Looking askance at Maddy, she said, "When I was out looking for basket-making materials I must

have ended up close to Tyler's place because I found him working with his horses in a meadow and
he gave me a pretty in-depth explanation about how he got them to do what he wants, so maybe I'll
consider the centaur-as-a-tutor angle."

Maddy chuckled. "You'll be convinced if you stick around him long enough, which isn't easy to

do. Most people can't figure him out because he is a centaur, so they leave him alone, which is fine
with Tyler. I can see him when he's around ninety, still living out there with his horses, but he'll have
long white hair and a long flowing beard and by then he will have forgotten how to communicate with
humans and he'll become a legend. The Centaur of Spirit Mountain."

Rose eyed Maddy with uncertainty. "That's the mountain the reservation's on," she said,

wondering if Maddy was trying to make a point, whether it was a poke at Indian legends, or because
of Tyler's Indian appearance.

"It's also the mountain that Tyler's place backs up to," Maddy said. "Well, actually the ranch

backs up to the foothills of Spirit Mountain, but maybe some of the spirits in the mountain will
wander onto Tyler's place and get through to him. He lives in a spiritual vacuum."

Jack, who had been sitting silently at the end of the table while seeming to be taking everything

in, said to Maddy, "Tyler has a spiritual side. He just hasn't tapped into it yet. When the awareness
finally comes, it will come through his horses."

Rose looked at Jack Hansen with curiosity. She'd seen him working horses and moving cattle and

involved in ranch work with another son, Adam, but she never thought the man could have a
philosophical side. She also thought he could be right. The problem was, Tyler could decimate
Whispering Springs before coming to any kind of spiritual realization.

Before anyone could respond to Jack's statement, the phone rang. Jack motioned for Grace to

remain seated, then shoved his chair back and answered the phone in the kitchen. From the one-sided
conversation it was clear that he was talking to either Tyler or Tyler's brother, Josh, because the
conversation centered on the rodeo in Wyoming.

When Jack hung up, he announced, "That was Josh. He said Billy's bull, Wild Card, got a bull

score of forty-eight, and her Mexican bull, Vortex, got a forty-two, so that's good news. He also said
Tyler's performance yesterday went well and he posted it on You Tube. It's up now."

Maddy smiled broadly and immediately shoved her chair back, while saying to Rose, "Come on.

You might as well see the centaur in action. He doesn't much like rodeo crowds though, but tolerates
them because they're his bread and butter."

Rose heard a slight derogatory grunt from Jack, and wondered exactly how expensive it was,

hauling horses that were obviously very valuable, around to rodeos, as well as maintenance costs for
the animals. Then she recalled that some of their maintenance, the veterinary care, would be partially
covered, since his cousin, Rick, was a vet.

They all moved into the family room, a large room with log interior walls and windows on three

sides, and took their places in overstuffed leather recliners, while Jack sat on a couch, in front of a
laptop computer on a coffee table that was positioned in front of a large-screen TV, like viewing You
Tube videos was a normal occurrence there.

After a couple of minutes the TV screen filled with movement and activity, and the room became

alive with the sounds of a crowd cheering, while a voiceover announced, "From the great Roman
Empire, and riding under the spotlight, please welcome Tyler Hansen with his six-horse-hitch,
Moon Dancers, a team of magnificent Lusitano mares..."

As the announcer spoke, Tyler entered the darkened arena with his horses in three pairs, the

procession that was illuminated beneath the lights looking much as they had at the beach when the
horses emerged from the fog, with Tyler standing on the pair in the rear. But this time, instead of the
quiet rhythmic restlessness of waves washing and receding against the sandy beach, the scene was
accompanied by catchy music, the fast rhythm raising the level of excitement of the crowd, who
clapped and cheered and stomped their feet with enthusiasm as Tyler took the horses around the arena
at breathtaking speed.

Tyler was dressed like a Roman soldier, in a tunic that came to just above his knees, a Roman

helmet with a feather plume, leather wrist and shin guards, and what looked to be soft leather sandals
that laced up his legs. He held six pairs of long reins in his hands while driving the horses as they
raced around the arena.

What surprised Rose most was that Tyler looked completely relaxed as he took the horses around

at a full run. It seemed odd though, not seeing his long hair streaming out behind like it had when he
was on the beach. She assumed he'd twisted it into a coil and stuffed it under the helmet, but she
couldn't help thinking that, even though he looked amazingly impressive as a Roman soldier, he'd look
even more impressive with his long hair streaming out behind, maybe as the representation of an
Indian warrior, or dressed in white as the ghost of a famous Indian chief on his pearly-white ghost
horses…

"The Lusitano is one of the most ancient breeds," the announcer said, as Tyler continued around

the perimeter of the arena. "Tyler uses them for his Roman riding act because they're good at the

fast quick bursts of energy the sport requires, and they tend to be calm. They're also the stars of
the show as you'll see as Tyler takes the team over several jumps..."

As the announcer said the words, Tyler headed the horses toward three jumps that were

positioned just off the outside track. A huge burst of applause erupted as the pair of horses in front
sailed over the first jump, followed by the middle pair, and finally the pair in the rear, with Tyler
holding his balance as if he were attached to the horses, when in fact there was nothing on the horses'
backs. He took the team over the next two jumps, then around the arena and over the jumps again
while the pumped up crowd cheered and applauded.

Rose could not help feeling pure adulation on watching Tyler with his horses, balanced so

perfectly on their backs, with one hand now holding six pairs of reins while the other was raised as
he connected with the crowd, something that surprised her, being the recluse everyone claimed he
was…

"The sport of Roman riding hails back to Roman times when Roman generals stood on their

horses to survey the battle field," the announcer continued. "It's a feat of balance and control that's
taken to the limit when negotiating jumps like what you just saw Tyler do…"

About that time Tyler guided the horses to the outer perimeter of the arena and again took them

around at a fast gallop…

"Tyler's standing on the backs of Selena and Celeste, the wheel team of his six-horse hitch.

Those are the ones that have to each carry half of Tyler's weight while driving hard enough to stay
up with the others. These two mares are full sisters so they're well matched for Tyler to stand on.
In front of the wheel horses are the swing horses, Gypsy and Estelle, which are the horses in the
middle of a Roman riding group, and the lead horses are Luna and Stardust, a pair of almost
perfectly matched dapple grays..."

Tyler guided the horses to the center of the arena and dismounted, and while the announcer

continued to tell the crowd about the history of Roman riding, Tyler stripped off the tack. When the
mares were free of restraints, the announcer said, "And now, Tyler will demonstrate some liberty
work."

With that, the announcer became silent and the music changed to a playful orchestral arrangement

as Tyler jogged around the arena, much as he had in the meadow, with all six mares trailing after him
and following him back and forth over a low jump. After that the horses moved into a circle, and
single-file, trotted around Tyler like a living carousel. Then without obvious signal from Tyler, they
moved into a line, six abreast. Tyler ended the performance with the horses in a row, bobbing their
heads to the crowd on one side of the arena then turning like a pinwheel to face the opposite direction
and bob their heads again.

The crowd went wild, jumping to their feet and cheering, while Tyler launched himself onto the

back of one of the horses and placed a foot on the back of another, and with the mares lined six
abreast, directed them out of the arena…

"What you're seeing is proof that a gentle bond between man and beast can be created, and all

with a spirit of fun and joy," the announcer yelled. "Let's hear it for Tyler Hansen and his Moon
Dancers…" The announcer's voice was drowned out with thundering applause as Tyler and his
horses loped out of the arena.

The video flicked off, and for a moment Rose sat silently staring at the blank screen while trying

to absorb what she'd just seen…

"I'm so relieved," Grace said, cutting into Rose's daze. "It went well, but I've been worried all

week about Tyler working six horses, and his new horses maybe not being ready."

"Then you can start worrying a little more, Mom," Maddy said, "because now he wants to add

two more mares to his team." She looked over at Jack and added, "Hang onto your wallet, Dad. I
think he plans to hit you up for a loan."

Jack grumbled and said nothing, to which Jack's mother, Maureen, responded by saying, "What

Tyler does with his horses is a gift few can do, so if he needs money for another pair, I'm willing to
loan it to him."

Jack eyed his mother with concern. "I can't tell you what to do with your money, Mom, but before

anyone invests in high-end horses, Tyler needs to prove that his six-horse team can continue to
perform. He's on a roll right now with contracts lined up, but that could end with one injury. As it is,
after he deducts all his expenses he barely makes ends meet. He needs a profession to fall back on if
something happens, and he is capable of going to college."

"He barely made it through high school," Maureen said. "He's finally at peace and he doesn't

need that stress. Besides, his horses are his passion and he should stay focused on them."

Rose found herself puzzling over the exchange, especially since Tyler seemed unusually

intelligent, when Grace cut into her thoughts, while saying to Jack, "Honey, I know you have high
hopes for Tyler, but right now he's single and free to travel with his horses, and he's in the process of
making a name for himself. He's also too young to be thinking about marriage."

"He turns twenty-three in a couple of months," Jack pointed out. "He could start thinking about

marriage in an instant if he met the right woman."

Maddy chuckled. "Tyler shouldn't think about marriage at all, ever. Heaven help any woman who

might end up with him. She'd find herself sleeping in the pasture with the horses. Tyler spends half the
summer doing that. Yep, he's definitely a centaur."

What came to Rose's mind on hearing Maddy's words was the expression on Tyler's face when

she announced that she loved sleeping under the stars. It had been a deep, thoughtful expression, and
Tyler had stared at her for a prolonged period…

Deciding she needed to snap out of her infatuation over the man, she reminded herself that, even

though Tyler had an unusual rapport with horses, he was not a candidate for anything except maybe
admiration from a distance when he was working his mares. It was becoming fairly clear that he
belonged in his own isolated world, a very narrow world at that.

CHAPTER 5

Cody Stampede - Cody, Wyoming

Tyler had just finished grooming and tending his mares after his final performance on the last day

of the rodeo, and was waiting to see how Wild Card would do during the final bull riding
competition, when he looked over to see the same rodeo bullfighter staring at him. The man had been
around all three days of the rodeo, always dressed like a clown, but not once had he been in the arena
during the bull riding.

Walking over to where Josh stood with his arms propped on the top railing of the arena, Tyler

said to him, "That rodeo clown just behind us and over your right shoulder. He's been staring at me
for the past three days. Have you noticed anything odd about him?"

Josh glanced over his shoulder momentarily, and replied, "Yeah, he just stands around dressed

like a clown and does nothing. He's been staring at me too. I also noticed him with a woman with a
little kid, not more than about a year old, over by the bull pens, mainly at Wild Card's pen. I started
over a few times to see what they wanted and each time they walked off."

"Then let's sort of make our way over to the guy and get a little closer look," Tyler said. "Maybe

he's got something to say to us and isn't ready to approach us yet."

"Might as well," Josh replied. "It's still another forty-five minutes before the bull riding begins,

and Wild Card's second to last."

Tyler eyed the man again, who turned his face toward the arena as they started toward him, like

he realized he was being talked about and didn't want to appear to be staring.

Glancing down at a discarded program on the ground, Tyler scooped it up, and said, "Look at this

with me and act like we're talking while we walk over there, then we can start up a conversation with
the guy and ask him if he's a regular with the rodeo circuit. Maybe he'll give us an idea what this is all
about."

Josh nodded and they started walking together.
As they approached, the man continued looking toward the arena. Tyler glanced beyond him, in

the direction of the stock pens, and spotted a woman holding a child and standing near Wild Card's
pen. Turning to Josh, he said, "Is that the woman you saw with the guy?"

Josh looked over, and replied, "Yeah, she's the one."
"She looks like Billy," Tyler said.
Josh took a closer look at the woman, then immediately looked at the clown, as did Tyler, and

when the clown looked directly at them, Tyler knew, about the same moment Josh did, that it was
Jeremy. Breaking away from Tyler, Josh rushed up and threw his arms around his twin, and when
Tyler joined in, Jeremy clapped his arm around Tyler's shoulders, and said, "We're breaking all
WITSEC rules by being here, but you guys are really sights for sore eyes."

After the initial shock of the reunion was over, Jeremy turned toward Billy and motioned with a

sweep of his arm for her to come over.

Bundling the child in both arms, Billy started jogging over to where they stood, and by the time

she got there, tears had filled her eyes. Jeremy put his arm around her and pulled her against him, and
said, "So much for remaining incognito while we're here, honey, but these two guys won't say anything

to anyone, right?" He looked from Tyler to Josh and waited.

"No one?" Tyler said. "Not even Mom and Dad?"
Jeremy shook his head. "Mario Moretti's off somewhere right now, which is why Billy and I took

a chance coming here. Normally he tags along when we leave for any distance."

"Then you don't live around Cody?" Tyler asked.
"We can't say," Jeremy replied. "Just keep it quiet. We don't want to be moved again, and if

Mario finds out we connected with you he'll be obligated to move us, whether he wants to or not.
Where we're staying is perfect for us, and Roberta, who it turns out is Mario's sister, is great. She's
like Amy's grandmother. And speaking of Amy…" Shifting the little girl out of Billy's arms and
holding her against him, Jeremy said to his brothers, "This is your niece, Amy."

Amy tucked her head beneath Jeremy's chin and peered out at Tyler with wide brown eyes. The

sweet, innocent look on her face caught Tyler off guard, stirring in him an odd longing that was alien
to him, so he dismissed it as a touch of homesickness, brought on by seeing Jeremy again after almost
two years. Still, he reached out and touched Amy's cheek, allowing his finger to linger there for a
moment. "She's cute," he said.

"Uh oh, kid," Jeremy replied. "That's the first sign of domestication in males, noticing other

people's children."

"You'd better not call him kid," Josh said. "If you haven't noticed, he taller than both of us."
"I noticed. So then," Jeremy said to Tyler, "is your socialization still limited to mares, or have

you finally started socializing with human females?"

Tyler didn't answer right away, finding himself distracted momentarily by images of Rose

standing in the meadow with her hair blowing gently, and little points of light in her big brown eyes
as she held his gaze while telling him that she loved sleeping under the stars. And there were other
things that came to mind at odd times, like the golden glow of her shoulders and bare back and small
waist as she sat in the hot spring pool, and the way she toyed with her hair when she was talking to
him, like she might be a little nervous, distractions he didn't need, he reminded himself. "I'll stick with
mares," he at last replied.

Looking at Tyler in curiosity, Josh said, "You took a while to answer. I'm betting a female of the

human species has caught your attention. Marc said he hired a woman from the reservation, and Kit
claims if anyone could catch your eye she'd be the one."

Jeremy gave Tyler a little fist to his shoulder, while saying, "It's bound to happen sooner or later,

little brother. A man can be a free spirit only so long before he finds himself thinking it would be a lot
more fun to snuggle up to a warm female body at night than a pillow." He tightened his arm around
Billy and she responded by smiling up at him.

Tyler let out a feigned laugh, because he'd had those same thoughts recently. Not wanting his

brothers to have any fodder for teasing, he said, "I have six mares to snuggle up with and they don't
give me any guff." Again, Rose came to mind, but this time he visualized the way her eyes sparked
with anger as she went off on a tangent about his chiseling into the mountain...

"Mares won't give you any kids," Jeremy pointed out. "Here, hold Amy for a few minutes and see

what it's like to be the uncle of Amy… Sullivan."

Tyler took Amy into his arms and found her staring at him with wide curious eyes. He couldn't

help smiling at the way she seemed to be puzzling over him, and when she saw him smile, she smiled
too, the sweetest little smile he'd ever seen, which tugged at his heart. "Are you okay with the name
Sullivan now?" he asked Jeremy, while continuing to look at Amy. It was a new experience, holding a
small child the way he was. Sophie and Rick had a slew of kids, Marc and Kit had Lizzy, Adam and

Emily had Jesse and Gracie, Josh and Genie had Levi, and Ryan and Annie had Cody, but he'd never
paid much attention to any of them. In fact, he made a point of disappearing whenever the house filled
with kids because he got mind clutter and verbal overload from everyone speaking at once...

"We don't intend to stay Sullivan forever," Billy said. "The trials are ongoing in Las Vegas right

now, and if the jury believes the testimony of my brother-in-law, it will be over for the mafia boss
and his crime family, and by this time next year we could be home."

"And if they don't believe your brother-in-law?" Tyler asked.
Billy shrugged. "I'll be called to Las Vegas to testify and we'll be here longer."
"Here?" Tyler asked.
Billy looked askance at Jeremy, who stared blankly and said nothing, and for a few moments

neither spoke. Tyler didn't press them, but he suspected that somewhere in the vicinity of Cody,
Wyoming, was Jeremy and Billy's witness protection hideout.

"Never mind, don't answer that," Josh said. "But if we get back this way we'll let you know.

Maybe both of you could dress like clowns and meet us at McDonald's."

"Not going to happen," Jeremy said. "This face paint you clowns wear is a mess. Are you still

bullfighting?"

Josh chuckled. "Genie gave me my marching orders and marched me right out of the arena, but

that's fine with me. Levi and Abby need an intact dad, and raising bucking bulls and kids is a lot more
satisfying than dodging bulls that are intent on running me through. Speaking of which, I have to get
Wild Card ready. We'll meet in my rig right afterwards. Do you know where it's parked?"

"Sure," Jeremy replied. "I've been watching you guys for three days now."
After Josh left, Jeremy said to Tyler, "Incidentally, your act is world class. Keep it up."
Tyler laughed. "It will be even classier if I can find the money for two mares I've located that I

want to add to the team."

"You're planning on driving eight horses?" Jeremy said.
"Hopefully," Tyler replied. "I like to think I have backup for my six-horse-hitch. I'll show all

eight when they're ready, and I'll do more liberty work. The crowd seems to like it."

Jeremy gave Tyler's arm a squeeze, and said, "If anyone makes it happen, you will. You've been

at this from as far back as I can remember and I never once questioned your ability to do exactly what
you're doing. You must be getting some good contracts by now."

"I am," Tyler replied. "Stock transportation was included in this one, but eventually I'll need my

own eighteen wheeler and an assistant or two."

"You'll make it happen, and I'll be even prouder of you when you do."
Tyler smiled because, all the time he was growing up, he had nothing to feel proud about, and

hearing Jeremy's words felt good because he knew they were coming from his heart. But his smile
brought another smile from Amy, who giggled and tangled her hands in his hair and tugged, making
him laugh too.

Billy looked askance at Tyler, and said, "Do you want me to take her now?"
"She's not fussing so I'll hold her until she does," Tyler replied. "Besides, I think she's stuck."

Amy's fingers, which remained tangled in his hair, had him thinking about other fingers tangling in his
hair, long slender fingers he could imagine moving down his neck, and across his shoulders, and over
his back, and he could also imagine running his fingers over the smooth golden skin he'd seen when he
stepped into the cavern and saw Rose sitting in the pool…

"What's her name?" Jeremy asked.
"Rose," Tyler replied before he could catch himself. He looked at Josh with a start. "Why did

you ask that?"

"Why did you answer Rose?" A wide grin spread across Jeremy's face.
"Okay," Tyler said, "she's the woman Marc hired, and no, I'm not involved with her and don't

intend to complicate my life that way, so you can wipe that stupid grin off your face."

Billy raised her hand in protest, then stepping between them, took both men by the arms, and said,

"Come on, you guys. Let's go watch Wild Card kick butt."

As Tyler walked with Billy and Jeremy toward the arena, it came to him that, even though he was

excited to see Jeremy again and know where he and his family were living, he also wanted to be back
at the ranch. He wasn't sure when he'd started having thoughts about getting something going with
Rose—maybe when she was standing in the meadow with her golden-eyed wolfdog, and the
realization came that the dog wasn't reacting to him, but instead to Rose's response to him—but once
the idea took hold that his presence affected Rose he couldn't shake it, because her presence affected
him too. He even imagined having her beside him at night, maybe in a double sleeping bag under the
stars.

He'd never been in a relationship before because eventually she'd learn about his problem, and

he couldn't imagine a woman staying with him after that, especially a college-educated woman like
Rose, but he'd never had a woman react to him the way Rose did either, and that thought seemed to
dominate his mind.

There was still the issue of his opening fissures in the rock floor of the spring and Rose's

opposition to it because of a belief in non-existent spirits, but he was sure they could reach a neutral
position on that once he solved the mystery of the sounds, which should come sooner, rather than later,
because he'd recently bought a used gas-powered rock drill that he'd located on the internet, and it
was on its way to the ranch.

Another week and he should at last satisfy a curiosity that had dogged him since the first time he

heard the voices in the mountain. But for the moment, his attention was more focused on how to get
something going with Rose than worrying about the source of the sounds. He just hoped he wouldn't
make a complete fool of himself in Rose's mind when he tried.

***

Rose stood in front of the reconstruction of a pit house—a primitive dwelling that was dug into

the ground, with posts to support the roof—while explaining to several visitors, and a couple of ranch
guests, what it was like for the early Indians who'd lived in such structures, when she saw a big truck
with a long horse semitrailer pulling into the ranch, with Tyler's truck right behind. On seeing Tyler
step out of his truck, her heart started hammering.

All her best intentions had gone awry when she left Jack and Grace Hansen's house after

watching the video of Tyler with his horses. From that time on she found herself daydreaming about
searching for basket-making materials at the location where she'd been before and accidentally
finding Tyler working his horses, or she'd fantasize about driving with him to the coast and watching
him run the horses in the surf, but to do that they'd have to leave the ranch long before daybreak in
order to get there by sunup, which led to thoughts of spending the night with Tyler in the pasture with
his horses while sleeping under the stars.

Apparently his house was up there somewhere too, and now she wondered what kind of place

he'd live in. After hearing Maddy's comments, speculation ranged from a large box with a window, to
a camper on the back of his pickup, to a small travel trailer, to a cabin with no electricity, like the one

up in the mountains where family and guests stayed at times. She could imagine Tyler living that
way...

"I'm a scout leader," one of the visitors cut into Rose's thoughts. "How would I go about

scheduling a field trip for my troop?"

Rose forced herself to divert her attention from what was going on at the semi with the horse

trailer to what the woman was saying. "A field trip?" she asked, having missed the beginning of the
question.

"For my Brownie scouts," the woman repeated. "I'd like to schedule a visit."
"We can block off a two-hour period any Monday or Tuesday, and the girls will have a chance to

try their hands at weaving simple baskets," Rose said. She couldn't help looking beyond the woman
when she saw Tyler leading the first of his horses out of the big rig—the beautiful dapple gray lead
horse with the dark mane and tail she remembered as being named Luna, maybe because she was
more like a dark moon. The mare was close in appearance to the other lead horse, the one the
announcer referred to as Stardust, except that Stardust's mane and tail were light gray, almost white…

"Do you have a special group rate?" the woman asked.
"A what?" Rose replied.
The woman looked at her, curiously, and Rose decided she'd better pay attention to what was

going on at the museum and ignore Tyler and his mares, so she turned her back to Tyler and focused on
the woman and attempted to answer all of her questions, and those of the other visitors. By the time
the visitors were leaving, which coincided with closing time, the big horse rig had left and Tyler was
standing in the clearing in front of the lodge while talking to a small gathering of ranch guests. His
horses stood behind him, none of which appeared to be wearing any tack except halters.

As she was looking his way, Tyler waved off the guests and started walking toward her across

the clearing, six horses trailing along with him, which sent her heart skittering and her breath
quickening. Fortunately, Tundra was penned up in the yard behind Marc and Kit's house so she didn't
have to face the embarrassment of him growling when Tyler would approach, and Tundra would have
definitely growled because all the usual female reactions were in full force.

"Are you finished for the day?" Tyler asked, as he approached.
"Yes," Rose replied, while trying to dismiss all the flutters and flurries, which was impossible

because Tyler had the most appealing look on his face, with an engaging smile on his lips, and a little
twinkle in his eyes, like he was glad to see her too.

"Maybe you could drive my truck up to my place while I bring the horses," he said. "I'd give you

a ride back here afterwards."

On hearing Tyler's suggestion, Rose's heart skitters of moments before changed to heavy thuds.

For the past three days she'd had ridiculously silly fantasies about being with Tyler in various
scenarios, but now all she felt was trepidation. She had no idea why she felt that way, only that she
did…

"If it's a problem I'll take the horses up and come back for my truck later," Tyler said, when Rose

seemed to be standing and looking at him, tongue-tied.

Rose drew in a long breath to calm things, and replied, by way of an explanation for her mindless

behavior, "No, it's fine. I just wanted to make sure there were no visitors here," which made no sense
because she hadn't even looked around so see if there were. Her attention had been entirely focused
on Tyler, and she sensed, from the way he was looking at her, with the subtle hint of awareness in his
eyes, that he knew.

"Do I go first or do you?" she asked, determined to turn her attention to the task of driving Tyler's

truck up to his place.

"I'll go first with my mares, and you can wait ten or fifteen minutes and follow," Tyler replied.

"Can you handle a one-ton truck?"

"Sure," Rose said. "My dad had me driving his around the farm when I was twelve."
Tyler smiled in a way that had Rose's heart revving up even more, then he turned and launched

himself onto Luna's back, and sitting on her instead of standing, said to Rose, "I'll be heading up the
road behind the stable, the same road you took when you found me with my mares. The road dead
ends at my place. Plan to stay a little while though. I'll need some time with my ladies before I drive
you back. The truck key's in the ignition."

Tyler apparently gave Luna directions because she turned and headed across the clearing toward

the stable, with the rest of the mares keeping a leisurely pace, tails swishing, heads bobbing, like they
were enjoying the outing, which they probably were. After being penned up in a horse van for a
thousand miles they were undoubtedly as anxious to be with Tyler as he was to be with them. It was
all a puzzle to her. But as she watched them, she couldn't help feeling that same sense of wonder that a
man could sit on a mare, with no reins, while giving directions that were too subtle for any observer
to detect, yet all six mares knew exactly what Tyler was asking.

It wasn't until she was walking toward Tyler's truck that she began to feel a growing unease with

the thought of being at his place, completely alone with him and without Tundra as a distraction or an
excuse to leave, if she started into her usual round of physiological responses. It was almost pathetic
the way she reacted, and she made the determination to control her errant responses by concentrating
on everything she did not like about the man.

CHAPTER 6

As Rose approached Tyler's truck, she noticed Tyler's grandmother standing just beyond it while

watching Tyler and the horses as they headed up the road behind the stables. When Maureen saw her
coming, she smiled and walked over to meet her. "Tyler must have recruited you to drive his truck up
to his place," she said.

Rose nodded. "When I didn't see anyone around I wondered how he'd manage, but seeing the way

his horses trail after him everywhere, they probably would have followed his truck as well."

"They would have," Maureen said, "but Tyler's been separated from them for three days, at least

while they were on the road, and I know he just wants to spend time with them. Sometimes I think
they're more family to him than we are. Don't get me wrong. Tyler loves his human family, but those
horses are his family too. He'd lay down his life for any one of them."

Rose watched Tyler and the horses as they continued up the road. "He does seem especially

attached to them," she said. "My family has always had horses, and I love my big sorrel gelding, but
none of us connect with our horses the way Tyler does with his. He's an unusual man."

"Yes, he is," Maureen replied, "but he's also a very complex man who stays to himself, so he's

not easy to understand. His horses understand him though. To them he's not such a mystery. But to
those who don't know him he can be perplexing."

Rose puzzled over that, just as she'd puzzled over Maureen's comment at dinner the week before.

"I don't mean to pry," she said, "but the other night you commented that Tyler barely made it through
high school and that he's finally at peace with himself. Is it something the family can talk about?"

"It's not a dark secret, just something Tyler's sensitive about," Maureen replied. "When he was in

third grade he was diagnosed as dyslexic. He had a terrible time learning to read and write, so he
went through school being told he was stupid, even though he's very intelligent. He just couldn't learn
the way other kids did because his brain is wired differently."

"I'm embarrassed to say that I know next to nothing about dyslexia, even though my mother's a

grammar school teacher," Rose said. "How is his brain different?"

"Dyslectic's think in pictures instead of words," Maureen replied. "Verbal learners like you and I

mentally make sentences in our heads, word by word, but non-verbal learners like Tyler, think in
three-dimensional, multi-sensory images that change and grow as the thought process adds more
information. Because thinking in images is so much faster than verbal thinking, internal dialog in
dyslectics is subliminal. The problem comes when they read or hear abstract words that don't form
images, words like, or, as, and that. Without pictures to process, what they read or hear loses some of
its meaning, causing confusion and frustration. "

"It doesn't seem to affect Tyler in any way," Rose said. "If you hadn't said anything I never would

have known."

"Outwardly, you wouldn't know," Maureen replied. "A person's self-image is a private thing. But

in Tyler's mind he's still trapped in a world that views him as stupid. Learning that his struggle
processing language isn't lack of intelligence has taken him most of his life, and he still hasn't
accepted who he is."

"Which is a pretty amazing man with an ability to communicate with horses," Rose said.
It came to her that maybe Tyler's passion to solve the mystery of the voices in the spring was his

means of proving to the world that he wasn't the slow, stupid boy he'd been labeled in school. "Is he

able to read okay now?" she asked.

"Yes, just slower than most," Maureen replied. "Grace worked tirelessly with him when he was

growing up and gradually it helped develop the part of his brain that had trouble processing words,
but one of his biggest problems was with non-literal language like jokes, and wisecracks. Those
never registered, which often made him the butt of jokes in school. But he never had to worry about
any of that when he was with his horses because their communication was honest, non-verbal, and
loving."

Rose visualized Tyler in the meadow interacting with his mares, and again marveled at the

extraordinary communication between them. She also wondered when it all started. "I assume he's
been involved with horses from an early age," she said.

Maureen nodded. "Jack's kids all grew up on horses. With Jack, learning to ride came just before

learning to walk. Jack got Caesar for Tyler when Tyler was seven. He was a small horse about
thirteen hands, and he was Tyler's playmate. By the time Tyler was eight, he and Caesar were
inseparable. No one was surprised to look out the window and see Tyler sitting or lying backwards
on him, or hanging onto his side, or riding standing up." She let out a little chuckle. "It's ironic that his
first horse was named after a Roman general."

Rose felt a flurry of excitement as the image of Tyler driving the horses around the arena, while

dressed as a Roman soldier, filled her mind's eye. But she still couldn't help imagining him as an
Indian in buckskins, with his long hair trailing behind, and shirtless except for a buckskin vest, with
the overhead lights reflecting off what she imagined to be a very muscular chest…

Finding her mind wandering into dangerous territory, she drew her attention back to Maureen's

comment, and said, "So, when did Tyler begin Roman riding?"

"Around twelve," Maureen replied. "He saw a Roman riding performance at a rodeo and wanted

to do it too, so Jack got him Gypsy, one of the mares he still has. Tyler harnessed Gypsy and Caesar
together, and with one foot on each, began cantering around the ring. When he started jumping from
the ground onto their backs while they were cantering, then standing on them and riding backwards,
Grace started worrying that he was going to get badly hurt, so Jack sent him out to learn vaulting from
a dressage instructor, and although dressage wasn't for Tyler, he practiced his vaulting movements
every day. Jack bought Tyler's third horse when he was fourteen, so Tyler had a threesome. Everything
else he does with horses he picked up on his own, which baffles a lot of horsey people who don't
understand a man who can communicate with horses, but not so well with people. Sometimes I
wonder if it could be genetic."

"Then there are others with dyslexia in the family?" Rose asked.
"Not dyslexia," Maureen replied, "although it can run in families. I'm talking about the way Tyler

communicates with horses. My grandfather on my mother's side was full Nez Perce, and my mother
talked about how he could read horses by looking at their expressions, which is what Tyler does. But
my grandfather was also a very spiritual man." She looked thoughtfully at Rose, and said, "I've
always felt that an Indian woman would be good for Tyler because she'd be well grounded in the thing
he lacks most."

Rose wasn't sure whether the comment was aimed at her in particular, or at Indian women in

general, but it did explain the disconnect between Tyler's deep, almost transcendental alliance with
his mares, and his denial of things of a spiritual nature—he couldn't grasp the concept of spirits or
angels because he couldn't visualize them, and verbal explanations made no sense. She also realized
that what Tyler lacked was the very thing her own mother warned her against.

"Well… I'd better get Tyler's truck up to him," she said. "Thank you for giving me a better

understanding of him."

Maureen reached out and patted her hand. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it, and if he allows you into

his heart, I think you'll find a man worth loving."

Rose had no idea how to respond, but it didn't matter because Maureen had already turned and

was walking off.

As Rose started up the road to Tyler's place, she wasn't sure what to do with all the information

she'd just absorbed, nor could she predict how she'd react to Tyler when she saw him. Things were
different now. She was still in awe of what he could do with his horses, but she was uncertain how to
interact with a man who'd suffered deeply all the time he was growing up, yet whose presence
brought flutters to her chest along with a plethora of other reactions.

The road continued to climb gently, and not long afterwards she passed the place where Tundra

had turned into the woods. A few hundred feet further, the road made a sweeping turn around a stand
of timber and came to an end in a clearing with a wide area of gravel for parking. She pulled the truck
to a halt beside a huge horse trailer. It wasn't a fancy show trailer, but a practical one, the kind she'd
seen at rodeos when participants arrived with multiple horses. Parked beside that was a two-horse
trailer, and about twenty feet beyond both stood a stable with a lineup of doors that led into a fenced-
in pasture. Not far from the stable was a pole barn filled with bales of hay, but she saw no sign of a
house.

A section at the rear of the stable jutted out, but it didn't have enough windows in it to represent

living quarters, so she assumed it was where hay and grain were stored. On the opposite side of the
barn and toward the front stood a huge round tank, about six feet high, that appeared to be an above
ground cistern for catching rainwater off the roof, because a network of gutters converged into a
single downspout that fed into the tank. Not far from that was a vegetable garden surrounded by a high
welded-wire fence, undoubtedly to keep the deer out, so Maddy's joking about the way Tyler lived
appeared to be true. But now she was more curious than ever about his living quarters.

She looked to where Tyler was standing in the pasture with his mares. It was almost comical the

way all six horses stood facing him, like Tyler was a teacher having a conversation with a lineup of
students. It appeared as if he was telling them something, and they continued to stare at him with
interest—eyes alert, ears twitching with the sound of his voice, heads bobbing on occasion—like they
understood what he was saying, and maybe they did. It was all alien to her, communicating with
horses the way Tyler did.

She climbed out of the truck and was leaning against the door, arms folded, waiting for Tyler to

finish his conversation with his horses, when Tyler turned and motioned to her, and called out, "Come
on in here. I want to introduce you to my ladies."

Rose didn't know what to make of it. It was like Tyler was inviting her into his closed little

world. "Are you sure they won't be jealous of someone being around you and act on it?" she asked,
while walking toward the gate to the pasture. Tyler's mares were definitely not the usual ranch herd,
nor was Tyler an ordinary horseman. He was the leader of the harem, and the mares could resent any
intruder.

"I'm going to introduce you to them in a way they will accept," Tyler replied. "Come on."
Rose entered the pasture and closed the gate, then walked over to where Tyler stood with the

mare she recognized as Stardust, one of the lead mares during his rodeo performance, the magnificent
dapple gray with the lighter mane and tail. The mare was standing slightly in front of Tyler, but a little
off to the side. The rest of the mares stood in an arc behind him, all looking with interest at Rose.

"Stand directly in front of me and face Stardust," Tyler said.

Rose looked at him with curiosity, then moved in front of him, and with her back to him, waited.

Curving his right arm around her from behind, Tyler made a fist with his hand, and said, "Put your
palm over my fist."

Rose raised her hand, so the bottom of her arm was resting against the top of Tyler's arm, and

placed her palm over his balled fist. His hand was large, and her fingers barely covered his knuckles
and first joints.

Lifting their hands together, Tyler said, "Your hand over my fist mimics a horse extending its nose

in friendship or greeting. Give Stardust a moment to check you out. She'll smell my hand with yours."

"She's leery of me," Rose said as the mare eyed her with trepidation. "She doesn't want me in her

personal space."

"You've come between us," Tyler replied. "It's no different with people. Some people we don't

want in our personal spaces. Others…" —he paused for a moment— "we do."

Rose caught the hesitation, and the meaning. She also realized Tyler had moved closer, until his

chest was against her back. "Which people am I to her?" she asked.

"Someone she's confused about," Tyler replied. "She's uncertain if she wants you in her world. It

could upset the perfect balance of things."

Rose sensed that Tyler was talking about himself… and her. She understood. Tyler would

definitely upset the balance of her world. Her family would not take to a man who intended to
desecrate the spring in the name of scientific curiosity, although when she was last in the cavern, there
was little sign of chipping or chiseling in the rock wall, so maybe he was satisfied and would
abandon the idea.

While she was pondering that, Tyler reached down and took her left hand in his and flattened her

palm against Stardust's neck, and with his hand coving hers, moved their hands together and began
stroking. Stardust bobbed her head like she was okay with the attention. "Doing it this way, she's
viewing you as an extension of me," Tyler explained.

Rose wasn't sure about all of this. It seemed overkill to be introduced to a herd of horses in such

a way, but she didn't question it too deeply because she liked what was happening, being enclosed by
Tyler's arms and feeling his chest against her back. "How long have you had her?" she asked, mainly
because she wanted to remain where she was and find a reason to stay.

"Since I was twelve," Tyler replied. "She was the third horse in my Roman riding act. Before

then it was Gypsy and my old horse, Caesar, but it wasn't much of an act, just something to entertain
ranch guests and family."

"Your grandmother told me about them," Rose said, as their left hands continued stroking the

mare's neck while their right hands seemed fixed together in a fist for no reason other than neither of
them had broken the contact.

"When did you see my grandmother?" Tyler asked, bending around her some, until she felt his

warm breath on the side of her face.

"Just before I came here," Rose replied. "She had some interesting things to say about you."
For a moment Tyler said nothing, and Rose wondered if he was concerned that his grandmother

might have told her he was dyslexic. But then he let out a little soft laugh, and said, "Let me guess.
She told you I was an introvert."

"Are you?" Rose asked.
"No, I'm never alone," Tyler replied. "I always have my mares and we communicate. Life is

simpler that way."

One of the other mares moved around so she was standing beside Stardust, like she wanted to be

included. Tyler removed his left hand from Rose's and stroked the mare's muzzle. "Gypsy, baby,
you're jealous," he said. "You don't want another lady in my life."

Rose started to ask if that's what this was all about, Tyler including her in his life. She wasn't

sure how she'd react if that was the case. She and Tyler had barely exchanged words, and she'd
learned some things about him from his grandmother that she hadn't had a chance to process, yet she
felt a strong connection with him, or maybe it was simply that she was infatuated with what he could
do with horses. She looked at Gypsy, who was staring at her, and said, "She seems perfectly calm.
What makes you think she's jealous?"

"Her nose is pinched," Tyler replied. "Humans are primarily auditory communicators, but horses

are visual ones so body language is important. The way humans use voice inflection and volume to
get a point across, horses use degrees of body language—pinning their ears back, a pinched nose,
swishing the tail."

"I still don't understand how you've gotten them to respond to what you want them to do," Rose

said. "It's as if they get a mental picture from you. You weren't giving any signs to them when you
were working them in the meadow the day I came with Tundra, yet they were doing whatever you
wanted."

Tyler continued stroking Gypsy's muzzle, while saying, "What you saw was an end result. Long

before my mares respond to simple aids they've had hours of other commands. When I ride them I use
my voice, my hands, my legs, and my whip to give them signals. If that doesn't work, I take up the
conventional seat again, and I always have my spurs if everything else fails."

"I didn't know you ever used spurs," Rose said, feeling Tyler's chest and arm moving against her

back and shoulder as he continued stroking the mare.

"I only use light prods," Tyler replied. "They don't like it and quickly get the message I'm trying

to send. If that doesn't work I return to using a bridle if necessary, then gradually, in small stages, I
eliminate one aid after another until it's only my voice. When it appears to outsiders that I'm giving no
commands, the partnership's complete and my mare knows what's expected of her. The key is giving
clear, precise instructions. My mares understand everything. They figure things out on their own.
They're intelligent and always one step ahead of me. I also know what's in their hearts. They won't do
one thing while I'm watching and another when I'm not. And they have justice in their hearts. If I
mistreated any one of them it would just about kill her."

As he spoke, while stroking the mare, Rose could feel Tyler's breath against the top of her head,

sending tiny tingles moving down to her scalp and ripples of awareness through her…

…hair's an extension of the nervous system, like highly evolved antennae…
She wondered if Tyler was picking up on other reactions that his nearness caused. It was

impossible to disguise her rapid breathing, or the dampness of her palm still curved over his fist, or
the slight flutter in her voice when she spoke…

"Are you okay with this?" Tyler asked, his lips close to her temple.
Rose realized he was asking more than just was she okay standing in the pasture with him

wrapped around her, while petting the horses. Uncertain how to reply, not knowing her own feelings,
she said, while stroking Stardust's neck with her left hand, "Yes. Her coat is soft and beautiful." She
knew her response was a mixed message, as it was meant to be. "I saw your performance at the Cody
Stampede," she added.

Tyler stopped petting Gypsy's muzzle. "You were there?"
"No, I was at your parents' house for dinner," Rose said. "I saw the You Tube video there."
"It was a good performance," Tyler replied. "My mares were all in sync. I couldn't have asked

any more of them." He removed his hand from Gypsy's muzzle and placed it on Rose's shoulder, with
his thumb on the base of her neck and his fingers resting on her chest, and she responded by tipping
her head back until it touched Tyler's chin.

It was strange to be standing in a field, surrounded by horses, and be encircled by a man who

was one of them, yet he was separating himself from them by putting her in between. She got the
impression it wasn't something he did with other women, and she wondered why her? Their first
encounter at the spring had not been a good one. She got her point across and so did he. Yet, for the
moment, the things dividing them didn't seem to matter.

For a while they stood silently together, Tyler with his hand on her shoulder, and her with her

back against his chest and her head against his chin, and both their hands together with his fist. Then
Tyler tightened his hand on her shoulder, leaned near her ear, and said, "Let's go to my place. I think
we have things to talk about."

CHAPTER 7

While walking side-by-side toward the stable, which Rose learned was actually where Tyler

lived, Tyler didn't touch her, which surprised her. From the way he'd acted in the pasture, along with
his openness about wanting to talk, which she assumed pertained to talking about them, not horses, she
thought he would have placed his hand on the base of her neck, or taken hold of her arm or maybe
even tried to hold her hand, because the one thing she had not done in the field was to send him a
message to keep his distance.

On approaching the stable, however, Rose was momentarily distracted when something in her

peripheral vision caught her attention. She glanced around and was startled to see a red-tailed hawk
landing on top of a round wooden fence post not more than fifteen feet away.

Catching the focus of her attention, Tyler said, "That's Diana."
Rose eyed him, curiously. "It's your hawk?"
Tyler shook his head. "She's been here a few days. Initially, when I was out with the mares, she'd

sit on the lower branches of a fir and watch us, like she just wanted to observe, then she started sitting
on that post. Maddy was here the other day and named her Diana after the huntress in Roman
mythology. The hawk seems okay with it."

Rose looked at him to see if he were joking, and when she saw that he was serious, she said,

"What makes you think she's okay with it?"

"I asked her," Tyler replied. "After Maddy left, I walked up to stand maybe ten feet from her and

called out the name, and she opened her wings for a moment, then folded them back again, so I've
been calling her Diana ever since, and she responds to it. When I have meat scraps I call her name
and she comes."

"How do you know it's a female?" Rose asked.
"Her size. Females are bigger than males," Tyler replied. "She also has yellow eyes, which is

characteristic of a young hawk. Later the irises turn reddish brown. I figure she's a passage hawk,
which is a young hawk that's left its nest and is on its own but is less than a year old, which is
probably why she's been sitting and watching me. She's dislocated and doesn't know what to do."

"Hawks are significant," Rose said.
"I know," Tyler replied. "They keep rats and mice out of the stable."
"That's not what I mean," Rose said. "She could find rats and mice anywhere, but she came here.

I think she's an animal messenger guide, which is an animal that comes into your life to deliver a
message then leaves when you understand what it is. Her message can be a wake-up call to take
action about something, it can be spiritual in nature, or it could be a warning, but you should not
ignore her."

"I don't," Tyler said. "I talk to her and throw her meat scraps."
"She's not here for your meat scraps," Rose argued. "She has a message for you and she won't

leave until you figure it out."

Tyler looked askance at her, like he wasn't buying into the idea of a bird being there to deliver a

message, and said, "I don't mind if she stays. She's company."

