Luke knew stock better than anyone in the camp, and Ayana was the best rider. Their mornings were spent in the rope corral or out in the narrow box canyon where they grazed the animals. The air between them was often sharp, filled with a static of unspoken history. "You ride like a sack of grain. " Ayana commented one morning as they moved the herd to a new patch of grass. "You sit too heavy.
The horse carries you. You do not move with him. " "I ride like a man who has spent 12 hours a day in the saddle for 10 years. " Luke retorted, adjusting his hat. "It gets the job done. " "It tires the horse. " Ayana said, her voice cool. "You fight the animal. You want to conquer it.
We become the animal. " She kicked her heels and her pony surged forward, leaping a fallen log with a grace that made horse and rider look like a single creature. Luke watched her, grudgingly admiring the way she sat, loose yet controlled, her braids flying behind her like black whips. The test came 3 days later. A young paint pony, skittish and half wild, broke its tether. It bolted toward the canyon mouth, heading for the dangerous labyrinth of ravines that led out to the open desert.
If it escaped, it was gone forever. "He is loose! " Ayana shouted. Luke was already moving. He vaulted onto the black stallion he had been grooming, riding bareback with only a halter. "I will cut him off at the ridge. " Luke yelled.
"You drive him from the bottom. " They rode hard. The terrain was a nightmare of loose shale and jagged rocks. Luke pushed the stallion, trusting the animal's footing. He scrambled up a steep slope, rocks clattering down behind him. Below, he saw Ayana galloping through the wash, her body low over her pony's neck, her voice driving the runaway horse toward the trap.
Luke reached the top of the ridge and spurred the stallion down a treacherous slide. He hit the canyon floor just as the paint pony came around the bend. Luke hauled back on the halter, sliding the stallion to a halt, blocking the path. The paint pony reared, confused. Ayana was there a second later.
She slipped from her horse while it was still moving, landing softly in the dust. She moved toward the panicked animal, crooning low, rhythmic sounds. Luke slid off the stallion and moved to the other side. They boxed the pony in. Luke raised his arm slowly, limiting the space, while Ayana moved in for the capture.
"Steady. " Luke murmured. "Steady now. " Ayana reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and grabbed the trailing rope. The pony snorted, but stood still, boxed in by the two humans. Ayana secured the rope. She looked up at Luke.
They were standing 5 ft apart, chests heaving from the exertion, covered in dust and sweat. The air crackled. It was the adrenaline of the chase. Yes, but it was something else, too. It was the sudden, sharp intimacy of shared danger.
"You ride well for a sack of grain. " Ayana said. She was breathless, her eyes wide and dark. "You are not so bad yourself. " Luke replied. He wiped the grit from his forehead. "For a ghost? " Ayana didn't look away.
For a moment, the barrier of war and blood seemed to thin. Luke looked at her mouth, then at the pulse beating in her throat. He felt a sudden, dangerous pull, a desire to close the distance, to taste the dust on her skin. The paint pony tossed its head, breaking the spell. Ayana stepped back, her face closing down like a shutter.