LITMIR.BIZ

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      Dedication

      To Honor the Memory of

      Barbara Eagle

      Author Note

      This story is set in southwestern South Dakota, near the Black Hills on a Lakota (Sioux) reservation. I have purposely not tied the story to a specific reservation, but I have made every effort to portray Lakota culture accurately.

      If you’re a horse lover like me, check out the Black Hills Wild Horse Sanctuary online at www. wildmustangs.com. Douglas O. Hyde founded the program in 1988, and it is the inspiration for the Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary.

       Chapter One

      The barefaced loner with the long, brown hair and the distance runner’s body was a woman apart. She was no fence-sitter, no small-talker, no crowd-joiner. She had come for the horses and nothing else.

      Logan Wolf Track liked her already.

      He would likely change his mind before the day was over but being drawn to her at first sight counted for something. His hard-earned instincts rarely failed him. He knew a kindred spirit when he saw one. Whether he could work with her, kindred or otherwise, was something else. Twenty thousand dollars worth of something else, he told himself as he approached the woman.

      He had come for the horses and the money.

      South Dakota’s Double D Wild Horse Sanctuary was filled to capacity with horses the Bureau of Land Management had placed in the care of sisters Sally Drexler and Ann Drexler Beaudry, but the horse-loving women—particularly Sally—were hell-bent on making room for more. A bottleneck in the BLM’s wild horse adoption program—plenty of adoptees, few adopters—had the ever-resourceful Sally coming up with a plan for every letter in the alphabet.

      Logan wanted in on her latest production. Thanks to Ann’s rich brother-in-law, Sally had found a sponsor for “Mustang Sally’s Makeover Challenge.” Trainers had three months to show the world that wild horses could be made into excellent mounts. The reward had Logan’s name written all over it. Not only the cash, but the cachet. His way with horses was like no one else’s, and he’d written a book on the subject. Not that he’d sold many copies, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a great book. All his training method needed was a little publicity, and winning Sally’s contest could bring him that.

      Unfortunately, Sally had thrown him a curve.

      In the shape of an hourglass.

      “Did they turn you down?” he asked the woman’s back. He knew her first name, but she would have to give it to him before he’d use it. She was watching a dozen young horses chase each other around in a holding pen. Another handful had just been released into a nearby pasture, which put the captives in a tizzy.

      The woman turned and drilled him with a look. Killer eyes. She knew it, too. She held Logan’s gaze long enough to let him know he’d interrupted something. Then she looked down at the crumpled paper in his fist.

      “Sally’s right. I’m not qualified to train a wild horse.” She looked up. That quickly the color of her eyes had gone from icy gray to cool blue. “It sounds really exciting, but realistically, I don’t have that much time.” She squinted against the sun. “What about you?”

      “I’m too qualified.” Logan gave half a smile. The woman wore a reserved expression on a pleasing face. No makeup, no pretense, nothing fancy. A good face, easily read. Her time in the sun had not been spent on the beach. She took care of herself, but pampering was not on her schedule. And she kept a schedule. “Sally tried to pull some conflict of interest excuse on me, but I know better.”

      The woman tipped her head to the side, genuinely curious, still squinting. Logan’s straw cowboy hat shaded his face. He had the advantage. He could see her just fine. “What are you interested in?” she asked.

      “Training horses. But I’m on the Lakota Tribal Council—Lakota Sioux—and I guess you could say we’re supporting Sally’s training competition in a roundabout way. We just decided to lease a bunch more land for the wild horse sanctuary. It’s true I talked it up and voted for it.” He turned to watch the horses. “But I still don’t see it. The Tribe isn’t putting up prize money or judges, nothing like that.”

      “If she’s gonna be that picky, she won’t have anyone competing.” She turned, too. They stood side by side, nearly shoulder to shoulder, sharing a common disappointment. “I train dogs,” she reported.

      He knew that. He suspected he had the advantage there, too. On the heels of his rejection, Sally had pointed the woman out to him through the office window. His wasn’t the only application she couldn’t approve, but she hated to turn good people down flat. Where there was a will, there might be a way.

      “If you’re good at it, that’s experience in my book,” Logan allowed. “Which one do you like?”

      “That one.” She pointed to a gelding the color of river water. His dark mane, tail and dorsal stripe were signs that his mustang ancestry went way back. “He doesn’t want to be here, any more than the rest of them, but he’s here, and he’ll deal with it intelligently. You can see it in his eyes.”

      “You

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