Rose started to expand on the significance of an animal's sudden presence in a person's life then

decided that Tyler would give it about as much credibility as spirits in the mountain. But maybe, in
time, he'd be open to listening and learning and even developing an interest in his Nez Perce roots and

allow them to become a part of his daily life. He was close but didn't know it, but there was a big
gaping void that needed to be filled. Why it suddenly seemed important that he tap into his spiritual
side, she couldn't explain, other than the hawk's presence had triggered it. The bird was there for a
reason.

As they entered the stable through the double sliding doors at the end, Rose couldn't imagine

what Tyler's place would be like. The stable was a newer building, undoubtedly built by a pack of
brothers as, she'd learned from Marc and Kit, seemed to be the way things were done on the ranch,
but she'd seen nothing from the outside that looked like it contained living quarters, which had her
imagination running wild again, from finding a cot inside a stall, to maybe a bed in the tack room,
until she realized Tyler probably didn't have a tack room because he rode his horses without saddles
and bridles…

Tyler flipped on a light switch, illuminating a wide passageway lined on both sides with large

box stalls with sliding doors, each stall having a window big enough for a horse to poke its head out,
and an exterior door that opened directly into the pasture.

"Come on back," Tyler said. He walked on ahead, like he was leading the way and she was to

follow, which Rose found mildly amusing because he was so used to leading mares around that she
felt as if she was one of them…

At the end of the passageway she could see a rectangular splash of light coming through a

doorway on the right, like there was a large window in the room that she assumed was Tyler's living
quarters. As she approached, she passed a tack room on the left and she noted a lineup of bridles, but
only one saddle, which had a blanket tossed over it like it was rarely used. Beyond the tack room was
a closed door to what she assumed was the feed room because she detected the aroma of molasses
and horse grain, and there were several grain buckets stacked just outside the door. At the end of the
stable was hay storage—the portion of the stable that jutted out—which was closed off with a half-
barred sliding door to keep the horses out. The passageway was so wide, she imagined Tyler letting
the mares out of their stalls so they could all socialize in the evening, Tyler included.

She followed Tyler into his place and was surprised to see that it actually was living quarters,

with a finished wooden floor, pine-paneled walls, and large windows that looked out onto the
pasture. Although the place was compact, it housed a couch and a matching recliner, with a side chair
to square things off, a small dining table with one chair where a person would eat alone, a kitchenette
with an apartment size range and refrigerator, and just enough cabinets and counter space to serve the
needs of a single man, and a door that opened into a small bath. Through another doorway was the
bedroom. She glanced in to see a desk with a file cabinet beside it, a dresser, and one twin bed—
definitely the quarters of a man who lived alone and intended to remain that way.

She moved to one of the windows in the living room and stood looking out while wondering

what was coming next. It was all very strange, Tyler leading her here and her following, yet he'd said
nothing about why, exactly, he wanted her there, and she hadn't asked.

When the silence became awkward, she turned from the window to find him standing across the

room looking at her, like he wasn't sure what to do next, and for the first time since she'd met him she
felt a little emboldened in his presence, unlike the times before when she was all jelly-knees and
fluttery chest. To give him some direction, she said, "You invited me here for a reason?"

Tyler nodded, and replied, "I'm not very good at this, but I think there's something going on

between us."

"Because of what happened in the pasture?" Rose asked. "We were petting the horse."
"Let's be open about this," Tyler said. "I invited you into the pasture so you would pet the horse

because that was the only way I could get near enough to you to do what I've been wanting to do and
haven't done yet, and you stood petting the horse, when you could have walked away, because you
wanted something too. I just haven't figured out exactly what that is."

When Tyler did nothing but stare at her, looking uneasy, it came to Rose that he had limited

experience with women, which undoubtedly arose out of his troubled youth while battling his
dyslexia. Yet, he was a very handsome man, and his performance at the rodeo with his horses was
magical, so there would be women every place he performed who would want to get something going
with him. But maybe, living by himself as he did, and being involved with horses all his life, and
even more involved with them before and after performances, there was no time to interact with even
one woman.

"Okay, yes maybe there is something between us," she admitted.
Tyler smiled, which sent her into female mode again, with all the usual reactions, except that this

time there was a chemistry between them that neither of them were denying. Yet, they were standing
across the room from each other, like neither knew what to do next, when all Tyler had to do would
be to take about two long steps and open his arms and she'd be in them.

Instead, he looked at her perplexed, and said, "Maybe we'd better cut to the chase. With me, what

you see is what you get."

Rose laughed. "You're right. You're not very good at this, but what you just said is so untrue. You

were an entirely different man at the spring the morning I first met you. I didn't like the man you were
then."

"So what happened in between?" Tyler asked, clearly puzzled.
"I saw you working with your horses," Rose replied. "You're different with them. But with us,

because of our cultural differences I don't see how we could ever have any kind of a relationship, if
that's where this is leading. You want to violate Whispering Springs, and I believe there are spirits in
the mountain that communicate with people as intermediaries. There would be no coming together
with us unless you began to understand that everything in the world can't be explained by science, that
maybe there are things beyond our senses that even the most sophisticated scientific instruments can't
detect."

"Those are incidentals that can be worked out," Tyler replied.
"Incidentals?" Rose said, incredulous. "A giant cultural divide is not an incidental."
"There's a giant cultural divide between horses and humans too," Tyler said. "A couple of my

mares were completely unapproachable when I first got them, but we worked together, and before
long we started to communicate and everything fell into place. There's no divide now."

Rose looked at Tyler in disbelief. The man really was out of touch with humans. "You're in a

relationship with six mares," she said. "It's like you have six wives."

One corner of Tyler's mouth tipped up slightly, as he replied, "Not quite."
"Okay, maybe that's a flawed analogy, but you know what I mean. But I'm not one of your mares

and I refuse be treated like one," Rose said. "Even when you brought me back here to your quarters
you walked ahead of me, expecting me to follow behind like the rest of your harem."

Tyler looked at her, bewildered, like she'd pointed out something he'd never considered, which

tugged at her heart some because she sensed that with her, and any other woman, he was completely
out of his element while struggling with something that didn't come naturally to him, like talking to
horses.

"Tell me something," she said. "Have you ever been in a relationship with a woman before?"
"I'm around women a lot," Tyler replied.

"That's not the same as being in a relationship. You've been living up here alone with your horses

for how long? A couple of years? Maybe since you graduated from high school?"

"Can we start over with this?" Tyler asked. He closed the gap between them, and to her surprise,

tucked a finger beneath her chin and kissed her lightly on the lips, then waited to see what she'd do,
which was to stare at him, stunned, while her lips tingled from a kiss that was barely long enough to
register, yet there was a definite field of energy coursing between them.

"You're not talking again," he pointed out.
"That's because I don't know what to say," Rose replied. "You just kissed me and I have to

process it some because I don't know where this is leading. I just started working here at the ranch
and I want to keep my job, and if something started between us, it could be awkward."

"Something already has started between us," Tyler said, "and it doesn't have to be awkward

unless we let it. Let's try this again." This time he pulled her into his arms and kissed her, yet still a
little awkwardly, like he didn't kiss woman very often and was feeling his way along. But as the kiss
held, Rose found herself slipping her arms around his neck and kissing him back, and when he
tightened his arms around her, she became immediately aware of a rock hard body pressed closely to
hers. The angles and curves of her body seemed to fit perfectly with the solid flat muscles of his, and
the feel of his arms around her left her a little giddy, because those were the same arms and hands that
guided six mares into doing miraculous things.

Her little moan of contentment brought her back to the moment.
Breaking the kiss, she looked up at Tyler in confusion and found him smiling. "I think we just

closed the cultural divide a little," he said.

"No," Rose replied, her arms still around his neck, "we shared a kiss that sent tingles rushing

through me, and I could probably get addicted to more of your kisses, but the cultural divide between
us is as wide as before, and that's not going to change with more hugs and kisses. And before this
goes any further, you need to take me back so I can think about things."

Ignoring her request, Tyler kissed her, this time with more confidence, and Rose responded

again, all the while wishing she had more control, even as she found herself being drawn more tightly
into Tyler's arms, until she felt the beating of his heart against her breast, and his mouth angling over
hers first one way, then the other, and still she had no will to shove out of his arms. Instead she let out
another little moan of pleasure and finished the kiss, then remained in his arms with her face against
his chest while he rested his cheek against the top of her head, and as he silently held her, she had no
desire to be anyplace but where she was.

After a couple of minutes ticked by, Tyler tipped his head so he could look at her, and said, "I

don't get the impression you're too concerned about this cultural divide you seem to think we have.
We just connected and communicated and shared a special moment and there was no time during that
kiss or afterward when I felt you resisting me."

"That's because I didn't," Rose said, "but that's why you need to take me back before this goes

any further because I really do need to think about things. What we have going may not seem
problematic to you, but it's very problematic to me, and at this point I can't even begin to explain to
you why it is because your mind is simply not open to what I'd say."

Removing her arms from around him, she turned and headed down the passageway in long,

determined strides while hoping she'd get her sanity back once she was away from Tyler where she
could attempt to make sense of things, because when he was near, all logical reasoning went by the
wayside.

***

The following Sunday, when there would be no guests at the ranch to wander up to the cavern to

sit in the spring, Tyler set two battery-powered lanterns close to where he'd be drilling, which was a
section of the cavern that snaked around a bend, putting it a short distance away from the area where
hot spring pool and petroglyphs were located. He hoped the sound of the drill would not funnel down
to the ranch. He reasoned that he was far enough into the mountain that it would be muffled at best. He
also picked a time when his dad was operating a chainsaw while cutting firewood for the house and
the lodge for the following winter, which would drown out any sounds coming from the rock drill.

With a small light strapped around his head and plugs stuffed into his ears, he pulled the cord that

started the rock drill and positioned the bit into a fissure that he'd partially opened with the hammer
and chisel before leaving for Wyoming. Even with a gas-powered drill it was slow going because he
was drilling into granite, but it was considerably faster than using hand tools.

But while the drill, bit by bit, made its way through rock, his mind was divided between hanging

onto the 50-pound piece of equipment, and Rose's reaction when he kissed her at his place, four days
before. He hadn't talked to her since he dropped her off at Marc's house that same day because she
asked him to stay away, claiming she needed time to think. He suspected she'd learned about his
dyslexia, or decided on her own that he was different from other people, and she wasn't sure what to
do about it.

But he'd had time to think too, and although he hadn't spoken to her, he had wandered over to the

museum on several occasions to stand with the visitors and listen to what she was telling them,
mainly because he wanted to learn about her culture and traditions, but most of what she said escaped
him because every gesture of her hands as she talked, or look in her eyes when they darted to him for
an instant, or the rise and fall of her chest when she held his gaze on occasion, had him thinking about
how she'd felt in his arms, and how much he wanted to hold her again.

It was all new to him, wanting a woman with him day and night, especially night. It seemed

lonely lying in bed while thinking about how it would be with her in his arms, naked and clinging to
him after they'd made love, then simply lying in his arms for the rest of the night. Things had definitely
escalated for him during the past four days.

At best, when he'd invited her into the pasture to meet his mares, he'd done so to see if she was

interested, nothing more, but even before he tried to kiss her she'd let him know in a dozen different
ways that she was, and now he couldn't get her out of his mind, and he spent his evenings drawing
pictures of her because it helped fill the void.

What came from all of it was a clearer understanding of Jeremy's motive for giving up

everything, including a rodeo bull-riding career he'd worked hard to establish, and disappearing from
his family's lives, maybe forever, because he couldn't live without the woman he loved.

But as attracted as he was to Rose, Tyler wondered to what extent he'd go for any woman. Leave

his home and family and go into witness protection, not knowing if he'd ever return? Give up his
mares and follow Rose to places unknown because circumstances demanded it? He didn't think so.
But he did understand Jeremy's reasons. For him, life without Billy wasn't worth living.

On returning to the ranch from Cody though, it was all he could do to keep from telling his

parents and the rest of the family that he and Josh had seen Jeremy and Billy and little Amy, their
latest grandchild. He'd thought about Amy too. In fact, she'd made a lasting impression on him. She
had a sweet smile and trusting eyes. Maybe it was the trusting eyes that got to him, big brown innocent
eyes that held no secrets. They told him clearly that she liked it when he held her and she trusted that

he wouldn't drop her or harm her. It came to him what an enormous responsibility Jeremy and his
other brothers had as fathers. He'd never given it much thought before, though he reasoned it was not
unlike the responsibility he had for his mares...

After a while, he killed the engine and set the rock drill down, and lowering himself to his knees,

moved the rock fragments away from the hole. After removing one of the ear plugs, he put his ear
against the opening and listened. At best he might hear a hissing sound as steam escaped from inside
the mountain if the cycle of sounds started up. At worse, he'd hear the usual wails tapering off into
sighs. But after a few minutes, when he heard nothing, he concluded that he was between cycles of
sounds and started up the drill again.

He hadn't been drilling long when a shadow fell over the area, throwing him into semi darkness.

Cutting the engine, he laid the drill down, removed his ear plugs and turned, startled to find his father
standing not more than eight feet behind him.

"What's going on in here?" Jack asked.
Having prepared for such a scenario, even though he'd hoped to avoid it, Tyler said, "I'm trying to

open up a fissure and see if the sounds in here change." After explaining his geothermal-geyser theory,
he added, "The sounds are nothing more than steam seeping through cracks and fissures, and that same
steam could turn a turbine and power a generator and convert the geothermal energy into electricity to
run the ranch, and with the hot water already at the surface, it would be relatively inexpensive to set
up a hot-water heating system. But right now all I want to do is see if there's anything to my theory."

"Have you talked to Marc about this?" Jack asked. "This cavern is his domain."
"I haven't mentioned it," Tyler replied, "but I won't be drilling anywhere near the pool or the

petroglyphs. All I'm trying to do is open up a few fissures in this area, which is where I'm sure the
sounds are coming from, and see if the sounds change, nothing more."

Jack looked askance at the drill, then at Tyler, and said, "How much longer do you intend to do

this?"

"Not long," Tyler replied. "Is the drill making a lot of noise back at the ranch?"
"No," Jack said. "I didn't hear it until I got to the foot path leading here, where I came to cut up a

tree that fell across the riding trail."

"Then is it okay if I go at it a little longer?" Tyler asked.
"I suppose, as long as you don't move out of this area," Jack replied. "But the spring and the

petroglyphs must remain undisturbed."

"They will," Tyler assured his father. "This shouldn't take much longer and when I'm done, I'll

shove all the rock fragments back and it will look like it was when I started."

"See that it does," Jack said, then turned and left. It wasn't long before Tyler heard the buzz of his

father's chainsaw on the riding trail below and knew he was sectioning the downed tree.

Somewhat surprised that his father hadn't objected to what he was doing—maybe because he too

saw the merit in using geothermal energy to run the ranch—Tyler stuffed the plugs back into his ears,
picked up the drill and started in again. With another hour he might get deep enough into the mountain
to make a difference.

Sometime later—he didn't know how long because he'd lost tract of time—he was again clearing

away rock fragments, but in the silence he realized his father was no longer cutting up the tree, and
beyond the cavern it was quiet, so quiet that even with the ear plugs still in place he began to hear the
eerie sequence of sounds emanating from inside the mountain. He removed the plugs and listened
intently this time, trying to discern if they had changed pitch or duration, but the sounds went through
their usual cycle and died.

He had just picked up the drill and was about to start in when a shadow again fell over the area

where he was, so he assumed his father was back to check on him, but when he turned, he was
disturbed to find Rose instead. Her gaze immediately went to the drill in his hands, then to the rock
fragments he'd shoved into a pile. "Don't jump to conclusions," he said, while removing the ear plugs.
"I'm opening up a few fissures, nothing more."

"You're drilling holes into the mountain," Rose said, in a plodding voice. "You told me you'd only

be using a hammer and chisel."

Tyler set the drill down. "That was my initial plan, but when I got a chance to buy a used rock

drill I decided to give it a try."

"Please don't do this," Rose said. "It's wrong."
"I'm not drilling near the spring or the petroglyphs," Tyler replied, while removing his head

lantern. "In a week or so I'll give it up if the sounds don't change, and that will be that."

"It's not that simple," Rose said. "Just because Marc designated this a gathering place instead of a

sacred one doesn't change the fact that there are spirits in this mountain, and your drilling into a
cavern where there are petroglyphs is asking for trouble."

"I'm only opening up a few fissures," Tyler argued. "How much trouble could that cause?"
"More than you can imagine," Rose said. "I can't even begin to explain to you why because

you've closed your mind to it, so please, just don't do this. Something bad could happen to you."

The look on Rose's face was one of worry more than anger, and her words led Tyler to believe

she really did care about him, even if he was different in ways that even he didn't understand. Walking
over to where she stood, he took her by the shoulders and kissed her lightly, and said, "If it makes you
happy, I'll sit in the pool and listen to the sounds and talk to your spirits so if it turns out that I'm
wrong about geysers, and you're right about spirits, maybe nothing will happen."

"You don't believe any of this," Rose said. "Is there no way I can convince you to leave this place

in peace?"

"I won't be going at it much longer," Tyler assured her. "After I'm satisfied about my theory I'll

quit and you can educate me about spirits and I'll listen and learn."

"You'll be listening because I'm making you feel obligated to do so," Rose said, "but it won't be

coming from your heart so it won't work." She pressed her lips together, like putting an exclamation
point on things.

"You're wrong," Tyler said. "Whatever you tell me about spirits I will try to take to heart because

I want to understand you because you're the first woman I've ever been interested in." His thumb
moved up to stroke her bottom lip and soften its firm line. "Do you believe me?"

Holding his gaze, Rose said, "About your taking to heart what I tell you about spirits, I'm not

convinced, but about my being the first women you've ever been interested in, you convinced me of
that the first time you kissed me."

Tyler looked at her, baffled. "Why then?"
"You didn't kiss very well."
Tyler didn't know whether to be angry, flattered, or annoyed because Rose nailed the truth. He'd

had sex on occasion after a rodeo performance—buckle bunnies who found their way into his rig and
got him aroused—but he never kissed them because he felt nothing for them, and after a few times he
decided sex wasn't worth it and chose to send them away.

With Rose though, it was different, and he wasn't sure why because she brought a level of

complication into his life that he hadn't expected. Until meeting her he'd been contented with his
simple, uncomplicated life, living with his mares, and preparing for a line-up of performances that

would begin to pay his bills. But following the instance with Rose in the pasture and her response to
him afterwards, along with her concern for him now, things were changing.

"You're right," he said, "I'm not a very good kisser because I don't do it much, but maybe we

could practice some. I think I could pick it up pretty fast." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her,
and as it was before, Rose curved her hands around his neck and kissed him back.

Tightening his arms around her, he held her snugly against him, acutely aware of her female form

with its gentle curves and full round shapes that seemed to mold naturally to his body, filling all the
gaps between them, making him want to hold her like that all night…

…A man can be a free spirit only so long before he finds himself thinking it would be a lot

more fun to snuggle up to a warm female body than a pillow at night…

He still wasn't ready to let go when Rose broke the kiss, and said, "That was nice, but we need to

slow things down and take a look at the whole picture. You can't keep setting aside our cultural divide
like it doesn’t exist because it does. I'm very worried about what you're doing in here, and you refuse
to give it any serious consideration."

"We have a whole lifetime to close our cultural divide," Tyler said, still keeping his hands

locked behind her waist.

Rose removed her arms from around his neck and braced her palms against his chest, and said,

"Do you realize how simplistic that is? You made up your mind that we are already in a relationship,
and maybe we are in a sense, but not a long-term one because there's a big gap that needs to be closed
before that can happen, starting with what you're doing with that rock drill."

Tyler glanced down at the drill, then looked into a pair of wide brown eyes that shone with

points of golden light from his two lanterns, and said, "As soon as I'm satisfied about my geyser
theory we'll start working on this cultural divide you seem to think we have. As for me, I don't think
we're that far apart. We're the same species, when we kiss we fit together perfectly, and we've been
silently communicating for the better part of two weeks now."

Rose sucked in an exasperated breath, looked at him with impatience, and replied, "All of what

you just said is simple male-female attraction, but we have not communicated the things that matter
and we are miles apart in our core beliefs. You descended from Nez Perce Indians, yet you know
nothing about them. You live off by yourself with your horses, surrounded by woods and mountains
and nature, and even have a hawk hanging around your place, yet you have no interest in your
ancestors who were more like you than your mother and father and all of your brothers are. Haven't
you ever talked to your grandmother about her Indian background?"

"No," Tyler replied. "We all grew up hearing her talk about our grandfather, Adam Hansen, who

wasn't an Indian."

"That's commendable of her but I'd think at least you would have asked her about her Indian

heritage, if only because you look like an Indian," Rose said. "Is it because you're not interested, you
don't care, or because there's no room in your life for anything but horses?"

Tyler realized Rose was correct on all counts but one—he was in the process of making room in

his life for something besides horses. Her. As for the rest, he said, "I haven't had any interest in my
Indian ancestry because it's so far in the past it never seemed relevant."

"Well, when you decide it's relevant enough to learn why I'm so upset about what you're doing in

here, then let me know. Meanwhile, I'm not getting anywhere with you and I'd rather focus my
attention on why I'm here at the ranch, which is to weave baskets and pass on stories and legends and
traditions to visitors who are honestly interested in all the things you aren't." Pushing out of his arms,
she turned and left the cavern.

Tyler started after her but stopped at the entrance to the cavern, deciding he'd come too far to

give up now. He'd only be drilling sporadically, and not for more than a couple more weeks. In the
meantime he'd do a little research, and try to make sense of Rose's archaic belief in spirits.

CHAPTER 8

Upon returning from town, with a roll of welded wire in the back of his truck for repairing the

fence around the vegetable garden, where a small Douglas fir fell and wiped out a corner, Tyler
pulled to a halt in the parking area near the living museum and cut the engine. It was after hours, so the
museum was closed to visitors, but having caught sight of Rose entering the plankhouse as he pulled
in, he decided to make a short detour. He'd been waiting for an opportunity to see her when she wasn't
surrounded by visitors.

Until meeting Rose he'd had little interest in the living museum. He hadn't even been inside the

plankhouse since it was completed the month before. In fact, he'd barely noticed it, other than to stand
in the vicinity of it a few times and listen while Rose talked to visitors. But while it was being built,
he'd noticed Marc and one of the Indians from the reservation working on it as he passed it on the way
up to his place, and whenever their mom was available to babysit Lizzy, Kit would be right in there
with the men, setting in cedar plank walls or crawling up on the roof to tuck in bark thatch.

But now he had a reason to go inside. He wanted to kiss Rose again and have her kiss him back

because he needed the reassurance that she still cared, even if she'd left the cavern in anger.

The section of wall that opened to visitors was closed, so he entered through the opened door at

the far end, which allowed a splash of sunlight to illuminate the interior. The building was excavated
below ground to about three feet, so when he started down the notched wooden ladder, he cast a
shadow over the huge room, where Rose was trying to hang a basket on a peg just out of reach.

Walking over to her, he placed his palm on her shoulder, took the basket from her hand and hung

it up then leaned over and kissed her lightly. He released her before she could protest, for whatever
reason, then focusing on his alleged reason for being there, he said, while scanning the interior, "I've
never been inside this building before. It's actually pretty cool."

"Cool?" Rose said, with irritation. "It's the culmination of a lot of very hard work on the part of

your brother and sister-in-law, along with my cousin, Jimmy Behr. Jimmy's the reason I have this job,
since he recommended me to Marc."

"Okay, so cool isn't a very good description," Tyler said, "but I am impressed with the

workmanship, and I'm here to learn more. I already know it's not called a longhouse like in other parts
of the world, but a plankhouse because the Indians stripped planks off cedar trees and after a
framework was built the planks were held in place with ropes so the houses could be taken apart and
transported during seasonal migrations, leaving the frames in place until the people returned and
reattached the cedar planks and reconstructed their home."

Having finished his spiel, he smiled and waited for Rose's response.
For a few moments she stared at him, as if digesting things, then said, "Where did you learn all

that? I know it wasn't from me because whenever you've been standing with visitors the past week I
could tell you weren't really listening."

"You're right," Tyler replied, "I was distracted, so I looked it up on the internet."
"Is that all you looked up?" Rose asked.
"For now," Tyler replied. From the look on her face he knew she was disappointed that he hadn't

rattled off a spiel about spirits instead, but he wasn't ready to get into all of that yet.

He looked around the interior of the building, which was a good forty feet long and at least

twenty feet wide. From the network of pole rafters supporting the roof hung what looked to be

dehydrated road kill. His eyes still on the carcasses above, he said, "There must have been a lot of
flies around when people lived in places like this."

"Not really," Rose replied. "They cured meat by hanging it from the rafters, and since every

family living in a plankhouse had their own hearth fire, it would have been smoky up there so there
wouldn't have been any flies. Marc got the deer and coyote carcasses from the Fish and Wildlife
Department, then he and Kit dehydrated them and sprayed them with acrylic varnish so they'd look
authentic and not smell or attract flies."

So it actually was road kill, Tyler silently mused. He had to hand it to Marc. What hung from the

rafters did look like fresh meat.

Catching the drift of something fragrant, like a natural perfume that Rose might have concocted

out of rose petals, he moved closer and drew in a long breath through his nostrils and decided it was
roses, which seemed appropriate. "I like the smell in here," he said.

"It's the smell of earth, and wood, and herbs hanging to dry," Rose replied, her gaze moving

around the vast interior. "I love the smell in here too. It draws you back to a time before people were
addicted to modern technology and they could feel closer to nature. It's a very enlightening
experience, breathing in the smells of natural things around you. That's the way it is when I'm at
Whispering Springs sitting in the pool while meditating, with the damp, earthy smell of the cavern all
around me."

In an instant, the sight of Rose in the pool came back to Tyler. It happen frequently now, but

before long that image morphed into one of having her in his bed, because the aroma of roses was all
around her, and he could imagine having it all around him when she was warm and fresh out of the
shower and lying in his arms.

Bracing his hands on her waist, he filled his nostrils with the scent of a woman who was

dominating his thoughts, and said, "I'm not talking about the smell inside this plankhouse. I'm talking
about what's on you. You smell like your name."

"That's because I'm wearing essence of rosewater," Rose replied. "I make it by boiling rose

petals in water and mixing it with alcohol. But I also make a face cream by mixing rosewater with
beeswax and rose essential oil. It's good for the skin."

Tyler traced a finger over the curve of Rose's cheek, while saying, "I can't argue with that. Your

skin feels like the muzzle of a newborn foal."

Rose rolled her eyes. "You're equating my skin to a horse's nose. You really are very bad at this."

Her gaze moved in an arc around his head, and to his surprise, she reached around and moved his
horsetail so it draped over his shoulder and ran her fingers through it, while saying, "You have nice
hair, but I could make up a rosehip oil that would make it even more luxurious."

"You're not very good at this either," Tyler replied, while lacing his fingers behind her waist.

"Guys don't want luxurious hair."

"But girls want them to have it," Rose said. "I'd apply rosehip oil to your roots and scalp with a

light pressure so it would penetrate better, then I'd massage your scalp with my fingertips so the oil
would be distributed throughout your hair. But it wouldn't be just to make your hair shiny and silky.
Indians made essential oils for massaging into the skin for their therapeutic properties."

Tyler tucked his nose beneath Rose's ear and inhaled, then kissed the side of her neck, and said,

"That sounds like a good way to start closing our cultural divide, you massaging therapeutic oils into
my skin, and me massaging them into yours, and we can go from there." Taking her hand, he tugged her
toward the bunk covered in furs.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked, as he pulled her down onto the bunk with him.

"Checking out the sleeping accommodations in a plankhouse." Before Rose could protest, he

stretched out on the bunk, tugging her along with him, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her
soundly.

At first Rose made no attempt to break free, but after a few moments she moved her lips from his,

pushed away from him, and sat up, while saying, "You're making light of everything I've been trying to
impress on you."

Tyler sat up and curved his arm around Rose, who was sitting stiffly on the edge of the bunk, yet

remaining where she was, and he said close to her ear, "Actually, I'm not making light of anything. I
researched plankhouses and came here to see what one was like inside, and I want you to tell me all
about how it was for people to live in a place like this because, like I said before, I want to
understand you better."

"But you still haven't quit drilling rock, have you?" Rose said.
"Not yet," Tyler replied. He planted another kiss on the side of her neck. "But I will soon."
"Umm… when?" Rose asked.
Tyler darted his tongue in her ear, drawing a little gasp from her, and replied, "I don't know." He

moved to her neck again.

"Don't do that," Rose said.
"You don't like it?"
"I… don't know. But just because I'm responding to you doesn't mean this should continue."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Yes… well, maybe not," Rose replied, "but if you stay, it will have to be because you honestly

want to learn about my culture, which happens to be your culture too, even though you've chosen to
disregard your Indian ancestry, other than to spend ten minutes on the internet learning about
plankhouses."

Tyler looked at her soberly. "Is it that important to you for me to learn about someone who died a

half a century ago?"

"It is if you want to build a relationship," Rose said. "Is that really what you want?"
"I think I answered that when I invited you into the pasture to meet my mares, and nothing's

changed," Tyler replied.

"Yes, something has changed," Rose said, clasping her hands together in her lap. "When I was in

the pasture with you and your mares I thought you'd only be chipping into the rock with a hammer and
chisel, and when I let you kiss me it was because I didn't think those simple tools could do any
damage, and then later I walked into the cavern to find you drilling into the rock with a jackhammer,
and you're planning to go back and continue, and as long as you find nothing wrong with what you're
doing, we'll remain miles apart in the things that are the most important in any relationship, and that's
core beliefs."

Tyler covered her clasped hands with his, and said, "Like I told you before, I'm not very good at

this, but I'm working on it." Bending around he kissed her tightened lips, and when she refused to kiss
him back, he said, "Okay I get the picture for now. Meanwhile I've got a garden fence to mend and
mares to feed and exercise, but we'll work on this later."

Once outside, and finding himself at the proverbial fork in the road—follow Rose up a path that

took him to a world of animals guides and archaic beliefs in spirits, or remain in his uncomplicated
world with his mares—he decided it was time to do something he'd put off most of his life.

***

Tyler stood on the doorstep of his grandmother's house, not completely comfortable with what he

was about to do, but anxious to know how she'd respond, so he brushed his uneasiness aside and
knocked. When she answered the door, she didn't look surprised to see him, which she affirmed by
saying, "Come on in. I thought you might be stopping by about now."

Tyler looked at her, puzzled. "You did? Why?"
"Call it grandmother's intuition."
While still mulling that over, Tyler removed his boots, as was expected, padded inside in his

socks, and sat at the kitchen table. His grandmother went to the stove, and after pouring a mug of
coffee and setting it in front of him, and pouring another for herself, she sat across the table from him
and waited for the reason he was there. It wasn't as if he never saw her, but she and Howard
frequently walked up to his place to watch him work his mares, and he visited with them there.

He took a long sip of coffee and let it settle in, mainly to give himself time to organize his

thoughts in a logical way before starting into a subject that his grandmother never talked about. When
the silence became awkward, and still his grandmother waited, he said, "Dad always told us we had
Indian blood in us, and to ask you about it if we were curious, but I guess I never was, and all the time
I was growing up you never talked about your Indian background and I'm wondering why."

After an extended period of silence, his grandmother replied, "You have to understand how it

was back then and even as late as the 1970s. The Bureau of Indian Affairs founded Indian boarding
schools based on a policy of assimilation where children were taken from their families and
immersed in European-American culture, which meant cutting the boys' long hair, making children
wear white-man's clothing, replacing traditional Indian names with European-American ones, and
forbidding them to speak their native language, even to each other."

"Then you know nothing about your Nez Perce background?" Tyler asked.
"Only what I pieced together over the years when I was growing up, which wasn't much,"

Maureen replied. "My mother had some white blood in her and she could pass easily as white, and
that's the way she wanted it for herself and her children. She wanted us fully assimilated. Other
families gave the impression of accepting assimilation then behind closed doors held onto their way
of life, passing on tribal traditions and legends and religious beliefs to their children, but my mother
didn't want us caught between two worlds, so we were raised in my father's world, and that was
that."

"What about spirits?" Tyler asked. "Did your mother ever talk about them?"
Maureen looked at him with curiosity, then her expression changed to awareness, and he

suspected she'd figured out what was behind his sudden interest in his Indian background.

She took another sip of coffee, and after a few moments, she said, "That's an area, looking back,

where I could connect my mother with her Indian roots. There would be times, maybe when my father
would be working with a particularly difficult horse, when my mother would say to me, 'The spirits
are working against him.' She also never gave up her knowledge of medicinal herbs that she'd
learned from her mother, though she didn't talk about that either. But when I was sick, she'd prepare
something for me to drink, and when I'd ask what it was she'd say it was a mixture of herbs that
worked better than what the druggist prepared."

"Does it bother you being part Indian?" Tyler asked.
"Heaven's no," Maureen replied. "We are what we are. But you have a purpose behind all these

questions. Are you looking for a reason to finally embrace your Indian heritage?"

"I don't know," Tyler replied, in all honesty.
"It's different for you than your siblings," Maureen said. "There's little trace of Indian blood in

any of them except for the color of their hair and eyes, but with you there's no question. You look like
my grandfather. I began to notice the resemblance as you got older. I have one photo of him, which I
always intended to pass on to you when the time was right, and I think that time is now. Give me a
few minutes to find it."

She left the room, and as the minutes ticked by while she looked for the photo, Tyler was

becoming increasingly anxious as to where this was leading, and if he should talk to his grandmother
about what his true purpose was, which was to learn what it would take to keep Rose in his life, even
when he didn't buy into a belief in spirits or even feel a connection with his Indian roots. Maybe that's
what bothered him most, that he didn't feel connected to something that was of profound importance to
Rose.

His grandmother returned with the photo and handed it to him, and for a moment, all Tyler could

do was stare at a man who had died long before he was born and see his own face. The man's hair
was parted in the middle and brought forward in two long braids that fell over his shoulders, and he
was wearing full Indian dress, complete with feathers.

"Is this the way he dressed?" he asked.
Maureen chuckled. "No, that was for a powwow. Normally he dressed like everyone around

here. He was quite the horseman, and ranchers hired him to gentle their horses. He was able to
because he embraced the horse as a brother in spirit, the way you do with your mares."

"You must have spent some time with him then," Tyler said.
"I did when I was very young," Maureen replied. "Maybe a little of what he talked about sank in

because I do have some memories of him talking about animal guides. Your life animal guide would
be the horse because you've been drawn to them since you were a little boy, and they've been an
integral part of your life ever since."

"So what all does that mean, having a horse as a life animal guide?" Tyler asked.
Maureen shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to ask an Indian elder."
"What about animal messengers? Do you know anything about them?" Tyler asked.
"A little," Maureen replied. "My grandmother mentioned them once, when I found a praying

mantis on a limb outside my room and it stayed there for several days. She told me the praying mantis
comes when we can no longer hear the small voice inside us and need peace, quiet, and calm in our
lives. When I asked how a bug could do that, my mother called my grandmother down and told her
she didn't want her filling my head with things like that because we were attending my father's church
and she didn't want me confused, and that was the last I heard."

"What's your opinion about the so-called spirits at Whispering Springs?" Tyler asked.
"I never gave it much thought," Maureen replied, "except that whenever I've been troubled about

something or had a decision to make and couldn't decide which way to go, sitting in the pool and
listening to the sounds always calmed my mind, and after that, answers just seemed to come. If it's
spirits, then so be it. Your dad said you had a theory about an underground geyser causing the sounds
in the mountain. Are you worried about angering spirits?"

"No, I'm not the one who's worried," Tyler said. "It's the Indian girl Marc hired. I have a rock

drill and I was using it to open up a fissure to see if the sounds would change, assuming they're
caused by steam buildup seeping through cracks, and Rose came in and was pretty upset."

His grandmother had an almost imperceptible smile on her lips, so subtle most wouldn't detect it,

but he did, and he knew why she was smiling. She was a very perceptive woman, and as soon as he
verbalized Rose's name he'd given himself away. Rose was no longer just the Indian girl Marc
hired…

"And you don't want to upset Rose," Maureen said.
"Well, no. I want to respect her beliefs," Tyler replied.
"But you also want to keep drilling into the rock," Maureen pointed out.
"For just a little longer," Tyler replied, "but Rose is worried that bad things will start happening

to me if I keep drilling, and I don't believe any of that."

"But now there's a woman who cares about you, and you care about her, and the thing that's most

important to her is getting in the way of what you're doing, and you don't want to embrace her beliefs,
nor do you want her to walk out of your life. Maybe you should sit in the spring and let your mind
settle and see what comes."

"I can do that too," Tyler said. "I get good ideas when I'm sitting in the pool, but it's not because

of spirits. As for Rose, yes, I like her. She's different from any woman I've ever met. I just don't
understand her very well."

"Which is why you're here," Maureen said. "I'm not connected with my Indian background enough

to educate you, but you are a very intuitive man. You communicate with your horses and you know
what's in their hearts because you've opened your heart to them. Open your heart and your mind to
Rose and see what happens. You might find a new joy that you've never known before, one you
thought was being filled with your relationships with your mares."

"Okay, I'll sit in the pool and see what happens," Tyler said, "but I still want to do a little more

drilling, just long enough to see if the sounds change."

He kissed his grandmother on the cheek, but before turning to leave, she held onto his hand and

said, "My grandmother told me something when I was very young that I want to pass on to you. Her
words came back to me the first time I heard the voices in the cavern. She said, 'Do not believe every
spirit that comes to you with promises because there are some who try to deceive people, so only
accept the blessings of spirits who come to you with great noise and power.'"

Tyler stared at his grandmother, wondering how what she'd just told him fit into the scheme of

things. But he did know one thing. The sounds in the mountain always came with great noise and
power before settling into soft sighs. Then he reminded himself that the sounds were nothing more
than steam escaping through fissures.

…drilling into a cavern where there are petroglyphs is asking for trouble…
Rose's words brought on a sudden, disquieting thought: What if she was right and he was wrong?

Then his logical mind kicked in and he dismissed the notion of spirits as erroneous. But he did decide
to open his mind to the idea, mainly because he had no choice. He was falling in love with a woman
whose ideologies were rooted in beliefs that went back too far to begin to change. But it wasn't much
different than if he were to marry a Catholic. He'd simply turn over the spiritual upbringing of the kids
to her, attend church to keep peace in the family, and give it no further thought.

But for the short term, he just wanted to spend time with Rose, and he had the perfect excuse. He

had an appointment that afternoon to go to the casino owned by the Confederated Tribes and meet
with the person in charge of the annual rodeo. The week before, after learning that they were looking
for a specialty act for next season, he talked to a man on the phone and told him about his act and
invited him to watch the video Josh posted on the internet. The man assured him he would, then set up
the appointment for today, which was a reason to ask Rose to go with him and show him the
reservation. Their last time together had been another episode of miscommunication, and he wanted to
try to find a happy medium.

CHAPTER 9

Rose opened the back door of Marc and Kit's house, and said to Tundra, who was sitting on the

doorstep lobbying to get in, "Okay boy, you can come in, but you won't be wandering around the
house." The kitchen area was blocked off from the rest of the house by a child-proof gate that she'd
brought along to keep Tundra from wandering through the house.

Tundra entered the kitchen and immediately zigzagged about to check for any new scents before

heading to his mat where a chewy stick awaited him.

Rose wondered if Tundra would react to Tyler the way he had in the past. Things had changed

since she was last with Tyler. She'd come to the conclusion that it was pointless to continue what was
going on, attracted to him as she was. But she also realized the true attraction, the one that went
beyond his good looks, came when she saw him with his horses the day she was looking for basket-
making materials. It was like a magical moment when all the negatives from their first encounter at the
spring no longer mattered. All that mattered was what she was seeing—a man who had an almost
mystical bond with horses.

But now she'd had time to put everything into perspective, and all the silly female fantasies and

accompanying heart flutters had stopped, so Tundra would have no cause to growl, because she
finally had things under control. Thankfully.

She finished tidying things in preparation for spending a few hours with her family. Her mother

was a fifth grade teacher at the elementary school, and her father drove heavy equipment at the
logging yard, so as long as Rose and her big brother, Preston, lived at their parent's house, they had
their usual chores, which for Preston meant mucking out stalls and tending cattle, and for her meant
feeding the horses and helping her mother clean house, though her mother insisted that she just visit
with them this particular afternoon.

Before heading out, she took one last look around. She liked staying in Marc and Kit's house

while they were gone. Not only did it give her some independence from her family, but she loved the
house. It was built into the hillside, and it had a wide deck across the front that overlooked the Indian
mound and living museum, and after staying there for almost three weeks, she came to the conclusion
that the house was a compromise between Kit's southwest roots and Marc's northwest ones. The
southwest elements were evident in the rounded archways, hand peeled poles for rafters, and the
semicircular fireplace, which was built into a corner of the living room, and which she recognized as
a kiva fireplace, named for ceremonial rooms of the Pueblo Indians.

There were also hand painted Mexican chairs around a kitchen table, colorful Fiestaware dishes

stacked in an open cabinet above the sink, and a line-up of mosaic tiles on the wall just above the
counter, each displaying a different roadrunner, the overall a combination festive, funky, and fun, like
Kit. Marc's northwest roots were evident in the natural framework of the couch and side chairs,
which were covered in rawhide, the half-round log stairs and peeled pole railing of the stairway, the
collection of old branding irons above the fireplace, and the numerous framed pictures depicting
cowboys riding bulls and roping calves, and a cowgirl barrel racing, pictures which Kit said Marc
picked out himself because they reminded him of his siblings.

But the archaeologist in both of them was everywhere: framed displays of arrowheads that Marc

had dug up and collected on the ranch when he was growing up, a wallpaper mural running across
one wall, with faux painted bison like those found in caves, two Kachina dolls on the mantel, and

displayed in a cabinet was a collection of terracotta pottery, the kind found in digs.

It came to her that this house was about cultural fusion. Although Marc and Kit's wasn't a definite

divide like she and Tyler had, they still grew up in different locations that they loved, and managed to
incorporate into a house that was distinctively theirs. If she ever ended up with Tyler, she'd have to be
satisfied living in a stable, though the thought wasn't necessarily negative. His small place was cozy
and unusually neat for a man, and its large windows looked out onto a pasture with mares and
mountains in the background, a place where the night sky would be dark, with a wide panorama of
stars that would go one forever.

That thought had barely crossed her mind when she heard footsteps on the front deck and looked

out the kitchen window to see Tyler walking toward the front door. He glanced up and saw her
standing at the window, and smiled, which had her heart hammering, and her pulse racing, and her
breath quickening, and all her earlier resolve vanishing, replaced by thoughts of what an amazingly
appealing smile he had, and how it had been at his place, with him standing across the room from her,
yet not knowing what to say or do because he didn't know what to do around women, and she was the
first woman he'd ever been interested in...

Again, she wondered why he was interested in her instead of a woman without Indian ties,

someone he could more easily relate to. She also wondered why he was even there. Her last words to
him in the plankhouse had not been words of encouragement.

When she opened the door, he gave her a sheepish smile, and said, "Am I welcome?"
"That depends on why you're here," Rose replied, and tried to sound as if his presence didn't

affect her, when in fact she was getting all jelly-kneed again.

Before Tyler could answer, he was distracted when Tundra padded up beside Rose and again

growled. "Okay, boy, I'm onto you now," he said, "so you can stop the growling."

Tyler looked at Rose to see her reaction, and she gave up trying to fool him, and said, "I told you

Tundra had a sixth sense about people."

"I know, but you didn't tell me it was your reaction to me that got him growling." Tyler stroked

the sides of Tundra's head with both hands, then ran one hand between his front legs and scratched his
chest until Tundra's eyes closed in ecstasy, and when Tyler at last raised the back of his hand to
Tundra's muzzle, Tundra swiped his tongue across his knuckles. "Good, we understand each other
now." Tyler looked at Rose then, and said, "So then, what's going on inside you when I'm around that
Tundra picks up on?"

"I have no intention of telling you," Rose replied. "Besides, it could happen when any good-

looking man approaches me. It doesn't just have to be you."

Tyler smiled. "But you already told me it never happened before, so it has to be me." He waited,

and when she offered nothing more, because she was uncertain where things were leading, he said,
"Incidentally, you can get your heartbeat and blood pressure down by taking a big breath and counting
to five and then letting it out and repeating it several times."

"You're still assuming that you have that much effect on me," Rose said.
Tyler's smile grew wider, but he said noting.
"So, why are you here?" Rose asked
"I'm heading to the casino to talk to someone on the rodeo committee about a contract next season

and I want you to come with me," Tyler said.

