A short Excerpt:
Ellie pushed the curtain aside. Her hand reached for the white wooden trim around the window as her eyes followed the horse circling around the pen, and the man standing in the center. She’d seen soldiers try to catch unruly horses with lassos before, but this man was clearly not trying to rope the horse. He was making the animal move away from him. Her forehead scrunched in puzzlement.
Fascinated, she leaned against the window frame. She pushed wisps of her hair away from her cheek that had come loose of the pins that kept the long strands out of her face. The ends of her scarf tickled the underside of her jaw, and she ran a finger underneath the material to loosen it. Perspiration dampened her skin, so she unwrapped it completely from her neck. The breeze cooled the moist skin along her throat.
Her eyes returned to the scene outside. Watching the horse moving around the pen had a soothing effect on her jumbled insides. The wrangler remained in the center of the pen, only stepping forward when the horse slowed. He barely moved when he raised his arm and pivoted his body. As if on cue, the horse suddenly turned toward the man and took off in the other direction.
Mesmerized, Ellie stood rooted to the spot. The man sent the horse forward with only the slightest shifts of his body, so subtle that not many people would have noticed. When the animal lowered its head, the man stood still and, judging by the way his hat tilted forward, he’d also lowered his gaze. As if it had been given an invisible signal, the horse stopped and walked toward the man, coming to a halt directly in front of him. The man touched his palm to the horse’s forehead, then walked away. The horse followed close behind him, even though there was no rope attached to its head or neck.
He was talking to that horse. Communicating without words.
Ellie’s heart fluttered as her limbs tingled with an inexplicable sensation of excitement.
Uncle John and the shorter man met the wrangler at the fence. The two men nodded vigorously, clearly pleased about something. The wrangler patted the horse’s neck, then ducked between two of the fence planks and stepped out of the pen. He removed his hat from his head, revealing a mop of trimmed, raven black hair. Standing next to Uncle John and the other man, it became apparent even from a distance that his skin was a shade darker.
Ellie’s heart picked up its pace a second time. A slight gasp escaped her mouth. Was he Indian? She shook her head. His hair was short. No Indian she’d ever encountered wore his hair short. From what she knew about them, it was an insult for a man to cut his hair. Perhaps his skin was merely darker from hours spent in the sun and, combined with his dark hair, gave him the appearance of an Indian. It was too far to see to know for sure.
Ellie inhaled a deep breath to calm the sudden unease that flowed through her body. She was about to step away from the window when the wrangler lifted his hat back to his head. Before he put it on, he looked toward the house. His head raised to the upper story. Ellie stumbled backward. Before she’d moved away from the window and out of sight, the man had stared directly at her.
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