Chapter 1

(This is exclusively mine, any reproduction of any kind without my written consent is NOT allowed.)

Cherie Montegro glared at her computer, wanting and willing it to go faster. Just like she wanted the clock to move faster. Six o’clock was not coming fast enough. Having spent most of the day in the library, researching and cross-referencing different aspects of breeding research, her eyes were tired of staring at equine genealogy reports and DNA strands and her hands ached from all the little notes she had made. Now, all she wanted to do was type the basic information from those reports, shut down her computer and go relax at home, preferably in a hot bath, with a box of chocolates and a glass of wine-


“Stop thinking like that; you start now, you won’t be able to focus. You just have an hour left, just sixty-three measly minutes,” she muttered to herself, glaring at the little icon that was an hourglass flipping over and over. Her laptop was not state of the art, she doubted it was even state of the decade, having bought it second-hand at a local pawn shop. But it did the job most of the time, and that is what mattered. She stroked the side of the monitor, willing it to load her document.

“Please, just load so I can type and go home.” She did not want to spend her Saturday typing. It was supposed to be nice tomorrow and she was hoping she could go riding.

“I told you, Cheri, talking to computers doesn’t help them move faster,” a voice carried over her shoulder. Blinking her eyes, she did an owl-like turn to see a classmate, Jamie Emmis, perusing the shelves for a certain book.

“Maybe it doesn’t, Jamie but it makes me feel like it does.”

“And with your topic, you need every chance you got to feel better. Why on earth would you choose to do your final on the genetic coding of horses?”

“Not just codes, Jamie. I want to prove that you can breed for certain colors within a ninety percent certainty, including certain colors that normally do not show up in certain breeds. If I can do this, I might get that internship in Australia, working with Aubrey Akins. You know what that would do for me as a starving young trainer here in Montana?”

Jamie held up her hands in surrender.

“All you horse people are the same. Don’t see the fascination myself. Give me a vehicle to dismantle, repair or rebuild any day. My final is about the show “M*A*S*H*”, on how that little nerdy guy was able to ship a Jeep piece by piece, all the ways it would and wouldn’t work. Then the history of the Jeep, the components and what the Jeep will look like in a few years to decrease -” Jamie cut off as she looked at Cherie’s blank eyes. “Hey, my Jeep will haul your horses.”

“My horses gave you the horsepower to dream up the Jeep.” Her computer beeped, having loaded her document. “Besides, if my research does yield anything, I will be able to breed dun and buckskin Clydesdales, without having to go outside of the breed. That in itself will make me famous.”

Jamie selected her book and grabbed a seat on the opposite side of Cheri.

“True. And that internship with Aubrey would be great on a resume` out here. Most everyone out here preaches Clint Anderson or what’s his name? Parelli? I can’t wait till hear people say their horses were trained in the Montegro method.”

Cherie nodded, sidetracked by finally being able to enter the notes she had written on multiple scraps of paper. She tuned out Jamie’s mutterings about ball bearings and suspension, as she entered breeding codes for different dilution of several traits, the ones that have been proving, in the process of being proven and pure theoretical traits. This was her dream, to be able to just see the traits, the horses and know what would be produced, what characteristics were dominant no matter what, whether it was the sire’s trait for racing or the dam’s conformation guaranteed to be passed on to the offspring. That is what she wanted. Guaranteed results. No guessing, no stomach wrenching worry of what would be produced. No unneeded death. Like the stupid Lethal White Overo. She hated that. It killed. The foals have little chance of surviving, most say they have no chance. If she could only find a way to rewrite genetics to where the LWO foals would get a fighting change while maintaining their color. Her professor was worried that this paper would prove too difficult, but to her this was a win-win objective. Even if she could not prove it, she will have the research to further delve into the subject. Research was research and she did not have to waste her free time, since it was a classroom assignment.

“Hey!” Fingers snapped in front of her face, coming in between her eyes and the computer screen. She jumped and saw Jamie looking at her with a bemused look. “Six o’clock, chickadee. Time to am-scray.”

