All that was definitely going to cost her sleep.

When Lilly got back to the stable, Gabe was sweeping up. She glanced at her watch and saw it was getting late. Yaz was going to wonder what had happened to her. She sat heavily on the bench.

"Is Dad icing his aches and pains?"

"Not exactly," she said. "He said he wants to deal with Streak first and ordered me not to get friendly with him, take care of him or feed him."

Gabe just laughed. "I guess they're pretty well matched as far as stubborn goes."

Streak was in a stall with a half door--there were no other horses in the barn, so he was no threat. He hung his head out of the stall and looked at Lilly beseechingly. She shrugged at him. "So, Clay Tahoma is stubborn, is he?"

"Oh, boy," Gabe answered. "He calls it steadfast. When you get to know him better, let me know what you call it."

I don't have to know him better, she thought. He was pretty transparent--he might indeed be steadfast, but he was also stubborn.

She heard the sound of his heels hitting the ground as he came back to the barn. It was a slightly uneven gait; the knee and hip of his left side were sore.

"You finishing up, Gabe?" he asked.

"Unless you thought of something else for me?" Gabe answered.

"You can go ahead home when you're ready. I'm going to take care of this horse, then I'll be along for dinner. Well done, thank you."

"Sure," he said, sweeping the last of the dirt and hay out of the stable's double doors. "See you in a little while, then." Gabe grabbed his hat off the hook by the door, put it on his head and touched the brim. "Nice seeing you, Miss Yazhi."

"Please, call me Lilly. Good seeing you, too. Nice, um...nice talking to you."

"Likewise. You take care now."

And that fast, he was gone, followed by the sound of his little green truck.

Lilly pulled her feet up onto the bench and circled her knees with her arms, curiously and silently watching as Clay went about his business. He brought Streak out of the pen, secured him, removed the saddle and blanket and began to brush him without talking. It should be apparent to Streak that Clay was angry. It was certainly apparent to Lilly. She'd been around for the grooming of the horse before and Clay usually spoke in soft, reassuring tones, pausing now and then to give an affectionate stroke, rewarding the horse for bearing the brush. This was a very solemn procedure.

Lilly said nothing, nor did she ask any questions, though she wanted to. How did he know the horse was picking up on these subtle signals, for one thing? And how did he expect it to have a lasting effect? But she simply watched the routine that lasted more than a half hour. When Clay was done he looked into Streak's big, beautiful brown eyes and said, "You ever do that to me again and you'll be dog food." Then he fed him. He stroked him sparingly.

He forgave him.

Then he turned and limped out of the stable.

Of course Lilly knew he'd be back; he had to remove Streak's feed bucket, water him, turn him out for a while. It was only a moment before he came back with his ice pack. He found a spot directly opposite her and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, the ice pack atop his left knee.

Only then did he look toward Lilly. As though nothing else had gone on today, he pleasantly asked, "So, you had a nice conversation with Gabe?"

She was almost startled. Hadn't they already covered that? She released a huff of laughter. "You were a little scary there for a while. I'll admit I was a little wary--do you often treat women that way?"

"Good God, no," he said. "I've found the most effective way to deal with a woman is to listen to her carefully and follow her instructions very closely. This," he said, jutting his chin toward Streak, "is one stubborn horse."

"Says the pot of the kettle."

"You had a nice talk with Gabe?" he asked again.

"I told you I did. He told me about how you rescued him from being adopted, how he was raised by his grandparents and other family."

"Yes, I apologize. You did tell me." He shook his head. "I wasn't paying attention--I was furious and my leg hurt. Sometimes I can be a little too focused. Or is that unfocused? I won't do it again."

"Can I ask you something? You're under no obligation to--"

"Ask," he said.

"What was it like to find your girlfriend pregnant at seventeen?"

"Sixteen," he said. "She'd broken things off with me, and since things had been so good between us, I didn't understand. But a boy never does, I guess. Guys have so many confidence issues at that age. Months went by and I couldn't get past it, couldn't take the suspense any longer and I went to ask her, to demand she tell me what was wrong with me. I found her about six months pregnant. And she was not well. She looked thin and sick, not rosy cheeked and plump the way a pregnant woman should look. It was apparent the whole thing was harder on her than me. Of course I was terrified, but I tried to convince her I could take care of her. She rejected that idea at once. She wasn't strong enough to go up against her family. And I knew my family wouldn't just let one of our own go."

"Were you punished?" she asked.

"With disapproval and shame, and they took their pound of flesh over time--no one got up in the middle of the night to tend to Gabe but me. We shared a bedroom and although I worked and went to school, his 2:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m. feedings were all mine. When he was sick, throwing up and crying and shitting all over, I was on duty. And when he was teething...man, I own every tooth in his head, I swear to God. My mother wore a superior smile while I suffered lack of sleep and frustration. It was as if she was saying, Welcome to my world." He chuckled. "It was very hard. But worth every minute. Look at him. He amazes me."

