Chapter Two

Charlotte Gray

Hannibal Heyes trudged along, gritting his teeth, the pain in his hip intensifying with each dusty step. In his bones and joints he felt every one of his thirty-seven years, and then some. Rubbing his hip and backside with the flat of his hand, he plodded down the old dirt road.

He scanned the horizon again, looking for his horse, but she was nowhere to be seen. He'd chosen the filly for his own a couple months ago, enchanted by her spirit and energy. The fact that she was a little skittish hadn't bothered him. He enjoyed a challenge, with horses as with everything else, and knew that, with time, she'd learn what was expected of her. Today though, her skittishness made him wish he'd taken Ol' Blue out on his ride around the property. At least he'd still be riding instead of walking, as he was now.

Looking to the east, some of the pain was forgotten for the moment as he surveyed the land. It wasn't huge, but it was theirs; Kid's and his. Just thinking about how their lives had changed since the amnesty gave Heyes a peaceful feeling in his soul. Things weren't perfect; he doubted if some people would truly ever forget their past; but things felt as close to perfect as he could ever remember. To own their own land, to have a place to settle down and call home, that had been a forbidden dream of his every since his family died. In his heart, he hadn't had much hope that it would ever happen, especially the way the governor kept delaying their amnesty. But it had, and he had to admit he couldn't be happier. Life seemed just about perfect now…

'Except for the fact that my hip is killing me,' he thought, grimacing as pain throbbed through the joint.

"Mr. Heyes? Isn't it a little warm to be taking a walk?"

Heyes hadn't heard the buggy as it pulled up next to him. He frowned, annoyed with himself for not paying closer attention to his surroundings. 'You're getting soft, Heyes,' he chastised himself, 'losing your touch?'

Squinting, he smiled up at the woman driving the buggy. She was dressed conservatively in a long-sleeved, high-necked dark blue dress; too heavy for the warm day; adorned and softened with just a touch of cream-colored lace at the throat and cuffs. Her hair, hidden under a large-brimmed bonnet, was secured at the nape of her neck in a tightly wound knot.

"Yes, ma'am, it surely is. Didn't start off walking though. My horse got away from me. She'll probably make it back to the ranch before I do."

"Got away from you? Why, I find that difficult to believe, Mr. Heyes," she replied, a smile playing in the corners of her mouth.

"Well, as much as I'd like to deny it, it happened. Snake. Not even a rattler; just a regular garden variety snake."

"I see. Well, I suppose I could give you a ride back to your house, if you'd like. Unless you'd prefer to walk, that is."

"Thank you, Miss Gray. I think I'd prefer to ride."

Miss Gray scooted over, making room for him to pull himself up and onto the bench seat. Even more grateful for the ride than he realized, he sighed and settled himself next to her, content to let her drive.

Charlotte Gray taught at the one-room schoolhouse in Pine Bluff. Heyes had seen her on occasion, had even had the opportunity to speak to her a few times, most notably at a dinner being held in honor of one of the hometown heroes, some bigwig blowhard at the State Capital. He and she had been seated at the same table for the evening. Heyes hadn't had much use for the politician, but he did remember being impressed with Miss Gray. Her intelligence and quick mind made for interesting dinner conversation, at least until the guest of honor started his seemingly endless, self-serving monologue at the podium. Finally, Heyes had excused himself and slipped out of the room and gone home.

As if she could read his thoughts, she suddenly said, "I'm not sure I should have rescued you from walking. Not after the way you left me trapped in that meeting room, listening to that insufferable bore." Accusingly, she added, "You could have taken me with you when you escaped."

Heyes looked at her, trying to gauge her meaning. Before he could decide if she was seriously angry with him, her face broke out in a smile. "Don't take me so seriously, Mr. Heyes. I was only teasing."

"Oh," he said, nodding. "For a second there, I wasn't sure. You have quite a poker face."

"Poker face!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "Well, I dare say I've never played poker in my life."

"I didn't mean anything by—"

"Not that I wouldn't like to try sometime, I suppose. The opportunity has just never come up yet," she said, smiling mischievously.

"Oh, I see," he replied, enlightenment dawning on him like a spring day, "you're still teasing me."

She laughed, a little contritely. "I'm sorry, Mr. Heyes. I am not normally so contrary. At least I hope I'm not. But you see, I just came from a very serious discussion with the parents of one of my students. It didn't go particularly well and I'm afraid I'm in the mood to let off a little steam. You're probably sorry now that I even stopped to give you a ride."

"Oh no, Miss Gray! I can guarantee that I'm not sorry. I can handle a little teasing. But I'm not sure how much more walking my hip would have tolerated."

