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Without further thought, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I thought . . . Oh, God, I heard the horse and the truck. I was sure that . . .” Tears began running freely down her face, and she sobbed brokenly, clinging to him.
“Shh.” He wrapped one strong arm around her and kissed her forehead, smearing mud on her face. “I’m all right, and I think Moon Shadow will be, too. But you’d better have the vet look at him. He’s limping a little.”
“What happened?” she asked, refusing to let go of the man she loved, letting her body feel his, confirming that he was here, alive and unhurt. Rain glistened in his ebony hair, sweat trickled down his jutted chin and a scarlet streak of dried blood cut across his hollowed cheek. Still he was the most ruggedly handsome man she had ever known.
“The fence was down. I followed Moon Shadow through it and called to him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Of course,” Tiffany replied, patting the horse’s sweaty neck fondly. “He never does.”
“He just took off down the road. Bolted as if he were jumping out of the starting gate. I heard the truck coming and tried to stop him by cutting across a field. That’s when I got this.” He pointed to the ugly slash on his face. “When I realized I didn’t have a prayer of catching him in time, I called to the horse and yelled at the truck driver, waving my arms, hoping to catch his eye. Even though I was farther down the road, I thought the driver might see my shirt before the black horse. Anyway, Moon Shadow jumped over the ditch and ran into the trees just as the truck hit the brakes.”
“Hey, you think I could get some help over here?” the furious trucker shouted.
Zane went to help the driver just as Mac’s old Dodge rumbled down the road. After parking the pickup some distance from the mangled truck and trailer, Mac scrambled out of the Dodge. “Holy Mother of God,” he whispered as he eyed the wrecked truck. He expelled a long whistle and grabbed the lead rope from the front seat of his pickup. “What the devil happened?”
Then he saw Moon Shadow. Knowing that Zane and the trucker were doing everything that could be done with the truck, Mac walked over to Tiffany and snapped a lead rope onto Moon Shadow’s wet halter. “Well, Missy,” he said, eyeing the wrecked truck. “It looks as if you’ve had yourself quite a night.” His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the anxious stallion.
“One I wouldn’t want to repeat,” she admitted. “Zane says Moon Shadow’s walking with a misstep,” she said. “Left hind leg.”
“Let’s take a look at him.” Mack talked to the horse while he ran his fingers down his back and along each leg. “Yep, it’s a little tender,” Mac decided. “But I don’t think anything’s broken, probably bruised himself, maybe a pulled tendon. I’ll take him back to the barn, cool him down and check for any other injuries.” He tugged on the rope, and Moon Shadow tossed his great black head. “I always saidyoushould have been the one named Devil’s something or other,” Mac grumbled affectionately to the nervous stallion.
The sound of a siren pierced the night and increased in volume. Bright, flashing lights announced the arrival of the state police. A young officer parked his car, leaving the lights flashing in warning, and walked stiffly toward the crumpled truck. “What happened here?” he demanded.
“One of the horses got out,” Zane replied, tossing a broken branch off the road.
“And I damned near hit him,” the trucker added with a shake of his head. “Just lucky that I didn’t.”
The officer’s suspicious eyes moved from Zane to Tiffany. “Are you the lady who called?”
“Yes.”
“Beforethe accident?”
“That’s right. I was afraid something like this might happen.”
The officer studied the wreckage and whistled. “Where’s the horse?”
“Over here.” Mac led Moon Shadow to the officer. The black stallion shied away from the flashing lights of the police car, and reared on his back legs. The lead rope tightened in Mac’s hands, but he began to talk to the horse and gently led him away from the crowd.
“Blends in with the night,” Officer Sparks remarked, watching the nervous black stallion shy away from the crumpled vehicle. The policeman turned his hard eyes back on Tiffany. “How’d he get out?”
“Someone left the stall door unlatched, and he found a hole in a fence we’re repairing.”
“Wait a minute, let’s start at the beginning.” He walked back to his car, reached for a note pad on the dash and began writing quickly.
“Why don’t we do this inside,” Zane suggested, “where it’s warmer and drier?”
The young officer pursed his lips together and nodded. “Fine. Just let me take a few measurements and report what happened on the radio. Then we’ll call a tow company and see if we can get this rig moved.”
Three hours later the ordeal was nearly over. After two cups of coffee and what seemed to be a thousand questions, the police officer was satisfied that he could accurately report what had happened. The trucker had taken the name of Tiffany’s insurance company and had left with the tow truck driver, who had driven up with a truck similar in size to the wrecked rig. Moon Shadow was back in his stall and Mac had attended to his injury, which turned out to be a strained tendon. With Zane’s help, Mac had applied a pressure bandage and called Vance, who had promised to stop by in the morning and examine the horse.
“You’re sure Moon Shadow’s all right?” Tiffany asked the trainer. She was just coming back into the kitchen. After the police officer and the trucker had left, she had gone upstairs, showered and changed into her bathrobe. Her hair was still wet, but at least she was clean and warm.
“He’ll be fine,” Mac assured her. He was sitting at the table and finishing his last cup of coffee.
“Where’s Zane?”
Mac scowled at the mention of the Irishman. “He went to clean up. Same as you.” He looked as if he were about to say something and changed his mind. “He knows horses, that one.”
