Intruder Alert

Mirabella sprawled naked in the meadow’s tall grass and let the sun warm her long limbs. She had no fears of discovery here in the mountain solitude, not by humans, shifters or anything else. Here she could relax and be her other self.

A short distance away the band of saddle horses grazed, equally unconcerned. They’d been wary of her when she’d first approached them, a horse that moved just a fraction off true and smelled of shifter to boot. At first she’d simply trailed the herd and used them for camouflage. In time their boss mare, Ripley, had accepted her—perhaps not fully as one of them, but at least as a guest. At any rate, the mare hadn’t driven her off, and Mirabella had been able to hide herself with the herd.

There’d been some tense moments when Merry, the dude ranch owner, had ridden up to the mountain pasture to collect fresh horses for her guests and found the strange roan mare among her stock. Mirabella stood still and held her breath and let Merry check her over for a brand or inner-lip tattoo or implanted ID chips. Of course she knew Merry wasn’t going to find any, let alone an owner. Those intent on recovering Mirabella were looking for a runaway woman, not a missing horse. Thank Epona she’d never disclosed her shifter nature to Wells!

The roan mare had a fiery temper but took kindly to inexperienced riders, especially young, nervous girls. For them she demonstrated unexpected patience. When an owner didn’t turn up, Merry shrugged and added the new saddle horse to her herd and put her to work. She was just what a rider with little confidence needed, a feisty but affectionate mount that would do as told and not try to buck them off. Merry had named the “mare” Vasquez. Mirabella had no idea why. Merry was a big film fan, so Mirabella assumed it must be some kind of movie reference.

Since then neither Wells nor any of his men had ever come to the ranch. She’d reached the point where she felt free enough to shift back to her human form, but only here in the isolated hills. The band, even vigilant Ripley and her stallion partner Hicks, were used to her now and didn’t even spook when a human suddenly appeared in their midst from time to time.

Only one threat to her safety remained: Merry’s boyfriend, Dash. He was also a horse shifter. Dash knew the difference between a real horse and one trying to pass. So far he hadn’t betrayed her. Was he looking for the perfect moment to strike? Or waiting for her to make her own choice to come clean?

If the latter, he had a long wait ahead of him. What had begun of necessity had turned into a pleasant existence for Mirabella. Rich grass, open skies, the protection of others who were sort of her kind and, above all, freedom. If it meant giving up her human self for long stretches, she was willing to live with the cost. Being a woman hadn’t paid off for her nearly as well as being a horse.

She rolled over onto her stomach and kicked her legs lazily in the air. The rest of the herd had drifted downslope, all but the Duke. The big, blaze-faced Clydesdale had gotten too old to pull hay wagons, so Merry turned him loose to enjoy retirement in the hills. Seeing she was in human form, he stomped over to her and bumped her with his nose for a petting. Mirabella grinned and obliged, scratching behind his ears right at the spot where he liked it. The gelding sighed into her hair. “This is the life,” she agreed.

If only it could last. But she knew better.

She rose easily to her feet and folded her arms on the Duke’s broad back while he grazed. For now she had it good. However, there was still Dash, hoarding her secret for whatever reason, and Wells, after the secrets her human self carried. Keeping track of Dash was easy; she had only to look for Merry. Wells and his agents could be anywhere.

Something moved in the grass.

Mirabella stiffened, instantly alert. Sensing her alarm, the Duke raised his head with a puzzled huhn. She pressed a hand to his nose to quiet him. The invader might not yet know he’d been spotted.

He was stealthy, whatever he was. He moved like a snake, a sinuous ribbon in the tawny meadow grass. Wolf? Too fluid. Coyote, perhaps, or a puma. Whatever he was, he bypassed the Duke and instead zeroed in on the herd. Hicks, on watch, hadn’t noticed the invader yet. Nor had the stalker noticed her, she was certain.

Using the Duke’s bulky body to hide herself, Mirabella shifted.

In the blink of an eye Mirabella the woman became Vasquez the mare. She loosed a piercing neigh, to both warn her companions and to startle the intruder. If this was a normal predator, he would realize his ambush had been ruined and run. If he wasn’t, she would deal with him.

Had he noticed her in her human form? She dared not take that chance.

The first part of her plan worked perfectly. The horses turned toward the sound of her neigh and instantly realized their danger. Phase Two didn’t go so well. Instead of retreating, the intruder attacked. He charged at the band in a shocking burst of speed. That was no wolf or local cat. She had no idea what it was.

She knew one thing for certain: he was not going to harm her companions.

The herd stallion leaped to intercept. The attacker zigged around him as if the horse were moving in slow motion. However, his forced change in course brought him up against Mirabella, pounding in from behind. He dodged her also, lost his footing, and skidded through the grass. Mirabella and Hicks came at him from opposing sides. The Duke stomped a huge hoof and whinnied.

Mirabella reached the invader first. An equine snort escaped her. What in Epona’s name was this doing in the wilds of Montana?

Merry's Christmas

A working horse and cattle ranch doesn’t stop working just because it’s Christmas. The stock doesn’t care if Santa’s coming; they still need to be fed, the stalls still need to be mucked out, and the million and one tasks that keep the ranch running still need to be done. Therefore, dawn on Christmas morning found Merry on horseback riding toward the upper pastures to make sure the Christmas eve snowfall hadn’t caused any hardship for the herds.