"Well, here we are," she said, turning in on the driveway that led through the front yard of the ranch house. "And there she is!" Heyes' filly was standing at the closed door of the barn, in all appearances, anxious to return to her stable. She looked at Heyes with large soft eyes, as though asking 'What kept you? I've been waiting here forever.' From a distance, Heyes could almost swear that the filly batted her eyelashes at him fetchingly.

"Why that little vixen…" he muttered, scowling fiercely. If the horse noticed, she didn't let on. She just exhaled noisily through her nostrils and then searched the ground near her feet, finally finding a stray clump of grass that she nibbled daintily, not giving Heyes another thought.

Charlotte laughed; she had a lilting, cheerful laugh and even though it was technically at Heyes' expense, he couldn't make himself feel angry, or even the least bit annoyed by it. After all, if it weren't for his hip that ached like hellfire, he'd think it was awfully funny too. Besides, he liked the sound of a woman's laughter, and Charlotte Gray's laugh was marvelously pleasant to his ear.

Getting down from the buggy, he groaned as he put his weight on the sore hip, feeling a jolt of pain pass through the joint. After a couple of steps…as many as it took to reach Charlotte's side of the rig…it loosened up some and felt a little better. "Would you like to come in? Maybe have something cool to drink?" he asked her, extending his arm in invitation, hoping that she'd take him up on his offer. He knew Kid wasn't expected back home for a while yet and the thought of a little company was appealing.

She looked doubtfully, first at him and then at the modest ranch house. "I'm not sure I should," she began.

"Oh, I see," he said, disappointed. "Well, I guess I can understand why you might not want to…what with me being—"

"Oh, it's nothing against you, Mr. Heyes," Charlotte hastened to tell him. "It's just that—well, the house seems rather empty and I'm not sure I should come in."

"Ah. I see," he said carefully. "Keeping up appearances?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm sure you realize that as the town's school teacher, I have people scrutinizing my every action. If anyone saw me visiting a man at his home, alone…well, I'm sure I'd have some explaining to do."

"Yes, I see," he said. With exaggerated motions, Heyes turned to look in all directions, craning his head to look, first to one side, then the other, and finally turning in a circle to survey the space behind him. When he turned back to face her, he was smiling widely. In a stage whisper, he said to her, "I don't see anyone around, do you? I think it might be safe to come in for a minute; just long enough to have a drink," he urged sweetly.

She laughed, delighted; and her laugh lifted his heart, like it had earlier. He held out his hand to her, encouragingly, and glancing around for herself, she finally placed her fingers on his, allowing him to help her down, his hands moving to her waist for a few brief seconds as he lifted her to the ground.

"What about your horse," she said, remembering the filly that still stood at the closed barn door watching them.

"She can wait a while. She won't go anywhere and after this morning, she can just be patient. It's hard to believe, I know, but she's really a great horse. But don't tell her I said that or there'll be no living with her," he said conspiratorially.

"Oh, I won't," she promised, sincerely. "It'll be our secret."

Smiling again, he took Charlotte by the arm, gently guiding her towards the ranch house.

The front door opened onto a small foyer looking into a comfortable, yet masculine furnished sitting room. The room held two large, thickly stuffed armchairs and a matching sofa covered in dark green brocade. Two small mahogany tables sat close to the chairs, holding books and a few miscellaneous items. The hardwood floor was unadorned by rug. These were the only pieces of furniture in the room; not a doily or ruffle in was in sight. This was truly a man's home; tastefully furnished, but rather stark, in Charlotte's opinion.

Heyes watched her take in the room. "I know what you're thinking…needs a woman's touch. But we like it this way," he said.

"No, I think it's wonderful. It suits you. Very masculine and straightforward… it's perfect as it is."

"Thank you," he said proudly. And he was proud—proud of this home that he and Kid had worked so hard to get. "Come with me. Let me show you some of the other parts of the house."

The kitchen was surprisingly large. Pots and pans hung from metal hooks set into the ceiling over an expansive work area and a large wood cook stove took up most of one wall. This was the kitchen of a person who loved to cook. "Do you cook, Mr. Heyes?" she asked.

"No, not really. We've learned a few things since settling down here but neither one of us really knows our way around the kitchen very well yet. Most of the cooking we've done has been over a campfire and it's pretty much consisted of beans and stews. But I think we'd both like to see this kitchen get more use than it does someday…maybe we'll have to hire us a cook when the ranch is doing better and we can afford one. In the meantime, we still mostly just use it for making more beans and stew…and eggs. I've learned to make a mean omelet. Someday maybe I'll make you one."

She laughed, a little embarrassed. "That would be lovely, I'm sure."

"Yes, well…" he said, realizing she might have read more into his invitation than he meant, although, the more he allowed himself to think about it, the more appealing the prospect became. "Come on, I'll show you my favorite part of the house."

"I'd love to see it, whatever it is," she smiled.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it almost as much as I do, considering what you do." He walked in front of her, out of the kitchen and down a hallway towards the rear of the house. "I spend most of my day there, when I'm not somewhere else."