"Is that the only reason you want to go to the reservation," Rose asked, "to see about a contract?"
"No," Tyler replied. "It's where you live and I want you to show me around."
"That's sad," Rose said. "You've lived all your life around here and I'd think you would have

been curious about the reservation before now and checked it out on your own."

"I have been curious," Tyler said, "but every time I've driven by I was on the way somewhere, so

it never was convenient to stop."

"And if you had not met me you probably would have lived out your life without giving it any

thought, just like it's never been important to ask your grandmother about your Indian roots," Rose
pointed out, finding herself finally able to reel in her out-of-control reactions to seeing Tyler again,
and determined to keep her feelings in check until Tyler either showed some sign of embracing the
things that mattered to her, or it would finally get through her very thick skull that theirs was a
complete mismatch.

"Actually, I did talk to my grandmother," Tyler said, "but she couldn't tell me anything about my

background because her family was assimilated and her mother wanted her and her siblings to be
raised in their father's white world, so that's the way it was."

"That's sad too, Indians just giving up their heritage," Rose said. "Until recently our culture was

slowly dying but because a group of people are determined that the old traditions and stories and
legends be passed down to future generations, we now have streets on the reservation with ethnic
names, and the language that was used in trade between the tribes is being taught in school and on the
reservation so it won't be lost. Preserving our culture is also the reason I'm working for your brother
and sister-in-law. They understand."

"I'm trying to understand too," Tyler said, "but you've got to cut me a little slack. Since you're the

first woman I've been seriously interested in, I'm kind of feeling my way along."

"My being the first woman you've been interested in has nothing to do with the problems between

us, and I'm not sure that cutting you a little slack will make any difference," Rose said. "You've got a
theory on geysers that you intend to prove, but your means of proving it is tantamount to using carbon
dating to determine the age of a fossil. You first have to turn the fossil into carbon by burning it up, so
in proving your theory about geysers, first you have to destroy Whispering Springs."

"Look, I'm doing my best to leave everything in the cavern that matters as it is, I'm not drilling in

the vicinity of the petroglyphs or the pool, I'm going at it slowly and taking time to sit and listen, and
that's all there is to it. You make it sound like I'm obliterating the cavern."

"You just don't understand," Rose said in a weary voice.
"I know," Tyler replied, "but I'm trying. Now can I have a kiss?"
When she didn't say 'no' or back away, Tyler pulled her to him and kissed her, but when she didn't

put her arms around his neck, because she was trying to stop this thing between them, yet she
continued to let him kiss her, he reached down and took her hands and put them around his own neck,
then closed his arms around her and continued the kiss until Rose felt all her determination slipping
away and soft moans escaping her throat.

"That's better," Tyler said, after the kiss was completed. "Now maybe we can go to the

reservation so you can show me around and connect me with my roots."

His smile that followed had Rose justifying reasons why she should spend the afternoon with

him, even knowing that his reason for going to the reservation was to get a contract for his act, and
that his talk about connecting to his roots was simply to placate her.

Deciding it was pointless to stay on the endless cogwheel they were on about spirits in the spring

and drilling into rock, and recognizing that at this point, neither of them were committed to a
relationship, and what they shared was nothing more than a strong attraction to her on his part, and a
sizable dose of infatuation on hers, maybe a trip to the reservation to meet her family would give
Tyler a better understanding of what he was getting himself into, if he continued to pursue her, and she

continued to not discourage him.

***

Twenty minutes later, Tyler pulled his truck into the parking lot of Spirit Mountain Casino and

made his way through the maze of cars to the building that housed the casino offices, which was also
where the rodeo office was located. Rose waited in the truck while he went to meet with the man he'd
spoken to on the phone the week before. But when he walked into the rodeo office and introduced
himself, it was clear, from the surprised expression on the man's face, that he was not prepared for
Tyler Hansen to be an Indian, which was understandable. In the You Tube video he'd been a Roman
soldier, and Josh had taken the video from a distance so there was never a clear image of his face.
But the tribal member's enthusiasm on seeing that he was one of them seemed to all but insure a
contract.

And Tyler felt like a charlatan.
He didn't think like an Indian, act like an Indian, or share Indian beliefs about spirits and animal

guides, and all the things that were important to Rose, but he wanted the contract, so when the man
asked which tribe he was affiliated with, he replied, Nez Perce, and left it at that.

But then the man threw him a curve.
"Your Roman act is good," the man said, "but since next season will be the first time we'll be

including a specialty act, we'd like it to carry an Indian theme. Your act is already called Moon
Dancers, which fits."

"Then… you're saying I should dress like an Indian?" Tyler asked.
"Do you have a problem with that?" the man replied.
"No, I suppose not," Tyler said.
"Good. We'd also want to tell the audience something about your Nez Perce background. When

our people excel, we want it known."

It took a long time for Tyler to answer because the man was asking him to be something he

wasn't, at least not in his heart. He also knew there was a strong possibility that he could lose his
chance at getting the contract by responding the way he intended, but he couldn't keep up the pretense.
"My great-grandmother was Nez Perce but she was fully assimilated and I know nothing about my
Indian heritage," he said. "The rest of my family doesn't even look Indian."

The man studied him for a few moments, as if he were sizing him up, then he smiled in a way that

reminded Tyler of one of his grade-school teachers, and replied, "Then you'll have some time to learn
about your heritage, if we decide to go with your act. Use the time wisely."

As Tyler left the office, he was beginning to think there were forces out there pushing him to

recognize his Indian blood. First were the gradual changes in his features about the time he started
middle school, when his nose and cheekbones became more prominent and his hair became darker
and straighter. And later, when he let his hair grow, for reasons that had nothing to do with looking
like an Indian and was all about communicating with horses, people who didn't know his family
assumed he was Indian. Then the first women to catch his notice in a serious way was an Indian. And
now he'd have to be an Indian if he wanted the rodeo contract…

"Well, how did it go?" Rose asked, as he climbed into his truck.
"They'll think about it," Tyler responded, and offered nothing more.
"Did they see your video?" Rose asked.
"Yes," Tyler replied. "Where to from here?" He knew he didn't want to get into the suggested

requirements for getting the contract because Rose would turn it into some kind of animal totem
guiding him in a direction he wasn't ready to go. It was like he was balanced between two worlds,
and he was beginning to feel like a wolfdog.

Rose pointed, while saying, "Go this way, and when you leave the parking lot, head back the way

we came and I'll show you where to turn."

As Tyler followed Rose's directions, while turning automatically where she pointed, his driving

was on rote, while his mind was occupied with the logistics of reinventing his act from a Roman
soldier to, he wasn't sure what—maybe an Indian warrior, or more appropriately an Indian cowboy.
He could do that, but the western boots wouldn't work on his mares' backs, and moccasins with
western garb would look pretty ludicrous, which brought him back to wearing suede pants with
fringes, face paint, a huge feathered war bonnet, and looking like something out of an old Hollywood
movie, except that Indians didn't ride standing up…

"Turn here," Rose said, cutting into his thoughts.
Tyler automatically turned into a long gravel driveway that cut between two fenced pastures,

with a ranch house and large barn at the far end of the driveway. Several other outbuildings were off
to the side of the barn, as well as a corral.

Cutting the engine, he said, "Whose place is this?"
"My folks," Rose replied.
"Did you call ahead?" Tyler asked. When he suggested she show him around the reservation he'd

meant just that, so he wasn't prepared to meet the rest of her family. He already knew what her mother
thought of him. Her message to stay clear of Rose had not been subtle.

Rose looked askance at him, and replied, "I told my mother I'd be coming this afternoon, but that

was before you suggested I go with you."

"Then seeing me should make her day," Tyler said, wryly.
"Actually, she'll be gracious and make you feel welcome," Rose said, "but if my brother, Preston,

makes any kind of veiled comments about you being a squaw man, just ignore him. He shares my
mother and grandmother's views that I should not be in a relationship that could lead to marriage
outside of our culture, and he's not shy about voicing his opinion."

"Then you've been in relationships with other guys?" Tyler asked. For some reason he'd assumed

he was her first, though it was not logical thinking.

"I've been in relationships before," Rose said, "but they were with guys I went to high school

with and none were serious. I also did some casual dating in college that I never mentioned to my
parents. The reservation is a pretty close community in that the elders are trying to hold onto old
traditions, and when young people go off to college or find jobs away from here and marry outside of
the culture, traditions no longer matter, which is why our culture was slowly dying and still will, if no
one cares."

Tyler knew she was right. Until meeting her he'd had no interest in his Indian background, and

without her in the picture he'd go back to things the way they'd always been. "And your father?" he
asked. "What would his position be if what we have now becomes more serious?"

"I don't know because it's never been an issue," Rose said, "but I guess we'll soon find out,

unless you want to pretend I'm just taking you around to see the wigwams and tipis."

"You have those here?" Tyler asked.
"Rose laughed in irony. "Have you seen any so far?"
"No, but we haven't driven around much either," Tyler replied.
"That's because there aren't any," Rose said. "What you'll see after we leave here will be some

pretty impressive buildings, complements of earnings from the casino the Confederated Tribes own,
like a brand new health center, a new school, a governance building, and an elder center. Our tribal
members are actually quite civilized now."

"Talk about your brother making veiled comments," Tyler said. "I've never once implied that

Indians aren't civilized."

"Not directly, but you think we're backwards because we believe in spirits," Rose replied.
"I think a lot of beliefs are based on legends and mythology that's later disproved by science,"

Tyler said, "but I don't have a problem with people having their own beliefs."

"Except when those beliefs interfere with something you're doing," Rose pointed out.
When Tyler didn't respond, because he was getting pretty pissed the way Rose was blowing

things all out of proportion when it came to the spring and his opening up a few fissures, Rose took
his silence for what it was, and said, "Okay, forget I made that comment and let's go see what my
family has to say. At least with Preston you should throw him a curve. He won't be expecting a
Hansen with long hair and looking more like an Indian than half his friends, and that's a compliment
because you're a very good-looking Indian." She smiled.

"Then can I have a kiss before we head up this driveway?" Tyler asked, wondering where that

came from. Moments before he was irritated with Rose and her constant nagging about the spring. But
then she gave him one of her smiles, and his mind got jumbled, and all he wanted now was to haul her
back to his place and continue what they'd had going there.

It was different then. She responded differently. There was no talk of angering spirits or drilling

into rock. It was just the two of them in his world with his mares, and when he kissed her there, it
was like she couldn't get enough of him. But here with her family, in her world, he could feel a big
divide, and it started at the rodeo office.

About the time he figured Rose had no intention of kissing him, she unhooked her seatbelt, slid

over beside him and kissed him solidly on the mouth. It was a long, extended kiss, but when it was
over, Tyler said, "Thank you. I needed that before heading into Custer's Last Stand."

Rose gave him another quick kiss, then yanked on his horsetail, and said, "You'll have a hard time

convincing them you're Custer. His hair was blond and curly, he had a big drooping mustache, and he
didn't look like an Indian. If he had, he might have confused the enemy and won the battle of the Little
Bighorn."

"Maybe I'll get lucky and confuse the enemy," Tyler replied.
"My folks aren't the enemy," Rose said. "They're just looking out for my best interest."
"I think I get the picture," Tyler replied.
They headed up the long driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the modest ranch house. On

entering, the only person home appeared to be Rose's mother, who came from the direction of the
kitchen. On seeing Tyler, her expression was clearly one of surprise, but not pleasure.

"You remember Tyler, don't you, Mom?" Rose asked.
"Yes," Helen Starbright replied. Although she was smiling, Tyler knew her smile was insincere

because her eyes were dull, and there was a slight flare to her nostrils, like she sensed something
disagreeable. Him. "We weren't expecting anyone but Rose this afternoon," she said to him, "but
you're welcome to stay for dinner."

"Thanks, but I have to get back to tend my horses," Tyler replied.
Rose touched his arm lightly, and said to her mother, "Tyler came to see about including his

Roman riding act in the rodeo. Where is everyone?"

"Granna's taking her afternoon nap, Dad will be home soon, and Preston is out trying, not too

successfully, to subdue a mustang he just bought from the BLM," Helen replied.

Tyler glanced out the dining room window, which was facing behind the house, and saw a corral

with a man on a horse that was doing its best to get rid of him, and the horse was being met with the
slash of a crop each time it bucked. "Maybe I'll go out and see if I can give him a hand," he said,
while wondering where Preston Starbright learned his heavy-handed methods of horse handling.
Obviously not from his forebears, if there was anything to what his grandmother told him about the
way Indians handled horses.

"Good luck," Rose called after him, as he was leaving.
By the time Tyler got to the corral, Preston was off the horse and giving it a treat, which Tyler

presumed was because the horse hadn't actually bucked him off, and Preston managed to slip off his
back without being thrown. But Tyler could tell, from the way the horse eyed the treat with distrust,
and his nostrils flared, and his stance was stiff, that he was leery of the treat and feared the man,
which was understandable.

"He's a nice horse," Tyler said. "I take it you just got him."
"Yeah," Preston replied. "We're having a disagreement about who's boss, and I intend to win."
"Your first mustang?" Tyler asked.
"Yeah, I thought I'd give it a try. Once he's broken he should be a good cattle horse. He looks to

be mostly quarter horse."

"Do you mind if I try something with him?" Tyler asked.
"Sure. Have at it if you think you can get the ornery thing to follow instructions," Preston said.

"You want the crop?"

"No," Tyler replied. "I'll just talk to him some."
Preston looked at Tyler with skepticism then moved back to lean against the wooden railing

surrounding the corral and watched as Tyler slowly approached the mustang from the side, pausing
when the mustang's nostrils flared and his mouth became tense and his eyes held an expression of fear.

From where he stood, Tyler said to the mustang in a low, quiet voice, "I'm going to move closer

to you now and you'll tell me when it's close enough. If you feel like you need to get away, there's an
escape route behind you." He took a couple of steps closer, but before the mustang gave a sign that he
was too close, Tyler eased back. After a couple of minutes he started forward again, while saying to
the mustang in the same quiet voice, "Good boy, you're not running from me. You'll be okay. You have
a good spirit and I won't break it. You can trust me."

As he said the words, Tyler edged gradually closer, until the mustang flicked his ears forward,

and his eyes became wide with the whites showing. "I'm going to touch you now, just a little brush of
my finger, and if that's okay I'll scratch your neck," Tyler explained in the same soft, soothing voice.
"Let me know if it's okay, but if it isn't, I'll stop." He took another step closer. "I know this is scary,
but stay with me. I'm your friend."

As Tyler spoke, the mustang's eyes took on more of a questioning expression than one of fear, and

he bent his head slightly, as if in curiosity—a man he wanted to befriend, but feared because other
men had hurt him.

Over the next few minutes Tyler talked to the mustang while touching his muzzle, then his face,

and cheek, and neck, and finally his chest. When the mustang was comfortable with that, Tyler
scratched both sides of his neck at the same time, all the while looking directly into the mustang's eyes
and talking to him, and soon he was able to move his hand down one front leg and then the other,
while the mustang stood still.

"This is all new to you, isn't it boy? You're not used to people touching you, or to the sights and

sounds of a ranch, and everything scares you. It will take time, but when you know you're safe here
you'll be okay." As Tyler talked to the mustang, he hoped Preston got the message that breaking a
horse didn't mean breaking his spirit.

On seeing that the mustang was standing with most of his weight on three legs, with the forth leg

at rest, and his teeth were hidden behind his lips, and no white was evident in his eyes, Tyler curved
his arms around the mustang's neck and carried on a monolog. When the mustang stood listening, yet
not bolting, Tyler removed the saddle and hefted it onto the railing, then removed the bridle and hung
it on the saddle horn, and lastly, tossed over the railing an orange plastic traffic cone that he'd seen the
mustang shy away from earlier.

After giving the mustang a few minutes to adjust to this new feeling of being in contact with a

human, but free to run off, Tyler said to him, "I'm going to get on your back now." When the mustang
flicked his ears in curiosity, not fear, Tyler launched himself onto the his back and immediately leaned
forward while encircling his arms around mustang's neck, and saying to him, "Good boy, you're a very
good boy. We'll go for a ride now." He felt the mustang tense and step around, but he didn't buck, so
moving to a sitting position, Tyler clicked his tongue and the mustang took a couple of steps forward.

"You've got the idea," Tyler said, while patting his neck. "That's all there is to it. We're a team

now. You'll take me around the arena a few times, and I'll make sure you're safe from harm when you
do." After the mustang made several passes around the arena without bucking or balking, but simply
walking at a calm pace, Tyler slipped to the ground, patted him on the neck and walked away from
him.

"He'll be a good horse if you handle him right," he said to Preston, "but he's afraid of his new

surroundings and he's afraid you, so you'll have to go back to the beginning and win his trust, but
when you do, you'll have a horse that will do what you want because he wants to please you.
Otherwise he'll never connect with you and you'll end up with a sour horse."

From the look on Preston's face, Tyler sensed that he had a new respect for the stranger who took

on a challenging mustang, while also demonstrating a better way to break a horse.

"I take it you work with horses a lot," Preston said.
"Daily," Tyler replied. "I haven't worked with mustangs though, but gentling any horse is more

about using the horse's natural way of thinking and behaving than maintaining control of him through
fear. That's what breaks a horse's spirit. Basically I talk to them a lot. Initially it doesn't matter what
you say, but they'll soon understand good boy and that's right, then as the training progresses, the
words alone become rewards. Before you're done, you end up teaching each other. I've learned a lot
from my horses. You have an advantage with a mustang though. He has no bad habits from years of
inept riders, poor handling, or harsh, impatient trainers, so you have a blank slate to work with."

"That may be so," Preston said, "but a mustang's brought up in different surroundings and under

different circumstances than a domesticated horse, which makes them more dangerous and less
responsive."

"Not really," Tyler replied. "A horse growing up in the wild learns to problem solve from an

early age, and once gentled, they're safer than most domestic breeds because they've learned in the
wild that it's not useful to spook at rocks when there are mountain lions to worry about."

"I see your point," Preston said. "You live around here? I know you don't live on the reservation."
"I have a place about fifteen miles from here," Tyler replied.
"Then you're visiting friends or relatives?" Preston asked.
"No," Tyler replied. "I'm here with Rose."
Preston looked at him with uncertainty. "She's never mentioned anything about you. Do you have

something going with her?" he asked.

"Yeah," Tyler replied. "I like her. More than like her. If I marry her, I'll be a squaw man."
"You can't be a squaw man," Preston said. "You're an Indian."
"No, I'm a genetic throwback."
"Are you talking to me in circles?" Preston asked.
"No, I'm telling it straight," Tyler replied. "You know that guy Rose works for?"
"The archaeologist at the Dancing Moon Ranch?" Preston asked.
Tyler nodded. "He's my brother."
"Then you're adopted?"
"No, like I said, I'm a genetic throwback."
"A throwback to what?"
"My great-grandmother," Tyler replied. "She was Nez Perce. I got the gene."
"Is that why you know so much about gentling horses?" Preston asked.
"No, I figured that out on my own," Tyler replied. "My animal guide's a horse." He said the

words in jest, but oddly, they resonated. He'd had an affinity for horses from as far back as he could
remember, but he never understood why, other than he found them easy to understand, when humans
made no sense.

Preston eyed him with skepticism, like he didn't know what to make of him, which Tyler found

amusing, though what he was doing by messing with the guy's head could definitely come back to bite
him. But he could tell, from the subtle changes in the man's expression, that he held a certain amount
of respect for the stranger who gentled the mustang in less than ten minutes.

"So then, what's the real deal with you and my sister?" Preston asked. "You think you're going to

marry her?"

"I will if she'll have me," Tyler replied, "but we have some issues to work out first."
Preston's brows drew together as an awareness of exactly who Tyler was began to dawn. "Wait a

minute," he said. "If you're the archaeologist's brother, you must be the guy who's chiseling away at
Whispering Springs."

"Not for much longer," Tyler replied. "I'm trying to prove a theory."
Preston's face hardened. "You're right. If you marry my sister you will be a squaw man," he said,

then turned abruptly and walked into the barn, leaving Tyler standing and staring after him.

When Tyler started for the house, he saw a middle-aged man, who he assumed was Rose's father,

standing outside the back door, watching him. He knew the man had been far enough away that he
hadn't heard the exchange between him and Preston, but he would have seen the body language when
Preston left abruptly. He hoped he wouldn't be obligated to explain.

CHAPTER 10

As Tyler walked toward Rose's father, having no choice because the man was standing between

him and the house, Rose's father met him halfway, and offering his hand, said to Tyler, "Edison
Starbright."

"Tyler Hansen," Tyler replied, clasping the man's hand.
Edison Starbright looked in the direction of the barn, and said, "I don't know what prompted that,

but Preston can be hotheaded at times. He doesn't like it when someone disagrees with the way he
handles things."

Tyler nodded vaguely, allowing Edison to believe that Preston's abrupt departure had to do with

horse handling. "The mustang has the potential of becoming a good horse, but Preston's handling him
wrong," Tyler said. "All the mustang sees is a human out to kill him, and everything around here is the
enemy, even that plastic cone that was in the corner of the corral. The mustang needs to be introduced
to everything around here systematically, and on the mustang's terms, which means with patience,
because in a horse's mind everything new is potentially lethal. All I did was let the mustang know
through my voice and body language that I understood what he was going through, and that he could
trust me."

"Which he did," Edison said. "After watching the way you were working with him and seeing

how quickly he responded to you, I can't help thinking that you're keeping your hair long for reasons
other than vanity."

Tyler eyed the man with curiosity. It was an odd statement, but a perceptive one. "Maybe," he

replied. "What reasons are you thinking?"

"Communicating," Edison said, "Do you know anything about the Indian scouts during the war in

Vietnam?"

"No," Tyler replied. "What about them?"
"Special Forces in the war department sent agents to comb Indian Reservations to find

outstanding scouts, men who'd been extensively documented as experts in tracking and survival, but
once enlisted, whatever skills they had on the reservation seemed to mysteriously disappear. When
questioned, the recruits claimed that after getting their military haircuts they could no longer access a
sixth sense, their intuition was unreliable, and they couldn't read subtle signs like before. More Indian
trackers were recruited, but that time the military sent the men out in pairs, one with long hair, the
other with a military cut. Time after time the men with long hair retained their sixth sense and tracking
skills, while those with short hair failed, so after that, Indian trackers were not only exempt from
haircuts, they were required to keep their long hair."

"I never heard about that," Tyler said, "but from my experience, the longer I grew my hair, the

more aware I became of what my horses were struggling with, and the more responsive they were to
what I was trying to tell them, so I suppose it's logical that it would work for scouts too."

"It's interesting to hear you reaffirm it because until now I wasn't sure I believed it," Edison

replied. "There's some talk that the story was fabricated."

"My father would be the first to think that way," Tyler said. "He probably still believes I'm

claiming it helps me connect with my horses as an excuse to look like a rock star. His rule when we
were growing up was no hair below the collar, but when my brother, Marc, returned after being gone
for four years, after a falling-out with my parents, he'd grown his hair out and my father said nothing.

That was around the time I read about hair being an extension of the nervous system, so I decided to
give it a try, but I never thought it would help in handling my horses."

"Or maybe you're more Indian than you think," Edison replied.
"I'm no more Indian than my brothers, who don't look Indian at all," Tyler said.
"Then I guess you just got lucky," Edison replied, and offered a broad smile.
Tyler liked the smile. In fact, he liked the man. "Maybe," he said, but he'd never considered

himself lucky to look different from his brothers. At school the kids teased him when his features
started changing, calling him a shapeshifter, and not in a friendly way.

"Rose mentioned that you don't know anything about your native background," Edison said.
"I don't," Tyler admitted. "I've only recently become interested."
"Then since you're a horseman, you might start with your own roots. The Nez Perce were one of

the first tribes to breed horses selectively and they developed the appaloosa into a horse capable of
catching a running herd of buffalo and putting its rider in place for the kill, and when the horse heard
the twang of the arrow leaving the bow it would cut the wounded animal from the herd. It was only
due to the appaloosa's speed, agility, strength, and intelligence, which was bred into them, that the
horse kept himself and his rider alive during this maneuver."

Tyler listened with interest. "I use Lusitanos for their strength, agility and intelligence," he said,

"but the pair I'm looking to buy right now is priced out of my range, so I might consider buying a pair
of appaloosa instead."

"If you do, you might also consider changing your act from a Roman soldier to a Nez Perce,"

Edison said. "It would be equally as impressive and would definitely connect with the rodeo crowd."

Tyler eyed the man in curiosity. "Are you by any chance on the rodeo committee?" he asked.
"No, but my brother is," Edison replied. "Rose said you were here about getting a contract with

the rodeo for your Roman riding act, so I figured you were the guy in the video I viewed with the
committee, but none of us knew you were Indian."

Tyler gave a little ironic snort. "Me, included," he said, "but it seems I don't have much choice.

Everything keeps shoving me down a path to my ancestry. It's a little eerie."

"Well, if you decide to take that path you might want to read about the last Nez Perce chief,"

Edison said. "There's a lot to learn about the man and his horse, Ebenezer. The horse was so famous,
newspapers always referred to him by name when Chief Joseph rode into town, but when Chief
Joseph finally surrendered, he rode a black horse instead. But before he surrendered, he proved to be
one of the finest chiefs of any tribe. You might want to find out why."

Tyler let out a soft laugh. "Okay, you've got my curiosity. I guess I'm destined to learn about my

Indian forebears whether I want to or not. Things keep sending me in that direction."

"Things like my daughter?" Edison asked.
"I won't deny she's a big part of it," Tyler replied, "but there are other things too. People keep

suggesting I do things I wasn't planning on doing."

"Like transforming your act from Roman to Indian," Edison said. "The thing is, the Nez Perce

were superior horsemen and you do naturally what it's taken the American cowboy three centuries to
begin to figure out, my son included, since the Kalapuya never had horses and Preston learned what
he knows from cowboys." He smiled again, and Tyler got the impression that the man might tolerate a
long-haired, Indian look-alike in Rose's life. But for Rose's mother and brother, he'd be facing an
uphill battle, and he hadn't yet met the matriarch of the family. But that would happen when he walked
through the door, because he saw an old woman watching from the window, and she didn't look
friendly.

Shifting his gaze back to Edison, he said, "I suppose I'll be doing some reading."
Edison laughed and gave Tyler a light rap on the shoulder. "With a little research, you might find

that you're not as far from your roots as you think. Meanwhile, I'll turn out the mustang and see what's
got Preston so hot under the collar."

The men turned away from each other and headed in opposite directions, and as Tyler walked

toward the house, he couldn't help thinking that, even though Edison Starbright was giving him the
benefit of the doubt, once he learned from Preston that the guy with the sixth sense about horses was
also the guy who was drilling into their sacred mountain, he'd change his tune. He could end the
whole controversy by abandoning the project and selling the drill to prove to Rose and everyone else
that he was through, but he was too close to quit now. A couple more hours and he might find his
answer…

That thought was interrupted by the shrill, piercing sound of a hawk high above along with a

shadow crossing on the ground in front of him. He looked up to see a red-tailed hawk making a wide
circle. Cupping his hand over his eyes to block the sun, he watched as the hawk completed the circle
and landed on a fence post at the far side of the pasture. It would be ludicrous to think it was the same
hawk as the one at his place because red-tails were common in the area. Still, it seemed oddly
coincidental, because the hawk was also a young female.

When he looked toward the house again, Rose was standing just outside the kitchen door, looking

at the hawk. As he approached, Rose said to him, "That looks like Diana. It's big like a female, and
it's sitting on a fence post, watching you."

"The sun's at her back so she's facing this direction, not because she's watching me," Tyler said,

"and fence posts are natural perches where hawks can watch for mice and voles. That hawk's also got
a red tail and they don't get red tails until they're two." He said that to throw Rose off track so she
wouldn't jump to erroneous conclusions.

Rose looked at the hawk again, and seeming satisfied with his explanation, said to him, "How

did it go with Preston?"

Tyler glanced toward the corral, where Rose's father was opening the gate to the pasture to let the

mustang out, then he looked at Preston who was standing in the doorway, glaring at him. "I take it you
weren't watching," he said, while continuing to hold Preston's gaze. It was a momentary male power
struggle, which was broken when Rose's father walked up to Preston.

"No," Rose said, glancing toward the men. "Why? What happened?"
Tyler let out a short, sardonic laugh. "You were right. I'm a squaw man."
"Preston actually called you that?" Rose said, clearly surprised.
"Not without encouragement," Tyler admitted. "I'm thinking it's about time to go."
"Preston's five years older than me, which he thinks gives him a right to chase off any

prospective boyfriends, so don't take to heart anything he says. Besides, he says things he later
retracts when he's had time to think things through."

Tyler could argue that Preston had thought things through, and it was because he held the same

view as Rose about the spring that he called him a squaw man, which also implied that the man
chasing after Rose didn't know squat about native beliefs, though he was slowing learning. He was
actually curious about the Nez Perce, especially about the way they handled horses. Maybe he was a
genetic throwback. It was plausible.

He looked toward the barn again. "If nothing else, maybe your brother will handle the mustang

more gently. He watched how I worked with him and what I said and did, and I know he understood."

"I'm betting he will handle him differently," Rose said. "Preston's that way, though he won't work

with the mustang again until after we've gone."

"Fine then, let's go," Tyler replied. "I think I've about worn out my welcome here."
Rose put her hand up to Tyler's chest to keep him from walking around her and heading for his

truck, and said, "No one here is against you. We're against what you're doing at the spring, and for
reasons that are not clear to you, you'll continue doing it, but I'm hoping that somewhere along the way
you'll open your heart, and your mind, to the idea that there could be something happening in the
mountain that defies scientific explanation."

Tyler looked into a pair of eyes that held such promise, if he'd just give up his quest, that he found

himself saying, "Okay, give me a couple more hours to finish opening the fissure I'm working on now
and I'll quit."

"Even if the sounds in the mountain change?" Rose asked.
Tyler had to think about that. He was tempted to lie, if only to watch Rose's eyes brighten and see

her smile, but the reality was, if the sounds in the mountain changed, he'd want to explore further. "I
don't think the sounds are going to change," he said.

"Which is an evasive answer," Rose pointed out. She waited, and when he offered nothing more,

she sighed heavily, and said, "Meanwhile, before we go I'd like you to meet my grandmother."

"What's the point?" Tyler asked. "I'm sure she's already formed an opinion of me that's not likely

to change by meeting me."

"My grandmother doesn't judge people," Rose replied. "She reads them and offers her opinion

about what she reads. You can do with it what you want."

"I saw her watching through the window," Tyler said. "She didn't look friendly."
"That's just her look," Rose replied. "She has sharp eyes that sees things others miss, subtle

things that have meaning to her because of the way she interprets them."

Tyler had no idea what Rose was talking about, but he was beginning to have some curiosity

about her grandmother, and maybe he'd learn something from the woman that would help him
understand Rose's world, because right now, he wasn't connecting with any of them. Giving a sigh of
resolve, he said, "Okay then, let's get it over with."

"Maybe you could change your attitude a little and be more open minded," Rose said. "My

grandmother is very well respected in the community for her wisdom. You might even like her." She
turned and went into the house, and Tyler followed.

Rose's grandmother was standing at the window, looking in the direction of the hawk, and when

Rose and Tyler entered the house, she turned to acknowledge them. After Rose made introductions,
she said to Tyler, "Tell my grandmother about Diana."

Tyler didn't want to get into a discussion about animal guides and speculation as to whether

Diana was the hawk on the fence post outside, so he shrugged off Rose's request by saying to her
grandmother, who Rose introduced as Mary Weaver, "The hawk at my place is a passage hawk. Her
parents have been nesting in the area where I live for years and she's between leaving the nest and
finding a mate."

"If she were looking for a mate," Rose argued, "she wouldn't spend her time sitting on a fence

post watching you, she'd be out flying around."

Tyler looked askance at Rose, and replied, "But I'm the one throwing meat scraps to her when her

parents refuse to feed her, so she's hanging around my place instead. It's basic bird behavior when a
fledgling leaves the nest."

Tyler found his eyes drawn to Rose's grandmother, who looked steadily at him, and said, "How

long has Hawk been with you?"

Tyler had no intention of announcing that the hawk arrived the day he started chiseling into the

mountain, which would give Rose more fodder to toss at him, so he said instead, "I don't remember
exactly… two, maybe three weeks."

"Hawk soars through the air looking down and sees details in the big picture," Mary said. "If she

soars into your life, she's bringing her medicine to you."

Tyler looked at Rose, and from the expression on her face, he could almost hear her spiel about

animal messenger guides...

…her message can be a warning, or spiritual in nature…
"She's not the first hawk that's been around my place," Tyler explained. "I live near a stand of

Douglas fir so there are several red-tails in the area." He knew he didn't sound sincere because he
wasn't. Until the day he started drilling, he'd never had a hawk take up residency on a fence post at his
place and stare at him the way the hawk did.

Mary looked at him steadily, and said, "When Hawk shows up in your life, be sensitive to the

messages it may carry and be receptive to your own intuition. Hawk has a distinct cry and when you
hear it, pay close attention to the thought you were just having, because in that thought is Hawk's
message. Hawk's message is for you only, but because it's connected to your thoughts, only you can
know what the message is."

Tyler couldn't connect any particular thoughts with the hawk back at his place, but he

remembered the images going through his head when he heard the rasp of the hawk outside on the
fence post and saw the shadow pass in front of him, because the hawk's cry reminded him of the
sound of his drill, and the shriek came while he was deliberating whether to give it all up, or continue
drilling for a couple more hours, which, if he were to go along with the idea of animal messengers,
could just as easily mean to stop, as it did to keep drilling and learn the source of the sounds, because
his thoughts had been divided.

As he contemplated that, Tyler's focus sharpened and he found himself trapped in the older

woman's gaze. If eyes truly were the windows of the soul, this woman was looking into his. It wasn't
a threatening look, just a steady one. He also sensed that she was troubled by what she saw, maybe
because he was exactly what Helen Starbright feared—someone in danger of breaking Rose's cultural
ties so traditions would no longer matter. But if what they had led to marriage, they'd find a happy
medium. He might not take to heart Rose's beliefs, but he'd never deny her the right to believe them.

"How will I know if I get the right message?" Tyler asked. Although he'd asked the question out

of courtesy, he found himself open to a logical explanation. It wasn't so farfetched, thinking in terms of
animals connecting with humans. His mares sent him messages daily, the kind that told him to do
something differently and approach it with patience because the images in their heads were streaming
by too quickly for them to understand what he was trying to tell them.

"You will know," Mary said, and offered nothing more.
"Thank you for the information," Tyler said. He hoped he sounded sincere, but from the look on

the woman's face he knew he hadn't fooled her. But he wasn't ready to ascribe spiritual powers to
animals, though from his interactions with his mares he understood the communication that could exist
between humans and animals when they worked together as equals.

"Listen and learn Hawk's message," Mary said. "Hawk will stay with you until you do."
Although he didn't buy into any of this, Tyler would stop throwing meat scraps to the hawk so

she'd leave and start searching for her mate and at least disprove the idea that she had a message for
him and would be there until he got it.

They said their goodbyes, and once in his truck and heading down the driveway, Rose looked out

of her side window, and said, "The hawk just flew off and she's heading in the direction of the ranch.
And just for the record, her tail was not red."

"There are a lot of hawks leaving the nest this time of the year," Tyler said. "That hawk was no

doubt one of them."

Rose looked askance at him, and replied, "I can see that you'll never understand because you

don't want to, so we'll drop the subject of animal guides. It's pointless with you."

Tyler said nothing, but he did make the decision to read up on animal guides. It would be a

struggle trying to siphon through all the information while trying to absorb it, but it was a small price
to pay for the love of a woman who was becoming increasingly more important to him as the days
passed. But along with learning what he could, he wanted Rose to spend an evening on his turf so they
could connect the way they had before when she was there.

Looking askance at her, he said, "Will you come to my place after the museum shuts down

tomorrow? I'll fix dinner."

"You only have one chair," Rose pointed out.
"I have a barbecue grill and a picnic table," Tyler replied.
"Is there a special reason you want me there?" Rose asked.
"Yes," Tyler replied. "We have some things to talk about and it works better for me when I'm at

my place with my mares."

"You're a very strange man," Rose said. "I don't understand you."
Tyler expected her to eventually come to that conclusion, and he had no argument because he

didn't understand himself. When he was growing up his mother kept telling him he had too much
potential to give up, but even though he'd graduated from high school, he was still a functional
illiterate who got around his learning problem by improvising. Yet, he loved learning and wanted to
learn, but he'd failed in the system. The problem he was having now was that he didn't want to fail
Rose, but the feeling of ineptitude by having a brain wired differently was like an insidious worm
eating away at his self-image.

Reaching over, he covered Rose's hand with his, and said, "Then I'll try to explain myself to you

tomorrow at my place. Maybe it will make more sense to both of us it I do."

Rose eyed him with uncertainty, but said nothing.

CHAPTER 11

Late the following afternoon, about the time the living museum would be closing, Tyler had

steaks ready for the barbecue, several ears of corn stripped of their husks and ready for steaming, and
a couple of potatoes wrapped in foil and baking in the hot coals of the grill. He'd even set out a bottle
of wine his brothers got him for his twenty-first birthday, and which had been gathering dust for
almost two years. He didn't have any wine goblets, but he had a pair of mismatched mugs to
accompany a pair of mismatched dinner plates, which he set on the picnic table on a couple of
terrycloth hand-towels serving as placemats.

Family members stopped by frequently, but never at mealtimes, so inviting someone for dinner

was a new experience. He'd told Rose to bring Tundra too, and she'd be walking him there so he
could get some exercise, but Tyler would be driving Rose back later because it would be dark by
then. They had things to sort out, but he didn't intend to spend the whole evening doing that, and what
he planned afterward he hoped would keep Rose there well into the night.

In addition to getting dinner ready, he'd spent the last couple of hours on the internet, learning

what he could about spirits and animal guides, and printing out a few pages. It would take time to
read and absorb all the information, so he concentrated on memorizing enough to convince Rose that
he was serious about making their relationship work.

He was in the process of scrolling though information about the Nez Perce Indians and Chief

Joseph when Adam appeared in the doorway. He hadn't heard Adam ride up on his horse and was
surprised, and annoyed, with his arrival, which was around the time he expected Rose. He didn't want
Adam to know Rose was coming for dinner because Adam would pick up where Josh and Jeremy left
off, which would be to tease him about interacting with human females instead of mares. But before
he could shut down his laptop, Adam walked over and saw a photo of Chief Joseph on the screen, and
said, "Who's that?"

"No one special," Tyler replied, and shut off the laptop. When he stood, Adam looked at his shirt

and smiled, which aggravated the hell out of him. Eyeing Adam in annoyance, he said, "You dropped
in for a reason?"

"Yeah," Adam replied. "Jesse wants to earn money for a rifle and you mentioned you could use

some help mucking out stalls, so he's up for hire. He's a good worker."

"Good, send him up a couple of days a week and I'll keep him busy." Tyler turned and left his

quarters and headed down the passageway so Adam would follow and leave.

Adam trailed along with him, but when they stepped outside, instead of getting on his horse and

returning to the ranch, Adam scanned Tyler's shirt again, smiled in amusement, and said, "So you
finally decided to wear the shirt Grandma gave you two Christmases ago. I get the picture."

"No, actually you don't," Tyler said. "I'm trying it on to see if it would work for a show."
Adam glanced at the table setting, lifted the bottle of wine, and looking at the Whispering Springs

label, said, "You're serving wine when you hate the stuff, you have a table set for two, and I arrive to
find a photo of an Indian on the screen of your laptop."

Tyler braced his hands on his hips, glared at Adam, and said, "Okay, so say what you want and

leave."

"Don't get so touchy," Adam replied. "We were all beginning to worry about you. I'm just glad to

know you're human. Maddy keeps insisting you're a centaur. Incidentally, Mom and Dad and the rest

of us like her."

"You think you've figured it out, but you haven't," Tyler said, hating that Adam had put him on the

defensive, but his big brothers could piss the hell out of him at times, this being one of them. Still, he
had no other explanation for photos of Indians on his laptop, a table set for two, a bottle of wine
sitting out, two steaks covered in plastic wrap, two foil-wrapped potatoes on the coals, corn ready
for steaming and him wearing a brand new shirt he wouldn't have been caught dead in except that he
was trying his damndest to impress Rose.

"It's obvious you're suddenly becoming interested in our Indian roots for a reason," Adam

continued. "Marc and the rest of us figured you would, about now."

"Okay, so Rose is coming for dinner, but it's not what you think," Tyler said. He walked over to

Adam's horse, untied the reins, and handed them to Adam.

Again Adam smiled. "What I think is that your attention is finally becoming divided between

horses and a pretty Indian girl, and we're all okay with that." He took the reins from Tyler, launched
himself onto his horse and left.

His hands still braced on his hips, Tyler watched as Adam loped off.
So, now he was done with teasing from Josh, Jeremy and Adam, which left Marc and Maddy

there at the ranch. Ryan would make a comment over the phone and that would be the end of it, Marc
and Kit would smile at each other and wink, like he wouldn't notice it, but Maddy would make a meal
of it. Although she was three years younger, she tended to go off on tangents, her latest being that, after
years of trying to encourage him to find a girlfriend and not automatically assume women would be
turned off because of his learning problem, she was using reverse psychology by claiming that if he
ever got into a relationship it wouldn't happen until an asteroid was heading for earth and he'd have a
bucket list of things to do before the end of the world, and chasing after a girl would be one of them.

For the moment though, he felt as if an asteroid was heading for him, because he'd told Rose he'd

explain himself to her, and now he had no idea how to begin, or if he even wanted to. Once out of high
school he never wanted anyone to know about his learning problem. He just wanted to appear normal,
and staying out of relationships worked because without the challenge of trying to learn things the way
his school mates did, he didn't feel anxious, or frustrated, or dumb because trying to work word math
problems and being called on to read out loud weren't a part of his everyday life. But a wife would be
a part of his everyday life, and even the most creative improvising wouldn't disguise the fact that he
learned things inversely, and tediously.

After some time, he glanced down the road and wondered why Rose hadn't arrived. It had been at

least a half hour since Adam left. But as he waited, his hands got clammy, his heart started beating
heavily, and he began to fear the worst.

If she'd learned about him, and began to sort through things in her mind, how could he give her a

coherent account of his problems? He could feel himself getting panicky and see himself making a
mess of things. He could imagine stumbling over words, and what she'd hear would be gibberish. As
the minutes ticked away he began to have feelings of resentment for the years he'd spent hiding a
secret that was a mystery even to him and wondered how much more he could have done in life had
he been free of all the confusion and perplexity…

And then he saw Rose emerge from around the turn in the driveway, and as she continued toward

him while looking excited to see him, he found himself grinning in a silly sort of way.

"Sorry I'm late," she called out in a winded voice. "Some museum visitors were asking questions

and I didn't want to shoo them off." As she walked up to him, with Tundra on a long leash, her face
was flushed, her hair was a confusion of dark tangles, and her eyes were bright with enthusiasm, and

when she smiled, he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. "Tundra and I jogged
all the way here, which is why I'm out of breath."

Tyler walked up to them, held his hand out for Tundra to sniff, and lick, and said, "Is that the only

reason you're out of breath?"

Rose laughed. "Yes, and if you'll notice, Tundra didn't growl at you this time."
"That's because you're winded from running, which works the same as taking deep breaths when

you want to lower your heart rate and blood pressure because you saw a man you thought was hot."
He didn't know where his self-assured words came from, but Rose was smiling even wider, like she
was amused.

Taking Tundra's leash from her, he said, "I'll put him in the corral while you're here, unless you

don't think he'll run off if he's loose."

"Probably the corral would be best," Rose said. "He stays around me, but I'm not convinced he

wouldn't run off if he heard coyotes later."

"Then you must be planning on staying a while," Tyler said. "Coyotes don't come out until after

dark."

Rose looked embarrassed, as she replied, "I didn't know exactly what you had in mind when you

invited me here."

"Yes you did." Tyler kissed her lightly on the lips. "Come on, boy," he said to Tundra, who

walked along with him toward the corral.

After releasing the leash and closing the gate to the corral, Tundra immediately started scouting

out his surroundings. The slatted boards enclosing the corral were close enough together that he
couldn't slip between them, but if he had a mind to go over the top, he could scale the boards and be
free. For the moment though, he was occupied checking the place out.

"I've got something inside for him," Tyler said. He went into the stable and got one of two giant

rawhide dog bones he'd picked up in town earlier, and after handing it to Tundra through the slats, he
turned toward Rose, who was standing and looking at his garden.

When he walked up to stand beside her, she said, "What happened to those end rows of beans?

