Spirit Horses by Alan Evans Page B

sure
have a chip on your shoulder, don’t you?”
    The girl looked at Shane out of the corner of her
eyes. “Sorry, I guess I still have my guard up. You know most of the folks in
town are good people, but that bunch of guys we just dealt with seem to enjoy causing
trouble for anyone who is Shoshone.”
    Shane stopped and pointed at the Mustang. “Do you
know that brand on her hip?” He could sense the girl’s anger, as she looked
over.
    “That’s a stolen horse,” she blurted out. “Where did
you get her?”
    “I’ve had her for a few years. I got her in
Tennessee. That’s where I’m from, and I’m not a horse thief.”
    “Well that horse is a Shoshone mustang and belongs
on our reservation!” the girl exclaimed angrily as she helped Shane onto the
porch and watched him sit in a rocking chair.
    “Ma’am, my name is Shane Carson, what’s yours?”
    “I’m Tara. Look, I don’t have time to ask any more
questions about the horse right now. I need to get that medicine to my
grandfather. I’ll come back tomorrow around noon with my brothers to talk to
you about the mare?”
    “I’ll be here,” he replied.
    Tara stepped down off the porch, turned back, and
quietly said, “Thanks for your help, Shane Carson. I won’t forget it, but I
still think you should have stayed out of it.”
    Shane forced a grin and slowly shook his aching head
as he reached up and felt a growing lump from the rake handle.
    This was the first time he’d really taken a good
look at her. He had noticed right off the bat that she was tough and
independent, but she also possessed some class. She appeared to be in her late
twenties, and, listening to her command of English, Shane couldn’t help but
think she must be well educated. All of this was a bit overshadowed by the hard
shell she hid behind.
    In spite of his aching head, Shane found himself
drawn to her natural beauty. It was not the flashy kind that jumps out at you
from a distance, but the kind that slowly overcomes a man, the closer he gets
to such a woman. Her coal black hair was just short of waist length, and had
come somewhat unraveled from her ponytail. She wore no makeup. The truth be
told, she didn’t need it. Her natural high cheek bones and smooth, caramel skin
were obviously Indian traits, but her sky blue eyes made Shane doubt that she
was a full-blooded Shoshone. The only jewelry she had on was a beaded necklace,
with a light blue turquoise stone. She stood about five eight with a body any
woman would envy. Even with all this, she appeared unpretentious and seemingly
unaware of her appeal. Shane figured she must have a man in her life. He
wondered if there would be any retaliation on her behalf over what happened in
town.
    As Tara drove off, Mrs. Jensen came out to the
porch. She was startled by all the blood on Shane’s hand and the back of his
head.
    “Oh my goodness, what happened? You need to get in
the house right now and let me tend to that mess!”
    “I’m okay, ma’am, I just bumped my head.”
    “Bullshit,” the old man said, as he followed his
wife out. “You’ve got a black eye coming up along with that big bloody knot on
your noggin. It looks to me like you came out on the short end of a fight!”
    “It’s a long story,” Shane answered. “I’ll tell you
about it later, but for now, could I take you up on that offer to stay here for
a few nights?”
    “You know you’re welcome,” Mrs. Jensen said.
    “I could also use a ride to the motel, so I can get
my clothes and truck.”
    “No problem,” answered Mr. Jensen. “You let me know
when you’re ready. Right now, you need to let the wife do a little cleanup and
repair.”
    “Thanks, I owe you folks.”
    After Shane was doctored and had showered, Mr.
Jensen took him to town. To say the least, it had been an eventful day. In
spite of this, during the drive Shane’s thoughts began to drift to his family.
The early evening was the hardest for him. It was this time each day that