At first she saw only the horse, plunging and rearing, and her first thought was that it had lost its rider and bolted, and now the trailing reins were caught on some underbrush. She forgot her tiredness as urgency flooded her muscles. She slammed on the brakes, shoved the gear shift into park, and jumped out of the car, leaving the motor running and the door open. She could hear the horse's squeals of fear and pain as it reared again.
1 211
Roanna didn't think about her expensive shoes or her silk dress. She didn't think of anything except reaching the horse before it hurt itself. She leaped the shallow ditch on the opposite side of the road, then ran awkwardly across the small field toward the trees, her high heels sinking into the earth with each step. She plunged through knee-high weeds that stung her legs, snagged her hosiery on some green briers, turned her ankle when she stepped in a hole. She ignored all of that as she ran as fast as she could, intent only on getting to the horse.
Then the horse sidled sideways, and she saw the man. She hadn't noticed him before because he'd been on the other side of the horse, and the undergrowth had partially blocked her view.
The horse's reins weren't caught on anything. The man was holding them in one fist, and in the other fist he held a small tree limb that he was using to beat the horse.
Fury roared through her, pumping strength into her muscles. She heard herself yell, saw the man took in her direction with a startled expression on his face, then she surged through the undergrowth and threw her weight against him, knocking him to the side. She couldn't have done it if he'd been expecting it and braced himself, but she caught him by surprise.
"Stop it!" she stormed, placing herself between him and the frightened horse.
"Don't you dare hit this animal again!"
He regained his balance and swung toward her, gripping the limb as if he would use it on her. Roanna registered the danger in his face, the venomous anger in his eyes, but she stood her ground. Her detachment didn't include standing by and watching any animal in general, but horses in particular, being abused. She braced herself, waiting for him to swing at her. If she charged him, she could get inside the blow and maybe knock him off balance again. If she could, she wouldn't waste any more time but get on the horse and get away from him as fast as she could.
His eyes were a hot electric blue as he advanced a step toward her, his arm drawn back ready to strike. His face was
dark red, his lips drawn back over his teeth in a snarl.
"You damn little bitch-" "Who are you?" Roanna demanded, taking a half step toward him herself to show that she wasn't afraid. It was a bluff-she was suddenly very much afraid-but the anger inside her was still so strong she stood her ground.
"What are you doing on our land?"
Maybe he thought better of hitting her. For whatever reason, he halted, though he was slow to let his arm drop. He stood a few feet away, breathing hard and glaring at her. "Who are you?" she demanded again. Something about him was eerily familiar, as if she'd seen that expression before. But she knew she'd never seen him before, and she thought she would remember if she had, because those vivid blue eyes and thick shock of gray hair were very distinctive. He was a thickly built man, probably in his fifties, whose wide shoulders and barrel chest gave the impression of an almost brutish strength. What disturbed her the most, though, was the sense almost of evil that emanated from him. No, not evil. It was more impersonal than that, a simple and total lack of conscience or morals. That was it. His eyes, for all their hot color, were cold and flat.
"Who I am ain't none of your business," he sneered.
"And neither is what I'm doing."
"When you do it on Davenport land, it is. Don't you dare hit this horse again, do you hear?"
"It's my horse, and I'll do whatever I damn well please to it. The bastard threw me."
"Then maybe you should learn how to ride better," she retorted hotly. She turned to catch the dangling reins and murmur soothingly to the horse, then patted its neck. It snorted nervously but calmed down as she continued to gently stroke it. The horse wasn't a valuable purebred like Lucinda's babied darlings; it was of an indeterminate breed with indifferent formation, but Roanna couldn't see any reason why it should be mistreated.
"Why don't you just go about your own business, missy, and I'll forget about teaching you some manners."
The menacing voice made her whirl. He was closer, and there was a feral look in his expression now. Swiftly Roanna stepped back, maneuvering so that the horse was between her and the man.
"Get off our land," she said coldly.
"Or I'll have you arrested."
His heavily sensual mouth twisted in another sneer.
"I guess you would. The sheriff's an ass-ticker, especially when it comes to a Davenport ass. It wouldn't make any difference to you that I didn't know I was on your precious property, would it?"
"Not when you're beating your horse," Roanna replied, her tone still cold.
"Now leave."
He smirked.
"I can't. You're holding my horse." Roanna dropped the reins and took another cautious step back.
"There. Now get off our property, and if I ever see you mistreating an animal again, I'll have you brought up on charges of cruelty. Maybe I don't know your name, but I can describe you, and probably not too many people look the way you do." None that she knew of-, his eyes were very distinctive.
He turned dark with temper again, and violence moved in those eyes, but he evidently thought better once more of what he had been about to do and merely reached for the reins. He swung himself into the saddle with the minimum of effort that revealed him to be an experienced rider.