She gripped her mount’s mane and leaned across his neck to speak above the chilly winter wind into his ear. “We’ll take a look at the southwest first, then swing toward the top of the ridge. After we’ve checked on the cattle we can take a break at the line cabin, and I’ll call back to the office.”

Dash snorted to let her know he understood. He carried her himself; he refused to trust her safety to a normal horse. In his shifter form he was powerful and tireless, moreso than her regular mounts. If anything went wrong up here, he’d be right there to help out.

Of course, Merry considered through clenched teeth, riding a shifter did have its drawbacks. Dash wasn’t into bondage, so that meant no saddle or reins. He permitted a blanket to be strapped to his back for her comfort, but she had to hold onto his mane. The saddlebags carrying his clothes were tied just behind her. Since this sort of amounted to a backpack, his stallion’s pride allowed it.

At the first pasture they found the cattle bunched together and blowing steam from their nostrils. They appeared to have weathered the storm just fine. The ridge was clear of cattle. “They probably all headed downslope to get out of the wind,” Merry said, and Dash nodded agreement. “Head for the cabin. I’ll radio Race to haul up a couple of hay bales, just in case. I know he’s just itching to break out the Sno Cat. Kid loves it better than a horse.”

Dash muttered his low opinion of motorized vehicles and headed for the cabin.

At the little one-room line cabin Merry darted inside to fire up the woodstove, while Dash shifted and toweled the sweat and snow off his naked human body. By the time the snug little room had warmed, he was dressed and digging oatmeal and apples out of the saddlebags. “You have some too,” he ordered. “I know you skimped on breakfast.”

“I can eat any time. The cattle don’t always have that option.” Merry lifted the short-wave radio in its insulated case down from the cupboard. Cell phones were dicey out here in the cold, but the radio always got through. While Dash fixed their breakfast she contacted the ranch and reported the herd’s whereabouts and condition. “Race is on his way,” she said after she signed off. “I think he would have run the Sno Cat up here even if I hadn’t called in.”

“Waste of good hay. You know the deer are just gonna eat it.”

“Maybe some elk, too. I wouldn’t mind seeing elk on the range. Give the guests something to look at when we open up again in the spring.”

“What, the unicorn ain’t enough?”

“The unicorn’s retired. Guests with guns and high-powered scopes we don’t need.” Merry made sure to hug him to take the sting out of her order. “Maybe in the summer. We can have a Valentine’s Day in June or something.”

“Or,” Dash suggested with his big horsy grin, “we could have one right now.”

“You need your energy to get back down the mountain.”

“I got energy and then some. We’ll make it.”

“If not,” Merry teased, running her fingers through his thick mane, “maybe Race could give us a ride back on the Sno Cat.”

“You sure know how to wreck a man’s mood, woman.”

“I’m only thinking of you. You’ve been plowing through snow uphill all morning. Those big, strong muscles of yours need a br – ”

Dash jerked his head around, a split second before Merry’s less-keen human ears picked up a noise outside. It was a familiar enough sound, but had no business being here. The sound of hooves clomping through snow, and the snort and mutter of horses.

“You expecting company?” Dash said.

Unicorn hunters flashed through Merry’s mind. She reached for the rifle she always carried with her on her trips into the hills. Dash went unarmed, but only in his human shape. “Don’t shift just yet. Let’s see what we got first.”

She couldn’t see a thing through the heat-fogged windows. Dash slid the door open a crack, then flung it wide. “Well,” he said, amused. “Come say hi to the neighbors.”

Merry peered beyond his brawny shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat.

Only yards from the cabin door, a stocky paint stallion studied them warily, nostrils flared and ears tipped forward. He must have cut their trail, caught Dash’s scent and come to investigate. Merry glimpsed several more horses peeking back at them from the edge of the woods, mares and yearlings in their shaggy winter coats, blowing softly.

Merry clutched at Dash’s arm. “Are they … ?”

“Ain’t my kind,” he murmured back. “They’re the real deal.” He neighed a reassurance to the stallion. “Merry Christmas, cuz. I won’t come after your ladies.” He draped his arm around Merry. “Got my own.”

The paint shook his head while he puzzled over Dash’s semi-equine scent. Abruptly he snorted and whirled. His band galloped after him. They vanished over the rise.

Dash had to close the door; Merry was too stunned to move. Her eyes shown like a child’s on, well, on Christmas morning. “They’re back,” she breathed. “The mustangs. After all these years.”

“Word must’a got out about what a great range we got here. And under a unicorn’s protection and all.” He laughed briefly. “Bet I know where Race’s hay is going.”

“Wild horses on the ridge again. Just like when I was a girl.” She threw her arms around Dash’s neck and hugged him tight. “This is the best Christmas present ever.”

“Second best.” Dash tugged at the buttons on her blouse. “You’re about to get the best. Gotta warm you up again, now that we went and let all the heat out.”

Merry giggled and made no attempt to stop him. “What about breakfast?”

He laid her out on the grizzly skin in front of the woodstove. “It’ll keep.”

Sure enough, it did.