“You are kidding me? Really?” She looked at the clock and grinned. She hit the save button on her computer, and started gathering her documents as the computer began it’s eternity-long shut down process.

“Yeah, Cinderella, it is. And if you don’t hurry home, you will turn into a pumpkin, or worse, a wrinkled old harridan of a librarian. Like the one bearing down on us now to get out of her library.”

Cherie looked over her shoulder to see Ms. Nikiovich striding to them. Hurriedly she packed her binder into her shoulder sack, making a bigger show of getting ready to leave.

“Hey, Ms. N. I am just shutting down my computer and then we are outta here,” she said with an encouraging smile, pointing her finger at her computer, still shutting down. The imposing librarian crossed her arms over her chest, glaring.

“I should hope so. I announced closing five minutes ago. You should have started then.”

“I apologize. I was engrossed in the research. Next time I will have to bring an alarm. It won’t happen again, Ms. N.”

The librarian huffed and turned away, possibly looking for another culprit who was still in her domain.

“Sheesh. She needs to get laid or something,” Jamie muttered. Cherie choked on a laugh.

“Maybe that is why she wants us out, maybe the janitor cleans all sorts of carpets,” she muttered right back. Jamie did not even to hold back her bark of laughter.

“Oh god, don’t say that. I have seen him. That is just so wrong.” Cherie closed her computer, as it finally finished shutting down. “You should think about upgrading that thing. I know grandparents with newer computers than you.”

“I know,” Cherie said, swinging her jacket over her shoulders. “I hope to save up enough to buy a new one, but they aren’t cheap.”

She put her bag over her shoulder and placed her computer in it’s own bag. Together, they walked out of the library, heading to the parking lot, where both were parked.

“Have you given any thoughts to coming with us up to Calgary next month? We still have room, and Jerry’s coming,” Jamie paused by Cherie’s car. Cherie blew out a breath, lifting her bangs.

“I have given thoughts. Second and thirds. But during the break, I really want to go to the barn, get some training in. It will be so nice not to have to compete for the arena and the round pens. Jerry is tempting, but,” she shook her head, “I just can’t.

“Jerry is going to be disappointed. You know, he still wants you to take him up on that offer.”

“I know,” she grinned over her car’s roof at Jamie. “A massage by him would be fantastic, but I know he wants it to go further than that. I don’t want it to. I have no desire to be attached to anyone. He doesn’t want a fun-time fling. He needs to find some Milk Maid Mindy, marry her and raise a farm of kids.”

“You are still a weird one, Cherie. He’s a nice guy who wants commitment. And you are the one who doesn’t want to commit.”

“Then you go for him. Fill the mini-van full of children. That life is not for me. But anyways, I have to go, Jamie. I have a hot bath calling my name.”

Jamie laughed and waved as Cherie finally got into her car and drove home. Parking her car, she smelled rain in the air. Giving a low growl, she ran to her side of the duplex, unlocked the door barely making it in before the downpour started.

“Phew, glad I made it. Do not want to be stuck out there.” She put her bag and computer down on her table (second-hand, of course; it had more scrapes and scratches than she had made on it), turned the radio on to a nice jazz station, and started her bathwater. She let it run while she went to grab her plastic wine cup (ninety-nine cent special at Wal-Mart), the fruit wine, her hidden stash of chocolate and her robe.