Stepping through an open door, he turned to her and, gesturing widely with his arms, said with obvious pride, "This is my office."

The room was modestly, yet solidly, furnished. Much of the available space was taken up by a large, sturdily constructed oaken desk, but what drew Charlotte's eye were the shelves and shelves of books lining two full walls. Her schoolteacher's mind was boggled as her eyes roamed over the volumes neatly assembled. Her feet carried her into the room until she stood in front of them. Her fingers reached up and lightly swept across the binding of several of the books. Her lips moved silently as she read the names and authors collected there; Wordsworth, Lord Byron, Keats, Austen, Dickens, the names were like old friends to her.

"These are all yours?" she turned to him, finally, and asked.

"Yep, all mine," he answered.

"Well, this is just phenomenal!" she exclaimed. "Have you read them all?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Gray."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed. "Then you're just a collector?"

"No, ma'am, I wouldn't say that. I've read most of them. But there are probably a dozen or so that I haven't had a chance to get around to yet. I'm sure I will soon enough though, once work slows down a bit."

Her eyes continued their wandering across the book jackets. "Do you have a favorite author?"

"I've always been partial to Mark Twain, but I enjoy most of the classics as well," he said.

"I must say, Mr. Heyes, I envy you. I would love to have a library of this magnitude at my fingertips. On a schoolteacher's salary, I can't afford to buy many books, other than those I use in the classroom."

"All right then, consider them at your fingertips. I'd be honored to let you borrow a few volumes now and then. And then perhaps we could discuss them together. I'm afraid my partner isn't much interested in talking about books."

"Oh, Mr. Heyes, that would be wonderful."

"Tell you what. Why don't you have a look around while I go and fetch us something to drink. If you see any you like, you can take them home with you."

"I'd like that, thank you," she said.

Charlotte took her time, wandering past the rows of books, her eyes savoring the titles as a child would savor jars of colorful candy in a confectionary. She carefully chose the volumes she wanted to read, changing her mind several times, finding it hard to settle on just a few titles. Finally, satisfied with her choices and unable to contain her excitement, she sat down at Heyes' desk, eager to begin looking through the books.

Perched in Heyes' chair, Charlotte noticed another book already on his desk. Its unusual title piqued her curiosity and she picked it up; 'Tachyhippodamia; on the New Secret of Taming Horses' by Willis J. Powell. Intrigued, she opened the book and started reading. She didn't hear Heyes when he came back into the room, carrying a tray that held two tall glasses of tea.

"Sorry, Miss Gray, we seem to be out of lemonade. I brought you some sweet tea instead. I hope that's alright."

"Hm?" she said absently, looking up from the book. "Oh, yes…yes, that's fine, thank you."

He handed her the glass and she drank, grateful for the cool liquid. "Delicious," she said, licking her lip delicately. "I hadn't realized how thirsty I was," she smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He gestured at the book in her hands. "I see you've discovered my latest interest. What do you think?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I only just picked it up. Quite an interesting title though. I've never heard of tach-y-hippo-damia," she said, pronouncing each syllable carefully. "What's it about?"

"I guess basically it's just a different way to tame a horse. Something a little more humane than the usual 'busting'."

"Fascinating premise—but do you think it really works?"

"I sure hope so."

"Oh?"

Heyes' eyes lit up with excitement. "Uh huh. Just recently, I acquired a really incredible horse. He's really something special, but unfortunately right now, he's pretty much unrideable and very unpredictable; some might say dangerous. But there's something about him that just drew me to him from the moment I saw him."

His excitement was infectious and Charlotte couldn't help but laugh. "Dangerous, you say?"

"No, I said some might say that. I said special. And really quite a beautiful animal too."

"So he's not dangerous?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," he replied, earning himself one of her laughs.

"And you're planning on using the techniques from this book to tame him?"

Heyes frowned thoughtfully. "Not exactly. The book gave me the original idea to try this, but after reading parts of it, I'm not really sure it's something you can really learn from a book."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning, I think the ability to relate to a horse in this manner is, more likely than not, sort of inborn in a person. Either you have it, or you don't, I guess."

"And you're saying you think you have it?"

"I know I have it," he said, without a trace of smugness. "I have spent my whole life around horses. Sometimes I think I understand them better than I do most humans, how they think, how they feel, how they communicate. I know I can do this."

"You know something, Mr. Heyes? I believe you. Do you think I could meet this extraordinary horse some time? I'd love to see him."

"You would? Then you shall," he said, pulling her up from the chair. "Come with me." Holding onto her hand, he led her back through the house, his enthusiasm evidence in his quick gait, making her hurry to keep up with him. She felt swept away, both by the warm touch of his fingers around hers and by the pace at which he moved.