Did the deer get in?"

"They did after a tree fell and wiped out the corner of the fence," Tyler replied.
"Do trees just fall like that?" Rose asked. "We haven't had any wind or rain."
"We can talk about trees and gardens later." Tyler pulled her into his arms and kissed her soundly,

and when the kiss ended, he said, "I've been waiting since yesterday to do that."

"I wasn't planning on kissing you at all this evening because we need to do some serious talking,"

Rose replied. "Before things go any further, we have some issues to address like—"

"I know, our cultural divide," Tyler said, while keeping his hands locked together behind Rose's

waist. He studied her face, which was not the face of a women wanting to turn him away, but the face
of a women who was troubled because she didn't want to turn him away, and he wondered again if
her apprehension was because she'd learned he was different, and she was using the cultural divide
issue as an excuse not to get close.

"This isn't a small thing," Rose said. "My family has deep spiritual beliefs that have been part of

our culture from the beginning of time, one of them being a belief that there are spirits in everything
around us, including rocks and trees and animals, and that by communicating with them we can have a
better understanding of ourselves, and when an animal comes to us…"

"She left," Tyler cut in before Rose could go off on another tangent about animal spirit guides. "I

stopped putting out meat scraps and Diana left."

"She'll be back," Rose said. "It has nothing to do with your feeding her. There are enough field

mice and meadow voles around to keep her well-fed, but she won't leave until you get her message
and you haven't gotten it yet."

"You can't know that," Tyler said. "According to your grandmother, I'm the only one who'd know

what the message is, and since Diana left, I figure her message was to tell me that a beautiful Indian
girl was coming into my life and to make room for her, so I am."

"You do realize what you just said, don't you?" Rose asked.
"Yeah, I said I'm making room for you in my life."
"No, you just admitted you believe in animal spirit guides."
"I was just using that as an example," Tyler said. He started to argue his point that the hawk left

because he'd stopped tossing meat scraps to her then reminded himself that his goal wasn't to
disprove Rose's beliefs, but to try to embrace them, even if he could never do it wholeheartedly.

After giving her another light kiss on the lips, he said, "Okay then, if Diana returns I'll know it

isn't for meat scraps and I'll try to figure out what she's trying to tell me."

Rose looked at him, skeptically, like she wasn't buying it, then gave a little shrug, and said,

"Meanwhile, I'd better wash my hands before dinner."

"Help yourself to the bath, and while you do that, I'll get things started out here," Tyler said.
While he turned the potatoes in their foil blankets, and set a pot of water on the grill to boil for

steaming the corn, he began mulling over the best way to approach Rose with the subject of him. Just
thinking about how to begin was as perplexing as trying to read in school because there was no way
to describe what went on in his head, when it changed from moment to moment.

He was still deliberating over how to approach the issue when Rose returned from washing her

hands while holding a framed photo that he kept on a table beside his bed. Looking at him with
curiosity, she said, "Why do you have a photo of a horse's eye?"

"That's Caesar," Tyler replied, while placing one of the steaks on the grill.
"But it's only his eye," Rose said. "Why?"
"It's a reminder to be my best even when Caesar's not watching," Tyler replied, while placing the

other steak on the grill.

Rose looked at him in puzzlement. "Why Caesar and not your mares?"
"Because Caesar saw me do something I shouldn't have done," Tyler said.
"Is it something you don't want to talk about?" Rose asked.
"I doesn't matter," Tyler replied. "It happened when I was ten."
"It must matter, because you have this picture in a frame as a reminder," Rose said. "What did

Caesar see?"

"Me slap my little sister," Tyler replied, while placing the ears of corn into the steamer.
"Kids do things like that all the time," Rose said. "It's called sibling rivalry."
"This was different," Tyler replied. "I was with Caesar while trying to figure out how to tie a

knot, and Maddy didn't understand why I couldn't, and when she said that any stupid idiot could tie
knots, I slapped her, and when I did, Caesar flinched with his whole body. I felt bad, not only for
slapping my little sister, but because Caesar saw me do it, and because he flinched, I knew it was a
reminder to him of a time when someone hit him. He was my best friend and I didn't want him to think
I might hit him too if I got mad, especially since he was finally happy, so I decided then that I needed
to be the best person I could be in order to deserve him."

"What do you mean when you say, he was finally happy?" Rose asked.
"He wasn't when my dad got him," Tyler said. "The man my dad bought him from mistreated him,

which was the reason he was so docile. I knew the first time I looked at him that his spirit was
broken. I could see it in his sad dead eyes. So I started talking to him and when he listened to me I
could feel what was in his heart. So I guess we helped each other because his eyes started to brighten,
and he'd tease me in a way that I knew he wouldn't have done before, like nipping at my collar, or
butting his head against my back when I was walking in front of him, like he wanted to play, which we
would, so I guess Caesar taught me to play and have fun. And when I was with him I never had to
read out loud, or try to tell time, or know my right hand from my left. I could just be who I was." He
realized, with a start, that he'd inadvertently told Rose about his problem. He'd been deliberating all
day how to approach it, and now it was done.

"Your grandmother mentioned you'd been dyslexic," Rose commented.
Tyler looked at Rose, surprised that she knew, yet she hadn't said anything. She was also there

with him for the evening, and she'd kissed him in a way that told him she cared, even knowing his
brain was wired all wrong. "I still am dyslectic, but I deal with it."

"Yes, you do, very well," Rose said. "I never would have known if your grandmother hadn't

mentioned it, but how was it different when you were a kid?"

"It was a nightmare," Tyler replied. "As a bottom-of-the-class learner I was told on a daily basis

that I was stupid because I couldn't do what kids all around me could do. The problem was, while the
teacher was talking, hundreds of pictures were racing through my head, so I figured if I could relax
my brain maybe I could understand the string of words, but I never figured out how to relax my brain,
and trying to follow instructions was a dead end. But I didn't need to do any of that when I was with
Caesar because he understood me perfectly, and I understood him. I had no problem communicating
with him."

"Have you ever analyzed why you can communicate with animals?" Rose asked.
"I've done some reading to try to figure me out," Tyler replied. "Some of it made sense, but most

of it didn't because the researchers couldn't get into my head."

"What part made sense?" Rose asked.
"The part about someone like me seeing over thirty pictures in my head a second instead of four

like normal people do, so when I talk, my words don't keep up with the pictures in my head because
the pictures come too fast to communicate, then while I'm listening to someone and trying to focus on
what they're saying my brain's seeing thirty or more pictures a second, so it's like the person's talking
in slow motion while my brain is flying along."

"But you're carrying on a normal conversation with me right now so you've obviously come up

with a way to get around it," Rose said.

"Yeah, with a lot of hard work from my mom," Tyler replied. "She ran every kind of learning aid

available past me. But with my horses, there's no verbal communication, only body language and the
sound of my voice, so my horses know what I'm asking of them because of the way I ask it and the
body language I use to get my point across. They understand direction when I point with my whip.
They don't have to know left or right because I show them. And their faces are very expressive.
There's more communication in a single look from an animal than a hundred words from a human."

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe you've been blessed to be born with an ability that so-called

normal people don't have?" Rose asked.

Tyler let out a sardonic laugh. "Yeah, I was blessed with the daily challenge of trying to get

through school. But once I got home, everything was okay because I had my best friend who accepted
me for exactly who I was, and never judged me."

"That's sad," Rose said.

"I managed," Tyler replied. "Caesar taught me how to deal with hot-tempered emotions when I

was growing up. Sometimes I'd have understandings and theories that were so complex I couldn't
even begin to explain them, and if I tried, people didn't understand and thought I was crazy, but I could
explain them to Caesar and he'd listen, or at least not think I was crazy."

He took the frame from Rose and flipped it over and pointed to a wad of brown hair held in

place with tape. "This is from his forelock. Just a glance at it brings me back to a time when I'd be
grooming him, and he'd turn his head and nuzzle me, or maybe just look at me, and I'd see the soft
expression in his eyes and know he loved me."

"So then, the very things you couldn’t do helped provide you with a means of knowing yourself

and your horses in a way you probably never would have been able to if you hadn't been given the gift
of dyslexia," Rose said.

Tyler smiled. "You sound like my mom. She was always trying to point out how I was special

because of the things I could do that my siblings couldn't do, which in my mind never seemed as good
as the things they could do, like knowing left from right."

"Well, there's nothing about you now that seems slow or awkward," Rose said.
"Maybe not on the outside, but unless you've walked in my shoes you don't know what a dyslectic

goes through on a daily basis."

"Then tell me," Rose said. "I want to understand you."
"Okay then, I'll give you a little sampling," Tyler said, while turning the steaks. "Sometimes

words come easily and other times they aren't there. I can have a good memory for certain things and
other things don't stay in my head no matter how many times I repeat then. I can be clumsy around the
house and drop things, but when I'm on my horses I never have a problem. There are times when I
picture an object in my mind but can't find the word for it so I call it a thing. One time I can spell a
word correctly, another time it's all wrong. The only thing consistent about being dyslectic is that
nothing's consistent."

"Would you want to switch bodies with one of your brothers?" Rose asked.
That question caught Tyler off guard. He'd thought about it in the past, and he also compared his

ability to communicate with his mares with his brothers' inability to do what he could do, and he
couldn't imagine what it would be like to not have that ability. "Maybe what I have isn't all bad," he
said. "Being a visual thinker instead of a verbal one is more the way animals think so I guess I pay
more attention to body language since my verbal and auditory processing doesn't work so well, and
none of my brothers can connect with horses the way I do, so I suppose if given the choice I'd stay
like I am."

"Well, just for the record, you make my heart skitter in a way that average-thinking males never

have, not even close." She ran her hand up his back and over his shoulder and stood on tiptoe and
kissed him on the side of the jaw.

Setting the spatula aside, Tyler turned and pulled Rose into his arms and kissed her square on the

lips, and as he moved his mouth over hers, she kissed him back the way he'd hoped she would, as if
there was no tomorrow. But when the kiss finally ended, she said, "That wasn't supposed to happen
when I told you how I felt about you, but once we start in I just want to keep going, but everything
with us is too fast, too complicated, and too problematical."

"Because I'm dyslectic?" Tyler asked.
"That makes absolutely no difference," Rose replied. "You're an amazing man just the way you

are."

"Then we'll break for dinner, and afterwards we'll start working through the issues because I

don't intend to back out of your life." Picking up the wine he held it with the Whispering Springs label
facing her, and said, "Do you like wine?"

Rose looked at the bottle for an inordinate amount of time, brows gathered, and replied, "It's one

of your family's wines."

Tyler nodded. "Is that a yes, or a no?"
"Well, I'm not sure," Rose replied, continuing to stare at the bottle, her frown deepening.
Tyler set the bottle back on the table. "I don't like wine either," he said, "but since I'm trying to

court you, I thought I'd give it a try."

Rose smiled in amusement. "That's what this dinner is all about? You courting me? Do you

realize how antiquated that term is?"

"Look, I told you I wasn't very good at this and I asked you to cut me some slack, so will you do

that?" Tyler asked. "I'm even wearing the new silk shirt my grandmother gave me two years ago,
which isn't working because Tundra didn't growl this time."

Rose ran her palms up the silky fabric of his shirt. "I noticed the shirt and it looks very nice on

you, and Tundra didn't growl because I used up all my adrenaline running up here, and I did that so
Tundra wouldn't growl because you were getting a very big head."

Tyler smiled broadly. "Okay then since we've established that I do in fact raise your heart rate

and send your blood pressure up because you think I'm a really hot guy, can I have one more kiss
before dinner?"

Rose's response was to curve her arms around Tyler's neck and kiss him long and hard.
As the kiss held, and Tyler felt the womanly curves in his arms, and smelled the sweet scent of

roses all around her, he began moving his hands over her back and up her sides, and when his thumbs
traced the outer swells of her breasts and she let out a little murmur of acknowledgement, he knew if
he didn't stop what was happening he'd be saying and doing things he'd regret because his thoughts
were straying into very dangerous territory, and his goal for this particular night was to sit nestled
together under a canopy of stars and gaze up at them and talk.

He'd come to the conclusion earlier that they did have things to sort out, mainly from Rose's point

of view because his lifestyle wasn't all that complicated. But if he expected her to welcome him into
her life, there would have to be some clarification about things, mainly how to convince her that even
though he didn't buy into her Indian beliefs, it was fine with him that she believe anything she wanted
within reason, and so far, he hadn't heard anything he couldn't live with.

He also wanted to talk about his feelings for her. He wasn't at ease with the kind of words

women would want to hear, like the endearments his brothers used with their wives, but he had no
problem talking with affection to his mares, so he'd think of Rose in that light and do the best he
could. But he wanted her to understand where he stood and know that he wanted her to be a part of his
life, and for her to be exclusive to him.

Where they'd go from there he wasn't sure, but for the moment, she was dominating his thoughts,

and unless they could come to some kind of understanding, he felt trapped in a kind of love limbo
where he was afraid she'd find someone else before he could prove to her that they were right for
each other. It was odd thinking along those lines, but once the idea had taken hold, he couldn't seem to
shove it aside.

CHAPTER 12

After clearing the table and washing the dishes, Tyler grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen

counter, took Rose by the hand, and said, "I'm taking you to a place where we'll have a clear view of
the night sky."

As they left the stable and started through the pasture, with six mares accompanying then, Rose

said, "I can understand why you love living here, but do you ever feel an urge to be more involved
with people?"

"No," Tyler replied. "With all the clutter in my head I don't want clutter around me, and people

seem like clutter. They come with electronic gadgets and cell phones and talk over each other, and
when the kids are with them, it's worse. Here, it's quiet and uncomplicated. My whole objective is to
give less meaning to things and focus on what's important."

"What is important to you?" Rose asked.
"I guess to figure out why I'm here," Tyler replied. "It hasn't made much sense so far."
"You were created the way you are for a reason," Rose said. "You have a gift of communicating

with animals, so maybe you're here for your mares."

"That's pretty much the way I figure it," Tyler replied.
"Then on the other hand, maybe your mares are in your life to help you understand why you're

here."

Tyler looked askance at Rose. "And Diana too, I suppose."
"You're trying to get answers, so you shouldn't shut the door to any possibilities."
Tyler said nothing because Rose was returning to an area that made even less sense than he did to

himself. As they walked, hand in hand, he looked up at the evening sky. The hillside had been logged
a few years back, so it was bald of trees, and the sky opened up into a panorama of billions of stars
that were only barely visible in the twilight, but would become increasingly more brilliant as night
took over. "They don't get this view down at the ranch," he mused.

Rose also looked up, and pausing momentarily to take it all in, she said in a contemplative voice,

"It's absolutely breathtaking, like at the ocean, with a sky that goes on forever. How much further did
you want to go? It seems perfect here."

"Just ahead is a stump for me to lean against, and I'll be your backrest," Tyler said. A few steps

farther, he lowered himself to the ground and leaned against the stump of a large fir tree and opened
his arms for Rose to sit between his knees, and after she settled against him, he closed his arms
around her, and she tucked her head beneath his chin.

While sitting silently, Tyler pondered the changes in his life. Until he met Rose, he loved the

quiet solitude living where he was, alone with his mares. But now, he couldn't imagine life without
her. Again he thought about the sacrifice Jeremy was making to be with Billy, and as he did, it became
clear in a way he'd never before imagined. For Jeremy, it wasn't a sacrifice at all. It was simply the
way it had to be.

For a while neither spoke, and there was nothing about the silence that begged to be filled, yet

Tyler felt more connected to Rose than he'd ever felt connected to anyone, including his mares. He
wondered if it was the silence that connected them, with Rose's thoughts interweaving with his, or
maybe it was the nearness, having his body wrapped around hers in a way that had nothing to do with
the kind of nearness when a buckle bunny was having sex with him because during those times his

body had never been wrapped around a woman the way it was with Rose. Whether he'd be sitting
with Rose enclosed in his arms the way they were, or holding her and kissing her, it was more than a
physical thing. It was like a spiritual bonding, an odd concept, but he didn't know any other way to
describe it.

As he continued looking up at the night sky, he pictured Rose living with him up on his mountain

and sleeping with him under the stars. He wouldn't need the photo of Caesar's eye anymore because
he'd want to be the best man he could be for Rose, which led to thoughts of his brothers and their
wives.

With images of them swirling in his head, he said, "Being out here like this I think about my

brothers and the houses they built for their wives, with the latest appliances in their kitchens, and
rooms filled with toys for the kids, and hot tubs and big-screen TVs, and there seems no end to what
they want and think they need, and I can't help thinking they're missing what really matters. I have my
place in the stable, and my mares, and the whole night sky to myself, and I don't need anything else
beyond some basic necessities—" he nuzzled the side of Rose's face "—except to have you with me
like this."

Rose snuggled closer to him. "Maybe you've tapped into your Indian roots," she said. "Before

Indians were forced onto reservations, most tribes didn't allow the accumulation of wealth, believing
the lust for possessions would lead to a temptation to steal."

"What do you believe?" Tyler asked. "Is your dream to have a big house with all the things most

women want, or would you be happy living a simple lifestyle?"

"I don't know," Rose replied. "I like Marc and Kit's house, and I like cooking, so having a kitchen

bigger than what you have would be nice, but choosing between what your brother's have and living
up here, I guess I'd have to say I'd rather be here."

Tyler leaned around so his lips were close to Rose's face, and said, "Does that mean you'd

consider a one-on-one relationship with me… forever?"

Rose turned her head slightly, and replied, "Why me? Until now you've never been serious about

anyone, yet you seem determined to build a relationship with me, and I don't understand what it is
about me that you see."

Tyler let out a little soft laugh. "If you really want to know, initially it was your bare back."
Rose shifted around so she could look at him, and said, "What are you talking about?"
"You sitting in the pool at Whispering Springs," Tyler replied. "I saw you that first day. I was

standing in the entrance and you didn't know I was there. I watched you for a couple of minutes then
backed out and waited outside until you were done."

"I was naked in there," Rose said.
"I know," Tyler replied. "I was hoping you'd turn around but you didn't. And no, I didn't see

anything I shouldn't have. But that's not the reason I'm interested. It's everything I've learned since.
You took home a wolfdog, even if it was a patently stupid thing to do, because you cared, and you're
working for Marc and Kit because you want to pass on your heritage, and you're happy weaving
beautiful baskets, and even though I don't understand half the things you believe, I'm trying to
understand because I want to build a life with you. But you didn't answer my question. So, where do I
stand with you?"

"Well, you obviously get big reactions from me when you're around," Rose said, "and seeing you

work with your mares makes me appreciate what an amazing man you are, and I love being here with
you like this, and I'd be happy living up on this hill and sleeping under the stars while surrounded by
horses, but there's still a big spiritual gap that needs to be filled, and that's what bothers me most."

"I'm working on it," Tyler said. "In fact, I spent half the afternoon on the internet reading about

animal spirit guides and I'm actually beginning to get a handle on it."

"You are?" Rose turned and looked at him, even though his face was becoming masked in

darkness. "Then you understand about the hawk being here?" she asked.

Tyler kissed her on the forehead. "I'm not referring to the hawk. I'm referring to your animal

guide, the wolf. The way I understand it, when an animal enters your life it's to teach you something
that has to do with that animal."

"Well, at least you've studied it some," Rose said, "but for the moment you really need to learn

why the hawk is here."

"I'm not through with your wolf spirit guide yet," Tyler replied. "I also read that the wolf spirit

teaches balance between personal needs and those of the family and community, since wolves are
loyal and committed to the pack, so when a wolf comes into your life it's because you need to
examine your function within the community because the wolf could be telling you that you need to
bring a better balance in your life and that balance could mean accepting new ideas." He couldn't help
smiling because he'd managed to memorize all the mumbo jumbo, although he'd added the part about
accepting new ideas.

"You just parroted what you read," Rose said, "but if you're implying that Tundra came into my

life to open my eyes to outdated beliefs in spirits, then you interpreted things wrong."

"Okay then, you tell me why Tundra came into your life," Tyler replied. "If there is something to

animal guides, you wouldn't have just found yourself at the animal shelter shortly before Tundra
would have been euthanized, you would have been guided there at that precise time to connect with
him and take him into your life, and that would have been for a specific reason."

"You're absolutely right, and you just gave me a perfect example of an animal spirit guide," Rose

said. "Haven't there been times in your life when things happened like a domino effect in that, if A
hadn't happened when it did, B wouldn't have happened, and C wouldn't have happened, and D, the
thing that was most important to you at the time, wouldn't have come into being?"

Rose could tell from the long stretch of silence that Tyler was giving it serious thought. In fact,

she'd be willing to bet he'd hit on something important in his life that came about after a series of
connected incidents. "What are you thinking?' she asked.

Tyler shrugged. "Nothing really. It wasn't like you said."
"Was it close?"
Again, there was a long stretch of silence. Then Tyler drew in a long breath, and said, "Okay,

maybe it was a little bit like you said. It happened a few weeks ago when I was sitting in the spring,
listening to the sounds while trying to figure out where they were coming from."

When he offered nothing more, Rose said, "And?"
Several moments ticked by before Tyler replied, "I suddenly felt lonely, and I thought that maybe

having a woman in my life would be good."

"You said it was several weeks ago? Was it before or after we met?"
Tyler eyed her with uncertainty, like he didn't want to answer, and when she said nothing, and just

kept waiting, he said, "Okay, it was a couple of days before I found you at the spring."

"So, what made you decide to go back when you did?" Rose asked.
There was another long pause before Tyler replied, "I found my hammer and chisel. I already had

the idea about opening fissures but my hammer and chisel were missing from my toolbox and I
couldn't remember where I'd left them, so when I spotted them on a cross beam in the stable, I headed
for the spring. But a better question is, what made you go there early that same morning?"

Rose wasn't sure she wanted to tell Tyler exactly why she went, but when she didn't respond,

Tyler said, "I've been answering your question so you need to answer mine."

Rose shrugged. "It's just that I wasn't planning on getting into this now because with your present

mindset you wouldn't give it any credibility."

"I told you I'm trying to understand you," Tyler said, "so tell me. I'm listening."
Rose took a long breath to settle her heartbeat, which had more to do with sharing something with

Tyler that she wasn't ready to share with him, than his nearness, and started in. "When I was thirteen
my grandmother told me that if I lived a pure life, my one true love would come to me in a dream, and
he'd have long hair and be riding on the backs of white horses. The morning I slept on the beach I was
just coming out of a deep sleep when I saw you running your horses in the surf. I thought I was having
a lucid dream, which is when you're dreaming and you know it's a dream. It was so disturbing, I went
to the spring with my incense to try and get some answers as to why the dream came when it did, and
when I stepped out of the cavern, there you were with your long hair, and later, when I saw you in the
meadow standing on the backs of your mares, it was like in the dream, except that it never was a
dream."

"Then what your grandmother told you hasn't come true because you were never dreaming," Tyler

pointed out. "But here I am. That should mean something."

"I know, but it's confusing," Rose said, in all honesty. "Maybe the dream will still come and this

is just A and B of the domino effect."

"Then I'll fill in C and D," Tyler said. "C was when you went to the spring, where we first met,

and D was when something led you to the meadow where I was working my mares so you'd know I
was your one true love, and we're here together tonight to reaffirm that."

"That's your take on it," Rose said, her heart beating heavily at what Tyler had just said, in effect

telling her he loved her, in a roundabout way. "But I still haven't had the dream, and now I need to
figure out what Tundra's message to me is."

"Okay then what about this," Tyler said. "I read that a lone wolf in the wild symbolizes freedom,

while a wolf in a pack symbolizes community, so when a wolf comes to you alone or in a pack it's
asking you to acquire the same state in your own life, so since Tundra came to you as a lone wolf, his
message is for you to separate from your family and allow yourself to be a part of someone else's life.
Mine."

"But you've also separated yourself from your family," Rose said. "Where does that fit into the

scheme of things?"

"It's simple," Tyler replied. "We're the new alpha pair. We no longer have to be connected to our

families except as a new pack in the area."

"So in essence, you're saying we should get married," Rose said.
"I'm not sure what I'm saying," Tyler replied. "I'm just trying to make sense of your belief in

animal guides, and I'm thinking maybe there's something to it."

Rose wasn't sure what to make of what Tyler was saying because talking about marriage was

even more premature than getting into a committed relationship, but she couldn't deny that his
reasoning behind it was sound. "What you said was logical, but way too early to act on, but maybe
you're on the right track about interpreting things."

"You mean about us destined to be the new alpha pair?" Tyler asked.
"I don't know," Rose replied. "It makes sense, yet it doesn't."
"Then I say we shove it all aside and spend a little time doing this." Tyler pulled her down with

him to lay together on a bed of grass and closed his arms around her. The long kiss that followed had

Rose's heart pumping, and her mind racing, and her arms tightening around Tyler, and as the kiss
deepened into an open-mouth kiss, Rose couldn't help feeling that they were destined to be together,
but she refused to let that happen until Tyler embraced at least some of her core beliefs in his heart,
and he was a long way from that.

Struggling to regain her self-control, she broke the kiss, and said, in a breathless voice, "We've

got to stop being so impulsive and untimely. We're both rushing into something we shouldn't, and
neither of us is putting on the skids."

"You just put on the skids," Tyler said.
"Just barely," Rose replied. "Just because you've done some studying on animal spirit guides

doesn't mean you go along with it, and reading about something, and taking it into your heart are two
different things, which brings us back to Whispering Springs and your drilling into the mountain. After
reading about animal spirit guides, did that change your mind at all?"

Tyler pulled her back into his arms, and said, "I'm thinking about it."
"Thinking about what? Continuing to drill, or stopping?"
"I told you, I want to drill a couple more hours, then I'll quit."
"Will you at least do one thing before you start drilling again?" Rose said.
"If it's reasonable, maybe," Tyler replied. "What do you want me to do?"
"Sit in the pool long enough to hear the voices, and during that time block out everything in your

mind so it will be cleared of the jumble of thoughts that make it difficult to communicate."

"I guarantee, if I sit in that pool and try to block out my mind, I'll see you sitting in the pool too

and no way will my mind go blank," Tyler replied. "It would be impossible."

"Then light some incense and concentrate on the smoke swirling out of it and try it that way,"

Rose said. "If you'd just open your mind, you'd learn that spirits can be talked to and communicated
with, not like voices coming out of the cavern, but as profound and meaningful thoughts that come to
you that you never expected, thoughts that give you direction in life, but in order for that to happen you
first have to free your mind of outside distractions. The fewer distractions, the easier it is to make
contact with spirits and communicate with them."

Tyler cuddled her close, and said, "Okay, I'll give it a try, but I can tell you right off, it's not going

to work. Even now I imagine you sitting in the pool, and that scene has been playing over and over in
my head since the day I saw you, and it's not going to stop when I'm there because I'll be imagining
you sitting with me, and I won't be picturing the back of you when I do. Do you see the problem I'm
facing?"

When Rose didn't reply, because she honestly did understand his dilemma, Tyler said, "Honey,

I'm trying. I really am, and I'll do my best and see what comes of it."

His endearment had Rose rationalizing that maybe the divide between them wasn't so wide. She

could imagine expanding his quarters and living there with him, and she could look out the window
and see him working with his mares, and they could fix up a small studio where she could make her
baskets, and all around would be hazelnut trees, and maidenhair ferns, and bear grass. And in the
summer they'd sleep under the stars in one big sleeping bag, enfolded in each other's arms. And their
kids would grow up like little children of nature, who'd study the habits of birds and insects and
animals, and from Tyler they'd learn how to communicate with animals, and from her they'd learn
about Indian traditions and their ancient heritage.

But then the day would come when they'd start to ask deeper questions. What are spirits? Can we

see them? Where are they? Do they talk to us? Why doesn't Daddy believe in them?

And Rose knew that the divide was as wide as ever.

CHAPTER 13

Shortly after dawn, Tyler hefted the rock drill so it hung from his shoulder by a wide, canvas

strap and stepped out of the stable. As he started across the pasture toward the trail he'd made through
the woods to Whispering Springs, he felt something strike the back of his head. When he turned to see
what it was, he saw Diana flying off. Realizing he'd stepped into the flight path between her and her
prey, he dismissed the incident and continued walking toward the trail.

Fifteen minutes later, he stripped off his clothes and climbed into the pool and sat back and tried

his best to blank out his mind while waiting for the sounds to start, if only because he'd promised
Rose he would. But as he'd predicted, his mind was far from blank, and he knew that however long
he'd sit there, the streams of images of Rose in the pool with him, while his hands traced all the
contours of her naked body would not go away.

Eventually the sounds came, but by then he was too aroused to think of anything but the obvious,

so deciding it made more sense to get on with the real reason he was there, which wasn't to listen to
non-existent spirits, he dried off and dressed, then moved to the area where he'd been drilling before.
After stuffing in his ear plugs, he strapped on his head lantern, set the drill bit into the fissure that he'd
been opening, and started in.

He was in the process of widening the fissure when he began to feel lightheaded. Taking a deep

breath, he held it for a few seconds and let it out slowly and took another deep breath, and gradually
the lightness passed. He knew the hawk hadn't hit him hard enough to cause dizziness, so he chalked it
up to having not eaten before he left, then started up the drill and continued.

During the next hour he made good progress, and after a while he thought he felt air coming out of

the opening. Cutting the engine, he set the drill down and began moving rock fragments aside. Once
he'd cleared away the rubble, he put his face to the opening and there was definitely cool air against
his skin. Energized, he started again, this time more aggressively, and after a few minutes, to his
surprise, a section of the cave floor, about eighteen inches in diameter, tilted.

He cut the engine and set the drill aside and lifted the slab of rock out of the way and was stunned

to find what looked to be a narrow passageway, like a natural tunnel running beneath the floor of the
cavern. Lying flat on his stomach, he lowered his head into the hole, and with the beam of light from
his head lantern, saw that the passageway continued some distance into the mountain. The hole was
too small to crawl into, but if he widened the opening, he could at least see how far back into the
mountain the passageway went.

Feeling lightheaded again, which this time he attributed to having his head down the hole, he sat

back on his heels and breathed deeply several times and waited for the lightness to pass, but unlike
before, it didn't pass. Instead, the cave walls and floor and all around him looked as if they were
slowly moving. Closing his eyes, he continued breathing deeply, but the dizziness remained and not
only were the surroundings continuing to move, his stomach felt queasy. Before leaving, however, he
put the slab of rock back as best he could and hoped no one would come before he could get back.
Later he'd return and listen to the sounds to see if they'd changed, but for now, all he wanted was to
get back to his place. But as he hefted the drill onto his shoulder and turned to leave, it wasn't the
queasiness in his stomach and the continued dizziness that filled his mind, but the memory of Rose as
she looked the last time she was in the cavern with him, along with her words of warning…

…you just can't go around challenging spirits that way…

He could dismiss the words, but the look of worry on Rose's face when she'd said them, along

with the realization that she truly cared about him, stayed with him.

As for the dizziness, he'd make sure he ate before starting in again. His excitement and

anticipation, along with hanging onto a fifty-pound rock drill that had been doing its best to be free of
him, took energy and calories. Basic human physiology. But for now, all he wanted was to get back to
his place and lie down and let the world stop spinning.

***

As Rose headed up the road to Tyler's place, she knew he'd be angry when he learned that she'd

contacted Marc, but he left her no choice. He had no intention of stopping what he was doing at the
spring, and having Marc designate it a sacred place would put an end to Tyler's drilling, along with
the threat of turning it into a geothermal power source for the ranch. More than that, she was worried
about Tyler and the consequences he could face by continuing to desecrate a sacred place.

Over the past few weeks her feelings for him had deepened in a way she could never have

imagined the first day they met, and now his presence filled her heart with joy and his absence filled
her mind with romantic scenarios of sleeping under the stars and living a simple life up on his
mountain, and watching him with his mares, especially that, because she loved to see the tenderness
he expressed with them, and the way they responded to him. If he used the same gentleness, patience
and understanding with children as he did with his mares, he'd be a gem of a father. That is, if he'd
still be talking to her after he learned what she'd done.

She called Marc the night before, and after giving him an update on how things were going at the

museum, she focused on the real reason she'd called. She started in by explaining Tyler's theory on
trapped geysers, but when Marc heard the words, 'opening fissures in the floor of the cavern with a
rock drill,' he cut her off short and said he'd be there the next day, which was why she was on her
way to alert Tyler about what she'd done, before he heard it firsthand from Marc, because Marc was
steaming mad.

She'd hoped to talk to Tyler earlier, but it was the first day of her basketweaving workshop, and

that was followed by a church youth group field trip, but since she hadn't seen Marc's truck pull in,
she knew he hadn't yet arrived, but could at any time.

As she approached Tyler's place, the first thing she noticed was that the mares were standing in a

huddle looking toward the stable. On the ground near where they stood was Tyler's whip, like he'd
dropped it there, and his shirt was tossed over the railing of the corral and hanging askew with one
sleeve dragging the ground, like he'd stripped it off in a hurry. She noticed that the hawk wasn't on the
post, so she wondered if she actually had left, but then she saw her glide in on a wind current and
land on a tall Douglas fir on the other side of the stables.

Sensing that something was drastically wrong, Rose hurried into the stable and down the

passageway. Finding the door to Tyler's quarters wide open, she entered, and when Tyler wasn't there,
she looked into his bedroom and found him sprawled out on his back in bed, stripped to the waist,
with his arm flopped over his eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing I can't handle," Tyler replied.
When Tyler remained where he was and offered no explanation as to why he was lying in bed,

Rose said, "The mares are standing in a group looking this way like you left suddenly."

"That's because I did," Tyler replied.

Rose walked up to the bed and looked down at the broad expanse of Tyler's chest and saw that it

was damp with perspiration, yet it wasn't a hot day. Placing her hand on his bare shoulder, she said,
"You're not well. What's going on?"

"I'm fine," Tyler replied. "Just a little dizzy."
Rose lifted his arm away from his eyes and looked at him. He stared back for a moment, then

pulled his arm free and flopped it over his eyes again.

"I saw your whip in the pasture and your shirt hanging on the corral so I assume the dizziness

started while you were working with the horses," Rose said.

"Something like that," Tyler replied. "Why are you here?"
"I came to tell you that…" Rose stopped, deciding not to spring it on him that Marc was on his

way. Not only was Tyler dizzy for some unexplained reason, but from his obvious annoyance with her
being there, and his clipped, dry responses to her questions, she suspected he was hiding something,
and she wanted to learn what it was before telling him about Marc…

"You wanted to tell me what?" Tyler asked. He removed his arm from his eyes and looked at her,

and waited.

"That… I just came to see you, but now I'm worried." Rose sat on the side of the bed and placed

her hand on Tyler's chest and felt the dampness. "You're sweating and dizzy and you need to see a
doctor. I'll drive you there."

"No doctor," Tyler said.
Rose glanced out the window and saw the hawk sitting on a limb, looking their way. Granna

would have said that the hawk's behavior was part of her message and should be interpreted, so she
said to Tyler, "Diana returned. She's sitting on a tree outside your window."

"She came back for meat scraps and since I'm not feeding her she's sitting where she can see the

field and watch for mice."

"She's not looking at the field, she's looking this way, like she's trying to get your attention and let

you know she's still here," Rose said. "Did something happen with her?"

When Tyler's eyes sharpened, Rose knew she'd hit on something. She waited silently, and after a

few moments, Tyler drew in an agitated breath, and said, "Okay, since I can see you're not going to
drop it, when I was walking across the pasture I got in the path between her and her prey and she hit
me in back of my head, but her talons were turned in so it wasn't an attack."

"If she didn't have her talons forward, she wasn't after prey either," Rose pointed out.
"Okay, then I got in her flight path," Tyler grumbled. "Don't try to make anything more of it." He

flopped his arm over his eyes again.

Rose stared at his well-muscled arm and the tightly closed jaws beneath his bent elbow and felt

like shaking the man, he was so closed-minded. "I don't have to make anything more of it because
Diana already did it for me," she said. "By hitting you in the head, she was saying to you, 'pay
attention, you're not listening,' and you can't keep ignoring this. Besides, she could have hit you hard
enough to cause a concussion, so you need to see a doctor."

"She didn't hit me hard enough to do anything, and the dizziness didn't start until later," Tyler said

in a muffled voice because his mouth was partially covered by his arm.

"So the dizziness started before you were working the horses today?" Rose asked.
"Maybe during. I don't know. They weren't responsive because I was dizzy," Tyler said.
"Do you mean they weren't responsive, like they didn't understand what you wanted them to do,

or was it that they just wouldn't do what you wanted?" Rose asked.

"It's me not them, so just drop it," Tyler groused.

Rose could understand why Tyler was confused because of dizziness, and the horses, having

picked up on that, could have been confused, but she didn't understand why Tyler seemed irritated
with her. But before she could pump him with any more questions, they were distracted by the sound
of footsteps in the passageway, and moments later, Marc stormed into the bedroom.

He stopped abruptly, startled to see her sitting on the bed and Tyler stretched out on it, stripped to

the waist. Finding them together that way, Rose had no idea what Marc must be thinking, but she had
little time to ruminate over it before Marc bellowed at Tyler, "What in hell do you think you're
doing, drilling into the floor of Whispering Springs!"

Tyler eyed Marc with irritation. "I assume Dad called you?"
"No, Rose did," Marc said. "And just for the record, you're not to go any further. As of this

moment I'm designating Whispering Springs a sacred site. There's also a hole in the floor big enough
for a person to crawl in!"

Tyler pulled himself up to a sitting position, shot Rose a look that could stop a charging grizzly,

and said to Marc in an attitude and tone that matched his, "There could also be enough geothermal
energy down there to run this ranch!" Grabbing his head, he held it for a moment, then flopped back
and stared at the ceiling, his eyes moving back and forth, and Rose knew he'd been hit with another
bout of dizziness.

The anger on Marc's face of moments before faded, replaced by concern. "What's going on?" he

asked. "You look like you're dizzy."

"That's because I am," Tyler replied.
"When did it start?" Marc asked.
"If you really want to know, while I was drilling," Tyler replied. "And just for the record, I felt

air coming from the hole I opened up, and when I stuck my head down I found a natural passageway
that goes back into the mountain. But you're not interested in knowing what's really causing your
voices in the mountain so let's drop it. I'll stop drilling and you can go back to the Kincaid and your
petroglyphs." He flopped his arm over his eyes again.

"Is that when the dizziness started, when you opened up the passageway?" Marc asked, ignoring

the rest.

"Maybe, why?" Tyler replied, while remaining as he was.
"Because you could have opened up a pocket of any number of poisonous gases that were

trapped and that's what made you dizzy," Marc said. "Did you smell anything, like rotten eggs?"

"No," Tyler replied, in a muffled voice against his bent arm.
"Then it wasn't methane or sulfur dioxide," Marc said. "Most likely it was a high concentration of

carbon dioxide. In a small cave it can be just as deadly as methane or any of the poisonous gasses. I'll
be roping off the spring until I check it with a gas detector and find out what's going on. In the
meantime, no one is to go inside."

"Fine, I got the message, now just go away, both of you." Tyler raised his arm and glared at Rose

long enough to get his point across, then covered his eyes again.

CHAPTER 14

Marc motioned for Rose to follow him out of Tyler's bedroom, and they started down the

passageway. Once outside, he said to Rose, "Damn kid's been speculating about the sounds in the
mountain from as far back as I can remember, but I never thought he'd take a jackhammer to it."

Rose wanted to argue that Tyler was not a kid, but Marc, being over five years older, would

always view him that way. But she also wondered if Tyler's brothers saw him as the little brother
who needed all the help. That alone had to be disturbing to Tyler. "At least he won't be drilling
anymore, now that you've designated the spring a sacred place," she said.

Marc let out a little sardonic laugh, and replied, "I don't have the authority to do that. Under the

American Indian Religious Freedom Act, only sacred sites on Federal Land are protected, but I
figured Tyler wouldn't know the law and I wanted a reason to stop what he was doing."

Rose felt exasperation with the whole system of government regulation. She'd been working with

a tribal group that managed to change the designations of two sacred sites, but both sites had been on
federal land, and the issue of protecting a site on private land had not come up. "I just don't
understand," she said. "Indians have been coming to Whispering Springs to commune with spirits for
ten thousand years, which clearly makes it a sacred site whether it's on private land or not, so why
can't it be covered under the protection act?"

"Because that would arguably be a taking of property within the meaning of the Fifth Amendment,

which would require compensation," Marc replied. "But after learning what Tyler was doing, Kit and
I came up with an idea that might protect the spring, as well as other sacred sites on private land,
which would be, in exchange for economic compensation, legally binding agreements could be drawn
up between tribes and private land owners that would provide the tribes easements to the sites along
with the guarantee that the sites would remain unchanged."

"Who owns the parcel of land Whispering Springs is on?" Rose asked, thinking that could be a

feasible option.

"My grandmother," Marc replied. "I plan to talk to her about approaching the tribal council with

an offer that would guarantee them access to the spring by way of the trail that's always been used,
along with the assurance that the spring would remain untouched. That way, Whispering Springs
would be protected without negatively impacting the ranch and its activities, since the spring would
still be outside government regulation."

"Do you think your grandmother will agree?" Rose asked.
"I'm sure she will," Marc replied. "She has pretty much turned over the Indian mound and the

spring to me. But before I do anything, I need to find out what gas or gases are in there. My guess is
it's elevated levels of carbon dioxide, partly because Tyler didn't smell anything, but also because
CO2's heavier than air so it concentrates in low places, like the passageway Tyler opened up. I'll
know as soon as I test it with a gas detector, which I'll have to get from the county since I left mine
behind. I'll also have Adam put boards across the entrance and post a warning sign until we know
what we're dealing with and how to vent the gas, if that can be done safely. A high concentration of
carbon dioxide in a small cave can be a death trap, so Whispering Springs could end up off limits
with an entirely different designation, but I hope it doesn't come to that."

Rose thought about the thousands of years that Indians have been going to the spring for medicinal

and sacred reasons and felt renewed anger toward Tyler for being so relentless in his crusade. But

she also realized that if he hadn't drilled into the floor and released the gas, maybe it would have
escaped over time and built up, and later someone would be found dead, so maybe what he did had
been a blessing in disguise. Which raised another question.

Looking at Marc, she said, "The spring has been a sacred place from the time of the petroglyphs,

so if it's trapped carbon dioxide, do you think it's been there all along, or is it something recent?"

"That's hard to say," Marc replied. "Carbon dioxide's a bi-product of organic and micro-organic

metabolism respiration by fauna, such as bats, so it could build up over time. But I'm puzzled because
there has never been a large bat population in there, and there's never been evidence of rodents to any
extent, or other mammals, so my guess is that carbon dioxide was absorbed by ground water as it
passed through soil containing high concentrations of gas due to the decay of vegetation, which would
result in weak carbonic acid, which then percolated through the rock strata and entered the cave
system."

"What about Tyler? How long will it be before his dizziness passes?" Rose asked.
"That varies with the individual," Marc replied. "He's a big guy, but it could still take several

days for his body metabolism to return to normal."

"Shouldn't something be done for him now?" Rose asked.
"The treatment for CO2 poisoning at the level Tyler breathed is to rid the bloodstream of the gas

by breathing normal air, but if the dizziness persists, he should see a doctor to rule out other causes."
Marc eyed Rose with awareness. "You were sitting on the bed when I arrived."

When he said nothing more, Rose wasn't sure how to reply. She also got the impression that Marc

wasn't quite sure what he was saying, but she was fairly certain that they were on the same
wavelength, which was defining what her relationship was with Tyler.

She was uncertain how to reply. Sophie and Emily already knew how she felt about Tyler. While

weaving baskets, Sophie kidded her about Tyler finding umpteen reasons to stand with visitors at the
museum while she addressed them, when before she arrived he hadn't so much as given it a sideways
glance. And she'd responded to Sophie's comment by feeling her face burn as if on fire and her breath
catch, at which point both women started laughing and telling her that they'd been where she was with
their own Hansen men, and that's when Rose gave up and admitted that she liked Tyler.

"Like?" Sophie had said, with a wide grin.
"Well, maybe more than like," Rose replied. "He's amazing with horses."
"Yeah, right, it's his ability with horses that's got you panting," Sophie kidded, "not because he

looks like a male model. But he's not very good at keeping your secret from the family either. He's
acting like a pubescent male with his first girlfriend, which actually you are. But until you came
along, his life was all about horses. Rick and Adam and the rest of us are pretty amused."

"Then you'd all better have a good laugh while you can because things will probably change later

this afternoon," Rose said. She went on to tell them about calling Marc, and why, and all the lightness
of moments before died. She knew the women understood why she'd felt compelled to call Marc, but
she could tell they were disappointed that the romance would probably end...