Quickly she stripped of her clothes, and sank into the wonderfully hot water scented with lavender, letting the music soothe her as she indulged in her chocolate and wine. When the water started to cool, she drained the tub and took a hot shower, and afterwards pulled on her normal pajamas: an over-sized T-shirt that has “Marines” written on it, and a pair of boxers. She brushed her wet hair out and paused as she caught a glimpse of herself in the partially fogged full-length mirror. When she stood up tall, she barely reached five foot seven. She wiped the mirror to look at her face. Her mom had called it heart-shaped; she called it pointed chin. Her eyes were a nice hazel when she was in a happy mood and varied from emotion to emotion; from light brown to deep green. Her frame, well, there was a reason she referred to herself as ‘good breeding stock’. She had a wide set up hips and shoulders, with a generous hourglass figure. Generous is a size fourteen. If I don’t start keeping an eye, I might go up to size sixteen. She loved her hair though. That was her one vanity of her appearance. Her slightly-longer than her shoulders honey-brown hair was darker, since it was wet. But when it was dry, it was a wonderful shade of honey-brown with natural highlights that many of her college classmates were jealous of. The thickness of it had caused many ponytail holders to pop, break or stretch. And it seemed to be what drew Jerry’s initial attention. Most guys had a thing for her hair. Too bad I don’t have a thing for them in return. She finished brushing her hair and pulled into a thick braid. She brushed her teeth while putting her chocolate, wine and glass in their appropriate places. Rinsing, she started turning off her lights, doubling checking the locks on the door. Once she was done with nightly habits, she crawled into her bed, cocooning herself in her two comforters and multiple pillows, looking forward to a day of training.

Her alarm went off shortly before six. Grumbling, she turned off the alarm, forgetting that she did not turn it off last night. She lay in her bed, half awake, in that perfect temperature in her blankets. This is the nasty part about getting up. Spent all night getting the right temperature and positioning one’s self into the best position, only to have the alarm go off. She snuggled deeper into the blankets, snuggling up against her body pillow as she tried to remember her dreams. Something about her brother in a childhood memory. She still felt the pain in her heart as she thought about him. She did not dwell on the pain, but held the joy from whatever memory she had dreamed about the night before.

“I know I am going to die over there, Cherry.”

“Then why go? Get out. Disappear.”

“Can’t do that,” he grinned That Bad Kid Got Caught Grin. “I made a promise to myself and to my brothers in arms. But when I do pass on, you have two weeks to cry. But nothing more. I am doing what I want. I knew when I signed I might go over. Nothing was misleading.”

“So you are going to die,” she had said bitterly. He had reached towards her, pulling her into a Big Brother Hug.

“Nope. Going to live. I know the folks don’t understand. Well, Dad does a little, him being retired Marine and all. But I knew you would have the hardest time with this. I want do to this.”

“You want to die? For no reason? For people who won’t ever know what you are doing for them?”

“Cherry. No reason? You really think that?” She shook her head against his shoulder. “Didn’t think so. The people I die for, they won’t know me personally. But they will know. You will know. But remember the good times, the good memories. I want this for you. Promise.”

She had promised, but still did not understand it. She may not support why they were over there, but since the day her brother had shipped out, she had been an avid supporter for the troops. They were obeying orders, like they had promised when they signed into the military. She still cried a tear once in a while, especially when she remembered their last hug. And the last letter he had written them before he came home with the US flag draped over his coffin almost three years ago.

Happy memories! Happy memories! She thought viciously and thought of the day when they had taken the folks out to dinner. The warmth of his hugs. His laugh, filled with love and life. She wiped the tear away, and decided she needed to get up and get going, despite the sun just being over the horizon. Having to go pee might have something to do with getting up as well. Stretching, she folded the blankets off of her, and padded to the bathroom, and brushed her teeth once she was done. She grumbled as she put a pot of water on, heating it for apple cider. She shuffled back into her bedroom and rummaged to find her best worn-in jeans and her favorite long-sleeve shirt. Feeling the need for ‘special’, she also grabbed her lacy panties of hot pink and the matching supporting bra. Feeling better, she went back out to the kitchen, grabbing a mug to have her cider in and a bowl, deciding to have oatmeal this morning too. Pouring the hot water in each, she mixed honey into her cider and brown sugar into the oatmeal. She flipped on the television to the weather channel to get a better scope of the weather for the day as she spooned the oatmeal into her mouth.

