Wild Fire (Book II)

Fall From Grace

     Emma swallowed hard. The chewed egg in her mouth felt like a river stone moving down her panicked throat. She had to get out of here. Didn't she? It didn't matter how much she craved the man's dominating touch, something just felt wrong. Or did it? The look in his eyes wasn't desire, it was raw longing. A need that rooted deep beyond the dark pupils traveling like claws to an even blacker place that Emma did not know. She wanted to believe Dutch would not hurt her, but something inside her pressed her to go. Something she could not control.

     She sat the plate carefully on the nightstand, trying not to make a sound. She could see Dutch leant back in his chair just left of the door frame leading outside. His round arm was stretched at an angle just at his mouth where he held the signature cigar inches from his savoring lips. The right side of his face still pulled in the tight curl of a smile.

     She crept off the bed to the window behind her. Sunlight gleamed in scratched pieces through the years of dirt, beckoning her beyond. Just outside she could see Dutch's horse, The Count, tethered lazily under the lean-to that attached haphazardly to the side of the house. The Arabian beauty grazed contently on a velvety tuft of shamrocks just under his pudgy pink muzzle. Little content nickers filtered the air between his satisfied pawing hoof pats and his shaking head. The beast seemed truly at ease, stretching his thick hindquarters out from under the makeshift cover to soak in the baking sun.

     She pulled on the old sill, willing it to be silent under her nervous touch. It creaked only once and she stopped, hunching her head low, tucking it under her shoulders and peeking back at Dutch's long stretching form. He had not moved, seemingly oblivious to everything around him but the engulfing great outdoors.

     She pushed up again until the glass stopped half-way, but just big enough for her to squeeze through arms first. Shivers rolled over her, as she pulled herself up, plunging her body through the small opening, fish tailing her legs till she plopped most ungracefully to the ground below.

     The Count turned his wide head with a wink eyeing her, as his teeth see-sawed the tender clover caught between his pink gums. Emma crouched on the balls of her feet pulling her dress up close and padded her way over to the curious animal. "Easyyy boy. There's a good boy. Pleaseee be a good boy for me." She coo'd begging him wholeheartedly. Emma's riding skills left much to be desired. Being poor and living in Valentine all her life as a barfly left little room to truly learn such things. But she had to try.

     She reached a twitching hand out to the steed's soft nose patting it gently. "See? I'm not gonna hurt ya big boy. I just need your help." The horse towered over her, a trojan knight shadowing a tiny pawn.

     But Emma slipped her bare toes through the stirrup anyway, and kicked off with her other leg throwing herself up, grabbing the horn, and tossing herself over the large saddle. She took the reins urging him forward, not daring to back him up anywhere near Dutch's wandering eyes. His hard hooves crushed the little piles of wood around him, pushing them out of the way and slowly he made his way from the back of the shelter.

     He clomped a few feet forward, tittering irritably, and halted where he stood. Emma urged him again, bouncing his sides with the edge of her bare heels. The animal's head shook back and forth with a snort and an exasperated whinny peeled past his gnawing teeth. She continued nudging him with the soles of her feet, ushering him forward until he was clear of the lean-to.

     The stallion stomped his feet and blew tufts of air from his round nostrils. His dark knowing eyes began to widen to wild whites at the stranger perched on his back. Emma patted his neck nervously. "Come on boy, just a little ride then I'll leave you be." She pleaded with the animal glancing again fearfully over her shoulder. But The Count was having none of it. He bounced up kicking his front feet, twisting his rump with a jerk. A loud whiny chittered from his drooling mouth in displeasure. Emma tapped him again, snapping on the reins, and in an instant the horse had bolted.