"Were you with Tyler when he first got dizzy?" Marc asked, refocusing Rose's attention.
"I wasn't with him in the cave, if that's what you're asking, and I only learned about his dizziness

when I got here shortly before you arrived," Rose replied. "He didn't tell me he got dizzy while he
was drilling, but I'll be staying with him for a while, even if he doesn't want me here, now that he
knows I'm the one who called you."

"Then I take it he wanted you here before," Marc said.
"Yes," was Rose's simple reply.

Marc looked toward the stable, then at Rose, and said, "A woman's touch would be good for him

right now. Maybe you know something that could help with the dizziness."

Rose knew Marc was talking about medicinal herbs because she'd told him earlier that she grew

up learning about them from her grandmother. "Ginger tea will help," she replied. "I have some in the
herb kit my grandmother put together for me before I came here. It also contains ground seeds and
nuts, which help the lymph system get rid of toxins. The kit's at your house, on the counter in the
kitchen by the sink, so if you drive me there I'll get it, along with Tundra, and walk back here to give
him some exercise. He does fine in the corral here."

Marc again looked at her with awareness, and Rose realized, as soon as she said the words, he

does fine in the corral here, that Marc knew she'd spent more time with Tyler than just an afternoon
while he lay in bed because of dizziness. "Then since you'll be staying here a while I won't say
anything to our mom. She'd be taking up residency with Tyler if she knew what happened, and I don't
think Mom's the one Tyler wants right now."

"He doesn't want me either," Rose said in a morose voice. "He's not at all happy with me right

now, as you must have noticed, so he actually might rather have his mother instead of me."

Marc laughed. "Trust me, he doesn't, which gives you the afternoon and evening to patch things

up. He'll also need a reminder to breathe deeply to bring down the level of gas in his tissues and
bloodstream. Drinking a lot of fluids helps too, so we'd better get back so you can pick up your kit
and start pumping him full of whatever you have in store for him."

Thirty minutes later, when Rose returned with her medicinal herb kit in a small pack on her back

and Tundra loping along on a long leash, she closed Tundra in the corral, along with a rawhide bone,
then entered the stable, surprised to find Tyler padding his way along the stalls, like he needed them
for support. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Going to feed my mares," Tyler replied.
"I can do that for you, but you need to go back to bed until the dizziness passes," Rose said.
When she went to take his arm to turn him around, Tyler shook it off, while grumbling, "I don't

need your help."

"You'll get it anyway," Rose said. "What do the horses need right now? Grain, hay?"
Tyler folded his arms and glared at her, but finding himself swaying, he unfolded his arms and

braced a hand against a stall and closed his eyes. From the movement of his head, Rose knew the
world inside his skull was spinning. When he opened his eyes again, he said, "Grain, but they need to
come into their stalls for that."

"Fine," Rose replied. "I assume if I open the gate between the pasture and the paddock, they'll all

know where to go?"

Tyler nodded and said nothing, and when his hand tightened around one of the bars on the stall,

Rose knew he was struggling to stay standing. Taking him by the arm, she said, "Come on. You need to
lie down."

Tyler didn't argue as Rose gripped his arm to steady him and walked with him down the

passageway. But once in bed, with his back propped against two pillows, he looked at her steadily,
and said in a bad-tempered voice, "I'm about an hour away from finding the answer to something
that's dogged me since I was a kid, and the last person I want around here is Marc. I would have
filled in the hole before he came home, and that would have been the end of it."

"Except that Marc might not have had his youngest brother when he got home because you might

be dead," Rose pointed out.

"I imagine Marc will be around to remind me of that every day of my life, along with what a

stupid idiot I am," Tyler replied.

"You know Marc isn't that way," Rose said, "but you were given warning signs." She glanced

toward the window and saw Diana sitting on the limb, looking their way.

Tyler looked in the direction of Rose's gaze, then eyed her with irritation, and said. "Warning

signs I assume you mean coming from a hawk that's here for handouts she's no longer getting, but
hasn't figured that out yet."

"Diana is here for a reason that has nothing to do with handouts," Rose said.
"Fine then you tell me what that reason is because I haven't a clue." Tyler planted his mouth in a

firm line and waited.

Rose felt annoyed with Tyler's mulishness, especially since he'd told her repeatedly that he was

trying to understand the things that were important to her. But she also knew that a person's way of
thinking can't change overnight. "Okay," she said, "if you're willing to listen, I'll try to explain, but
first you have to be open to what I say."

"Go ahead then," Tyler said. "Not much else in my life so far has made sense, so what you have

to say will probably be no less logical."

That wasn't exactly the answer Rose was looking for, but since Tyler was at least open to

listening, she said, "It's clear that the horse is your life animal spirit guide. They know you better than
anyone, and if you opened the gate they wouldn't leave because they've chosen to spend their lives
with you, but because of their presence in your life, they help you live it more fully, they help you heal
when you’re sad or sick, and they show you what unconditional love is. But unlike an animal spirit
guide, an animal messenger touches your heart in a different way by helping you find your way when
you get lost. Diana is here for that reason."

"I'm not lost," Tyler grumbled. "I was on the verge of finding a means of delivering power to the

entire ranch and hot water to every household here in a way that wouldn't impact the environment,
when you blew the whistle on me."

"But you'd be delivering power by destroying a sacred site!" Rose said.
"That's your take on it," Tyler replied. "I see it a different way."
"That's been our problem from the start," Rose said. "To you, my spiritual beliefs are nothing

more than a bunch of myths and legends that have no scientific basis." She turned and started out of
the room.

"Where are you going?" Tyler called after her.
Rose stopped at the doorway and looked back. "Does it matter?"
Tyler stared at her much like he had the day he'd invited her to his place to talk, then didn't know

what to say or do because he'd never been around women much, which touched a special place in her
heart because he was struggling with what to say now. After a long pause, he said, "Yeah, it matters,
because I don't want you to leave."

Giving a little shrug, Rose said, "I wasn't leaving. I was going fix something for your dizziness."
Tyler eyed her uncertainty. "Something like what?"
"A mixture of herbs that work better than your scientifically prepared prescriptions," Rose said.

When Tyler made no argument, and she saw instead the hint of a smile, she sensed, for the first time,
that he was beginning to give some credence to her customs and way of thinking.

In his refrigerator she found a carton of milk and a stick of butter, which was all she needed for

her remedy for ridding his body of toxins. After taking a small skillet from a hook on the wall, she set
it on the stove to heat then added a chunk of butter and two cloves. To this she sprinkled two
teaspoons of Granna's prepared mixture of ground wheat, poppy seeds, almonds and pumpkin seeds,

and stirred long enough to make a paste, which she'd later add to a cup of warm milk. She didn't
intend to give it to Tyler yet, and wondered if he'd even be willing to drink it once he peered into the
mug and saw what would look like a slurry of questionable ingredients, but she'd worry about that
later. For now, she'd give him a mug of ginger tea with a squeeze of honey, which he should drink
without too much fuss.

After fixing the tea, she returned to the bedroom to find Tyler staring out the window in the

direction of the hawk, a questioning expression on his face, but on hearing her enter, he quickly
looked away. Handing him the mug of tea, she said, "This should help. Indians have been using it for
thousands of years for numerous ailments."

Tyler took a small sip. "It tastes like ginger," he commented.
"That's because it is," Rose said. "Scientific studies proved that ginger relieves dizziness faster

than most drugs because it stimulates the flow of blood to the brain. Even NASA relies on it to
counteract nausea in astronauts, so it isn't just some herbal mumbo jumbo."

As Tyler continued sipping from the mug, Rose said, "When you're done I'll give you a massage

with thyme and oregano oils, which are strong antioxidants that will help your lymph system release
toxins while stimulating the flow of blood, which in turn will help the dizziness." As she spoke, her
eyes drifted down a broad expanse of muscular chest she could imagine running her palms over while
massaging oils into his skin...

"What part of me will you be massaging?" Tyler asked.
Rose looked up to find him smiling. "Your back, neck and head," she replied.
Tyler set the mug on the nightstand. "You'd stimulate my blood flow faster if you massaged the

front side of me."

"Keep dreaming." When Rose went to take the mug, Tyler grabbed her arm and pulled her down

on the bed beside him and kissed her, and although Rose had decided earlier that they needed to slow
things down she couldn't seem to stop herself from wrapping her hands around his neck and kissing
him back. But after their lips parted, she looked at him soberly, and said, "How is the dizziness
now?"

"Better," Tyler replied. "Kissing seems to help."
"It's the ginger tea," Rose said. "Not only does it stimulate circulation, but it also aids in

digestion, metabolism and liver function."

Tyler gave her a cryptic smile. "You left out the most important benefit."
Rose eyed him, dubiously. It was unlikely that he'd know the benefit she purposely failed to

mention. "What benefit?"

"Ginger's a good aphrodisiac," Tyler said.
"Where did you hear that?"
"Is it?"
"Well, yes, but how did you know?"
"I've been reading about medicinal herbs," Tyler replied. "It was pretty interesting. I read that the

warming effect of certain aromatic herbs like ginger increase perspiration, which in turn increases
heart rate, which increases blood flow to all the extremities, including the most important extremity of
males of all species. I figured it might come in handy if I'm lost in the woods." His smile grew wider.

"What, finding herbs that make you… umm…"
"Horny?" Tyler gave her a quick kiss. "I'll tell you a little secret. It doesn't take ginger to make

me horny. It happens every time you're around. But for now, I'll settle for a few hours of heated kisses
to bring down the level of CO2 in my blood, and by morning, I'll be ready to pick up where I left off

today… except that the place will be boarded up and off limits to me."

With his last words, all the lightness of moments before was gone.
Looking at him soberly, Rose said, "I'm sorry I had to mess up your project but I was worried

about you."

"No, you were worried about me desecrating a spring," Tyler replied.
"They are one in the same," Rose said. "Your defiling a sacred spring can create problems for

you that you can't even begin to imagine right now, but maybe one day you'll understand and forgive
me."

"I don't have a choice about that," Tyler said. "I'm stuck and can't get out."
"Well, maybe I'm stuck too because I ignored the warning signs the day I first met you at the

spring and didn't walk away from you when I knew what you were about to do."

"Then why didn't you?" Tyler asked. "You hadn't yet known about my horses, which is why you

said you started liking me."

"But I'd already been told about the dream with you in it, and even though I didn't know it was

you at the time, something kept telling me it was you. It's hard to explain."

"Then don't try." Tyler pulled her to him and kissed her again.
It was some moments before Rose broke the kiss, and said, "What about your dizziness? It seems

like kissing uses up oxygen, and Marc said it was important for you to breathe deeply to bring down
the level of CO2 in your tissues and bloodstream."

"I am breathing deeply," Tyler said, "and so are you." He kissed the side of her neck. "In fact this

is the best way I know to bring down the CO2 level." He kissed behind her ear. "Better than ginger.
And I could use that massage right now."

Rose drew in a long, calming breath to try to settle things down, and when Tyler persisted in

keeping her hormones rising to dangerous levels by nibbling his way down her neck and behind her
ear, she braced her hands on the hard wall of his chest, and said, in a breathy voice, "I'd better feed
and grain the horses and check on Tundra first."

Tyler kissed the hollow of her throat. "Then I'll get a massage when you're done?"
"Yes," Rose said, even knowing that giving Tyler a massage was the last thing she should be

doing while in her present frame of mind, because if Tyler got carried away, she'd without doubt get
carried away too because that seemed to be the nature of things from the moment she first set eyes on
him, and nothing had changed.

CHAPTER 15

While Rose was feeding the horses, Tyler glanced out the window and saw that Diana was gone,

no doubt because she'd rid the field of mice and voles and was ready to move on. Still, he couldn't
help wondering at the coincidence—Rose's grandmother claiming the hawk was there to deliver a
message, maybe a message of warning that there were poisonous gases in the cavern? But, the world
was filled with coincidences. At least he'd always thought that was the case. Unless there was some
kind of spiritual being behind each so called coincidence?

Hearing the mares coming into their stalls, he lowered his feet over the side of the bed and stood.

He still felt lightheaded, but the room wasn't spinning anymore, and his stomach had settled, so he
figured the worst was over.

But as he made his way to the passageway, things started moving again, not spinning as before,

but more like the feeling of being on a boat, so he stopped where he was and breathed deeply. Still,
he wanted to see his mares, so padding one hand against the stalls to maintain his balance, he made
his way to where Luna was standing in her stall with her head in her grain bucket. On seeing him, she
gave a little whinny and walked over to poke her head over the door.

He stroked her muzzle, and patted her neck, while saying, "I'd come in with you, baby, but I'm not

doing so well today. Maybe by tomorrow things will have stopped spinning." Giving her one last pat,
he moved to Estelle's stall. "Hey, gorgeous," he said. As with Luna, Estelle walked over to greet him.
After scratching behind her ears and stroking her muzzle, he said, "The world's turning right now,
angel, but I'll give you a good brushing tomorrow." But when he made his way to Gypsy's stall he
found her standing near the outside door, with her head lowered.

Unlike Luna and Estelle, Gypsy stood where she was and made no attempt to walk over to greet

him. Alarmed, he rolled open the stall door and saw that her weight was clearly off her right front
foot. "Baby, you're hurting," he said. "Let's see what's going on." He nudged her to move, and when
she took a few steps, her head bobbed and she walked with a limp.

"Okay, angel, you don't have to walk, but I need to find out what's wrong." Slowly he ran his hand

down the length of her leg and lifted her foot, then bracing it between his knees, took a close look.
Seeing no sign of a rock caught between the pad and the shoe, and finding nothing that looked like
damage to her hoof, he set her foot down and ran his hand up her leg but felt no heat to indicate
inflammation. After palpating her shoulder, and getting no pain reaction, he said, "We'll have Rick
take a look when he gets home today, but you've got to eat something."

He was in the process of nudging her over to her grain bucket when he felt a cold sweat coming

on and all around him things began to swim. Bracing his hand on the stall door, he closed his eyes and
waited for the dizziness to pass…

"What are you doing?" Rose called out. Moments later she was beside him, one arm around his

waist, the other holding onto his arm.

"Something's wrong with Gypsy's leg," he said. "Was she limping when she came in?"
"She came in with the others so I didn't notice," Rose replied.
"I need to get ahold of Rick," Tyler said, as he took several unsteady steps out of the stall.
"You can do that when you're in bed." Rose rolled the stall door closed behind them and took

Tyler's arm. "You're sweating again. You need to lie down and let things pass."

Tyler said nothing, just allowed Rose to help him down the passageway and into bed, where he

slumped back against the pillow and let the room turn. After a few minutes, when things started
slowing down some, he said to Rose, "Get my cell phone. I need to call Rick."

Rose handed him his cell, and after he managed to leave Rick a message to come as soon as he

got home, he lay back and said, in a weary voice, "How long is this supposed to last?"

"Marc said it could be a few days before you're completely back to normal," Rose replied.
"It can't be that long," Tyler said. "I've got a performance up in Washington in a couple of weeks,

and Gypsy's got something wrong with her leg and I need to figure out what it is."

"She probably bruised her foot on a rock and will be fine by tomorrow, but that's what Rick will

find out when he gets here," Rose said. "Meanwhile, you need tending to."

Rose headed into the bathroom, and a couple minutes later, returned with a damp wash cloth in

her hand. Sitting on the bed, she said, while dabbing the wash cloth against Tyler's forehead,
"Sweating means your body's getting rid of toxins, but a massage will help get rid of the toxins faster,
so I'll warm my oils and fix you another cup of ginger tea since you need lots of fluids."

"Don't you have to get back to the museum?" Tyler asked.
"Not this afternoon. Marc hung out the CLOSED sign. He knows I need to be here with you,"

Rose said, while passing the cloth along the side of his face. "You also need to eat. I made a kind of
nut soup for you. It will help your lymph system cleanse your blood."

Tyler looked at a woman he could imagine growing old with. It was an odd thought to be having

while he was lying in bed, struggling to see a beautiful face that kept moving in and out of focus. But
if this was a sample of what he could expect from Rose as his wife, he'd be the luckiest man alive. He
found himself smiling, even though his world seemed to be going to hell in a hand basket.

Catching his smile, Rose said, "Okay, what's with the big grin?"
Tyler let out a little snicker. "I'm not used to being babied."
Rose eyed him with amusement. "I'm only doing what Indian women have been doing for their

warriors for generations."

Tyler laughed. "Some warrior I am… " His words drifted off as she began passing the wash cloth

over his chest, and even with her face moving in and out of focus, he could tell that her eyes were
following the path of the cloth.

He also saw that she was breathing heavily, which had him doing the same, which was good in

one sense because it would help the dizziness pass, but hell in another because what Rose was doing
made him want to drag her down beside him and strip off her clothes and do all the things he'd
visualized doing when he was sitting in the spring and imagining her being with him.

He was about to reach for her, when she stopped what she was doing, and said, "I'll be back in a

few minutes to massage your back. Meanwhile, strip down to your underwear and turn onto your
stomach." Placing her palm on his chest, she bent over and kissed him lightly and left.

After Tyler stripped down to his briefs, and while he was lying in bed contemplating the woman

in the kitchen, whose presence made his life seem whole, and whose absence made him feel lonely
and restless, he decided he needed to take an entirely different approach with Rose in convincing her
that the they belonged together. From his viewpoint, they weren't far apart in their basic philosophies.
He communicated with horses, she communicated with spirits. He lived in a way that had little impact
on the environment, Indians prided themselves on living close to nature. Her passion was weaving
baskets, he lived surrounded by the materials she needed. She fit perfectly in his arms, and he could
hold her forever…

"Okay," Rose called out from the kitchen. "Roll over onto your stomach."
Tyler turned on the mattress, and a couple minutes later, Rose entered the bedroom carrying a

baking sheet with a hand towel over it and something mounded high beneath. She pulled the desk
chair over to the side of the bed and put the tray on it, then sat beside him.

After gathering his horsetail and moving it to out of the way, she ran her hand slowly across his

shoulders and down his back, while saying, "What I'll be doing is called hot rock therapy. By placing
hot stones on key energy points, the warmth of the rocks will go deep into your muscles and relax
them before I start the massage. The rocks I'm using are ones I picked up on the beach the morning I
saw you there, so they have special meaning. They're also filled with healing energy after being
polished by the sand and surf."

Tyler wasn't sure about all that, but when Rose ran her hand over the small of his back and

adjusted his briefs half way down his butt, he had no intention of questioning anything.

Rose removed the towel from the rocks, and little by little, Tyler felt patches of warmth making

their way across his shoulders and down his spine. "Is this something Indians do?" he asked, while
wondering how many other benefits one woman could bring to a relationship.

"No, it's what my college roommate did," Rose replied, while placing rocks in the small of his

back. "She was studying how to be a masseuse and she practiced on me."

"Can I practice on you too sometime?" Tyler asked.
Rose laughed. "We're a long way from that, but maybe someday."
"What has to happen between now and someday?" Tyler asked.
Rose placed her hand on his shoulder and replied, "I need to understand you better."
"About what's in my head?" Tyler asked.
"Not in detail, but enough to understand why you might do something that wouldn't make sense to

me, but would be completely reasonable if I understood the process you go through to learn things, if
that makes sense."

Tyler let out a little soft laugh. "You ever try working a giant jigsaw puzzle without a picture to

follow? That's what goes on in my head."

"But you have learned, and you do things well, and I take it you can add up numbers and do basic

math."

"Sure, I can now, but not from the way the school taught it, but because when I was in grade

school Marc sat me down and explained to me, why I had to do something, not just how I had to do it.
Before then, memorizing sequences of disconnected facts didn't register because they couldn't be put
into sequential pictures, so out the window went the multiplication tables along with long division.
Then when we got to fractions, words like numerator and denominator meant nothing to me. If a
certain fraction looked top heavy, I'd turn it upside down and continue trying to solve the problem.
With word problems, the difference between taking half of something, or taking half from something
was mud in the eye for me."

"So, how did Marc get through to you?" Rose asked.
"He used English instead of mathematical terms to explain it," Tyler replied. "And Ryan's the one

who got me past the left and right hand problem. He came up with the idea of thinking in terms of east
and west like on a map, which I had no problem reading and relating to, so instead of telling me to
turn left, he'd say turn west, and right was east. It didn't matter what direction I was going, it worked
every time because in an instant I'd visualize a map and know which way to go. Then Maddy was the
one who helped me to understand kidding. My brothers kidded me the way they kidded each other, but
I didn't understand teasing because my brain didn't work that way. Maddy finally explained how it
worked. By then I was a teen, and pretty embarrassed that I never got it until my little sister pointed it
out. Maddy's good that way, even if she can be a big pain in the butt in other ways."

"You said you were clumsy around the house, but never when you're with your horses. How do

you explain that?" Rose asked, while toying with his hair.

"My horses helped me with spatial organization," Tyler replied, while feeling tingles moving

down his body from what Rose was doing with his hair. "Before I started working more than one
horse, I needed a lot of space to do things because things looked closer or farther than they really
were, but riding while standing on horses forced my brain to organize space in a different way, while
also teaching me how to use my hands and feet together instead of as separate parts of me. But it's my
connection with my mares that gives me confidence. When I'm away from them, like inside the house,
space sometimes has different dimensions and I'll trip over a chair or set a mug too close to the edge
of the table and it falls off. I could work at it some, but it doesn't matter, except that all my plates and
mugs are mismatched."

"I could live with mismatched mugs and plates," Rose said. "It's kind of funky."
Tyler realized Rose was talking long term, and with her hand resting on his back like she cared,

he found himself saying, "Do you think you could live with me? Most people can't."

"That's what I'm trying to find out," Rose said. "You're an amazing man in that you've learned to

read and do math in spite of the obstacles you've faced, and I'd like to have a little insight in to how
you did it."

"Uh boy, it's a little complicated to explain," Tyler said.
"I'm listening," Rose replied, while combing her fingers into his hair to move it back from his

face.

Tyler couldn't see Rose directly because his head was turned sharply against the pillow, but he

saw her in his peripheral vision and knew she was looking at him, like he mattered to her, so he
continued. "Okay then, my thinking's backwards in the terms of the way my brain is wired. I think of
the endpoint first then work my way back to the starting point. So I came up with a system of using all
my senses—my eyes, my ears, my hands—to layout neurological networks to the part of my brain
that's lacking. My thinking's still the same, but with a network to follow, I can understand forms of
language, and emotions are as easily recognizable as names."

"Human emotions?" Rose asked. "Or just animals?"
"My mares are no problem, but I'm not so good with humans," Tyler replied. "We've established

that you have the hots for me but I don't understand why, and I don't know why you even want to be
with me, knowing what my life is like on a daily basis."

Rose shrugged, and said, "My grandmother had a dream."
One by one, Tyler felt rocks being lifted away, and offering nothing more, Rose took the baking

sheet and rocks and left the room.

Tyler was still puzzling over Rose's short answer when she returned a couple minutes later,

carrying a bowl. "This is hot water to keep the oil warm. What I'll be doing is based on an Indian
technique called feather stroking. It's used to simulate rain dropping onto the body."

Tyler was mulling over the connection between feathers and oil and what that had to do with rain,

when Rose said, "If you want the scientific reasoning behind it, by dropping oil on the body from a
height of six to eight inches, it's thought that the oils interact with a person's electric field before
penetrating the skin, which helps the person relax, while enhancing the electromagnetic properties of
the oils as well."

Tyler was about to ask how electrified oil would help a person to relax, when he was distracted

by the feel of Rose's hand gliding down his spine to the small of his back, where the tips of her
fingers grazed the top of his butt, sending a cocktail of chemicals pumping through him, along with the

urge to bond and attach to every part of Rose's body with every part of his.

"Just relax while I drop the oil," Rose said.
Tyler started to inform her that there was only one way to relax a certain part of him, when he felt

droplets of oil following the course of his spine. Oddly, the tingles they generated redirected his
thoughts. "That feels good," he said, as drops dotted the small of his back.

"I was hoping it would," Rose replied. After setting the bottle aside, she placed her palms

against Tyler's back and started moving her hands together in a circular motion over the area between
his shoulder blade and ribs on one side, working over the muscles there for a good long time before
repeating the circular motions on the other side.

"What's with the feathers?" Tyler asked in a lethargic voice, as Rose's hands did their magic.
"It has to do with a time long ago when the Lakota went up to Canada to experience the Aurora

Borealis by raising their hands and breathing in the energy of the lights for healing purposes, but once
they were confined to reservations and couldn't go there, they used a feather in a stroking technique
along the spine to simulate the healing energy of the Aurora Borealis, and that's the basis of feather
stroking," Rose explained, while running the tips of her fingers along the length of his spine to the
base of his tailbone, which had a decidedly arousing effect on him, while sending another shot of love
chemicals pumping away through his system …

"For thousands of years Indians have been using herbs not only to heal the body, but to purify the

spirit," Rose said, as her hands made their way up the muscles along one side of his spine and down
the other to return to the small of his back, and as he was lying there, with Rose's hands kneading his
muscles, he couldn't help thinking that this must beat anything his brothers had going with their wives.
Even their big hot tubs couldn't match having hot rocks and oil and a beautiful woman massaging his
hips and butt, except maybe turning over and having her massage the part of him that needed it the
most...

"Now that your muscles have relaxed some, I'll increase the pressure, which will help pull out

the tension," Rose said. "It's the circular motion that relaxes the muscles."

Yeah, but that circular motion was relaxing every muscle but one, Tyler mused...
While working her way up from the small of his back to his shoulders, and down again, Rose

said, "Other benefits of thyme and oregano oils, all of which have been scientifically validated, are
that they contain antibacterial, antioxidant and anti-inflammatory properties."

"They're also good aphrodisiacs," Tyler said, as the erotic images of Rose's hands massaging

other places grew more graphic.

Rose's hands paused. "You read that?" she asked.
"No, I'm experiencing it," Tyler replied. "It's making me want to do a lot more than just lay here

with my skivvies half way down my butt and your hands on it." Rolling onto his side, he grabbed
Rose's arm.

"What are you doing?" Rose asked.
"What we both want," Tyler replied. He pulled Rose down so she was stretched alongside him

and kissed her deeply, and as the kiss held, he moved his hand along her side and across her back and
around front to cover her breast with his palm. She broke the kiss momentarily to suck in some air
then continued the kiss, and before long Tyler's hand found its way beneath her shirt to slip inside her
bra where his palm was filled with warm, soft flesh. Rose let out a little moan of pleasure as he
teased her nipple into a hard nub, and when he began entangling his tongue with hers in a love duel,
he could feel Rose's breath quickening, and her tongue becoming more active, and her hand moving
down to tuck inside his briefs to rest on his hip.

Fully aroused, he rolled onto his back to give her access, but instead of moving her hand to the

front, she broke the kiss and sucked in a long draft of air, and said, "We need to stop. I should never
have let things get this far."

"We didn't get all that far," Tyler said. "You still have a half inch more to go." He nudged her

hand around until it made contact.

Rose allowed her hand to remain where it was for a moment before removing it from his briefs,

and saying, "This is all untimely." She tugged his palm from inside her bra and sat up. After pulling
her shirt down, she looked to where his briefs stretched tight across the front, like a tent with a pole,
and said, "I'm sorry I'm leaving you like that. When I started your massage I didn't mean for things to
go the way they did, but I got carried away. You have a nice body."

"So do you," Tyler replied. "I only just got started learning about it though, and now I want to run

my hands over every inch of you and learn what you like and how to satisfy you."

"Maybe someday, but not now," Rose said, "and you'd better put your jeans on because Rick

could come anytime."

"True." Tyler stood and grabbed his jeans off the floor, and while he was shoving his legs into

them, he said, "Now that I know about hot oils and feather stroking, when someday finally comes, I'm
going to massage you, back and front, but instead of massaging, I'll be rubbing rose oil over your body
so whenever I see roses, for the rest of my life, I'll also see you the way you'll look when I'm rubbing
in the oil." He glanced over to see Rose's eyelids batting rapidly, and her breathing heavy, and her
lips parted to accommodate her intake of air, which made him yet more restless for her someday to
come.

"What you described sounds heavenly," Rose said, "but before that ever happens we have things

to resolve. In the meantime, has the dizziness passed?"

Tyler's mind was filled with so many images he was having trouble concentrating on what,

exactly, Rose had asked, except that he had caught the word dizziness. "It's better," he replied, while
struggling to close his jeans. "A good frontal massage would fix at least one of my problems."

"Mine too," Rose replied, "but we have things to resolve first."
"But it is in the future," Tyler stated. "I'm not talking frontal massages. I'm talking the whole ball

of wax."

Rose looked askance at him. "Sex?" she asked.
"Marriage," Tyler replied, then immediately regretted pushing her. But love was making him

crazy, like his brain was in a state of temporary insanity—one minute obsessing over when he'd see
her again so he could hold her and kiss her, the next minute fearing he'd never see her again.

"We have a lot of issues to work out and questions to ask each other," Rose said. "Right now I

admit that when I think about you I find myself smiling and feeling happy and warm all over, and
when Sophie and Emily were teasing me about you I guess I got starry eyed because they both started
laughing, and when I'm about to see you I get excited and maybe a little nervous, and then when I'm
finally with you it's like being wrapped in a warm blanket. But that's because we're in the beginning
stages of our relationship so everything's ecstatic and euphoric."

Tyler had a completely different take on things. He got all the same reactions, big time, but he

also felt like his chest lay open and Rose could get inside and mess him up, which made him feel
vulnerable and needing to build defenses so he wouldn't go through the kind of hurt he had when kids
singled him out, a soul kind of hurt. And he couldn't set aside the maybe-we-should-just-befriends
phrase he knew would eventually come, like a thorn working its way into his heart. It was fine when
it was just him and his mares, but when Rose wandered into his life, and he gave her a piece of his

heart, his life was no longer his...

Rose walked up to him and smoothed her hand across his brow, and said, "You're worried, and I

don't know what's going on in your head, but given some time, things will work out. There can be no
doubts when it comes to marriage, and that can be achieved only through lots of discussions about
combining lifestyles and raising kids, which also includes guiding them spiritually."

Tyler knew she was right, but he also realized she wasn't closing any doors to their future, but

was leaving them wide open. Feeling emboldened by her willingness to move deeper into their
relationship, he pulled her to him, and said, "My body's telling me I need another kiss."

Rose smiled, and when she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, it was magic the way

their lips merged, and her body pressed against his, and their breaths seem to go in and out together.
As the kiss moved deeper and ultimately climaxed, an overwhelming warmth spread throughout him,
along with a nervous feeling that had nothing to do with being nervous but was something so forceful
in his brain it affected the rest of his body, and amid all the dizziness and heart-pumping, and clinging
to Rose like a lifeline, something inside him changed forever, like his soul was bonding with hers.
But with the deep feeling came the need to hold her in his arms forever because to let her go might be
to lose her. He'd no doubt obsess over it later, but for the moment he was absorbed in a kiss he
wanted to savor for all eternity.

When the kiss was finally spent, Rose looked at him, seeming a little puzzled, just as he was, and

he wondered if she had experienced the same soul binding moment as he, yet it had only been a kiss,
not two bodies joined in the most intimate way a man and woman could join bodies.

The spell was broken when one of the mares whinnied. "That was Estelle," Tyler said. "She

wants me to come out, and I need to check on Gypsy."

"I can check on Gypsy," Rose said. "You should lie down so the dizziness doesn't start up again."
"I'm okay for now and I want to check Gypsy myself," Tyler replied. "Maybe you could talk to

her while I check her leg."

Rose nodded and they started out for the passageway.
Tyler found Gypsy still standing where she was earlier, with the weight off her right front leg, so

he rolled back the door and stepped inside. Walking up to her, he said, "You're still hurting, angel.
Rick should be here soon and we'll find out what's wrong." He glanced into Gypsy's grain bucket and
saw that it was untouched. Scooping up a handful, he offered it to her, while saying, "Come on, baby,
you've got to eat." Gypsy extended her neck and curled her lips back and took a small nibble, then
ignored it and lowered her head again.

Tyler looked at Rose in alarm, and said, "I want to clean the stall and put in fresh straw so she

can lie down if she wants."

"I can do that," Rose said.
"So can I," Tyler replied, "but if you want to help, maybe you could get one of the buckets outside

the grain room and fill it with water from the faucet there and offer it to Gypsy. She hasn't been going
to the waterhole and she needs to drink."

Rose went to fetch the bucket, and Tyler went about the task of cleaning the stall and adding fresh

straw. After Rose brought water, which Gypsy touched with her muzzle and sipped, but without
draining the bucket, Tyler said, "I'm staying here until Rick comes." He lowered himself in the corner
of the stall and rested his back against the wall.

Rose looked down at him, and said, "Then I'll stay too." When she sat beside Tyler, he put his

arm around her and drew her against him.

For a few minutes Tyler's mind was divided between his worry over Gypsy's leg, and the fact

that he and Rose had actually been discussing marriage, and now he wanted to keep that thread going,
if only to solidify in Rose's mind that he was her one true love.

Picking up where they'd left off, he said, "Since you acknowledge that I'm the man in your

grandmother's dream, we need to make plans."

"My grandmother's dream was just the beginning," Rose said, "but we can't make plans until

we've discussed major things, like how we want to raise our kids."

"That's easy," Tyler replied. "We'll teach them to live a simple life up here on this mountain.

They'll learn how to ride horses and live off the land and hike in the mountains, and you'll teach them
stories about their ancestors, and how to make toys out of the natural things around them, like you
show school kids at the museum, and I'll teach them how to communicate with animals, and you'll
teach them how to communicate with spirits, and we'll sleep under the stars in the summer, and they'll
learn to identify the planets and pick out the constellations."

"That's all well and good," Rose said, "but they'll still have to go to school where they'll also

learn about the world outside of our idealistic life here, and they'll want the things other kids have or
they'll feel like outsiders."

"Then we'll homeschool them," Tyler said. "Parents do it all the time. My brothers in Eastern

Oregon know many families who do, and the kids do well. By the time our kids finish high school and
are faced with the decision of whether to go on to college, they'll have a solid foundation about what's
important in life."

"I wish it were that simple," Rose said, "but our kids will also grow up playing with their

cousins, who will have the latest of every electronic game, so our kids will either spend their time
with them, or they'll want to know why they can't have those things too, and even though I agree with
everything you've said about raising kids, there can be no commitment on our parts until we close our
spiritual divide."

"There is no spiritual divide because I'm not asking you to change your beliefs in any way," Tyler

replied. "I'm fine with your spirits."

"That isn't enough," Rose said. "I know firsthand how differing spiritual beliefs, or lack of

spiritual beliefs, can tear a marriage apart. Preston was engaged to a girl from the reservation who
left him for a guy she met at work, and the first time she and her husband had a falling out, she was
back home asking one of the elders for a vision quest, and her husband thought it was all a bunch of
nonsense, and the marriage spiraled downward after that, so now she's back trying to convince
Preston that she made a mistake and learned from it, but she has two kids who spend half their time
with a father who continues to tell them that their mother's beliefs are nonsense, and Preston's not
about to take on a couple of step-kids with the same attitude."

"Couples who share the same beliefs divorce all the time for other reasons," Tyler argued,

"usually reasons having to do with opposing viewpoints on raising kids, or disagreements in material
wants, or arguments over jobs and money, the things that aren't issues with us. As for your real worry,
I might not understand your beliefs but I'd never say anything negative about them to our kids."

"I know you wouldn't," Rose replied, "but you could never look our kids in the eye and tell them

that what I believe is something to be accepted as the infallible truth, because it would never come
from your heart."

"Then answer one question," Tyler said. "Do you think you could love me if I never believed in

spirits?"

"I already love you," Rose replied. "It's hard to disguise. But love isn't enough. Humans are

capable of loving many people who come into their lives, but when choosing a mate to spend the rest

of my life with, there has to be a spiritual coming together as well as a physical one. There's no
question that I feel a strong physical need for you, which would be even stronger if we made love, but
there's no spiritual connection between us right now."

"Something happened with that last kiss. You had to have felt it," Tyler said.
"I did," Rose replied, "and I can't explain it because it was a feeling too deep and indefinable to

describe, maybe like a bonding of our souls, but that isn't the same as a spiritual union, because that
comes from beyond the reach of humans."

Tyler pulled Rose closer to him and kissed her on the temple, and said, "I love you, honey, and I

know we can work this out."

But for the life of him he didn't know how to get around her spirits. He could never pretend to

believe in something that had no reality to him, but Rose's admittance that she loved him was like the
foundation stone in a relationship that would eventually lead to marriage, and with time, the rest of the
stones would fall in place. But he was restless for that time to be now. After that last kiss he knew his
bed would seem lonelier and emptier with each passing night.

.

CHAPTER 16

Tyler met Rick at his truck, and while they were walking toward the stable, Rick said, "How long

has Gypsy been lame, and did it come on suddenly or was it gradual?"

"It was sudden," Tyler replied. "Yesterday she was sound, and today she's head-bobbing and

three-legged lame."

"Injuries that cause a horse to go suddenly lame can occur at any time, but are more likely when

jumping is involved," Rick said. "Your mares jump together in a group when you're working them, so
maybe she got a hoof in the leg by one of the other horses, or landed wrong when taking the jump."

"I didn't jump them yesterday or today," Tyler replied. Looking at Rose, who was staring at the

vegetable garden, he said, "Honey, come in with us and help distract Gypsy while Rick checks her
out."

On hearing Tyler's endearment, Rick looked at him with awareness, which didn't bother Tyler. He

wanted it known where he stood with Rose. He wanted the world to know how it was. Yet, he
couldn't set aside the fact that marriage was still very uncertain because of a spiritual divide he
wasn't sure he could fix. But when Rose smiled at him, he knew he'd go to the ends of the world to
have that smile on a daily basis, whatever it took.

After rolling back the door, Tyler walked up to Gypsy, and said, "The Doc's here, baby. He'll fix

what's wrong and you'll be good to go." He simultaneously ran both hands down each side of Gypsy's
neck and she responded by bracing her forehead against Tyler's chest so he could continue stroking
her.

While examining Gypsy's leg, Rick said, "I can't tell what part of the leg is bothering her since

she lets me bend it and she doesn't show signs of pain anywhere when I touch her. There's also no
swelling or heat. But there are many sources of lameness where there are no outward signs. Have you
worked her on a lunge line and watched her?"

Tyler shook his head. "I wanted you to check her first and make sure there isn't a fracture."
After a close examination of Gypsy's hoof, Rick said, "I don't see any lumps, ridges, dents,

cracks, discoloration, or signs of injury to the coronary band. Stone bruises can create mysterious
lameness, but diagnosing a bruise means eliminating all leg lameness symptoms and assuming the
lameness is in the hoof."

"What about a hoof abscess?" Rose asked. "My gelding went lame not too long ago and no one

knew what it was until we found a hole where an abscess had drained."

"It's a possibility since abscesses are always suspect with sudden and severe lameness," Rick

replied. "If we don't find anything else, we'll soak her foot in Epsom salts and if she doesn't want to
leave the warm water it's likely because of an abscess. I have my portable x-ray unit with me so I'll
do some preliminary x-rays here. If they don't show any sign of fracture or dislocation, we'll put her
on the lunge line."

Rick made several trips to his truck to get his x-ray equipment, and after setting up a laptop and

connecting it to the x-ray unit, he said to Rose, "If you can take over for Tyler, I can use him to point
the machine at specific parts of the leg while I hold the plate."

Tyler stepped aside for Rose to move to where he'd been standing, taking a moment to stroke her

cheek with the back of his knuckles before turning away, only to find Rick catching the gesture and
responding with a quiet look of support and understanding.

While Tyler held the x-ray unit, Rick went back and forth between Gypsy and the computer, but

after examining a series of images, he said, "The x-rays show nothing distressful in her leg so we
might put her on a joint supplement and see what happens. If she's not better in a week or so you
should bring her to the clinic for an ultrasound scan and an MRI. Meanwhile, I want to work her on
the lunge line."

"Tundra's in the corral," Rose said. "If you don't need me I'll take him home."
"No, stay here," Tyler replied. "You can take him to my place. There's a rawhide bone on the

kitchen counter for him."

"Are you sure?" Rose asked.
Tyler kissed her lightly, and replied, "I'm sure."

***

Rose closed the door to Tyler's quarters, and after Tundra settled down to chew on the bone, she

took a little time to get familiar with Tyler's world. It was uncluttered, and very orderly, as if he put
things away in a methodical, systematic manner—the couch, the recliner and a side chair at perfect
right angles to each other with a rectangular coffee table positioned squarely in between, magazines
neatly arranged on the coffee table, a container with pencils off to the side. And on one wall was a
bookshelf with books in descending order of size instead of subject, which varied from books on
magic tricks, to living off the land, to several on geology and the sciences, and at the far end of one
shelf was a series of small paperbacks that appeared to be a collection of Shakespearean plays,
which she found both surprising, and baffling.

Trying to understand Shakespeare in high school English was a challenge for her, so she had no

idea why Tyler would want to read it. But looking around at his orderly surroundings, she understood
perfectly why his place was as it was.

What she hadn't noticed before was a small drafting table in the corner of the room. Stacked on a

shelf behind it were several spiral-bound drawing tablets. She walked over and took the top tablet off
the pile, and on flipping it open, was surprised so see a full length pencil drawing of herself, standing
outside the cavern, with her incense pot in one hand and her lantern in the other. Most of the drawing
was a quick sketch, like Tyler had put it down on paper quickly, except for her face, hands and what
she was holding, which were drawn in detail, with shadows and highlights bringing them into high
relief. She had a shocked look on her face because she'd just discovered a long-haired man standing
outside. The next picture was the same pose, but she was angry, so it was obvious she'd learned what
he planned to do with the hammer and chisel.

As she flipped the pages she found numerous close-ups of her face with different expressions.

Other pages included drawings of her standing with Tundra in front of the plankhouse the day she and
her mother stepped outside and she saw Tyler looking at her, and several pictures of her with Tundra,
the day she came upon Tyler working his horses in the meadow. It wasn't only that the pictures were
masterfully drawn that astounded her, but that Tyler had drawn them from memory.

But then she found several pages of a little girl, not more than a year old, and following those

were some drawings of a woman holding the little girl, and a few of a rodeo clown holding her, and
more close-ups of the little girl's face, most of them smiling. But there was one where the little girl
had her hands raised, which looked as if they were holding clumps of hair, yet the subject with the
hair wasn't in the picture, only the back of the head, which she knew was Tyler's head. In the
background of some of the drawings were light sketches of what was obviously a rodeo setting, so

she assumed they were a family he met at the rodeo in Wyoming because also in the background was a
billboard with the words Cody Stampede.

She continued flipping pages and saw one of her leaning against his truck with her arms folded,

the day she drove his truck to his place, and one of her standing across the room from him, staring at
him, like she was baffled, which she was at the time. After seeing several more, mostly close-ups of
her face, the pages were blank. She was about to close the back cover when she found a few more
drawings, but on the back sides of the last pages in the book.

She turned the drawing tablet around so she was looking at it, back to front, and was surprised to

see a drawing of her sitting in the pool in the cavern with her bare back to him. The cavern was
penciled in darkness, with light from her lantern glancing off her shoulders and back and highlighting
a sizeable portion of her breast. So he had seen her that way.

But when she turned that page, she was stunned to find a drawing of her standing in the cavern in

a full-length pose, similar to the pose on the first page of the tablet where she was holding the incense
pot and lantern, but in this drawing her hands held nothing and they were palms up, giving the
impression that she wanted him to come to her, and she was completely nude. She had no idea how he
could have seen her that way because she'd purposely kept her back to the cavern entrance when she
dried off, in the event someone might come. But unlike the other full-length drawings, which were
sketches, except for her face, this drawing showed the shadows and highlights of her entire body in
full relief…

The door swept open and Tyler entered. "Rick just left," he said, shutting the door.
"What did he say about Gypsy?" Rose asked, while clutching the tablet in her hand.
"He doesn't know what's wrong," Tyler replied. "Assuming it's an abscess, I'll be soaking her

foot a couple of times a day and we'll wait and see what happens." His gaze dropped to Rose's hand
and the tablet, which was open to the nude picture.

It was awkward because she'd found the tablet on a shelf and she had no business looking through

it, but now she wanted an explanation. Holding up the picture, she said, "You told me you didn't see
me like this."

"I didn't," Tyler replied. "I drew it because that's what kept going through my mind and I needed

to get my thoughts organized." He walked up to her, and looking at the picture, he said in a thoughtful
voice, "Did I get it right?" The way he said it wasn't suggestive in any way, but simply a man wanting
to know if his thoughts had been accurate.