Mmmm, sunny but a bit brisky. Better grab my light flannel just in case. She finished her oatmeal, switching the bowl for the mug, sipping her cider as she went to grab her light brown flannel that was great for days like today. It will be great training weather with the monster, that is for sure, she mused as she finished her cider in one last gulp. She filled her bowl and her mug with water, promising to do the dishes when she got back. Locking her house, she dashed to her car and started the drive to the barn, listening to Queen’s “It’s A Kind of Magic”.

She pulled into the parking lot for the barn, noting the vehicles that were there and who they belonged to. Jennifer, Mark, Sasha and Ree Ann. That list meant it would be outdoor training. She really did not care for the four currently at the barn, just on the fact that Jennifer could not hold her horse back from taking off and refused to do anything about it. A rampaging Thoroughbred was not ideal for training Dusty today. Mark was just too damn aggressive for her and the man was so stiff while riding, he might as well have been a two by four. Sasha was a Know-It-All and Cherie just could not abide by people like that, especially when their answer to every horse problem was ‘more spur, harsher bit’. Ree Ann, well, better not think of my opinion of her. It might ruin the day. Thankfully, Dusty was not stabled in the same alley as the others so she might be able to get out the door with Dusty without seeing or talking to any of them.

She snuck into the barn, and walked down the alley to where the little grulla gelding waiting, his eyes focused on her as she approached. She loved his eyes; they were soft-looking, surrounded by a dusk-black that faded into a gorgeous silver mouse color. He had a wonderful dorsal stripe running down his back, with the matched “T” just across his withers. His mane flowed as he shook his head. Dusty was the second horse she was training; her previous horse’s owners were now taking Cowboy to shows around the state, but promised to bring the paint back once in a while for a tune-up. Like my horses will ever need tune-ups, so long as they ride him like I instructed them too. The best part about Dusty was, his owners were considering selling him to her. She really wanted this gelding, as he would help establish her name more.

“Hey monster. Ready to go play outside?” Whether he understood her or wanted attention, he blew out gustily against the stall front, waiting for her to enter. Chuckling, she grabbed his halter off the front of his stall and opened the door. Automatically, she went to scratch his forehead, find the ten-hair white star that was almost always hidden by his forelock. She deftly haltered him, leaving him loose, and set about getting him groomed. His stall was already cleaned, showing that the stable hands had been at work already. She brushed off his coat with enthusiasm and he sighed in pleasure. She bent over to pick his hooves, and straightened in time to catch him curving his head around to lip at her jeans.

“Dagnabit, monster, I thought we worked that out. Not the jeans.” He leaned in and lipped at her flannel, the picture of innocence. She knew he liked to just lip, as he had never bitten or put her skin in between his teeth. Frankly, she thought it like to have something that had texture on his lips. Often she had caught him rubbing his lips over odd surfaces.

“You should correct him on that.” She looked through the stall door to see Mark standing there, with his black Quarter horse. “He will eventually start biting.”

“He hasn’t done that since I have worked with him, Mark. He just has a personality. I won’t correct something that is a part of him. Any more I would punish a child from smiling.”

“Your bruises,” he shrugged as he walked on by, his horse dutifully followed. More like defeatedly, she thought sourly. She went back to picking Dusty’s hooves, minding his balance incase he wanted to lip her jeans. She finished and went to run a plastic comb through his mane, undoing the tail wrap from his tail. She loved his tail as well. She worked laboriously on it, keeping him from rubbing it out or destroying it. She had to keep it up to avoid letting him step on it while in his stall. At least when they were working, he lifted it up slightly so it never dragged on the ground. I will have to give his tail a bath soon and wash the wrap as well, she thought, seeing the tail wrap showing signs of wear. She fanned out the tail, grabbed it up again, putting it in a figure-eight knot, and wrapped some bright neon green vet wrap around it. That should work for today’s workout. She looped the lead line over his neck and stepped out of the stall, sliding the door closed behind her.