She was quiet for a moment. "That's very unusual," she finally said. "For a young boy to take on a massive responsibility like that."

"There were times I felt I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, alone, but let's be honest--my mother was always right on the other side of the door. She trained me. I took care of the feedings and changings, but she was up for each one, watching, being sure Gabe always came first in our household. An infant is always first."

"I asked him if it was hard on him, but he said he had it easy," she told Clay.

He let a small, proud smile touch his lips. After a moment of silence he said, "He's more than I ever deserved."

"I don't know about that. Sounds like you were completely devoted to him. That deserves gratitude, which he seems to have in abundance. I was an only child, as well."

"No doubt you were an excellent one."

"Also raised by my grandparents. Then my grandfather alone after my grandmother died--"

"And your parents?"

"Father unknown and my mother's been missing for a long time. She left me with my grandparents when I was a baby. She was an alcoholic and eventually just ran off."

"Alcoholic," he said solemnly. "Our people have an issue with that."

A strange thing happened to Lilly in that moment. In all the years her grandfather had tried in vain to pull her closer to her roots, her foundation, she'd pulled away. She pushed herself more into the opposite world, trading Native studies for accounting, Native spiritualism for the eastern pursuit of yoga. And yet when Clay made that simple statement--Our people have an issue with that--she felt an instant bond.

"Does your family have an issue?" she asked.

"A cousin or two have tested the evils, to their peril." He shook his head. "My family stripped the mystery from that a long time ago. Since I was a small child it was stressed that there's no escape--you drink alcohol, you become a drunk and die young. We're not like the French or English in that regard. Our bodies are simply more susceptible to alcohol's damages."

"Did you test it?" she wanted to know.

He shook his head. "Not a drop. I like being in control of my mind and body. I have a hard enough time with that sober. You?"

She shook her head. Then she laughed. "We have that in common--I struggle with control enough as it is."

Their conversation moved on to the more upbeat aspects of their race, tribes, families. Lilly hadn't lived on a ranch as Clay had, but she'd lived in a rural community where there was great freedom to run, play, ride. She just recently realized that sometimes she missed it desperately. And while Clay had been back to the Navajo Nation numerous times over the years, Lilly had never been back. And there was more--they had each attended college, though only Lilly had a degree. Clay had studied business because he wanted to learn how to turn his equine talents into a viable and successful business, which he had done.

"Are you well-known and rich then?" she asked.

"I'm known in the horse industry for various small things and I am rich in purpose and experience."

She laughed at him. "That was a dodge!"

"Want to see my bankbook?" he asked with a snicker. "I plan to take care of my son and my parents. I'm not comfortable that I'm prepared for that yet."

They talked about this part of Northern California and its most desirable aspects, the almost intimidating beauty, the pristine wilderness, the wildlife and clean air. Clay said he missed the mountains and canyons around Flagstaff and this was a good substitute. He told her what he'd already discovered in some of the small mountain towns and she told him what there was to enjoy on the coast.

While he finished with Streak--putting him up for the night--they continued their conversation. Finally, chores done and Clay's bag of ice warmed and reduced to water, he said, "My sister sets a big table every night--there's lots of family and sometimes friends. You can follow me there, join us for dinner. You would be welcome, and you'd like them--they're salt of the earth. Ursula is a teacher, one of the reasons I want Gabe living with them. He's a good student, but she'll make him better. And my brother-in-law is a police chief in a small town. There are kids--four besides Gabe still at home--and Tom's parents live with them."

She didn't have to look at her watch to know it was dinnertime and she would spend it alone. She'd probably stop for a bean-and-cheese burrito to go, though really, she wanted nothing more than to sit down with Clay and his family; she'd like to know more about them. But she just wasn't ready yet.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm tied up."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," she said. "I'd better get going. And you should get to dinner."

"One of these days, Lilly, you'll take a chance on me."

She laughed and gave him a dismissive wave as she headed for the truck, but inside she was thinking, I am taking a pretty big chance right now. For me...

Eight

At Annie's request, Lilly saddled up Blue Rhapsody and joined her in the round pen for a little dressage instruction. Blue was wonderful; she could almost anticipate Lilly's next move.

"How much dressage training have you had?" Annie asked her.

"None. Right before leaving the reservation, I'd started barrel racing. My grandpa said it took twenty years off his life."

"You ride like you've done it forever," Annie said.

Lilly was shaking her head. "I think it's Blue," she said. "Whatever life she had before, I bet anything she went to show. By the way, I think I've come up with a plan--if I help teach three yoga classes a week, I can afford her board. And I can get a deal on feed." She grinned.

"What if I had a better idea?" Annie said. "Our training program is still small, but growing bit by bit. I could use someone like you to help me. If you're interested."