"Mostly," Rose replied. "The proportions up top might be a little exaggerated."
"They're not," Tyler replied. "You can tear it out and throw it away if you want. It was just

something I wanted to draw because I wanted to get to know all of you, but I didn't think I ever would
because I figured when you found out about my problem you wouldn't want to go any further."

"It's a beautiful drawing," Rose said, "and I already told you your so-called problem doesn't

matter. As for the picture, I don't want everyone around here to know what I look like, or to think I
posed for you, so maybe you could keep it out of sight."

"It was out of sight," Tyler pointed out.
Rose found her face growing hot. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been looking through your things,

but I wanted to know more about you." She turned the tablet around and flipped the pages until she
came to the pictures of the little girl and what she assumed were her mother and father, and said,
"Who's the little girl? You've drawn a lot of pictures of her."

"My niece, Amy," Tyler replied.
"Why so many of her?" Rose asked.

Tyler got a kind of wistful look on his face as he stared at the drawing. "She's… special," he

replied. "I held her and she smiled."

"Of course she did," Rose said. "You make females smile. I see it all the time on your mares

faces, and you definitely make me smile." She turned the pages to a picture of the clown holding the
little girl. "Then this must be your brother Josh, the rodeo clown."

After a long stretch of silence, Tyler replied, "No, that's my brother, Jeremy."
Rose looked at him, baffled. "Then two of your brothers are rodeo clowns?"
After another long pause, Tyler replied, "Jeremy was just dressed that way."
"He's obviously at a rodeo, so why was he dressed like a clown if he isn't one?" Rose asked.
Tyler drew in a long breath, and said, "Jeremy and his family are in Witness Protection and no

one knows where they are."

"Except you," Rose said. "You just saw him in Wyoming, didn't you?" When Tyler didn't

respond," she said, "I'll never say anything, but why are they hiding?"

"Here's the thing…"
After Tyler gave Rose the background story that included the mafia ties of Billy's brother-in-law,

and his role as an informant, Rose said, "So then, Jeremy went into hiding with Billy, knowing he
might never see your parents or any of you ever again, including his twin?"

Tyler nodded. "It was either that or chance never seeing Billy again. It never made sense to me

before I met you, but now I understand."

Rose was touched by Tyler's admittance, but she was also tempted to ask if he'd ever leave his

mares behind to follow her, but knowing she'd never put him in that position, she touched her fingers
to the drawing, and said, "How did you learn to draw the way you do?"

"From Josh," Tyler replied. "He was always sketching everything around when we were growing

up, but after watching him draw a series of pictures of a bull rider, first sitting on the bull in the chute,
then hanging on, then being bucked off, it dawned on me that I could use pictures in sequences to
memorize things, so I came up with a kind of picture language that translated words and concepts into
pictures, and I was able to memorize things that way. I had to work three times as hard as everyone
else in my class, but it got me through all the homework and tests that required memorization. Now I
use it for note taking and memorizing lists."

"That's not only resourceful, it's ingenious," Rose said. "But these aren't just simple pictures like

cartoons, they're works of art. No wonder you worked three times as hard as the other kids when you
were in school."

Tyler laughed. "You were right the first time. In school the pictures were more like cartoons, but

when I write in my journal, that's how I do it."

"A journal," Rose mused. "I never would have thought that's what this is all about, but then your

entire thinking process is hard to understand, just as the mind of a genius would be. But you did all
these from memory, yet you claim you have a problem memorizing things."

"I don't have a problem memorizing what I see, it's what's written that's the problem," Tyler

explained. "What's around me comes back in detail, like I've snapped a picture of it with my mind,
and when I draw it later the details are still there."

"Like this one?" Rose turned the tablet over and opened it to the picture of her in the cavern in the

pool. "How soon after you saw me sitting like this did you draw this picture?"

"That same day, around midnight," Tyler replied. "It had been in my head all day and I needed to

put it in my journal."

"But all the details are there, even the 'S' curve handle on my little incense pot, along with the

curl of smoke coming from it. You even have the light from the lantern coming from the right direction
on my back and shoulder and my… well, the rest of what you saw."

"Okay, that isn't exactly how I saw you," Tyler replied. "I added what was missing from view that

I wanted to see, and when you stepped outside the cavern and your white T-shirt was damp and
sticking to you, it wasn't hard to picture what was under it. That's the pose in the nude picture. I put
you in the cavern because that's the way I wanted to see you, stepping out of the pool and looking at
me and not feeling embarrassed because you felt natural being with me like that, and I was naked too
and you wanted me to come to you and hold you. I'm visualizing it now, like it's stuck in my head, and
I haven't even seen you undressed."

"When you do see me that way, will you remember all the details forever?" Rose asked.
Tyler looked at her, thoughtfully. "You said when, not if, I see you, so it sounds certain."
"I don't know," Rose replied. "But would you see… all the details?"
"Maybe. Some details last longer than others."
Rose flipped the page to the nude one, and said, "What if we were married and I got old and

wrinkly. Would you see me like this, or the way I'd be then?"

Tyler looked reflectively at the picture, and said, "I'd see you the way you'd be then because I

wouldn't have any reason to hold on to the old memory because, however you'd be would be beautiful
to me. Time and age would never change that."

Rose set the tablet on the drafting table, and curving her arms around Tyler's neck, she said, "You

told me you had trouble expressing yourself, but that's the most romantic thing anyone's ever told me."

"It's only the truth," Tyler replied. In an instant his mouth covered hers and his arms closed

around her, and in that moment Rose felt a combination of passion… and longing… and needing…
and affection… and infatuation… and a touch of anger because the issue with the spring was still
unresolved. But all the other feelings quickly overpowered that one negative, and she was again on a
euphoric high, while wanting to stay where she was forever.

But when Tyler's hands began tracing the contours of her sides, and his thumbs followed the

curve of her breasts, she broke the kiss and said, "We're about to get carried away again, so we need
to get back to where we were."

"Which was looking at a picture of you the way I imagine you when I'm alone in my bed at night,"

Tyler said.

"Then we need to switch to another subject." Rose turned out of his arms and walked over to the

bookcase. "While I was looking around I noticed your books, and now I'm curious." Brushing her
finger over the spines, she said, while stopping at a particular book, "Why a book on magic?"

Tyler looked at the book she was pointing to. "My mom knew I wanted to learn some magic tricks

so she got me the book, figuring I'd be interested enough to read it, and I was, cover to cover, and
even learned some basic magic tricks. So Mom decided, if she could find books on subjects I was
interested in, I'd read more, and she was right. I still read at a snail's pace, but I like learning things
so I read every day."

"And Shakespeare?" Rose asked, while running her finger over the spines of the collection.
"I did a lot of pretending when I was a kid, which was my way of dealing with the fact that I

didn't fit in, so when high school drama class was auditioning students for Hamlet, I figured if I could
get a part in a play that other students found difficult, I'd prove I wasn't as stupid as they thought. So I
put together picture sequences for the first act, but when it came time to recite some lines I couldn't
focus, I couldn't speak, and I went totally blank, which proved to everyone I was exactly what they
thought. The school idiot. So, I decided to get the play and memorize the entire thing at home, and

when I did, it was a huge personal victory." He laughed. "Hamlet knew what he was talking about
when he said, 'Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool nowhere but in his own
house.' Now I recite Shakespeare to relax, and when I recite it to my mares, they relax too."

Rose couldn't help smiling when she visualized Tyler standing surrounded by his mares while

reciting Shakespeare. "Can you recite something for me?" she asked. When she looked up from the
bookcase and turned to face Tyler, in that moment she thought he was the most striking man she'd ever
seen, with his beautiful raised cheekbones, and sensual male mouth, and his dark perceptive eyes,
soulful eyes that were fixed on her.

"Especially for you," he said.
Walking up to her, he tucked a finger beneath her chin and lifted, so she had to look directly at

him, and said in a voice that was solely for her, "Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun
doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love."

Rose blinked rapidly, while trying to grasp this completely unexpected side of Tyler, like there

was no end to discovering new facets of him, a complex man who saw disabilities where she saw
gifts. "That was beautiful," she said. "I assume it was from Hamlet."

"It was. Act 2, Scene 2."
"How did you know that?"
Tyler shrugged. "My problem is getting the words off the page and into my head, but once they're

there, I simply open a page in my mind and find it. It's the same with movies. The scenes stick in my
head and I remember them in sequence. It's inconsistent though. I can recount every detail of a place I
might go, like a rodeo, but I can't recall what someone might tell me about a place they went because I
wasn't there and don't have the visual images to connect the words to."

"So you must remember everything about the times we’re together," Rose said.
Tyler gave her a wry smile. "Pretty much. But it's not just visual images I hold in my head. My

senses have memory too. My body remembers the way your body feels against it, and my hands
remember where they've been and what they held, and my tongue remembers the details of your
mouth, and odors have a special place in my mind that I can pull up, so when I smell roses I'm thrown
into a world with you where it's like you're part of me. It's hard to describe."

"You just did it beautifully," Rose said. "I wish I had your gifts."
Tyler laughed again, this time with cynicism. "No, you don't. Holofernes said it best in Love's

Labor's Lost: 'This is a gift that I have… a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes,
objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions; these are begot in the ventricle of memory.'
Sometimes there's so much recalling, my mind gets overloaded, which is why I need to live an
uncluttered life."

Rose placed her hands on his chest, and said, "I hope someday you'll find peace within yourself."
"That's a dream I gave up years ago," Tyler said. "I have different dreams now." He took her

hands and put them around his neck and pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The kiss was
beginning to escalate into another open-mouth, passionate kiss when Tundra abandoned what was left
of his rawhide bone and began pacing.

Rose broke the kiss and looked at Tyler, and said, "Tundra's getting restless so I'd better take him

back so he can exercise or he'll find a chair leg to either pee on or chew up."

Tyler crooked a finger beneath her chin, kissed her one last time, and said, "Very soon, he and I

are going to have a man-to-man talk about learning to be patient when I'm kissing you."

Rose laughed, and taking Tundra by the collar, led him down the passageway, but once outside,

when she started running around and calling for Tundra to chase after her and play, Tyler rushed up

and caught her by the arm to stop her, and said, "If you flail your arms around he'll go into predatory
mode, which could be dangerous. The canine teeth of a hybrid are bigger than a dog's, and hybrids
have the capability of crushing bones. You need to work slowly around him. What he needs is an old
settled dog as a companion. He'll copy the older dog's behavior and learn from it, and it would also
give him a sense of being in a pack."

Rose looked at Tundra, who was staring at her like he understood, which had her smiling, as she

said, "Okay, boy, we'll think about getting you a friend as soon as we get our own place."

"You have an option right here," Tyler said.
Rose saw that he was dead serious. "That option's still a ways off," she replied. "You need to

give everything with us a lot more thought. You want an uncluttered life and I'd be bringing to it a
wolfdog and his dog companion, and I'd need a place where I can weave baskets, and there would be
the likelihood of kids, so even in our small world there would be a certain amount of chaos when
we'd all be talking over each other. How do you reconcile all of that?"

Tyler touched her face, and said, "My life, and whatever you'd bring to it, would never be

cluttered as long as you are in it, angel."

Rose smiled. "That's what you call your mares."
"I know," Tyler said. "They're my angels too." He kissed her lightly. "Meanwhile, I'll put Tundra

on a lunge line for exercise. He'll get the idea in a few minutes, and once he's learned the routine, it's
a good way for you to exercise him in a small area."

Tyler grabbed a lunge line from the tack room, and after clipping it onto Tundra's collar, led

Tundra back into the corral. At first Tundra looked baffled, like he wasn't sure what to expect, but
within a few minutes he understood. Tyler started by jogging with him in a small circle at a trot, then
gradually he let out the lunge line while praising Tundra, and before long, Tundra was trotting in a
circle with his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

After another ten minutes or so, Rose said, "I need to get back. Now that Marc's home, I want to

get my things together and stay with my folks a couple of days and catch up on some of my chores
there, but I'll be back in the morning."

Tyler led Tundra out of the corral, and after turning him over to Rose, he said, "I want to see you

after work tomorrow. Can you come here so we can talk, and other things? I'll fix dinner."

"The other things will have to wait a little longer because we still have some issues to resolve

first, but I do want to see you so, yes, I'll come so we can talk." Rose looked toward the garden and
while she was staring at the new fencing, a series of happenings began to fall into place. She hadn't
planned on getting into it at the moment, but she wanted Tyler to have a better understanding of what
she'd been trying to tell him, so she started in by saying, "You do realize that the tree fell on the fence
right after you started drilling in the cavern."

Tyler shrugged. "Maybe. I don't remember."
"Well, it did, because it struck me at the time that it was an odd coincidence," Rose said. "Then

when I found you in bed, and you told me the horses weren't responsive because you were dizzy, that
was shortly after you returned from drilling through the floor of the spring."

"Don't try and connect the two," Tyler replied. "Animals sense emotions in humans, and my mares

pick it up whenever I'm off."

"That may be true," Rose said, "but shortly after that, Gypsy came down with mysterious

lameness, so bad things started happening after you began drilling in the cavern. This is what I've
been afraid of, and although I know you don't want to hear me suggest that spirits could be working
against you, at some point you might have to consider that possibility."

"Okay, I'll consider it," Tyler said, but with a touch of irritation, so Rose knew he didn't mean

what he was saying, but was trying to appease her for the moment, which was exactly the spiritual
divide that concerned her.

She was about to point it out when the sound of a vehicle caught their attention, and they turned to

see Marc pulling his truck to a halt. The door flew open and he was immediately out of the truck and
walking in long strides toward them. From the look on his face, it wasn't good, which Rose imagined
was the report on the poisonous gas or gases in the spring.

"So, what did you find?" Tyler asked, as Marc approached.
"Nothing," Marc replied. "Not a trace of gasses anywhere in the cavern."
"Maybe the CO2 escaped when I opened up the passageway and it dissipated by the time you

returned with the gas detector," Tyler suggested.

"That's not likely," Marc replied. "Caverns like Whispering Springs have an enormous capacity

to store gaseous CO2 in subsurface cracks, pores, and cavities, and even after opening a natural
tunnel like you did, there would still be traceable levels of CO2 or other gases there for some time
afterwards."

"I don't understand," Tyler said. "The dizziness started when I was drilling."
"Then you need to see a doctor and find out what caused it, because I can guarantee, there are no

gasses in Whispering Springs. Are you still dizzy?"

"Not so much… maybe a little lightheaded." Tyler placed his hand on the base of Rose's neck,

and looked at her, and said, "My angel here has a magic touch and a bag full of remedies that
probably work better than what the doctor would give me."

Rose saw that he was serious, but the look in his eyes was telling her other things too, things he

didn't have to put into words because his unspoken words of love were almost palpable…

"Yeah, well, there's one thing more," Marc said. "I was in the cavern for well over three hours

and there are no sounds. Nothing at all. The voices in Whispering Springs are silent."

When Tyler looked at Rose, her face was stricken. He wrapped his arm around her and drew her

to him, and said, "Honey, this doesn't mean there aren't any spirits around, only that they aren't in
Whispering Springs. But it does prove that my theory's correct."

"Not necessarily," Marc said. "I talked to the state geologist about the probability of a geyser

there, and he said it was unlikely because first, there are only two geysers in Oregon, both the result
of drilling, and those are three-hundred miles away, and second, geysers are always located near
volcanic areas where magma can heat rocks to boiling to build up enough pressure to shoot the water
through the exit hole. He said there might be a slim chance of activating one here if we drilled deep
enough, and we're talking over six thousand feet, but when I asked if steam forced through fissures
could cause the sounds, he said he doubted if it could make its way up from that depth, but he couldn't
rule it out."

"So, if it's not steam from a geyser, how do you explain the sounds?" Tyler asked.
"I don't," Marc replied. "But maybe you should listen to Rose."

CHAPTER 17

Tyler had never been a spiritual person, so he couldn't promise Rose that what he believed, or

more accurately, didn't believe, would ever change, but he wanted to believe, if only to hold onto
Rose, who he felt was slowly slipping away from him. The look on her face when she learned that the
cave was silent was stuck in his head. If he hadn't been so single-minded in his quest to learn the
source of the sounds, Rose's voices would not be silent, and his non-belief in sprits wouldn't be an
issue.

Still, he wasn't convinced that, after thousands of years of sounds coming out of the mountain,

drilling through the floor of the cavern could stop them. But if it had, Whispering Springs would no
longer be a sacred place, although the hot spring would still be there for those who wanted to sit in
the pool and soak up its healing minerals. That, he did believe in, and he also believed in the
effectiveness of Rose's medicinal herbs and her oil massage.

So he left his place at daybreak, and in the colorless light of dawn, headed for the trail to the

spring. Before leaving, however, he checked on Gypsy. She still hadn't eaten, and she was standing at
the half-door to the pasture, looking out. She even whinnied for the others, which he took as a sign
that she was better, maybe because he'd soaked her foot twice the day before. But not wanting her to
get anxious or depressed by being separated from the others while he was at the spring, he opened the
door to the pasture so she could be with them if she wanted.

He made his way over the trail to the cavern, and once inside, he stripped off his clothes and

immersed himself in the pool and sat where the rock ledge was closest to the bottom so the warm
water would reach up to his neck. He wanted to be as deep as possible so his senses would be
neutralized and he could focus intently on listening for the sounds. He was certain they were there,
just weaker, because the opening in the floor would allow steam to escape more quickly.

The wall of the pool behind him sloped back slightly, and where he sat was curved and smooth,

as if shaped and polished by the movements of hundreds of thousands of people over the centuries.
Resting his head back, he closed his eyes and listened. It seemed unusually quiet, and for a while the
silence was soothing, like a balm for his cluttered mind.

But as the minutes ticked by in absolute silence, a feeling of apprehension began to settle over

him, like the eerie silence before a storm. He'd read about fossil caves, which were caves that had
lost their formative streams and could be totally silent, but Whispering Springs wasn't a fossil cave,
and there had always been sounds—occasional drips of condensation, a rodent scurrying off,
sometimes hisses, or chirps, or squeaks, which he figured were bats. But while he sat in the pool
straining to hear something, there were no sounds at all, not even the sound of voices sifting up from
the ranch, or horses whinnying, or cattle bellowing, or even farm machinery in the distance. It was
like being in a noiseless vacuum.

After a while he found himself no longer just listening for the voices, but for anything. But as he

sat with his eyes closed and his ears straining to catch even one sound, he heard nothing, and it came
to him that sound was a physical thing that he didn't just access it with his ears, but with his whole
body, and when sound was totally missing, his brain told him it was disturbing because without
sensory input, he was alone with his thoughts.

He also realized, as the silence became profound, that his hearing was becoming more acute, and

at last, he began to perceive something. Faint at first, it gradually grew louder, but as he excitedly

welcomed the sounds of the voices, they didn't come. Instead, he became aware of his heartbeat as if
greatly amplified, and the throb of blood flowing through his veins, and air sifting into his lungs, like
being in a wind tunnel. There were other sounds too, like his stomach gurgling, and a little clicking
sound, maybe an organ opening and closing. He was suddenly struck with the awareness that in the
absence of sound, his ears were doing their best to find something to listen to, anything, and when
they heard nothing, he became the sound.

It was disorienting, hearing with his whole body. So he concentrated on hearing through the

sounds of his body. His mind focused, he began to feel a strange, skin-crawling sensation, and with it,
his breath became short and his chest tight, like he was smothering. A feeling of overwhelming dread
took hold, like something unimaginably horrible was about to happen and he was powerless to
prevent it. Then images of Gypsy began racing through his head. She was struggling, and stumbling,
and confused and needing him...

Alarmed, he stood abruptly and climbed out of the pool, and after dragging his clothes over his

wet body, he rushed out of the cavern and raced over the trail at a near run, stumbling several times
and having to catch himself as he negotiated the uneven trail. There were moments when he was
almost overcome with shortness of breath and heart palpitations and dizziness as he ran, and other
moments when there seemed to be a slowing down of time because his legs couldn't take him back
fast enough, all the while his mind was filled with images of Gypsy struggling.

And then he saw her in the pasture, walking in an awkward, disjointed way. He'd never seen her

move like she was, even banging her hip on the hay trough, as if her spatial awareness was off, and
her head was close to the ground, as if she were about to go down.

"Gypsy, baby, stop," Tyler called out, as he rushed toward her, knowing it would be impossible

to get her up and to the vet if she went down, but already she was on her knees and when she lowered
her rear end he could see the pain in her eyes, yet she made no sound and gave no indication except
for the strained look on her face.

Dropping to his knees, Tyler knelt in front of her, and pressing his forehead to hers, he said,

"Angel, give me some idea what's wrong." Still, he got nothing, except for an awareness that Gypsy
wanted him there, and when he sat with his legs out, she rolled onto her side and lowered her head
into his lap, and he slipped his arms around her neck...

…If you can put your arms around your horse while he's laying down, that's a sign of total

trust. This is their most vulnerable position...

The words came, almost as clearly as when they were spoken by an old wrangler his dad hired

years before, who arrived about the time he'd gotten Caesar. The man was at the ranch no more than a
couple of weeks before he moved on, but in that time he passed on a plethora of information about
working with abused horses...

…Haven't there been times in your life when things happened like a domino effect…
He'd barely had time to analyze that thought when, from high above came a protracted rasping

scream, like a kree-eee-ar, beginning as a high pitched whine and slurring downward, reminding him
of the voices in the mountain. He looked up to find Diana gliding into view, soaring with slow, deep
wing beats, then stretching out her wings and playing with the wind. As she caught a current,
occasionally hovering and beating her wings directly above him, Tyler watched her as he'd never
watched anything before, and as his gaze followed the course of Diana's flight, it was almost as if he
were watching himself flying, because there seemed to be no division between them. It was a strange
and unfamiliar feeling, one he'd never experienced.

Diana made one last circle and glided down to land on the fence post, fluttering her wings

momentarily before folding them against her body. It was oddly comforting having her there, and as he
held Gypsy's head, tears welled because he could feel Gypsy slipping away. He wanted to rush into
his quarters and get his cell phone and call Rick, but he felt a stronger urge to stay where he was.

"Gypsy, baby, hold on," he said, close to her ear. "We'll get you up and over to the clinic, but

you've got to fight whatever it is that's got you down."

As he continued to hold Gypsy's head, Tyler's hands started tingling, and his heart starting racing,

and he didn't know if was because he was lightheaded or because the dizziness was coming back, but
it was almost as if waves of energy were pulsing through him.

In his peripheral vision he saw Diana with her wings protracted, and when he looked at her, he

got the feeling of an altered sense of time, and with it, his perception became different. Diana and
everything around her—the sky, the trees, the fence post—looked as if they were breaking into tiny
pinpoints of colored light, like pixels on a computer screen, and the more he looked into the scene, the
deeper and more pixelated it got, as if he were looking into another dimension, and from that
dimension, into yet another dimension where colors became more vivid, and sounds more manifest,
like hearing white noise in his head. The trees, the fields, the sky all seemed more alive and shining
with a new radiance, and the fragrance of flowers was all around him.

The shift kept deepening and deepening, and as it did, the clutter in his head diminished and

decreased until there was complete peace and silence in his mind, and when he looked at Diana, she
appeared to be radiating energy and beauty. Then he began to feel as if he were part of an intertwined
web-like connection to everything in the universe. There was no him, no boundaries, no feeling of
beginning or end, just infinity. Nor was it disturbing or frightening. It was beautiful and wondrous,
and he felt full of vitality, as though the whole universe was living and breathing. He was completely
lucid and aware of everything that was happening, yet he was unable to explain it, only that he didn't
want to break the spell.

But while his mind was trapped in a strange dimension, mist that came in on a whitish-blue light

touched him on his face and hands and wrapped around him, as if in an embrace, like being
surrounded by unconditional love. A strong sense of a presence seemed to somehow press down from
above. It was limitless, stretching through the solar system from infinity, yet, the whole of this space
was filled with this powerful force.

A strange feeling bubbled up from his chest into his throat. It took a minute to recognize it as joy,

and he was mortified. How could he feel joy at a time like this? But it was irresistible. Tears were
running down his face, and yet he was smiling, while a part of him was wondering what the hell was
going on. A moment later he was having a vision. He wasn't dreaming. He wasn't hallucinating. He
knew his name and where he was, and that he was holding Gypsy's head, but he was also in the
cavern looking into the pool, with the feeling of joy bubbling up inside, and somehow he understood
that even though Gypsy was dying, she'd never be alone, that he and Gypsy were inextricably
connected, as they were to every living thing on the planet...

Somewhere far off, almost in another world, he heard a whinny. Gypsy flicked her ear, and in that

moment the swirling, loving light that had enveloped disappeared and everything around him returned
to normal. For a few moments he just sat there stunned while trying to comprehend what had
happened. Then to his astonishment, Gypsy lifted her head from his lap. She looked off to where the
mares were standing in a group, then giving a little whinny, she rolled onto her bent legs, and raising
her rear end, got up. It took a moment for her to get her footing beneath her, but once she did, she
loped off toward the mares, as if she'd never been lame.

In a state of awe, confusion, and numbness, Tyler's logical mind tried to rationalize what had

happened but couldn't, because he'd experienced something beyond his plane of existence. But
whatever it was, he knew he'd been changed forever. It wasn't just that Gypsy seemed to be whole
again, but a change had taken place inside him, as though some massive distortion in his life had
suddenly been aligned, and he'd been given the golden key that unlocked the door to who he was and
why he could see things in multidimensional ways most people never could.

He wasn't a fool. He wasn't a misfit. He wasn't a lost cause. He was a man with ordinary

difficulties that could be overcome, and he realized that the things he'd struggled with all his life—
reading, spelling, punctuation, grammar, and completing a thought before starting five more—were
rooted in a neurological gift greater than all those skills combined.

Like a wakeup call from the soul, he thought, I'm a free man, and with that thought, years of

frustration and ambivalence vanished. He also realized the freedom he felt was actually freedom from
his own self-imposed bondage that caused his separation from his family and the world...

"What did you do?" Rose's voice came from behind.
Tyler looked up with a start.
Rose placed her hand on his shoulder, and said, "You were sitting motionless and holding

Gypsy's head, then she got up and loped off and she looks fine."

Tyler looked to where Gypsy was grazing quietly with the other mares, and said, in a perplexed

voice, "I didn't do anything. How long was I sitting here?"

"Maybe a couple of minutes," Rose replied.
"That's all?" Tyler asked, astounded. "It seemed like hours, enough time to go into another

dimension and come out." He'd expected his words to draw a lot of questions from Rose, but instead,
she said, "Tell me exactly what happened."

"I don't know if I can," Tyler replied. "I was holding Gypsy's head in my lap and Diana landed on

the post and when I looked at her I started seeing the world in a different way. It's impossible to
explain. There was this swirling whitish-blue mist. Did you see it?"

Rose shook her head. "All I saw was you sitting in the pasture with Gypsy's head in your lap,

staring off, like you were frozen in place."

"I don't know… maybe I was," Tyler said, in a reflective voice. "It was like I was transported in

time to some peaceful, idyllic place, and I got this warm loving feeling that everything would be okay,
then I was a part of the scene except that there was no me, and I never wanted it to end, but when it
did, things had changed."

"Things like what?"
Tyler slowly picked himself up and stood, and said, while looking at Gypsy, who was grazing

peacefully, "I can't explain it. My head's still filled with images, and I'll always process things
backwards from the way most people do, but it's like I don't have to fight it anymore."

Rose placed her hands on his chest, and said, "You're a unique man, and you were given special

gifts the rest of us don't have. Accept them and be at peace with yourself."

Brows still gathered in puzzlement, Tyler replied, "The thing is, for the first time in my life I am

at peace. It's like..." his words drifted off because the experience was too profound to describe even
to himself. Except for one simple explanation. Holding Rose's gaze, he said, with complete sincerity,
"I'm thinking there is something to your spirits."

Rose slipped her arms around his neck, and said, while looking up at him, "Do you have any idea

how much I love you?"

Tyler curved his arms around her, and replied, "Maybe not. I'm still trying to get used to the idea

that I kind of like myself."

A loud kree-eee-ar, coming from above caught their attention. Tyler looked up to see Diana

circling the sky, yet he hadn't been aware of her taking off from the fence post. "I guess she's really
leaving this time," he said.

Rose, watching Diana diving and dipping with a wind current, replied in a reflective voice, "I

don't get that feeling."

Tyler eyed Rose with curiosity. "Why would she stay? I'm not going to be drilling in the cave

anymore, and whatever just happened with me out here with Gypsy changed me. Things are different
now."

"Maybe," Rose said, "but I'm not sure you got Diana's message. You had some kind of spiritual

experience, like an unintended vision quest, which helped you come to terms with who you are, but
there still could be more to it."

Tyler looked up at Diana. He too felt like there was something more, but for the moment, he was

a peace with himself, and Rose was in his arms, so anything else could wait.

***

Unlike when he was in the cavern the morning before, as Tyler sat in the pool, just after dawn,

while trying to sort through this new phase in his life, he heard sounds all around him, small subtle
sounds, like the buzz of a fly that found its way inside, and a sifting sound which he recognized as
wind brushing against rocks near the entrance, and the flutter of leaves just outside. What he didn't
hear were the voices in the mountain.

All his life he'd questioned the source of the sounds, and the thought that he might be responsible

for silencing them was deeply disturbing...

…drilling into a cavern where there are petroglyphs is asking for trouble…
Reflecting on Rose's words yet again, while thinking back on his experience in the pasture with

Gypsy, he wondered if his troubles were truly over. It was odd, thinking in terms of sprits guiding
things, but he had no explanation for what happened.

At once, his head was filed with a scene of being in the pasture, with his arms around Gypsy's

neck while believing she was dying. She didn't die, but it was a reminder that any one of his mares
could get sick or injured and his Roman riding act would be in jeopardy, and if he were injured, it
would be over, unless he had something more to fall back on. His dad had been after him for years to
either go to college or find steady work, but until now it hadn't registered.

Shoving aside that disturbing thought, and deciding it was time to get on with the real reason he

was there, he dried off and dressed, then went about the task of closing the hole in the floor. But as he
hefted the section of rock that had broken away and repositioned it in the hole, the idea came to him
that he could open a school for natural horsemanship and work with horse owners who were having
problems with their horses and teach them how to communicate with them. If he did that, along with
his Roman riding act, he could support a family.

Feeling energized, he fit the rock snuggly in place and tamped it down, then pushed the smallest

fragments of rock along with the rock dust around the edge of the rock to fill in the gaps. He started to
scoop up the rest of the rock fragments and debris and toss it outside to get rid of it, but something
told him to leave it there, that it was part of the cave and shouldn't be taken away. He didn't
understand why it should be that way, only that it should, so he piled it on top of the rock and tamped
it down.

He stood, and looking at the place where the hole had been, he said, "Okay spirits, if you're in

here, I'm done. You can rest in peace." He hoped no one heard him, but the odd thing was, his words
were sincere.

After hoisting the rock drill over his shoulder, he grabbed his lanterns and started back,

negotiating the trail at a fast pace. He was anxious to tell Rose of his decision to start a school for
natural horsemanship, but as he walked, the germ of another idea began to take form. It was an idea
that would take a lot of thought before he'd be ready to explain it to Rose and his family, but for the
first time in his life, he believed he knew what his purpose for being was.

When he reached the end of the forest trail between the spring and his place, and it opened up

into the clearing, he saw Rose standing at the gate to the horse pasture, petting his mares. He could
tell she was talking to them, and his mares were responding. He saw Gypsy flick an ear and poke her
nose at Rose's hand, but at the same time, Estelle nosed Gypsy out so she could get her pats, and Luna
extended her neck to get in on the petting...

…it's like you have six wives…
He couldn't help smiling at the memory, but soon he hoped there would be one wife and six

equine kids, because he realized he was more like a father to them because they looked to him for
guidance. But maybe he'd consider getting them a stallion. He'd need some young horses coming up to
take their places in the act.

Almost as if she'd sensed his presence, Rose turned, and when she saw him her face lit up with

the brightest smile he'd ever seen, and even from a distance he could see her eyes shining, maybe
brightened with tears of excitement, which had him hefting the drill off his shoulder and setting it
down, along with the lanterns, and opening his arms to catch her as she ran toward him.

After he'd kissed her, and while he still had his hands locked behind her waist, and her arms

were latched together behind his neck, he said, "This is an unexpected welcome. Is it something I can
expect every time I come home?"

"I don't know… maybe… probably."
"So, is that a yes or a no?"
"Probably a definitive yes because like I told you before, I could get addicted to your kisses, and

I think I already am, and I missed you all day and I just got excited when I saw you coming out of the
woods because I didn't know where you were and I wanted to see you. I even told your ladies that I
missed you and wondered where you were, and they told me they missed you too."

"How did they tell you that?" Tyler asked.
"I don't know," Rose replied. "It was just a feeling I got. Since you came from the direction of the

spring, I assume you were there."

Tyler nodded. "It's different now without the voices. I guess I really messed things up."
"I know this is all new to you," Rose said, "but you can't stop spirits from communicating with

us. The voices are still there somewhere. They've just chosen to be silent, for whatever reason.
Maybe you're still right about a geyser creating the steam that's being forced through fissures that
makes the humanlike voices, and that's what puts people into a mind state where they're open to
communicating with spirits, and behind it all is a greater power with a plan for each of us, with
spirits to deliver the message."

"If that's the case, then with no steam being forced through fissures to sound like voices, there

still wouldn't be any communicating with spirits," Tyler replied.

"That's not how it works," Rose said. "Spirits are in everything around us, and we can

communicate with all of them if we free ourselves from outside interferences, which is why people
go to the spring where there are few distractions. But spirits can speak to us in dreams, or in cloud

formations, or even through trees if you open your mind to the voices in your head that come when in
the presence of spirits. Believing this is to accept and acknowledge the power of something greater
than ourselves, who communicates to us through spirits that may take on any form, at any time, for the
purpose of guiding us."

Tyler was actually beginning to understand because something definitely communicated with him

out there in the pasture with Gypsy. He had one question though. "I've been struggling with dyslexia
all my life, so why didn't this spiritual experience, or whatever you want to call it, come earlier?"

"Because first you had to be willing to open your mind to the fact that there are things around us

that we can't begin to understand and have to accept on faith. But you also had to want the truth bad
enough to face your worse fears while searching for answers. Spirits exist beyond the range of our
senses so maybe the only proof we'll ever have will be the feeling of a presence to offer comfort
when we're in trouble, thoughts when we need to make a difficult decision, or a sudden awareness
and a shot of adrenaline to warn of danger. Whatever form they take, they come to us to offer hope and
unconditional love, and to let us know we're never alone, and for that reason, we need to believe in
spirits."

Tyler couldn't deny that whatever wrapped itself around him in the pasture brought him hope,

unconditional love and a greater understanding of himself. But the greatest gift of all, it brought him
together with Rose.

CHAPTER 18

As Rose made her way up the road toward Tyler's place, with Tundra loping alongside her, and

wearing a small pack on her back with a change of clothes, she felt her eagerness growing. It seemed
as if the day would never end. She loved working at the museum, but her relationship with Tyler had
moved to a new level, a place where she had no doubts and knew with certainty that he was her one
true love, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, and she wanted their lives together to
start now. It was an unrealistic dream, and both families would tell them they were rushing headlong
into things, and maybe Tyler would agree and suggest they wait until they had everyone's blessing, but
for now, she just wanted to be with him.

She'd informed her parents that she'd be staying at the ranch, meaning at Marc's house, and Marc

assumed she'd be with her parents, and maybe she would be tonight, but she was leaving her options
open in the event that Tyler might suggest they sleep under the stars, or maybe in his bed. There was
no question that her hormones had risen to a level that had her feeling as if she would sizzle from
inside, like what happened with spontaneous human combustion, when a person burned up without
any outside source. It brought new meaning to the term hot. She was definitely hot. She also found
herself smiling.

After penning Tundra up in the corral, and seeing the mares peacefully grazing in the pasture, she

figured Tyler was inside, so she headed up the passageway. The door to Tyler's quarters open, she
went inside. Tyler was sitting at his drawing table, and when he saw her, he smiled his wonderful
smile that had her heart racing and her breath quickening.

After giving him a long, heartfelt kiss, she turned out of his arms and went to see what he was

drawing and was surprised to see numerous drawings of Diana. The drawings were not in a tablet,
however, but on individual sheets of paper. Rose lifted a drawing that was made up of hundreds of
dots of varying pressure, and one that was done with fine lines, and there were several that were a
combination of lines and points, as if Diana was changing form. Other drawings seemed nebulous,
like Tyler knew what he was putting down on paper and it wasn't important that anyone else know
because it was coming from within him.

"I understand why you're doing this," Rose said, "but why aren't the drawings in a tablet?"
"I don't know," Tyler replied. "What happened out in the pasture with Diana was as if the whole

universe wrapped itself around me, so when I started drawing, I knew the pictures shouldn't be in a
tablet, that they needed to be loose. It's hard to explain."

"You just did it very well, "Rose said. She spotted several drawings off to the side and realized

they were of her. Lifting one from the table, she saw that her lips were parted, as if she were saying
something, and in the foreground was the back of a head, presumably Tyler's head. It was a quick
sketch, except that her face was drawn with care. But there was a line around her head, like a halo
that was open at the bottom. "I don't understand this one," she said. "I look as if I'm saying something."

Tyler took the drawing from her and said, musingly. "You are. You're promising to love and

cherish me and forsake all others. This is the edge of your wedding veil," he said, as his finger
touched the line around her head.

Rose looked up at Tyler and saw on his face about as much love as any man could hold inside,

and he held that love for her. "When is this wedding supposed to take place?" she asked.

Tyler shrugged. "I don't know. It's just thoughts on paper. If it was up to me alone I'd have it

today, but you probably need time to make sure I'm what you want. For me there are no doubts."

"Honey," Rose said, while slipping the drawing from his hands, "I'd marry you today in a

heartbeat. I've never been so sure of anything in my life, and maybe we can take the whole night to
talk about our plans for the future."

"All night?" Tyler asked, brows drawn.
Rose shrugged out of her backpack and set it on the floor, then curved her arms around his neck,

and replied, "Yes, sweetheart, all night, and I suggest we turn in early so I don't become a headline in
the morning paper as well as a statistic."

Tyler laced his fingers behind her waist. "Okay," he said. "I'll bite. What's the headline?"
Rose kissed him on the chin. "Spontaneous human combustion suspected in woman's death."
Tyler eyed her with amusement, "So, you're admitting that I'm a really hot guy."
Rose kissed the hollow of his throat. "No, I'm telling you that I'm a really hot squaw, and we still

have some mares to feed, and Tundra to work on the lunge line, and dinner to fix, but then I plan for
the rest of the night to be for us."

"Guaranteed."

***

In the quiet hours just after daybreak, and in the aftermath of their lovemaking, Rose snuggled

closer to Tyler in his narrow bed, and said, "When should we tell our parents we want to get
married?"

Tyler kissed her on the forehead, and replied, "Right away, but don't expect smooth sailing from

my family. My brothers still think I'm a kid, my sister thinks no one could live with me, and my father
will go into full-fledged lecture mode about how I need to wait until my horsemanship school is
ongoing and I have a savings put away and money coming in on a regular basis so I can support a
family."

"But I'm working, so between us we'll do fine," Rose said.
"I know that, and you know that, but the problem will be convincing my dad."
"What about your mom?" Rose asked.
"She'll be fine because she just wants me to be happy, and she knows you make me happy."
"How does she know that?"
Tyler kissed her on the tip of the nose, and replied, "She stopped by yesterday and flipped

through some drawings of you, and she told me she liked you too."

"Did she flip through all the drawings?" Rose asked, alarmed.
Tyler laughed. "No, baby. That tablet's for me alone and it's tucked away in a drawer. She saw

what was on my table. Meanwhile, I want to take a shower with you so I can have some images for
more drawings."

"Wait! Are you serious?" Rose asked, wondering if this could become a problem.
Tyler laughed. "Yeah, I'm serious. You can get rid of any of them though, but we'll get a lock box

for the ones you don't want to tear up. They're all just thoughts on paper."

Once in the shower, as Tyler was spreading lather over Rose's body, he said, while concentrating

on her breasts, "My heads so filled with clutter I feel like it could split open before I get it all down
on paper." He soaped his hands again and made his way down her tummy.

"Honey," Rose said, while Tyler's hands began doing their magic, "do you draw everything that

goes through your head, I mean… what you're doing now would be pretty graphic on paper… umm…

oh… oh…" Her climax came so fast she didn't have time to finish her thought.

But after her breathing settled down some, Rose said, "You caught me by surprise, but now it's

my turn. She soaped her hands and while she was trying her best to work some magic on Tyler, he
kissed her long and deep, then said, "About the drawings… some of what happens has to stay in my
head, but… oh man, what you're doing is really cluttering up my mind right now, and this isn't
working." He turned off the shower, scooped Rose up in his arms, dripping wet, and carried her into
the bedroom, then lowered her to the bed and finished what she'd started.

As they consummated their love yet again, Rose wished she could draw the way Tyler could

because she felt so much love in her heart she needed an outlet or else she'd find herself wanting
Tyler in her bed for all eternity.

After she could catch her breath again, and when they were cuddled together, Rose kissed Tyler

on the jaw, and said, "When we're married, I don't want a bigger bed than this one because this is the
way I want to sleep with you every night of our lives."

Tyler nuzzled the top of her head, and replied, "That works for me too. I'm a minimalist, so when

I got this bed I never intended to sleep alone in it, I just hadn't found a woman I thought would want to
share it with me, but I kept hoping."

"Honey, my problem won't be sharing this bed with you, it will be having to leave it and do other

things, like work at the museum, and eat, and exercise Tundra, but then we'll have from sundown to
sunup to shower and make love and shower and sleep and wake up and make love and fill your head
with more clutter."

Tyler laughed, kissed her on the neck, and the curve of her shoulder, and her breast, and said,

"My heads already starting to fill so maybe you'd better shove me out of bed or we'll stay on a
lovemaking, shower-taking, cycle all day…"

"I love that idea," Rose said, welcoming Tyler to her one last time.
After they'd dried and dressed, and while Tyler was bundling the wet bedding into a washing

machine in a small utility room off the passageway, Rose found herself wandering over to the drafting
table again, after looking at the drawings of Diana, and of her, she spotted a tablet that lay open on the
shelf behind the drafting table, as if Tyler had set it aside when he started the drawings of Diana.
Reaching for the tablet, Rose scanned the images, noting that they were a series of small sketches of
people in historic dress, accompanied by words.

On closer examination, she saw that the words were strings of dialog from Hamlet, but without

punctuation, like, 'alas poor Yorik I knew him well Horatio he was a man of infinite jest.' On the
page was a jester and a man holding a skull. Flipping to another page, she found small sketches of a
medieval sling, several $100 bills, a gun, and a swirling ocean with a ship, accompanied by the
words 'whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to
take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.'

Tyler returned from loading the washer and peered over her shoulder. "It's a way to learn a ton of

information," he explained. "I can look at any one of those pages and see the scene in its entirety and
know what comes before and after, and the pictures help the words stick in my head. This is the way I
want to pass things on to kids who are struggling to read. It worked for me. The idea came after I'd
filled in the hole in the cavern and was on my way back here. The way I see it, since I have the ability
to shift my focus from mental images to drawings in order to resolve confusions, that combined with
my new understanding of my body being one big electrical circuit, I came to the conclusion that I'm a
unique kind of teacher who can teach dyslectic kids to use images to organize the clutter in their heads
and learn to read."

"I don't understand what you mean by your body being a big electrical circuit," Rose said.
"It's kind of complex to explain, which is one of my problems that you might have to live with,

but when I was in the pasture with Gypsy and Diana, and Diana lit up, like she was wired, and other
things started happening, I realized we're all wired together, along with spirits as transmitters, and
using the same circuit, I can get through to kids because their brains are wired more like mine than
yours, and they'll probably understand better when I try to explain things."

"Actually," Rose said, "I just understood you perfectly, in a convoluted sort of way."
"Good, but I also want to write and illustrate some children's early readers so kids will get the

idea, around first grade, how to decode words and connect them with images. For instance, with the
word bug, there'd be a picture of a butterfly above the B because the B in butterfly sounds like the B
in bug, and over the U would be an arrow pointing up, because the U in up sounds like the U in bug,
and over the G would be a stick of gum, because the G in gum sounds like the G in bug. So kids can
look at the word with the pictures over it and sound out the letters. If there was just a picture of a bug
over the word bug, the kids wouldn't learn phonics. This can also work for dyslectic adults who
never learned to read."