“Be right back, monster.” She went and grabbed his bridle from her tack trunk, and warmed the bit in her hands. She never put a cold bit into a warm mouth. Neither Cowboy nor Dusty had ever refused the bit for her and she believed it was because she never shoved a cold piece of metal into their sensitive mouths. She walked back into his stall, and switched the halter for the bridle, letting Dusty make the choice to open his mouth and reach for the bit. It had been a long time for him to figure out that it was his choice, but if he did not take the bit, they were just going to stand there until he did. This gave him the feeling of being a partner, or at least, she hoped it did. He was smart for a two-year-old, and caught on quickly to certain commands. She put the halter on over the bridle, leading him out of his stall. He walked beside her, his shoulder flush with her, even though there was slack in the lead line. She opened the double doors, to let them out. She gave him the command to stand as she left him to close the doors behind them. Coming back to his shoulder, she clucked him to move with her to the bullpen.

The bullpen looked formidable. It was eight feet tall, solid wood, with no way to see through the fence and thirty feet in diameter When you were in the bullpen, you felt closed off from the rest of the world. Even the gate was solid, except for the six inch square cut out, that allowed you to lock the gate from inside the pen. She liked the bullpen because it helped to build the relationship between horse and partner, learning each other without the distractions of the outside.

She walked Dusty into the bullpen, closing the gate behind them. She took off his halter, leaving the bridle on.

“Time to work,” she said, as she had every time they had a training session. She hoped that eventually he will be able to comprehend when to play and relax versus time to get serious about the job at hand. She sent him away from her, using her body and arms. She kept him moving at different paces, letting him warm up. She loved watching his muscles flow under his hide in the sunlight. She had helped him to tone up, worked with him to get the build he had. He warmed up and was feeling frisky as he started to prance with his head and tail up.

“Alright, Monster. Hup!” She moved him into a canter, wanting to see if he carried his head where they had worked on the day before in the saddle. Her heart swelled as he lowered his head, shifting his weight to his back end and not leaning on his front end so much. He was tucking his hindquarters naturally and she knew he would go far in showing. They worked for about half an hour, mainly building his stamina for constant movement, speeding up and down, and listening to her. From inside the bullpen, she cocked her head, hearing voices. Dusty heard them too, flicking his ears back and forth, as if wondering if he would be allowed to listen to the gossip. Cherie motioned with her arm, quickly getting his focus on her. She kept him moving as she listened to the conversation that was becoming clearer.

“… you can’t help me find what I am looking for.”

“Tell me, Ree Ann. Just tell me what you are looking for.”

“Forget it, Roarke. You just aren’t what I thought you were.”

“Damnit Ree Ann! That isn’t an answer. ”

“Just drop it. I am done with you.”

Cherie shook her head. She had never liked Ree Ann, personally thinking of her as ‘that red-headed cold hearted bitch’. At least now she had more proof of the coldness of Ree Ann. She heard footsteps, one set, moving away towards a vehicle, or at least it sounded like she was getting into a vehicle. Cherie did not know why she had an instant dislike for Ree Ann but from the first interaction with her, Cheri just could not be around her. Ree Ann just seemed to give off an air of being a user, someone who is after something and she would use anyone to get what she wanted. And it seemed this ‘Roarke’ was her latest tool that had worn out his usefulness.

She had Dusty slow down, giving him praises for listening to her. Once he stopped, she turned her shoulder, giving him permission to come to her. He placed his head on her shoulder and heaved a big sigh. She scratched his cheek and shrugged her shoulder to get him to lift his head.