"So then, this tablet is for teaching adults Hamlet?" Rose asked.
Tyler laughed. "No, that's an old tablet, the one I used when I was in high school. I got it out to

see if it would work, so maybe it's a little advanced."

Rose looked thoughtfully at the tablet, and the drawings, and said, "You wanted do Hamlet then,

and you still know the lines. Why don't you try out for the Willamette Shakespeare Theater in
Portland? You'd make a good Hamlet. He was a complicated man too."

Tyler let out a little ironic laugh. "Yeah, well a guy who looks like an Indian would make a pretty

odd-looking prince of Denmark."

"But you wanted to play the part," Rose said.
"I did, but the reason no longer exists. It served a purpose, and now I want to pass it on."
Rose curved her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly, and said, "You're an innovative

man, and without dyslexia you wouldn't be the man you are. We need dyslexic kind of thinkers. Our
world wouldn’t be the same without them. And I think you're onto something teaching dyslectic kids
and writing early reader books."

A loud kee-eeee-arrr, caught their attention. Rose moved out of Tyler's arms and stepped to the

window, and said, "Diana just left the post and she making a wide circle."

Tyler walked over to stand behind Rose, and with his hands on her shoulders, looked out as

Diana dipped her wings and let out another loud kee-eeee-arr, then sailed off into the distance, where
another hawk intercepted her. Together they made a wide circle while uttering shrill cries, then the
new hawk made a steep dive and climbed again, and repeated several times before briefly grasping
Diana's talons with his own, and together they flew off into the distance.

"Diana's left for good this time," Rose said. "She just found her mate." She looked over her

shoulder at Tyler and added, "She also delivered her message. Did you get it?"

Tyler looked into the distance where the hawks were mere specks, and said, "Yeah, now we'll

see if my dad agrees that I should teach kids like me to read. He probably will, but he'll also want me
to go to college and get all the degrees I'd need to do it right, and that's not the way I want to do it
because I want the kids to learn how to communicate with animals too, and they don't teach that in
college."

Turning to face Tyler, Rose said, "Honey, however you want to do it, I'm with you a hundred

percent, and so was Diana, so now you need to follow your heart."

***

Before announcing their plans to his folks, Tyler wanted to clear it with Rose's family, primarily

by asking her father for Rose's hand in marriage, which brought a chuckle from Rose, who thought it
was very old-fashioned, but cute. He also wanted to square things away with Preston, since they'd be
brothers-in-law.

As they were approaching the driveway to Rose's parent's house, Tyler said to Rose, "You did

call them this time, didn't you?"

Rose nodded. "They already have a fair idea what this is all about."
"How could they?" Tyler asked. "They barely know me. The only time they met me was when we

were here before."

"They know you better than you think," Rose said.
Tyler looked askance at her. "Through spirits?" he asked.
Rose laughed. "No, through me. I've been talking non-stop about you practically since I met you,

and all of them, including Preston, watched your video a dozen or more times, and I showed them the
drawings you did of Tundra that you gave me last week, and explained about your dyslexia and your
plans to teach dyslectic kids how to read and communicate with animals, and also about the
horsemanship school, and they're impressed. They know you're through drilling at Whispering
Springs, and why, and that made a big difference. And if there was any doubt, my grandmother just sat
back in her chair and rocked and smiled, which meant she approved. So all you have to do now is
convince my father."

"I'm not worried about him," Tyler said. "When I was here before he made it pretty clear that he

was okay with me."

"Yes, but that was before he learned that I wanted to marry you. I'm his little girl, and I'm only

twenty-one, and you live in a stable on a mountain, and you have long hair."

"Wait a minute," Tyler said. "He was okay with my hair before and said he understood why it

was long. Besides, he's an Indian and long hair is okay with Indians."

"True, but that was before he learned that you're about to take me away from him for good.

Things have changed now. He wants me to wait a couple of years to make sure."

"A couple of years?" Tyler pulled the truck to the curb and cut the engine. "Honey, there's no way

I can wait a couple of years. Maybe a couple of months, or even as long as six months if there's no
other way, but a couple of years is out."

Rose placed her hand over his on the steering wheel, and said, "It's not like other couples haven't

waited that long. My dad could be right in that we're rushing into this."

Tyler felt the old sinking in his stomach that came whenever he had strong doubts about himself,

then he realized it was all about him, not Rose. "Do you want to wait that long, just to make sure?" he
asked, thinking he really might be rushing her with his plan to marry before the summer was over, and
he wanted to make sure she had no doubts.

Rose reached up and touched his face, and said to him, "Sweetheart, I am absolutely sure I want

to marry you now and be with you for the rest of my life. I have no doubts. But you might want to
rethink asking my dad for my hand. We could go to the courthouse and marry on our own. We're both
of age, so we don't need anyone's permission."

Tyler curled his hands around the steering wheel while thinking that her suggestion would remove

all obstacles in their path. They'd get married, and the families would have to accept it, and that
would be that…

And he'd be taking the coward's way out.
"We can't do it that way," he said, while starting engine. "When we marry it has to be with our

families' blessings. I don't want to wait, but if Jeremy's willing to leave the family, maybe for good, to
be with Billy, then I can wait however long it takes to have you for my wife."

Rose kissed him on the cheek, and said, "If the wait's too long, I'll become a slovenly,

irresponsible, rebellious teenager again and they'll all be glad to get rid of me."

Tyler looked askance at her. "Were you like that once?" he asked, finding it hard to imagine Rose

that way.

Rose chuckled. "No, but I could put on a really good act until my dad decides it's a latent

rebellion that could last some time, and turns me over to you."

Tyler laughed, finding the joking helped take some of the edge off what he'd be facing.
A few minutes later, he and Rose found themselves sitting on the couch, with Rose's mother

looking across the coffee table at them, her grandmother sitting in her rocker staring beyond the
window, with a troubled look on her face, and Preston standing with folded arms, while leaning
against the wall. Rose broke the awkward silence by saying, "Where's Dad?"

Helen Starbright replied, "He's on his way from the elder center. He knows you're here."
"Does he know why Tyler wants to talk to him?" Rose asked.
Helen nodded. "Have you two really thought this through? You've known each other less than two

months, and marriage is a lifelong commitment."

Rose covered Tyler's hand with hers, and replied, "We know what we want, Mom, and we know

we're right for each other, just as Granna knows." She looked at her grandmother, who gave a little
nod, while continuing to stare out the window.

Curious, Rose left the couch and went to see what her grandmother was looking at and saw that

the post where the hawk had sat was vacant, and in its place was a crow, which traditionally was
considered the Trickster for its assertiveness and cunning. Turning to her grandmother, she said,
"Granna, you've been staring at that crow for some time. What does it mean?" She prayed it wasn't
something negative about Tyler, or maybe a sign that they must wait to marry.

Instead, her grandmother shrugged, and said, "If someone doesn't throw netting across that row of

berries, the crows will get them."

Preston laughed, which seemed to break the tension. Looking at Tyler, he said, "I've got the

mustang going pretty well now. Maybe later you could come out and see how he's doing."

"I figured you'd connect with him," Tyler replied. "I knew you had the instinct and just needed a

little guidance. Maybe after I get my horsemanship school going you'd be interested in learning some
new ways of horse handling."

"Sounds good," Preston replied. "Meanwhile, I'd better cover the berries before the crows get

them and Granna gives me what for." He started for the door, then stopped midway and said to Tyler,
"Incidentally, I'm glad you're not a squaw man."

Tyler laughed. "Yeah, so am I." He gave Rose's hand a squeeze and winked.
Preston had just exited the back door when the front door swept open, and Edison Starbright

stepped inside. Seeing Tyler sitting with Rose on the couch, while holding her hand, he said to Tyler,
"I understand you want to talk to me." There was no humor in his tone.

Tyler sucked in a breath to calm his nerves, and said, "Yes sir."
"Then come this way."
Tyler was surprised at his abruptness, and when he looked at Rose, he could tell she was greatly

disturbed. Still, he followed Edison into a room off the living room that appeared to be a combination

family room, computer room, and exercise room, with a treadmill off in one corner, and closed the
door. He sat on the couch, and Edison sat in a recliner adjacent to it.

However, before Tyler could start in with his practiced introduction about why he was the

perfect husband for Rose, Edison said, "Did you learn anything about Chief Joseph?"

The question threw Tyler completely off guard, and for a moment his mind went blank, but after

retrieving some images in his head, he said, "Yes sir."

"I don't need the sir," Edison said.
"Yes sir… umm. Okay." Tyler took a few moments to pull his thoughts together, then started in.

"About Chief Joseph… I've read quite a bit and he was an amazing man. After their homeland was
taken from them, which would force them to live on a reservation, Joseph was one of the chiefs to
lead 250 warriors, 500 women, children, old people and cripples, and over a thousand horses, on a
trek across 1,500 miles of rugged terrain in an attempt to reach Canada."

Tyler went on to describe how they'd crossed rivers at flood stage on rafts made of tightly-rolled

skins lashed together, and trekked over mountains in cold torrential rain and on muddy trails so
narrow one step would send them plunging over the edge, and came within forty miles of the
Canadian border when an unexpected military force intercepted them…

"…then in October 1877, after four days of fighting," Tyler continued, "Chief Joseph raised the

surrender flag and rode in on a black horse, and surrendered with the words, 'I am tired of fighting.
Too-hul-hul-sit is dead. Looking Glass is dead. He-who-led-the-young-men-in-battle is dead. The
chiefs are all dead. It is the young men now who say 'yes' or 'no.' My little daughter has run away
upon the prairie. I do not know where to find her—perhaps I shall find her too among the dead. It
is cold and we have no fire; no blankets. Our little children are crying for food but we have none
to give. Hear me, my chiefs. From where the sun now stands, Joseph will fight no more forever.'"
Tyler waited for Edison's response.

For a few moments, Edison stared at him in silence, and Tyler knew he hadn't expected the long

spiel, but the images kept coming, and the words in his mind kept flowing.

"Did you learn about his horse, Ebenezer?" Edison asked.
Tyler could tell that the test wasn't over yet, so he replied, "Yes, he was a red roan with large

blood-red spots on his white rump, and he could run like the wind. Everyone with a fast horse,
whether he was a frontiersman or an Indian, dreamed of the day his horse would beat Ebenezer, but,
Ebenezer won all his races by large margins against the best horses in the region."

This time Edison smiled, and said, "I'm impressed. You did your homework. And now you're

here to talk about taking my daughter away."

"No, I'm here to ask you to give me her hand in marriage."
"And if I said, no?"
"Then I'll work as long as it takes to convince you to say yes."
"You're both of legal age," Edison said. "Why wouldn't you just go ahead and get married?"
Tyler was beginning to get a handle on this man. "Because I respect you as my elder and as

Rose's father, and I want your blessing," he replied.

"You're both very young," Edison said.
"We're old enough to know our own minds," Tyler replied.
"And you think you can provide for Rose and my grandchildren?" Edison asked.
"That would be my primary goal from the moment we exchange vows," Tyler replied. "I can

promise you with certainty that I'll do everything in my power to make Rose happy because that's the
only way I could be happy."

Edison fixed him with hawk like eyes, and Tyler was sure he was about to lay out the long range

terms for gaining his approval, which would include waiting two years. But then his eyes softened
some, and he said, "I think you're a man who's true to his word. However, I also think you should wait
until you're both older, but because I don't believe in unwed couples living together, if you and Rose
have decided you can't live alone at this point then you have my blessing." He leaned forward and
offered his hand.

For a moment, Tyler looked at the outstretched hand in stunned surprise, then he clasped it

solidly, and said, "I won't let you down, but more importantly, I won't let Rose down."

In the truck on the way back to the ranch, Rose snuggled against him, and said, "I can't believe

you talked my father into letting us get married so soon. What changed his mind?"

Tyler kissed her quickly on the forehead, and replied, "Chief Joseph."
"I don't understand."
"It seems the spirits are finally working for me," Tyler said. "I downloaded volumes of

information on the Nez Perce because your father suggested I learn about my roots, then I set it aside
to read later and never got back to it. Then a couple of days ago, when I was watching some cloud
formations while trying to figure out how to approach your father about asking him if I could marry
you, the clouds moved into the image of an Indian on a horse and I got an urge to learn about Chief
Joseph, so I started reading and drawing to help memorize it, including Joseph's surrender speech,
and it stuck in my head, and the first question your father asked was if I'd learned anything about Chief
Joseph."

"Are you making this up?" Rose asked.
"No, angel, I'm telling you I'm a believer now," Tyler replied. "Someone up there saw fit to bring

you to me and I'll never question Him again. Now, let's hope the spirits are still with me when we run
this past my father."

CHAPTER 19

Jack's gaze shifted between Tyler and Rose, who were sitting together on the couch in the family

room. Fixing his eyes on Tyler, he said, "I'm not doubting that you two know your own minds, but
marriage means family, and as the man of the house you'll need to provide a home. You can't raise a
family in a stable, and houses cost money. The boys and I can help build one, but you'd have to get the
loan for the materials, and you can barely meet your expenses as it is."

"I could help him build a log house," Adam said, from his stance near the doorway. "Marc and

Rick are also ready to help. We already talked about it, in the event Tyler decided to do something
like this."

Jack glanced over at Adam, and said, "That's all well and good, but even a log house costs

money for foundation and roof work, as well as all the wiring and plumbing and interior work."

"Between Rick and Marc and I, we have materials left over from building our own houses to

give Tyler a good start," Adam replied.

"It takes a lot more than leftover materials to build a house," Jack said.
"Hold it!" Tyler called out, to get everyone's attention. "Rose and I plan to live at my place until

we have kids, so building a house is a ways off."

"Kids can come even when you take precaution," Jack said, "and following rodeos with your act

to all parts of the country is not compatible with family life. For that reason your brothers all quit the
rodeo circuit when they decided to settle down."

"I've thought about that too," Tyler said, "which is why I've decided to limit how many rodeos I

do and concentrate on opening a school for natural horsemanship. I'd be working with horse owners
who are having problems with their horses, but I also want to work with dyslectic kids and teach
them how to use pictures to learn how to decode books, and at the same time they can learn how to
communicate with horses. I know I can do this."

"You'd need some kind of college degree before working with kids," Jack said.
"Actually, all I'll need are the books I plan to write and illustrate," Tyler replied. "They'll be a

series of easy readers about a kid and his horse and how they communicate, and while the kids are
learning how to read, using my method of phonics, they'd also be working with horses and learning
body language, so learning will be fun and not stressful." Tyler handed Jack the tablet he'd prepared,
and said, "These pictures will give you an idea of how I intend to do it."

Jack took the tablet, and as he flipped the pages, Grace leaned against him and looked over his

shoulder. When Jack got to the last drawing, Grace took the tablet from him, studied the drawings
closely, and said to Tyler, "Honey, this is a wonderful idea. You've combined some of the methods we
tried over the years, but in addition to having the knowledge about how to teach phonics in a way
dyslectics can understand, you also have the artistic ability to carry it out your way, and any one of us
can help you with the grammar and punctuation."

Tyler curved his arm around Rose and pulled her snuggly to him, and said, "Rose is willing to

unscramble things as I go along and help me with that, since she knows how I think, which is another
reason why I need her for my wife, because half the time I don't even know how I think."

Rose smiled at him, and said, "Honey, you understand perfectly how you think. It's the rest of us

who are out of sync, but you and I have a lifetime for me to learn."

Grace closed the tablet and folded her hands over it, like it was special, and said to Jack,

"Sweetheart, we put money aside for each of the kids to go to college, and it's clear that Tyler's given
a lot of thought to his future, so if we put his college money toward his horse arena and whatever kind
of small facility he needs to help the dyslectic kids—maybe something like a tiny one-room
schoolhouse with a school bell on top—I know he could do this."

Maureen, who was sitting with Howard, said to Jack, "I'm with Grace. We've all watched Tyler

over the years and seen his determination whenever he wanted to conquer something, whether it was
reading, writing, training horses to work together while standing on their backs, or planning a life
with a woman who seems to understand him better than any of us, so I wholeheartedly give these two
fine young people my blessing."

"So do I," Howard said, "and I'm not too old to help nail on sideboards for the arena or siding on

the little schoolhouse when the time comes."

Maddy, who'd been sitting on the back of the couch that Jack and Grace were seated on, said to

Rose, "You do realize you're marrying a centaur, not a man, don't you?"

Rose smiled up at Tyler, and said, "Maybe I'll become the first centauress."
Tyler eyed her with amusement. "Sorry, angel, Shakespeare beat you to it in King Lear, Act 4,

Scene 6, when Lear said, 'Down from the waist they're centaurs, though women all above.'" He
looked at Maddy, and added, "Shall I go on?"

Maddy rolled her eyes, and replied, "Please, brother, spareth me thy soliloquy."
This time Tyler was grateful for Maddy's off-the-wall humor because he could see his father

lightening up some from the serious, inflexible man he'd been a few minutes before. Catching his eye,
he said, "So then Dad, do you still have reservations, or can you drum up a little confidence in me and
give us your blessing?"

Jack shifted his gaze to Rose, and said, "Is your family on board with this?"
Rose glanced at Tyler, then said to Jack, "Yes, as of about two hours ago."
Jack scanned the faces of the others, then looked at Tyler, who prepared himself for a long-

winded spiel about the importance of waiting and saving and getting the horse business started before
getting married, when his dad stood, walked over to him, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said,
"Son, I've always had confidence that you'd succeed in any of your ventures, so you and Rose have my
blessing too."

Tyler stood, and looking his father in the eye, he said, "Then you're okay with us getting married

this summer?"

Grace cut in before Jack could respond, and said to Tyler, "Honey, it takes time to plan a

wedding. Maybe fall would be better."

Tyler offered his hand for Rose to take, and when she was standing beside him, he put his arm

around her and said, "Honey, you're to be the bride. I'm just the guy who can't live without you, so
what do you want to do?"

Rose looked at him with about as much love as any man could ever dream, and said, "It doesn't

take any time to exchange vows on your mountain, while surrounded by your mares, and with both of
our families there as witnesses. That's all I want."

"That's fine with me, angel, but is there some kind of elder we need to marry us?"
"Yes, my uncle, Judge John Starbright."
"Then he's like a medicine man or something?" Tyler asked, uncertain if Indians had special

wedding ceremonies.

Rose laughed. "No, sweetheart, he's a county judge."
Grace clasped her hands together. "Then it's settled. The girls and I will put together a reception

spread, and the boys will bring it up on the chuck wagon, and Josh can play some harmonica music
for square dancing afterwards." Then her face became sober, and troubled, and she looked off, and
said in a wistful voice, "I just wish Jeremy and Billy and little Amy could be here. It's been so long,
and we have no idea where they are."

Tyler came about as close as he'd ever come to breaking a promise, when Maddy patted Grace

on the shoulder, and said, "It'll be okay, Mom. We'll have someone video the wedding, and during the
reception we'll all say something to Jeremy and Billy, and the kids can say something to Amy, and
we'll post it on You Tube and they'll feel like they were there."

"I suppose," Grace said. She looked at Rose then, and said, Honey, I'm sorry, but is there a

special kind of reception you'd like to have? I just assumed we could put something together and take
it up on the chuck wagon, but maybe your family would want to do things differently."

"Actually, my dad has three sisters who cook up a storm whenever there's a powwow, so they'll

be making stuffed frybreads, and Indian tacos, and corn soup, and my mom's sister works for a bakery,
decorating cakes, so she'll want to do the wedding cake, so there will be plenty of food for the chuck
wagon, but whatever you want to add will be greatly appreciated."

"So it's decided," Grace said, "but first..." She went over to where Rose was sitting and opened

her arms for a hug, which Rose responded to by standing and hugging her back.

The women were chattering excitedly when the door swept open and Marc entered. He looked

around the room, and seeing all the smiling faces, he said, "Sorry I'm late but I didn't get the message
to come over until I got back to my house. What's going on? Did I miss something?"

"Yeah," Jack said. "Your little brother just announced he's getting married."
Marc looked at Tyler in surprise. "Are you serious? I mean, I know you're serious about Rose,

but isn't this kind of fast?"

"Not nearly fast enough," Tyler replied. He closed his arm around Rose, gave her a little kiss on

the cheek, and said, "A man can be a free spirit only so long before he finds himself thinking it would
be a lot more fun to snuggle up to a warm female body at night than a pillow."

He was tempted to announce that he'd heard those precise words from Jeremy when he was in

Wyoming, when Marc gave him a knotted fist to the shoulder, and said, "You can thank Kit for linking
you up with Rose. She's the matchmaker. The day she interviewed Rose for the job she pegged her as
the only woman who could turn your head away from your mares, and I told her she was dreaming,
that nothing could turn your head away, and as usual, Kit's right. But I also have an announcement to
make."

"Let me guess," Tyler said. "Kit's pregnant again."
"Could be," Marc replied, "but that's not the big news. I just returned from Whispering Springs

and the voices are back."

Tyler looked at him with a start. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Marc replied. "I sat through the whole cycle."
Tyler turned to Rose, and taking her by the shoulders, he said to her in absolute sincerity, "Honey,

I'll promise you this much, those spirits will never be disturbed again."

Rose looked up at him, and when she smiled, and Tyler saw the glassy sheen of happy tears in

her eyes, he made a pact with himself that he'd personally be keeper of the cave, and those voices
would never again die.

***

Rose rested against Tyler, who was sitting with his back against the fir stump while gazing up at

the night sky, and said, "I can’t believe both our parents agreed to us marrying."

"Neither can I," Tyler said. "I guess when it's right, it's right, but now we can start making plans,

like deciding what kind of house you want."

"We'll be fine in your place," Rose said.
"I mean eventually, when I have the horse school running, lots of rodeo contracts coming in, and

money to spare. What kind of house do you want then? What's your dream home?"

Rose snuggled closer to him, and said, "It makes absolutely no difference to me. If I have you,

that's all I want."

"Angel, you'll have me for better or for worse, no matter what, and that's forever," Tyler said,

"but we'll still need a house bigger than what we have, one large enough for the kids to have their
clutter off somewhere, and you to have your space for weaving baskets, and me to have a corner
where I can keep my stuff organized the way I need to, though it doesn't seem as important as it once
was."

"Then you have to give me some ideas because my daydreaming hasn't gone beyond living with

you in your cozy place, and snuggling up each night in our single bed, and being able to brush against
you whenever we cross the room, and stand next to you when we wash dishes, and have a shower
small enough so there's no room between us when we soap and rinse so we have no choice but to slip
and slide all over each other."

"Oh boy," Tyler said. "You have any idea what kind of images are cluttering my head right now?"
"Yes, sweetheart, I know exactly," Rose replied. "In fact, I'm beginning to think I'm a little

dyslectic too because the images in my head are coming a lot faster than four images a minute, and
they're pretty graphic, so as soon as you're finished daydreaming about our house, maybe we can go
shower again and act out our images."

"Okay then, we can get this done fast," Tyler said. "How about a giant yurt?" He kissed the side

of her neck.

"You mean one of those hexagonal things made of canvas?" Rose asked, while lifting her chin so

Tyler could kiss her throat.

"Umm hmm," Tyler hummed, while moving to kiss beneath her ear. "Heavy, insulated canvas.

They're open and spacious, and we can build it in the middle of the pasture, and with windows all
around we'll be able to see my mares from every direction, and they can look in the windows and see
what we're doing." He moved back to the hollow of her throat.

"Which will probably be enacting out our fantasies a good part of the time," Rose said, as Tyler

placed a kiss behind her ear. "Won't that be a little embarrassing?"

"Could be," Tyler said, "but if my mares all start smiling every time we're going at it, I'll close

the blinds. And speaking of going at it, our first child's going to be a girl."

Rose looked at the top of Tyler's head as he sent a trail of kisses across her chest. "What makes

you think that?" she asked, in a breathy voice.

"A Steller's jay told me." Tyler unbuttoned her top button and placed a kiss on the swell of her

breast, distracting her momentarily.

"How did it do that?" Rose asked, finding her thoughts becoming disconnected while trying to

decide if Tyler was kidding about the Steller's jay.

"It was simple." Tyler kissed her on the lips. "I was telling my ladies that we were getting

married and might be having a foal in a year or so, and at that moment a Steller's jay landed on the
fence post, so I figured it came with a message about the baby, so I told it to flap its wings if we were

going to have a girl, and fly to the fir tree if it was a boy, and it flapped its wings."

"Flapped them, as in waving them up and down?" Rose asked, still skeptical about the whole

thing, but from the look on Tyler's face, he was dead serious.

"She didn't exactly flap them," Tyler said, "but she lifted them a little and I knew what she was

telling me. I want to name her Mary Claire." He planted a kiss on the side of Rose's jaw.

"The jay?" Rose asked, still puzzling over the fact that Tyler truly believed in his heart, that

spiritual beings existed. That was a miracle in itself.

"No, our daughter," Tyler said. He took her earlobe between his lips.
Rose let out a little gasp, sucked in a deep breath, and said, "Why Mary Claire?"
Tyler released her ear lobe, and replied, "Mary's your grandmother's name, and Claire was my

great-grandmother's name on my grandmother's side, so our little Mary Claire might be a genetic
throwback too."

Rose turned around in Tyler's arms so she was facing him, and said, "Honey, if all of our kids

turnout to be dyslectic, genetic throwbacks, I'll feel like the luckiest woman in the world because I'll
have you to help me raise them, and that will make all the difference."

Tyler kissed her squarely on the mouth. "You've got that backwards," he said. "The difference

will be you raising them with me because, as Othello said when he was trying to express his love for
Desdemona, 'Perdition catch my soul, but I do love thee! And when I love thee not, chaos is come
again.' And it's true. Without you in my life, chaos will return."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, so you need to cut yourself a little slack," Rose said,

"And I need another soul-binding kiss, followed by a shower." Shoving his leg down so she could sit
on his lap, she covered his mouth with hers, but soon their tongues became entangled, and their
breaths quickened, and Rose began to feel lightheaded and had to break the kiss for air.

Tyler looked at her in amusement, and said, "'You have witchcraft in your lips.'"
"Oh, my gosh! I know that one!" Rose exclaimed. "We studied Henry V in high school, but I can't

remember which act that was in, only that King Henry said it to Kate."

"Act 5, scene 2," Tyler said. "Now I want to set Shakespeare aside and write our own script,

beginning with our own play entitled, 'Scenes from the Shower.'"

"Scenes, as in… you'll be drawing pictures of us in the shower?" Rose asked, feeling a little

uncertain.

Tyler laughed. "No, I have the hands-on memory now so I don't need those kinds of pictures

anymore, but I could use a refresher about now so my memory doesn't fade."

"That works for me too," Rose said. Pulling him up, she linked her arm in his, and as they were

walking back to the stable, with six mares trailing along behind, the silence of the night was broken
by a nearby whoo-whodoo-whoo-who.

"It's a Great Horned Owl," Tyler said. "It's been here the past few nights. What does it mean?"

He looked askance at Rose and waited.

Rose shrugged. "I suppose that with Diana gone there are more field mice and meadow voles

around here to hunt."

"That's it?" Tyler asked.
"Basically," Rose replied. "Not every animal around is bringing a message."
"But the owl arrived the day the voices came back so there's got to be a deeper meaning."
Rose was thrilled that Tyler had taken the idea of animal spirit guides to heart, but she hoped he

wouldn't get so carried away that he'd start reading meaning into everything that crossed his path. But
there could be something to an owl arriving the day the voices came back.

"I'm not really up on the meaning behind animal spirit guides," she said, "but I do remember

Granna once telling me that if an owl comes into your life it's to tell you that you need to let go of
some part of your life that's no longer needed and listen to your inner voice and be guided by it
because it will lead you to your true path in life."

"Oh man," Tyler said. "I'm really on a roll now with the inner voices because they brought me to

you, they organized the clutter in my head so it's not so daunting, I finally know what my life plan is,
and I'm ready to get started."

"Can we shower first?" Rose asked, thinking she needed to bring Tyler down off his high.
Tyler laughed. "Angel, we can do whatever you want because my inner voice is telling me my

life is completely in your hands." He took her by the shoulders and turned her around, and the long,
soulful kiss that followed left no doubt in Rose's mind that their love would last forever.

###

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In this story, cultural and spiritual issues are involved. However, my goal is not to convert anyone to anything, but
to convince readers that Tyler and Rose belong together. A special thanks to Renee, whose personal story with a wild red-tail hawk, and
her description of her spiritual awakening while in the presence of the hawk, and which she believes saved her life when it was out of
control, helped me to understand the phenomena that takes place during such an experience.

Thank you!

Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed Forbidden Spirits. If you did, I'd love for you to:

Post a review: I appreciate all reviews because I want to give readers the best possible read I can. Here's the link to

Amazon

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Forbidden Spirits is lendable through the Kindle lending program, so please lend it to a friend

Check out the Dancing Moon Ranch Family Album. The 14-book Dancing Moon Ranch Series is illustrated with over 600 full-color
photographs depicting the ranch and all the characters in the series, including books not yet released. You'll also see what it was like
during the "missing years" when the heroes and heroines of later books in the series were growing up on the ranch. To review or buy the
Dancing Moon Ranch Family Album, click

here

Watch for

Imperfect Magic, which is Book 11 in my Dancing Moon Ranch Series. This is Maddy and Dimitri's story, and it should be

available in late 2014.

Read the first three chapters of Broken Promises. While I'm writing Imperfect Magic, which is Book 10 in my Dancing Moon
Ranch Series, I invite you to read Broken Promises, a book I wrote for Harlequin Superromance in the early 1990s, which was entitled
Sweet Promised Land.

STORY DESCRIPTION: Eskauldun fededun—the Basque is faithful. Words Zak de Neuville engraved inside the ring he gave Tess
O'Reilly when he promised to love her forever then disappeared without a word. Now, Zak is back in Baker's Creek. He's also the father
of a boy who had to have been conceived shortly after Zak left. Tess too has returned to Baker's Creek to help her ailing father. After a
long estrangement from him because of Zak, she's come home to rebuild the relationship they once had before it's too late, and she has
no intention of getting involved with Zak again. The problem is, time has done nothing to temper the white-hot flame that's once again
building.

PROLOG: BROKEN PROMISES

Baker’s Creek, Oregon; Timber West Logging camp

"With this ring I promise to love you, and cherish you, and be your soulmate throughout eternity,"

Zak de Neuville said, as he slipped the small gold ring onto Tess's finger.

Tess O'Reilly peered up at a face that would change as the years passed, but be no less

handsome, and into eyes that were offering her the world, and said, "And I promise to love you, and
cherish you, and be your soulmate throughout eternity."

Zak kissed her then, and Tess knew their love would be forever. The words engraved inside the

ring said as much: Eskauldun fededun, the Basque is faithful. And she had no doubt it would be so. "I
wish I had a ring for you," she said, in a wistful tone. "I wanted to get something, but I never got to
town."

"It's okay. When you're eighteen we'll make it real," Zak said, while adjusting the garland of

columbine and wood Sorel and blue chicory, interlaced with maidenhair ferns that he'd strung
together for her to wear around her head for the occasion.

Tess smiled at the memory, although it had only been a half hour since Zak had woven together

the garland of flowers they'd gathered in the surrounding woods. But the sight of him sitting cross-
legged on the mossy floor of the cavern-like hollow, the secluded place they'd named the Grotto,
while his big fingers wove the dainty flowers into a garland, seemed almost comical at the time, but
she loved him all the more for it.

"I know exactly what I want to call our house in Navarre," she said. "Is there a Basque word for

Garden of Eden?"

"There's a Basque word for everything," Zak replied, "but right now I want to consummate our

marriage."

Tess giggled. "We've been doing that all summer."
"Officially," Zak said. He tugged her down onto the mossy forest floor, and she nestled against

him, and after they'd made love, she looked into eyes holding the afterglow of passion and sparking
with excitement, and said, "Carve our names on this tree." She reached out and touched the oak
hovering over them.

Zak playfully nibbled at her breast, mumbling, "I'll leave my mark here first." Then he rolled

away and slipped the knife from off the belt he'd left lying on the ground with the rest of their clothes
and walked over to the tree and started scraping away a patch of bark.

While he carved, Tess laughed at the sight of him, so intent on his task while standing buck naked,

and when he finished, she stood in the curve of his arm, and read, Adam Loves Eve.

Zak kissed her on the temple. "We'll call it our Adam and Eve tree," he said, "and the Grotto will

be our Garden of Eden until we get our house in Navarre."

Tess snuggled closer to him and wondered if she could ever be as happy as she was at the

moment just knowing that in less than six months Adam and Eve would legally be Mr. and Mrs. Zakhra
Bertsolari de Neuville, and nothing, or no one, would ever be able to keep them apart...

CHAPTER 1

Navarre, Oregon - seven years later

While Zak de Neuville listened to his father's tirade, following a call from a neighbor informing

them that Gib O'Reilly had cut four trees on their land adjoining Timber West, he watched his six-
year-old son, Pio, who was guiding a small truck along a pattern in the rug, the boy's youthful face
taking the edge off Jean-Pierre de Neuville's angry words.

"...and furthermore, I'll see O'Reilly rot in hell. This time he's gone too far," Jean-Pierre said, his

voice rising with impatience as he paced between his desk and the window. "Gratianne!" he
bellowed down the hallway to his wife. "Call Bill! I'm taking O'Reilly to court!"

Gratianne de Neuville appeared from the hallway, her gaze shifting between Zak and her

husband. "That's absolute nonsense, Jean-Pierre," she said. "It's only four trees. All you'll get from a
lawsuit is more white hair and high blood pressure?"

"My blood pressure's more likely to go up if I do nothing," Jean-Pierre said, pounding his fist on

his desk. "O'Reillys been a thorn in my side ever since we bought that piece of land."

Zak eyed his father with annoyance. "You forget you bought the tract out from under him. Maybe

he has a legitimate gripe."

Jean-Pierre's eyes narrowed. "He came out pretty damn good with the logging contract I gave

him."

Zak eyed his father's angry face. The only time he ever him use profanity was when Gib O'Reilly

was the subject. "It's only four trees," he said, "hardly worth paying an attorney."

"There's a principle involved," Jean-Pierre insisted. "O'Reilly will regret the day he cut those

trees." He dismissed the subject and left the room.

Gratianne looked at Zak and shrugged. "You've seen it at the festival. Two old rams go head to

head, butting until one finally drops. He'll get over it, but he has to chew on it awhile." Dismissing the
incident with a nonchalant wave of her hand, and headed for the kitchen.

Zak relaxed his grip on the armrest some. The feud between his father and O'Reilly triggered the

same reaction it always had. He felt like cursing the father he loved for the intolerance accompanying
his pride, and Gib O'Reilly for his stubbornness. "He'll chew on it until Vince walks in and stirs
things up," he called after his mother. His younger brother refused to accept their father's resolve to
cling to the old ways, and with the issue of the trees pending, Zak was glad he'd accepted the position
at the wildlife park near Baker's Creek. Not only was his new job satisfying, and his work with
threatened and endangered species rewarding, but it allowed him to stay at the cabin instead of his
father's house. He'd had his fill of pointless arguments between his father and his brother, and he
didn't want to be around for more of his father's harangue about Gib O'Reilly. "I'd better get going," he
said.

Pio stopped what he was doing and went over to Zak, who picked him up, and said, "Work hard

in school this week and listen to Grandmama and Grandpapa, and remember I love you."

Pio wrapped his arms around Zak's neck and said, "I don't want you to go."
"I don't want to go either, son," Zak replied, "but I'll be back next weekend, and before you know

it you'll be staying with me at the cabin." When that didn't lift Pio's spirits, Zak added, "When Lily has
her kittens you can pick out one to keep."

Pio squirmed from Zak's arms, dropped to the floor, and raced toward the kitchen saying,

"Grandmama, Papa says I can have one of Lily's kittens..."

With Pio's happy face in the forefront of his mind, Zak climbed into his truck and left.
An hour later, Zak pulled into Spencer Wildlife Park and stopped in front of a concrete-block

building housing offices for park administration, storerooms for veterinary supplies, and cages for
sick and injured animals. When he stepped into the building, his assistant poked his head from behind
a partition between cubicles, and said, "You'll have to put off the nest flight for a week or so. I just
got word that the plane's in for servicing, an engine overhaul."

"Bad timing," Zak said. "If we put the flight off too long the young eagles will have fledged, and

an empty nest won't do us much good. What about the airpark? Can't we get a charter?"

"I already checked. Nothing's available for at least another week."
"Then check some more," Zak said, knowing timing was critical. If he didn't check the nests

before the young birds fledged, he'd have to wait until spring to complete the project. They were
already running late, and he'd hoped to have the eaglets moved by now.

Gathering his topographic maps, he left for the cabin.
As he was heading down the highway, a Jeep driven by a woman passed him going in the

opposite direction. He'd only had a moment to glimpse the woman's face, and even then her features
were blurred… He looked in the rearview mirror again, but the Jeep had disappeared over the crest
of the hill. Still, it left him wondering...

A few minutes later he turned off the main highway. A couple hundred feet down the dirt road, he

passed Gib O'Reilly's cabin, noting the split wood stacked on the porch. He clenched his jaws. It
hadn't been there the day before, so obviously O'Reilly was staying there. Until now, the cabin looked
unoccupied. The thought of O'Reilly only a couple of hundred feet through the woods didn't sit well.
Just ahead, he wheeled his truck alongside his cabin and headed inside.

Two hours later, he rolled up the topographic maps scattered on the table in his cabin and slipped

them into a tube. The afternoon had been a wash. His mind hadn't been on eagle nests or the Grizzly
Mountain Wilderness Area. His thoughts kept returning to O'Reilly, and he knew he wouldn't be able
to focus on nests until he'd checked out his father's allegations about the trees.

Rolling out a survey map, he studied the area where the trees were supposed to have been cut,

noting that it was near a small concealed hollow he knew well. It had been seven years since he'd
been there, and he wondered if the names he'd carved in the old oak were still legible. That was the
summer he went to work for Gib O'Reilly. A summer that changed his life forever.

Taking one last look at the survey map, he grabbed the machete and headed up the logging road

toward the northeast boundary.

***

Tess O'Reilly pulled her Jeep off the red-dirt logging road and came to a halt in front of the

trailer that would be her office. Her gaze moved over the once familiar surroundings. The logging
camp seemed the same after seven years, yet somehow different. The silvery boards on the cook
shack looked more weathered, the moss on the roof of the woodshed, thicker. Even old Harvey
looked older. She stared at the aged truck with TIMBER WEST LOGGING written across its door. It
was still parked beside the water tower where it had been when she'd left, but now weeds reached
through the grille and thrust from under a hood that remained ajar. She smiled at its crooked mouth.
Harvey, as her dad named his truck, brought many a belly laugh as it belched and bucked over the
rough roads. The sight of Harvey brought fond memories.

Her eyes were drawn to the men ambling toward the cook shack, all of them unfamiliar except

Ezra Radley the camp cook, who scurried around the pack, a sack of flour slung over his shoulder. As
the last of the men funneled into the building, Tess twisted her dark hair into a rope and coiled it into
a knot on top of her head, then shoved on her hard hat to hold it in place. The men wouldn't welcome
a lady boss, but at least she'd look the part.

At the entrance to the cook shack, she paused to listen to the boisterous voices coming from

inside. Then drawing in a long breath to quiet the hammering of her heart, she swept open the door.
The guffaws and bellows of the men tapered into silence as eyes raked over her. Parking her hands on
her hips, she said, "I'm TJ O'Reilly, and I'll be taking over for my father. I want the equipment moved
to the north plateau near the ridge this afternoon so we can start cutting pole timber on Monday."

A man with hair the color of straw squared his shoulders and said, "Gib doesn't log that area

until later."

Tess held the man's gaze. "And your name is?"
"Broderick. Curt Broderick."
"You operate the dozer, right?" Tess said.
Curt straightened, and replied, "Uh, that's right."
"Okay, Curt. Gib's not running this operation now, I am, and we will be cutting pole timber

there." Although her father wanted to wait until the price inched higher, she made the decision to cut
now for much needed operating capital, otherwise Timber West was apt to fold, and one thing she
vowed when she offered to take over her father's failing business: she'd see Timber West back on a
firm financial foundation by the time her father took over again.

"We won't be doing anything until we get a tire for the skidder," Curt challenged.
Tess looked directly at him. "Just get the rest of the equipment moved. I'll worry about the

skidder tire," she said, annoyed that the tire hadn't arrived. She'd deal with the tire jobber in Baker’s
Creek... after she finished with these men. "Any other problems?" she asked, scanning the faces of the
men before returning to Curt Broderick.

Curt looked at her with undisguised resentment—a woman moving into his turf and telling him

what to do. But she'd worked crews of men before, and she'd learned early on that spotting potential
troublemakers and confronting them often earned their respect. Curt Broderick, she suspected, was a
man who needed individual attention. "Curt?" she asked. "Any other problems?"

Curt's eyes bored into her, then he shook his head, and said, "No, just the tire."
"All right then." Turning from Curt, she said, "Which one of you is Jed Swenson?" She scanned

the faces, searching for the big man her father described as woods boss. When she got no response,
she looked at Curt. "Didn't Swenson see the notice I posted about this meeting?"

Curt scratched his chin. "Yeah. Maybe he's in the bunkhouse."
Muffled laughter spread, then died.
Tess propped her hands on her hips. "I don't intend to go looking for Swenson in the bunkhouse,"

she said. "You tell him to be in my office at noon."

"I will if I can find him," Curt said, with irony.
"What do you mean, if you can find him?" Tess asked. "He is woods boss here, isn't he?"
A man in the back of the room muttered, "You're boss lady, you should know."
Suppressed chuckles rustled through the group.
"I see." Tess studied the amused faces. "Okay then, if you don't find Swenson, we'll start moving

equipment without him."

"Gib doesn't work us past noon," a man leaning against the wall challenged.

Tess eyed the man goading her. "What's your name?"
"Dempsey."
"Mr. Dempsey, if you find the hours here too long, maybe a rest would be appropriate."
He eyed her, dubiously. "Rest?"
"Away from here, where the hours aren't so long."
Dempsey straightened up. "Well, sometimes Gib does work us longer."
"I know how Gib O'Reilly runs this camp," Tess said. "I also know he keeps logs on the dock,

and they won't get there by quitting at noon."

Dempsey's scratched his jaw like he needed something to do, but said nothing, so Tess knew he'd

give her no more trouble. She looked from face to face. "Does anyone have any questions?"

"You married?" someone called out. A burst of laughter erupted.
Tess held the gaze of the man who'd spoken, and a hush fell over the room. Looking around at the

men, she said, "Any questions about the job?" Heads swung from side to side. "Then we'll start
moving equipment up to the north ridge. Dempsey, you gather the saws and take them up in the pickup.
Herring? Is Herring here?"

"Right here."
"You bring the tools, grease units and gas tanks in the small service truck. Curt, you move the Cat.

And if anyone sees Swenson, tell him I'll expect him in my office."

"Good luck," someone quipped.
Tess ignored the man and left the cook shack. As she passed the old splitting stump, she paused to

study the hatch work of ax marks on its wide, flat top. The sight of them brought back bittersweet
memories. It was here she first saw Zak, the year the timber carnival was held at Timber West. That
was ten years ago, when she was fourteen and Zak was eighteen, but she still remembered how his
lean body glistened beneath the sun as he swung his ax while practicing for the wood-splitting
contest. She'd stood watching, impressed by the play of muscles in his arms. Then she noticed he
wasn't holding the ax the way her father taught her.

He'd just propped a log on end and gripped his ax, ready to swing, when she called out while

walking toward him, "Hey, mister, you're holding that ax wrong."

Zak looked at her in amusement and lowered the ax. "My name's not mister," he said, "It's Zakhra

Bertsolari de Neuville."

Even in her thoughts Tess stumbled over the long Basque name, just as she had when she'd tried

to pronounce it, finally giving up and saying, "You're either putting me on or that's a very weird
name."

Zak threw his head back and laughed. "It's not weird if you're Basque."
At the time, all she knew about the Basque living in Oregon was what she'd learned when her

father took her to the Basque community of Navarre for their yearly festival. It had been like stepping
into another world. She'd seen old women in long dresses and men wearing berets, many of them not
dressed for the festival, but maintaining their old world culture and dress. And in the hills
surrounding Navarre, she'd seen men in baggy pants herding strange looking sheep with curved horns,
and patrician noses, and curly wool that hung like blankets.

"Then you're from Navarre?" she asked.
"I am," Zak replied, resting the ax on his shoulder.
She remembered how tall he was. She'd even had to shade her face to block the sun, as she

looked up at him, and said, "What are you doing around here?"