“Work is over.” She said to him as she reached down to grab his halter, grabbed his lead line and switched his bridle for his halter, and attached the lead line to his halter, leading him out of the bull pen, keeping her eye aware of the stranger standing in the parking lot, staring at the Jeep that was leaving the barn. She led Dusty into the barn, threw the lead rope over his neck and said “Go to your room.” Dusty shuffled to his stall as she closed the barn door behind them. When she arrived at his stall, Dusty was standing there, waiting for her. She unnecessarily tied him in his stall, and went to her tack box, pulling back out her brushes and hoof pick. She gave him a thorough grooming, cleaning his hooves and taking a quick finger-brush through his mane. She undid his tail from the knot, then added leave-in conditioner to it, and braided it back up in the tail wrap and added the extra knot in it. She untied him, letting him go for his water bucket as she closed the stall door behind her. She put her brushes back into her tack trunk and locked that as well. She looked through the barn door and saw the stranger still standing there, looking lost. She took a moment to get a better look at him.

He stood about six foot tall, give or take a few inches. He had shoulder length black hair that looked nice and thick. Her fingers twitched involuntarily, wanting to run through the hair. I just have a hair fetish. She took in his clothes, which were worn-in jeans, a white shirt and a red and grey flannel jacket. He was wearing something that looked like military brown boots. I bet his eyes are green too. If she had to guess, she would put him in a European ethnicity, but more towards the west, with his coloring and hair color. Poor guy, left here after being dumped. Ah, well. She opened and closed the door behind her, walking to her car.

“Hey, you need a ride?” She called out to him, causing him to visibly start. “I am heading back to town, if you want a lift.”

He looked embarrassed as she walked over to her car and nodded.

“If you don’t mind. I seemed to have been stranded here.”

“So I heard.” She got in her car, unlocking the passenger side. She watched as he folded his body into her car to get in.

“You did? Wait, that’s right. You were in the fenced off round thing, and walked with a mousey colored horse.” She nodded.

“Yeah, I was in the bullpen with Dusty. Got to hear an earful. By the way, his color is called a grulla, or dun for basic reference. Name’s Cherie Goodchild. No jokes please.”

“Roarke Smith. I wouldn’t dream of making a joke when you are taking me back to town. Would have been a long walk.”

“I know it would have been. Twenty miles by road, seventeen if you crossed the land. Not to mention the sun today.” She nodded as she pulled the car in reverse and then sent it crawling up the drive to the main road. “It would suck today.”

“So, why offer a lift? Pity?”

“Why would you have anything to do with Ree Ann? Stupidity?” She gave a wry grin to him as he looked at her. “Sorry, that popped out. Nah, I offered out of common courtesy. I was the last one there leaving today. The others have their turn at staying the night as barn managers.”

He mused on that for a little bit, and Cherie was starting to feel that she had made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t know why.”

“What?”

“I don’t know why I was with Ree Ann,” he repeated, turning his gaze out the window. “Damned if I know where we met either. It seemed that all of a sudden we were dating. And now, all of a sudden, we are not.”

She shook her head, really wanting to say what was on her mind but refused to. She decided to go halfway.

“You really are better off. Seriously,” she said as he looked at her with a look of incredulous on his face. “I mean it. If I would have known that she had someone else on her hook, I would have tried to warn you prior to being dumped at the barn.”

He gave a humorless grin, which seem to fit him so perfectly it hurt her.

“Maybe I should have met you first.” She shook her head and grinned.

“Nah, I am not the ‘meeting’ type of girl. You gotta have four-legs to have my attention. My entire focus is on the horses. Life is simpler with them anyway. They are completely honest.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He turned his focus back out to the passing scenery. She let him keep his silence as she pulled into the parking lot of the college. He paused as he reached his hand to the door handle, and looked at her. “Thank you for the ride Cherie.”

“You’re welcome, Roarke. Maybe I will see you around.”

“Maybe you will. I would look forward to it, should we meet again.” He got out of the car, gently closing it, and starting to walk towards the main street that ran right by the college. She mused as she got out her car heading to the library, if she would see him again. And maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. She let that thought disappear as she started her research again, using the library’s computer for research and her own for notes. At least this time, I have set the little alarm feature to let me know when to shut down. She didn’t want to incur the librarian’s wrath again. Twice in two days would not be good.