"Working at the wildlife park down the road. Who are you?"

"TJ O'Reilly," she replied. "My father owns this place."
"Well, TJ O'Reilly," Zak said, "I suppose you can swing an ax and split dead center."
"Sure," she replied. Adjusting her baseball cap so her hair would stay tucked inside, she took the

ax, and said, "Go ahead. Set up a log."

Zak eyed her with amused indulgence, then placed a log on end and stepped back. She focused on

the line chalked across the end of the log, raised the ax high overhead, and sent it cracking into the
log, splitting it in two. Zak picked up one of the sections, and said, "Not bad."

Tess looked at him, incensed. "What do you mean, not bad? It's right on the line." She pointed to

the chalk line tracing the edge of the split.

"So it is," Zak kidded. Then he gave her a smile that lit up his entire face, and added, "Learn to

hold that ax right and maybe you'll pick up some speed." He took the ax from her and held it as
before. "You'd better run along now and join your friends," he said, referring to a group of boys who
stood watching, a short distance away. Tess hadn't given much thought to boys before then. She'd more
or less considered herself one of them. But after all these years, she still remembered the effect Zak
had on her later that day.

During the pole climbing contest she'd scurried down the pole and was standing with the other

contestants—all of them about her age, and all of them boys—as the announcer boomed over the loud
speaker, "Well, folks, TJ O'Reilly's done it again." The crowd cheered, Tess raked her hat from her
head and tossed it into the air, and her father rushed over and gave her a hug.

"I knew you could do it kid," he said. He set her down and walked off. And she retrieved her hat,

twisted her hair into a knot, and plopped the hat on top of her head to hold the knot in place. Then she
looked past the retreating figure of her father and saw Zak watching.

With a broad grin, he started toward her. "Learn to swing an ax the way you climb a pole and I'll

bow out of the contest," he said. "That was good climbing."

Tess had been vividly aware of Zak's lean face and square jaw, the dark hair springing from

under his beret, his soulful gray eyes as he peered down at her. And for the first time in her life, she'd
wished she looked more like a woman. She also knew that the flannel shirt tucked inside her jeans
and held in place by wide red suspenders hid every vestige of her changing figure.

Zak reached out and took the bill of her hat and lifted it from her head, releasing her hair, then

took a lock in his fingers, looked at it thoughtfully, and said, "What's your real name, TJ?"

For an instant she couldn't remember. It was his eyes that caught and held her attention then. Their

color fascinated her. She'd never seen eyes that color. Not quite gray... not quite green...

"Let me guess," he said. "Tammy Jo."
"What?"
"Your name."
Focusing on his question, she said, "Well... it's... Theresa Jean. Tess."
"That's a pretty name, Tess. You should use it." He slipped the hat into her hands, smiled and

walked away, leaving her staring after him.

The next time she saw Zak was the year she'd turned seventeen. Zak's father bought the adjoining

property and hired Timber West to log it, and he sent Zak there to burn the piles of limbs and brush
left from logging and to repair the old cabin and outbuildings on the property. While there, Zak hired
on with her father to cut and limb. That was also the summer Zak gave her a promissory ring and
vowed to love her forever, then left...

She looked up from the grid of ax marks when she heard her father's truck pulling into the

clearing. Drawing in an agitated breath, she marched toward him in long strides, and said, "Dad, what

are you doing here?"

"I wanted to be here when you faced the men," Gib O'Reilly replied.
"You know you're not supposed to be here," Tess snapped.
Gib straightened. "The doc said I could do things in moderation."
"He specifically told you to stay away from Timber West until after your next checkup."
Gib squared his thin shoulders. "I figured if I'm around, the boys won't give you a bad time."
"If they give me a bad time, I'll handle it," Tess said. "I'm not exactly new to this." She thought of

the hours she'd worked helping David with their construction business. Even after their three-year
marriage ended, when she became Tess O'Reilly again, she'd joined Pacific Coast Construction in
Seattle, continuing to work with men.

"You haven't worked with these men," Gib insisted. "You might find you've bitten off more than

you can chew with Jed Swenson."

"I'm not intimidated by male chauvinism," Tess said, "and from what you've told me that's what

I'll be facing with Swenson." She noted the shadows under her father's eyes and the sharp angles of
his face and realized how much older he looked since his heart attack, which alarmed her. "Please,
Dad, just go home and let me handle things here on my own."

"I need to stop by Carl Yaeger's first and make sure he knows I don't have one foot in the grave,"

Gib groused. "Ezzie said he was here asking questions, and I know damn well he'll be pushing to buy
us out."

"This is exactly what the doctor was talking about," Tess said. "You come here and suddenly

you've got to see Carl Yaeger and heaven knows what else, when all you're supposed to be concerned
with is your heart." She sighed. "Please, Dad, go home. I'll stop by tomorrow and fill you in on
everything."

"Damn, you're a stubborn woman," Gib said. "Come hell or high water you're determined to do

things on your own, whether it's running this place or running away from home." Saying nothing more,
he turned and headed toward his truck.

"Dad?" Tess called after him, feeling a knot in her stomach, knowing their old grievance was still

there. Her father glanced back and waited.

"Wish me well."
He studied her for a moment, then smiled, and said. "Just don't be too hard on my men."
Tess warmed under his rare smile, but when she saw his truck turn out of sight, the apprehension

she'd felt over the past few weeks returned. His heart attack jolted her. Now, she felt a desperate need
to restore the relationship they'd once had before it was too late. Returning to Baker’s Creek to take
over his logging operation was a start. He'd seemed pleased, and at last, after seven years, they were
speaking civilly.

She climbed into her Jeep and headed down the dirt road, and five minutes later, pulled to a halt

in front of the cabin. But when she stepped out of the jeep, in the distance she caught what sounded
like someone hacking at something near the boundary that bordered Jean-Pierre de Neuville's
property. Her father ordered some thinning along the property line earlier, but no one should be there
now... Unless it was the elusive Jed Swenson, in which case she'd have some words with him to
remind him who was boss.

She started up the logging road. On the opposite side of the road, and a few hundred feet further,

she saw a truck parked in front of the cabin where Zak stayed the summer he'd worked for her father,
so she assumed Jean-Pierre de Neuville had rented out the cabin.

Determined to shrug off memories of the intimacies that had taken place in that cabin, she

quickened her pace. Still, the memories haunted her. She could not remember the exact moment she'd
decided Zak wasn't coming back, but after a year of waiting for him, she'd had enough of her father's
harangue, and David offered an alternative—marriage, and a life somewhere else. But even that
failed. Although they'd worked well together in their construction business, their personal life had
been trying, and she knew the marriage would never work because she simply didn't love David.
Maybe she'd never gotten over Zak. After seven years, she still wondered where he was, and felt an
emptiness.

As she continued up the logging road, with each long stride it was becoming increasingly clear

that the sounds were those of someone methodically hacking their way through the forest. Stepping up
her pace, she cut through the woods and headed directly toward the sounds, and as she made her way
toward the clearing where the properties met, she saw the man, just ahead, and well inside Timber
West land. His back was to her, and he had no idea she was there as he whacked away at the limbs
from an encroaching maple while making his way toward the clearing where the downed trees lay.
She had no idea who the man was, or why he was slashing through their woods, but he'd better have a
damn good explanation.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing!" she called out. "You're on Timber West land."
The man stopped, the machete clutched in his upraised hand. Then he lowered his arm, turned

slowly, and after a long stretch of silence, he said, "Tess?"

The once familiar voice set Tess's heart pounding, and as she stared in shocked surprise at the

man now facing her, all the clever things she imagined saying to Zak, if they ever met again, escaped
her. The only thing she was aware of was the tall, broad-shouldered figure quickly closing the gap
between them.

CHAPTER 2

"How long have you been here?" Zak asked, as he walked toward Tess.
"Here?" Tess repeated, taking in the details of a face that had almost faded from memory—Zak's

dark wavy hair, always in need of a trim, his gray-green eyes, his firm chin with the hint of a cleft
she'd once teased with the tip of her tongue. The last time she'd seen him he was only twenty-one, yet
she'd considered him a man, but she was totally unprepared for the flesh-and-blood man facing her
now.

Her pulse quickened as he approached, and she had to swallow before words would come. "I...

umm... just came to see who was in the woods," she said, in an unsteady voice.

"I meant, how long have you been at Timber West?" Zak asked.
"Oh... umm... about a week," Tess replied, aware of his eyes scanning the length of her.
Even after all the years of bitterness she felt towards him at his disappearance from her life

without a word, she still wished she didn't have a yellow hardhat perched on her head, or was
wearing an old work shirt, and faded jeans, and scuffed boots. "That is, I've been about a week in
Baker’s Creek... one day here at camp... well, at the cabin too," she replied, the words seeming to
stumble over each other. She willed herself to concentrate on anything but the breadth of Zak's
shoulders, and the thick wall of his chest, and a face that was even more handsome than she
remembered.

"Then you're staying in the cabin now?" Zak asked.
"I'm back and forth between here and Baker's Creek," Tess replied. "I'm looking after Timber

West until my dad's back on his feet. You knew he had a heart attack, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry to hear that," Zak said.
His tone was unconvincing, and Tess knew the angst between him and her father still stood. She

pulled off the hardhat and ran her finger through her hair to dislodge the tangles, and Zak's eyes
immediately focused there. When he said nothing, Tess wondered if he was remembering how it had
once been, when he'd run his fingers through her hair and bury his face in it and tell her she smelled
like the forest...

Restlessly she fingered the hardhat, her palms feeling cold and damp against its smooth surface.

Uncomfortable with Zak's intense gaze, she looked down at the machete in his hand, noting the
strength of the fingers curved around the handle. Masculine, sun-bronzed hands that once drove her
wild. She even gave up her virginity to Zak because she knew she'd be with him forever. He'd
promised it would be that way, and they made vows...

Dismissing that timeworn thought, she glanced at the woods where Zak had been hacking away,

and said, "What are you doing?"

"I came to check on the trees your father cut on our land," Zak replied.
Tess looked toward the clearing where her dad ordered trees to be thinned, her gaze coming to

rest on four trees, now limbed and laying in a row. "My father didn't cut any trees on your land," she
said. "He's thinning the trees along the property line."

The muscles in Zak's jaw bunched. "Those trees weren't on Timber West land," he replied.

"According to the survey my father just had done, this strip doesn't belong to Timber West. I have the
survey map at the cabin."

"Then the map's wrong," Tess insisted. "My father knows where his land runs."
"The map's not wrong," Zak argued. "The county did the survey."
Tess eyed Zak with irritation. "My father doesn't cut trees on someone else's land."
"He did this time," Zak said. "Has he even bothered to look at the map?"
"He doesn't need to," Tess replied. "He owned this land long before your father bought his piece.

He should know where the property line runs."

"He should, but obviously he doesn't." Zak drew in a long slow breath. "Look, if we're going to

be neighbors, let's not get into the feud between our fathers. Come by my cabin and I'll show you the
survey map and you can square your father away before he cuts any more trees. My father's angry
enough about losing four. He's threatening to sue."

"My father doesn't need this right now," Tess snapped. "He's supposed to stay quiet. If your father

makes an issue out of four trees, regardless whose property they're on, my father will be on his
doorstep, and you know it."

Zak sighed. "Then you'd better see that he doesn't cut any more trees. According to the map, the

line goes right through the... umm… hollow."

Tess noted that Zak carefully avoided saying the word, grotto. "I suppose you've been back there

already?" she asked, then wondered why she'd bring up something as intimate as the place where
they'd made love more times than she could remember.

Zak looked at her soberly, as he said, "I went to the area to look for the survey stake, which is

about forty feet north of—" he hesitated "—the old oak tree there."

Say it, damn it, Tess wanted to scream. Admit it's our Adam and Eve tree. "Look, I have to get

back to camp," she said, hearing the shakiness in her voice. "Please, just don't let your father start
legal action yet."

As she turned to go, Zak caught up with her and took her arm. "At least come to my cabin and

look at the property line on the map. If nothing else, maybe we can figure out a way to keep a couple
of stubborn old goats from locking horns."

Tess was so unsettled by the feel of Zak's hand on her arm she could barely remember to breathe.

But that was only because of the newness of seeing him again. Whatever there was between them
before was irrelevant now because her father's health took priority. Which meant, the matter with the
trees had to be settled before Zak's father made a legal issue out of it. "I'll come," she said, "but I
won't be finished at camp until late."

Zak released her arm. "Then I'll see you when you're done."
Tess nodded and turned toward camp. She almost welcomed the diversion of dealing with a

bunch of obstinate men, if only to keep her mind off the fact that a man she'd once lusted after, and
who she'd been unable to scrub from her mind, was living not more than a couple hundred feet from
her, and time had done nothing to temper the white-hot flame that was once again building.

***

It was dusk by the time Tess and the men finished moving equipment and setting up for cutting

pole timber. When she dismissed the crew, she felt relieved. After seeing Zak, it had been difficult
concentrating on the job. She had so many questions, the main one being why he'd left seven years ago
without a word. But unless he volunteered the information, she wouldn't ask. Pride wouldn't allow her
to do so.

She also wondered how long he'd been staying at the cabin, and why he was there. It had always

been understood that he'd eventually live with his family and work at the winery, which was almost
sixty miles away. She also felt uncomfortable knowing he was so close, and she couldn't shake the
feeling that going to his cabin was a serious mistake. If she was ever to rebuild her relationship with
her father, Zak could not be a part of her life. Yet the subject of the property line had to be addressed.

Weary and emotionally drained from a long trying day, she closed camp for the weekend and

returned to her cabin. But instead of a bath intended to strip off dust, grime and forest debris, she
immersed herself in a tub of warm water, leaned against the sloped porcelain back of the footed tub,
and inhaled the fragrance of jasmine. She'd never used colognes or bath salts when she was seventeen
because Zak didn't want her to wear scents of any kind, claiming he liked the smell of warm fresh
woman, and he'd prove it to her by nuzzling her all over. Adam checking out Eve was the way he
explained it. And she'd stretch out on a bed of moss at the grotto, or in the bed in his cabin, and let
him do his exploration until neither of them could stand it any longer, at which time they'd settle into
serious lovemaking. But Zak wasn't a consideration now, and she liked the hint of flowers on her skin.
It also gave her a feeling of empowerment, going against what she knew Zak would expect of the Tess
O'Reilly he'd left behind.

After her bath she sorted through her clothes, debating what to wear. Seven years ago she would

have worn tight jeans and a snug fitting shirt that emphasized her figure, because Zak liked her
dressed that way, calling her his little logger lady. But he also liked it when they wore nothing but
maple vines, or fern fronds when dressed like Adam and Eve. Her face flushed hot when she
remembered one particular time at the grotto, when he was naked and aroused, and she'd draped a
garland of columbine around his hips and teased him with the flower petals until he pulled her down
on the mossy floor of the forest and finished the job she'd started...

Shoving that image back into the recesses of her mind, she held up a black jersey with long

sleeves and smoothed it against her chest as she peered into the mirror. Although Zak liked her
dressed as his logger lady, David encouraged her to emphasize her femininity, claiming he liked her
in black because, with her dark hair, it made her look mysterious.

Without further deliberation, she tugged the jersey over her head, put on a pair of black slacks,

and slipped her bare feet into some fake alligator flip flops. After dragging a brush through her hair,
leaving it loose around her shoulders, she grabbed a flashlight and left.

At Zak's cabin, she stepped onto the porch and knocked lightly.
When Zak opened the door, he said nothing as his gaze moved slowly down the length of her,

causing her breath to quicken and her cheeks to burn. Uncertain what to make of his silent perusal, she
said in a clipped dry tone, "You suggested I come, so am I supposed to come in or not?"

"Sorry," Zak replied. "I didn't mean to stare. It just seems strange seeing you dressed like that."
He moved aside, and as she passed him, Tess caught the drift of men's aftershave, which

surprised her. Zak never wore aftershave before. But maybe that was because she'd told him she
wanted her Adam to smell like ferns and moss and whatever clung to him on the forest floor, and he'd
laughed and promised to remain her nature boy. So, it seemed, turnabout was fair play. He was going
against what she liked, just as she was doing with him.

Once inside, she wondered what to say next. It had been so easy for them to talk before, but now,

what was there to say to a man who promised her the world then walked out of her life, shattering her
dreams without so much as an explanation?

Zak broke the awkwardness by lifting a bottle of wine from a wooden rack, and saying, "You're

over twenty-one now. Do you want a glass of wine? It's from my father's private stock."

Tess eyed the bottle in Zak 's hand. It would seem strange drinking wine with Zak. Although

they'd made love too many times to count, that same summer Zak never offered her wine because she
was only seventeen. She never questioned why giving her alcohol was an issue with him, while
having sex with an underage girl wasn't, because she didn't want him to have a reason to stop. The
fact was, she'd been hoping to get pregnant that summer so she could tie Zak to her forever. But when
he gave her the ring, and talked about them marrying as soon as she turned eighteen, she didn't worry
anymore because she knew his love was forever...

"Well?" Zak asked.
"I suppose," Tess replied, but her gaze wasn't focused on the bottle Zak held up for her to see, but

instead on his broad chest in the snug, long-sleeved white jersey. Not the kind of shirt she expected.
Years before it would have been a worn denim work shirt, unless he was working in the afternoon
when the sun was hot, and he'd be bare-chested. He'd been slimmer then, and she could see from the
muscular contours beneath his shirt that his chest was thicker and his biceps more developed, as if
he'd been working out. The patterns on his shirt were also different from what she might have
expected, random designs in dark grays, like a giant tattoo.

Catching the direction of her gaze, Zak glanced down at the shirt momentarily, then looked at her

and said, "It's a Christmas gift from my brother, Vince. I thought it would be right for chopping my
way through brush."

"And the aftershave?" Tess asked, before she could stop herself.
"I wore that to catch your notice," Zak replied.
"It did, but it doesn't suit you," Tess said.
He eyed her with amusement. "I could say the same about you in black, but I'd be lying."
Tess shrugged. "My ex-husband liked me in black."
"And you're still trying to please him?" Zak asked.
"No," Tess replied. "It's the first thing I grabbed before coming here."
"Good choice." Zak handed her a wine glass, and as he was filling it, Tess saw that he was

pouring from a bottle with the distinctive black-and-gold de Neuville label with a gold ram's head on
it. "My father's proud of this run," he said, setting the bottle down. "It's called Florencia. It won a
gold medal at the national competition."

Tess sipped the wine, and the bouquet filled her nostrils. "Why Florencia?" she asked, looking up

at him.

"It's Basque for high mountain flower," Zak replied. "It's made with flower petals, some from

around… this area." He took a slow sip of wine while eyeing her steadily over the rim of his glass,
his gaze intense, and she wondered if he was remembering the day he made the garland of flowers for
her head from high mountain flowers, and the lovemaking that followed.

Uncomfortable with his steady gaze, she lifted the bottle of wine from the table, and while

studying the label, she said, "Then I assume you're working at the winery now?"

"No, I'm in charge of Spencer Wildlife Park," Zak replied. "I help at the winery some, but my

work at the park takes priority."

"I don't understand," Tess said, looking up. "You always intended to work at the winery."
"My degree's in wildlife management," Zak replied.
Tess found that puzzling. Before, he'd had no interest in college. He'd grown up working in the

winery and was expected to take over someday. But she also remembered Zak being at odds with his
father that summer. According to Zak, everything was either his father's way, or no way. Zak told her
back then that moving into the cabin and signing on with Timber West was an escape. Maybe college
had also been an escape...

"Have you been here long?" she asked, an attempt at casual conversation, when what she wanted

was to fire a barrage of questions at him: Why did you leave me without a word? Where did you go?
Why didn't you come back? Why did you let me marry a man I didn't love?

"About six weeks," Zak replied, "when I was appointed head of the wildlife park." He lifted the

bottle she'd been clutching in her hands and tipped it toward her glass while saying, "We're in the
process of reinstating the bald eagle in the Channel Islands. We'll be taking chicks from nests with
twins and transporting them to California, but first I have to fly over established nests to see if they're
occupied." He looked at her, curiously. "Do you still fly?"

"Yes," Tess replied. "I no longer have a plane though. My husband got custody of it when we

divorced, but my dad still has his. He said I could take it up if I wanted."

"Then you're still certified?"
Tess nodded. "That doesn't mean I fly. Right now Timber West is operating in the red, and flying

costs money, so it will be a while before I go up again."

"How about Sunday?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The park plane's in for an engine overhaul and I need to fly over some nests before the chicks

fledge, and time's running out. Maybe you could take me up. The park has funds. I'd make it was worth
your while."

"Where do you want to go?" Tess asked, although she didn't know why. She had no intention of

taking Zak up in her father's plane.

"Just around the area," Zak replied. "I have nests pinpointed on a map. But I'd also like to touch

down at the Pine Mountain ranger station and talk to the park ranger there. Do you know Ralph
Tolsted?"

"No," Tess replied, "but I know where the Pine Mountain station is. My dad and I flew over it a

few times, even landed there once. Dad didn't like the landing strip though... said it was the shortest
strip he'd ever used. Why Pine Mountain?"

"I want to check a nest there and talk to Tolsted about others in the area," Zak replied. "Timing's

everything right now. Most of the chicks are ready to fledge. It's pretty important work we're doing."

Tess eyed him with indecision, then caught herself. There was no way she'd take him up. Zak now

living in the cabin where her father found them was bad enough. Taking him up in her father's plane
would set her relationship with her father back years if he found out, and she was home to try and
close the rift between them...

"It shouldn't take more than an hour... two at the most with a short stop at Pine Mountain," Zak

said. "Besides, it will give me a chance to be piloted by the grown up version of the fourteen year old
scrap of a girl who bragged years ago that she could fly a plane."

Tess couldn't help smiling, which brought a smile from Zak, a smile she'd tried to hold in memory

over the years. A smile that still made her heart flutter and her breath quicken. "I suppose it would be
all right if it's not more than a couple of hours," she found herself saying, and refused to analyze why.

"Good," Zak replied, "I'll owe you dinner when we get back."
"Just pay for fuel and flying hours and we'll call it square," Tess said, wanting to make sure he

understood her position with him now. No dinners. No cozy evenings in his cabin, or hers. No...
nothing. Setting her wine glass aside, she stepped over to the dining table where she saw a map rolled
out and held flat with four coffee mugs, and said, "So, show me where the surveyors claim the line
runs."

Zak stood behind her, so close, his chest brushed against her back and his breath wafted against

the side of her face. Reaching around her, he said, while dragging his finger over the map, "Your
cabin's here and this is the road that runs between your cabin and the camp." Moving his finger over,
he said, "This is where one designated marker is, and the other is here." His finger stopped precisely
on the grotto.

"But our Ada... that is, the... old oak tree is a line marker," Tess said, "which puts the grotto

clearly on Timber West land." In an instant, she was flooded with memories of hands exploring
bodies, and toes curling against cool moss, and flesh against flesh, and forbidden desires. Forbidden
because Zak had been twenty-one while she was only seventeen...

After a stretch of awkward silence, Zak said, "According to the survey, Timber West land stops

ten feet this side of the... oak. The trees your father cut are over here on our land." Zak moved his
finger from the grotto.

Tess released the breath she'd been holding and ducked from under Zak's arm, then stepped

around the table, away from the distraction of having his arm around her, and his chest against her
back, and his breath against her face, to where she could study the map more closely. As she did, to
her dismay, she saw that the trees cut had clearly been on de Neuville land.

"Okay, so maybe the survey's right," she conceded, "but I don't want to upset my father over four

trees. I'll pay your father for them and make sure no more are cut. Just don't let your father do anything
right now."

"It's not that simple," Zak said. "My father's talking about stretching a fence along the line. He

wants to graze sheep here, and this has to be resolved."

"Can't you stall the fence work, or at least leave that area for later?" Tess asked. "My father's

health it frail right now and I don't want this upsetting him."

Zak sighed. "I'll see what I can do. Meanwhile, have your men haul the trees back to our place,

and I'll tell my father that your father inadvertently logged on our land and no more trees will be cut.
With luck, my father will drop the issue." He removed the mugs and rolled up the map and offered it
to her, saying, "Show it to your father so he can see where the line runs. That should settle it."

Tess shook her head. "I'll pay for the trees and make sure no more are cut."
"I suppose," Tess replied, "but I don't want my father to know. It would only upset him."
Zak started slowly around the table, and she found herself standing planted to the floor and not

moving as he said to her, "I won't say anything, and it shouldn't take more than a couple of hours." As
he continued toward her, Tess realized he intended to kiss her. The years hadn't dimmed her memory
of the look he got. It started with his eyes. Dark. Intense. Focused on her mouth. Then his nostrils
flared. And the muscles in his jaws bunched. And his lips parted as he moved toward her. And his
hands came up to take her arms...

"Don't," she said, turning her face away. "Before I take you up in my father's plane, I want to

make sure we understand each other."

Zak removed his hands from her shoulders. "I was just trying to break some ice," he replied, and

took a step back.

Ignoring his comment, Tess said, "I'll pick you up around two on Sunday." Turning from him, she

grabbed her flashlight, clicked it on and dashed into the darkness.

As she made her way back to her cabin, she considered the ramifications of taking Zak up in her

father's plane. He'd be furious if he knew, but it would only be for two hours, so she'd keep it from
him. He didn't need that stress.

She also knew that Zak had the same effect on her as in the past. Nothing had changed. But after

Sunday's flight, there would be no more dealings with him. He'd left her once. He'd leave her again.

There was no place in her life for Zak de Neuville now.

CHAPTER 3

The following day, Tess walked up the bank of stairs leading to the front porch of the house in

Baker’s Creek where she grew up, and when she stepped into the living room, she detected the
unmistakable aroma of cinnamon and warm yeast. Her Aunt Ella met her at the door. "Hi, sweetie,"
she said. "You'd better go into the kitchen and assure your father that you got through your first day at
camp in one piece. He's been in a stew all morning waiting to hear from you."

"How's he doing otherwise?" Tess asked.
Ella pursed her lips. "He's as cantankerous as an old dog. I only put up with him because I know

underneath that crusty exterior he's soft as a kitten."

Tess laughed. "Did you give him what for, for going to the camp yesterday?"
"You better believe I did," Ella said. "I turn my back for a couple of hours and he's off. Well, he's

not getting away today and I let him know."

Tess followed her aunt through the dining room. "How is he taking it?"
Ella glanced back. "He grumbled something about domineering women, and I reminded him it

was a matter of survival of the fittest." She tapped her brother's shoulder on the way to the stove.
"Tess is here." She set a platter with scrambled eggs and hash browns in the middle of the table, then
slipped on oven mitts and lifted a tray of fresh baked cinnamon rolls out of the oven and set them on a
hot pad beside the platter of eggs and hash browns.

Tess kissed her father on the forehead, and said, while pulling out a chair adjacent to him, "Well,

I survived my first day at Timber West."

"Did you have any problem with Jed Swenson?" Gib asked, while serving himself from the

platter.

"No, he never showed up," Tess replied. She reached for a cinnamon roll. "Am I supposed to put

up with behavior like that, or can I fire him?"

A worried frown creased Gib's brow. "Don't be too quick to do that," he said. "Swenson's a good

worker... knows logging and equipment, but he can be kind of stubborn at times."

Ella let out a chuckle. "If that's not the pot calling the kettle black."
Tess winked at her aunt, then said to her father, "Swenson wasn't at the meeting in the cook shack

or at my office later, as I requested. He's openly defying me. Do you put up with that?"

"I haven't been around him that much," Gib said. "I hired him a few weeks before my heart attack

and I was lucky to get him. Before you fire him, you'd better have someone in mind who'll step in.
Word's out that Carl Yaeger's about to buy the tract between Timber West and the ridge, and if he
does, he'll be hiring. If you get rid of Swenson you might find yourself without a woods boss, and no
one to take his place."

"Well, Swenson's not any use to me right now," Tess said. "If he doesn't show up soon, I'll have

to let him go." She licked warm icing from her fingers, then said to her father, "If Carl Yaeger buys the
tract, do you think he'll allow us to cut through his land like we always have?"

"I hope so," Gib replied. "If he doesn't we're in trouble. There's no other access to the pole

timber, unless de Neuville lets us go through his land, and we know the answer to that."

"Have you ever had our property surveyed?" Tess asked, jumping at the opportunity to broach the

subject of the cut trees.

"There's no need," Gib replied. "I know where the line runs."
"How do you know if you've never had it surveyed?" Tess asked. "You could end up accidentally

cutting timber on someone else's land. It just seems like a good idea to make sure."

Gib eyed Tess with annoyance. "I'm not going to pay some half-wit to come with his fancy

equipment and try to tell me what I already know."

"Then I'll do it for you," Tess said. "That way we'll find out exactly where the line runs so we

won't have to worry."

"I'm not worried," Gib said, "and I don't want to hear any more about surveys."
"If you don't want to hear about it from me, you'll be hearing from Jean-Pierre de Neuville," Tess

said, her voice rising with her frustration, "because he did have a survey done and it shows that the
property line runs forty feet from where you think it is."

Gib said nothing, his means of ending the discussion, and Tess knew better than to pursue the

issue. But after he finished eating and left to work on his truck, Ella said, "He gets more stubborn as
he gets older, so you might as well save your breath about those trees. How was the cabin? I'd hoped
to get out there and scrub it down before you moved in."

"It was in pretty good shape," Tess replied. "A little sweeping and it was livable."
Ella sighed. "I don't know why your father's holding onto the place. Everything needs painting or

fixing. He'll work himself to death out there."

"He'll die quicker if he sells and does nothing," Tess said. "It would be like admitting to himself

that he's old and washed up, and he's not ready for that, and when he does decide to sell, I know he'll
hold out until he gets what he thinks the business is worth, whether it is or not."

"You're right about that," Ella agreed. "But it'll be years before the timber industry recovers from

the slump, and running the camp's not a life for you."

"I don't plan to run it forever," Tess said, "but I do want to get the business out of the red and Dad

through this period."

"Well, I don't like the idea of you out there in the cabin with no one else around," Ella said.
Tess gave Ella a confident smile. "The men are five minutes up the road at the bunkhouse."
"You don't know those men," Ella said. "A pretty woman alone out there can be a real drawing

card. I just wish there were permanent neighbors in the area. With all the woods around the cabin,
someone could be hiding out."

Tess eyed Ella with uncertainty, and said, "Zak's next door."
For a moment Ella said nothing. Then her forehead puckered, and she looked at Tess with

skepticism, and said, "Zak de Neuville?"

Tess nodded. "He's the one who brought up the subject of the survey. Dad told one of the men to

thin the trees along the strip of land between the dirt road and the de Neuville's property, and those
trees are not on de Neuville land. Four trees have already been cut."

Ella eyed Tess over the rim of her cup. "I'm sure Gib knows where the property line runs."
"That's the problem," Tess said. "He thinks he knows, but he's wrong. Zak showed me the survey

map. He said his father's threatening to sue us for cutting the trees."

Ella looked directly at Tess and said, in a guarded voice, "Have you been seeing Zak de Neuville

again?"

"No," Tess replied. "Well, after work yesterday I saw him briefly, but only for him to show me

the survey map, but I'm not... seeing him."

Ella drew in an extended breath. "Does your father know he's back?"
"No."

"Then you'd better not say anything about it," Ella said. "It'll just get him riled again."
Tess toyed with telling her about taking Zak up in the plane, now that she knew Zak was back,

then discarded that idea. Aunt Ella had enough on her mind, worrying about her stubborn brother,
without brooding about his reaction to learning Zak was back.

***

The next day, as Tess pulled up to Zak's cabin to pick him up, she was surprised to find an old

car, in the process of being restored, parked beside Zak's truck. The car's body was covered with
gray primer and the rear end was jacked high with oversized tires, and inside, a grouping of beads
and feathers hung from the rearview mirror. With mounting curiosity, she stepped onto the porch. But
before she could knock, Zak opened the door, and said, "Come on in. Vince was about to leave. You
remember my brother."

Tess looked beyond Zak at a young man wearing a black leather jacket, faded jeans with holes in

them, and dirty sneakers. Where the jacket gaped open, she saw the grotesquely contorted face of a
rock star on a tight black T-shirt. Vince's mouth was planted in a slash, and his dark eyes shone with
irritation, though she sensed it wasn't aimed at her. "Yes," she replied, trying to assimilate the change
from a bright-eyed youth of thirteen to this angry young man of twenty. "It's nice to see you again,
Vince."

Vince nodded, and said nothing.
Tess lowered herself to the couch, and Zak sat in an overstuffed chair across from her, but Vince

remained standing. From the somber look on his face, and the frustration on Zak's, Tess suspected
they'd been having an argument. She was about to suggest she come back later, when she was
distracted by movement and looked toward the hallway to see a young boy rolling a truck into the
room. When the boy raised curious eyes to meet Tess's gaze, her lips parted in surprise. It was as if
she were peering into Zak's gray-green eyes. The boy scrambled over to stand beside Zak, studying
her from within the circle of Zak's arm. His young face was topped by a shock of wavy black hair,
and in his chin was a small cleft.

Looking from the boy to Zak, Tess waited for Zak to explain.
Zak drew the boy against him, and said, "This is Pio, my son."
At first Tess stared blankly at the boy. Then she focused on his features. There was no question.

This boy was indeed Zak's son. And the boy's mother, Zak's wife? Where was she?

Tess gave the boy a nervous smile, and said, "Hi."
The boy didn't smile back. Instead, he looked at Zak and said something in Basque. When Zak

nodded, the boy scurried outside. Tess glanced out the window at the boy, who was pushing a larger
truck across the ground. He appeared to be about six years old. Which meant... Zak must have either
impregnated a woman or married her shortly after he left, seven years before...

"Father's damn traditions are straight out of another world," Vince said, his heated words

punctuating the pounding of Tess's heart. "And I'll tell you another thing. I won't marry a Basque girl
just because he's decided I will."

Zak looked at Tess, and said, "Excuse us a minute." He took Vince's arm and led him onto the

porch then pulled the front door shut behind them.

Although their voices were muffled, Tess could still make out what they were saying...
"He's a proud man and the old traditions have been right for him," Zak said. "It's only natural he

wants the same for you."

"That's fine for you to say, you're etcheko primu. Firstborn," Vince spat the words. "The winery

will be yours, if you marry a Basque woman and fit into Father's mold."

Zak sighed. "You know you always have a place there."
"I'd die of boredom in Navarre."
The long silence that followed was broken by Zak. "You don't have to turn your back on all the

values you were taught in order to be your own person."

"And I don't have to hang around here and listen to this crap either," Vince said. "I thought at least

you'd understand, but you're no different from him. You'll do exactly as Father says. Marry a Basque
woman, stay at the ranch, and live his life for him. I hope you enjoy it."

"I've been where you are, caught between two worlds," Zak said, "but there is a middle ground.

You just have to find it and convince Father."

Vince gave a cynical snort. "Ever try moving a mountain?"
Zak ignored the remark. "Meanwhile, try not to irritate him."
"Which means, tell him what he wants to hear. I can't do that."
"Try," Zak said. "And thanks for bringing Pio along today, even if the visit's short."
Vince eyed Pio, affectionately. "There was no way I could get out of it. He had to tell you about

the kittens."

Zak stepped off the porch and crouched in front of Pio, and said, "I'll be anxious to hear what you

name your new pal."

Pio's face brightened. "When can I bring him here?" he asked in an animated voice.
"When he's six weeks old," Zak replied. "Meanwhile, I'll come for you next weekend and we'll

go find some eagles, maybe do a nest climb. How would you like that?"

Pio grinned. "I'd like that."
After Vince left with Pio, Zak went back inside and collected several maps from the kitchen

table, and they left in Tess's Jeep. But while they were driving to the airpark, he said to Tess, "I
should have told you about Pio. I didn't expect Vince to come by with him today and I planned to tell
you about him later."

"It doesn't matter," Tess said. "That was a long time ago." She was determined to ask no

questions about Zak's past, or about the mother of his son. It would be too degrading. And maybe her
father was right. Maybe Zak used her. Maybe what they had going that summer was nothing more than
teenage hormones coupled with Zak's promises of forever to keep the sex coming. She'd definitely
given him reason to come back for more. She liked having sex with him too, but what was more
important for her was the aftermath of their lovemaking, when Zak talked about how it would be for
them someday...

"To answer at least one of your questions," Zak said, "my wife died about four months ago so I

have full care of our son."

Tess fingers curled around the wheel. The word our didn't compute. She'd never imagined a son

of Zak's not being her son as well. But what was almost as troubling was that Zak, a widower of only
four months, had come close to kissing her two nights before. Not exactly a grieving widower. But
Zak was obviously not a one-woman man either. He'd proved that the summer he loved her and left
her and married another woman shortly afterwards.

Still, she found herself saying, "It must be difficult for you."
"It is for Pio," Zak replied. "My wife and I separated some time ago. I had no idea how tough it

was to be a single parent, shuffling job and family and school, being there when Pio's sick. There's no
question, a young child needs a mother. As it is, Pio's with my folks during the week so he can go to

the Basque school in Navarre, and I go there on weekends. But as soon as school's out, he'll be
moving into the cabin with me. We need to make our own adjustments."

Tess tried to get beyond her bitterness toward Zak by saying, "My father faced the same dilemma

when he took over the role of both parents when my mother died of the aneurism when I was nine.
Nothing seemed to go right back then. Meals were terrible, the house was a mess, and neither of us
cared, and I had no direction or guidance. Fortunately, Aunt Ella moved in and took over, and our
lives fell into place again." She glanced at Zak, and added, "What you need is an Aunt Ella."

"It isn't about what I need," Zak said. "It's about Pio, and he needs a mother."
"Then I guess you'd better start looking for a wife," Tess clipped, "presumably Basque, if you

don't want to be in trouble with your father."

When Zak said nothing, Tess realized that was precisely what he intended to do.
Thirty minutes later, after filing a flight plan, Tess gave the plane its preflight check, taxied to the

end of the runway, checked the flaps, and took off. They headed toward Timber West and the ridge
where Zak wanted to look for the first nest. Sitting close to him in the small cabin conjured up images
from the past when she'd be riding with Zak in his truck, and she'd rest her hand on his thigh, or
snuggle against his shoulder, or give him a kiss on the jaw...

Zak interrupted her timeworn memories, by saying, "When we locate the nest, dip the wing so I

can get a good look inside."

Tess shifted her thoughts to the panorama below. Within minutes, they skimmed over Timber West

land. She spotted Zak's cabin and hers, and just beyond a patch of woods was the clearing with the
logging camp. "Where should we start looking for the nest?" she asked.

Zak scanned the forest below. "In the old-growth timber on the ridge. Look for an old snag."
Tess turned the plane in a wide arc toward the ridge and flew low over the treetops. "There's a

pretty big stand of old-growth just above where we're getting ready to cut pole timber," she said.
"There's also some on Carl Yaeger's tract. My dad wanted to buy that piece of land a few years ago.
He could have paid for it with those old trees."

"That's our biggest problem with the eagle population," Zak said, "harvesting old-growth. If it

isn't stopped, there won't be any trees strong enough to support nests."

"We always leave a lot of good-sized second growth," Tess assured him.
"Are the trees big enough to support a two-ton nest?" Zak asked.
Tess looked askance at him. "Aren't you exaggerating?"
"No. Some older nests are eight feet across and six feet deep," Zak replied. "They can easily

weigh two tons." He sat up straight. "Over there!" He pointed to a massive nest of coarse limbs atop a
huge fir. Tess maneuvered the plane near the nest and dipped the wing. "Twins!" Zak exclaimed.
"Looks like the tree's fairly accessible too. Circle once more before we head out. I want to look for
perch nests."

"What are those?" Tess asked, as she guided the plane in a wide arc.
"Unoccupied nests eagles use as perches for spotting prey and roosting at night."
Tess circled the old-growth once more, while Zak logged his findings, then they headed east

toward McKenzie and Plum lakes. As they slowly gained altitude, Tess felt the exhilaration of flying
again. "My biggest regret about my divorce was that David got the plane," she said.

After a stretch of silence, Zak commented, "How old were you when you married?"
"Eighteen," Tess replied, feeling some satisfaction that he'd asked the question. She hoped he'd

take her answer as meaning she hadn't sat around waiting for him to come back, like the gullible,
trusting little fool she'd been. He didn't need to know she'd spent her days doing just that, all the while

hoping and praying he'd appear one day with a perfectly logical explanation as to why he'd left. And
her world would be right again...

"Was he from Baker’s Creek?" Zak asked.
"Seattle," Tess replied. "He'd been flying into Baker’s Creek every week to work on a big house

he was contracted to build, and we met at the airpark."

"Where is he now?" Zak asked, while scanning the forest below.
"I don't know," Tess replied. "He moved east and I haven't heard from him since. What about

you? Where have you been for the past seven years?" She'd had no intention of prying into Zak's past,
but the question popped out.

"Mostly France and Washington," Zak replied.
"Why France?" Tess asked, surprised he'd been out of the country. She'd always imagined him in

Navarre with his parents.

"My father sent me there to learn about Basque wines," Zak replied. Looking into the distance, he

said, while pointing, "There's McKenzie Lake. Circle a little lower if you can."

Tess didn't reply because her attention was drawn to the grayish specks flipping against the

windscreen. She eased the controls back and the plane leveled off before slowly rising as they
headed for the ranger station at Pine Lake. For the moment they cruised smoothly, but while Zak was
watching the thick forest closing in on the valley below, Tess was scanning the panorama below for
other reasons. "That's oil on the windscreen," she stated. "We have to land."

Zak looked up and saw the specks. "Land where? There's nothing but forest down there."
"The ranger station should be just over the ridge," Tess said. "Start looking for the lake. There's a

grass airstrip alongside it." She focused again on the specks of oil, which now merged together and
were moving in grayish streaks up the windscreen. "We've got to get down fast!"

The engine began to sputter. "Jesus," Zak said. "The engine's about to cut out!"
"We can glide in if we can find the airstrip," Tess said. "Just keep looking for the lake. It can't be

more than five minutes from here... I hope." Squinting through the murky windscreen, she scanned the
terrain in the distance and spotted a silvery patch. "There's Pine Lake!" she exclaimed, "but I don't see
the landing strip." She leaned forward, focusing on the opening in the woods where the lake lay, then
through an oil-splattered windscreen she saw a cleared strip that served as a landing field. "Darn that
landing strip's short," she said. "I hope the wind's right because we won't have second chance to
approach from the other direction. As it is, we'll have to dip in over the tall trees at this end."

She banked the plane in a sweeping turn to align with the landing field below, then throttled back,

lowered the flaps, and continued to nose the plane down. As they dropped toward the runway, Tess
saw a windsock perched atop a tree and realized, with alarm, that they were approaching with the
wind. "The wind's wrong for us," she said. "We're coming in too fast." She scanned the field for
obstructions and studied the trees at each end of the narrow, grassy strip.

The engine sputtered, cut out and sputtered again.
She advanced the throttle slightly. "This is going to be a hot landing, and it better work the first

time because we won't get a second chance," she said, her heart pounding so hard she felt
lightheaded. She gripped the wheel. "Okay. Here we go. Put your head in your lap for the landing and
be ready to jump out and run in case there’s a fire…"

BROKEN PROMISES to be continued

If you want to read on, here's the link to

Amazon

BOOKS BY PATRICIA WATTERS

DANCING MOON RANCH SERIES

Prequel: Justified Deception

LIVING WITH LIES TRILOGY

Book 1: Righteous Lies

Book 2: Pandora's Box

Book 3: False Pretenses

THE LIES UNCOVERED TRILOGY

Book 4: Uncertain Loyalties

Book 5: Becoming Jesse's Father

Book 6: Bittersweet Return

CUTTING THE TIES TRILOGY

Book 7: Cross Purposes

Book 8: Dancing With Danger

Book 9: Bucking the Odds

BOUND BY LOVE TRILOGY

Book 10: Forbidden Spirits (mid 2014)

Book 11: Imperfect Magic (late 2014)

Book 12: Sheer Combustion (early 2015)

Sequel: Finding Justice (mid 2015)

HISTORICAL ROMANCES

Colby's Child

Perilous Pleasures

Miss Phipps and the Cattle Baron

Her Master's Touch

Come Be My Love

CONTEMPORARY ROMANCES

In Hot Pursuit

Broken Promises

Adversaries and Lovers

Never Too Late

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, Patricia Watters gave up city life and now writes from a log cabin nestled in the evergreen
forests of Oregon. An author with Harlequin and Avon-Harper Collins in the past, Patricia specializes in romance, and she invites you to
visit her website and drop her a line. She responds to all notes.

http://www.patriciawatters.com/