Saddled (The Stables Trilogy #3) (13 page)

“Where the fuck is she!?” Gus raged.

A foot slid near the grate. Maple held her breath. The shoe was blue, a trainer. Tony. He always favored things that hid his menace behind a sweet and loveable cover. He was limping and she knew then that Reece had permanently injured him.

Good. Tony had scarred her deeply.

“Look, I want her as much as you do. But if we don’t get out now, we’re going to miss the sale.”

“Marc’s meeting us five miles north. We’ve got time,” Gus insisted.

Tony’s foot dragged as he limped away. “No, we don’t. Brie’s come back with nothing. She’s waiting on the truck.”

“This is her fault,” Gus screeched. “She’s going to be sold with the rest of them. Fuck her for screwing up an easy task. Ok, fine. Is the outside rigged?”

“Yep. I rigged the fuse box. It’s got a little help, but it will look like an accident. This building will go up easy.”

“Fine,” Gus replied, his voice bitter. “Light this bitch up.”

Chapter Sixteen

They left and fear, multiplied by claustrophobia, locked Maple up. She’d worked so hard to hide. Her limbs protested, not wanting to push the grate. Fingers threaded through the metal holes and knees firmly planted, she pushed.

There was a whoosh.

For a moment, it felt like all of the air had been sucked from the room. Then Maple smelled it. Smoke. It’s black, smooth tendrils looped and whirled along the ceiling. In frozen horror, she watched it build rapidly, forming a cloud that began to descend as one heavy blanket from the ceiling.

She had to get out of the grate.

Sweat was pouring down her body. It made it difficult for her knees to maintain purchase. The metal grate seemed to weigh so much more than before. Slowly, it began to slide, but not quick enough.

What was worse? Gus, or burning to death?

Unable to answer, Maple began to shriek. She screamed for help. Her voice went ragged and she kept screaming anyway. Each inhale after a cry was tougher and tougher, the smoke creeping in and staining her lungs with pain.

The door to the stable opened again and she regretted her cries until Mariela’s voice pierced the roaring of the fire. “Maple!”

“I’m in the back! I’m in here!” She shoved her fingers as hard as they would go through the grate holes and wiggled, hoping against hope that Mariela could see them and get to her in time.

Boots skidded to a halt next to the grate. Mariela immediately stooped and with her effort joined to Maple’s, the grate slid off. Reaching in, Mariela half yanked Maple out of the small space. In her hand was a wet t-shirt she slammed over Maple’s mouth.

The air was easier to breath. Ducking low and leaning her weight on Mariela’s supportive shoulder, they quickly clamored out of the burning stable.

Running away from the burning building, they turned as the roof began to creak and moan. The fire raged and bellowed inside. Heat licked at their skin. Their backs leaned against the other stable, whinnying and stomping hooves raging within.

J.B.’s-- Rachel’s-- stable began to collapse in on itself. All of those women that had passed through its doors. The memories of Rachel that J.B. had worked obsessively to protect. Gone in minutes, eaten away. Ash was already rising with the billowing smoke, falling like snow around them.

“There was no one else in there, right?” Mariela’s voice was so small. Maple threw her arms around the cook.

“No. It was just me. Where are J.B. and the others?”

“I called as soon as the men and the truck came through the gate. I hid and called, but I just got Raúl and J.B.’s voicemails.” Mariela was speaking in a low monotone, the night’s events still catching up to her. “I’ve called the fire department and police, but we live so far out-- they won’t be here for a while. Those men have the girls?”

This brought Maple into focus. She shook her head. The adrenaline and heat crisped away the remnants of the drugs in her system. She was tired. So tired. But there was still something that had to be done.

“Yeah, they have them. And they’re going to sell them. Do you have a gun? Clothes I can borrow?”

The wide set of the cook’s eyes let Maple know that she thought she was crazy, but she went running to her small apartment. Maple went into the stable that was still standing.

All of the horses were gone, loaded up for J.B. and the boys.

All but one.

Bane was snorting, anxiously stamping the earth. He smelled the smoke and felt the fire. Raging against his cage, he screamed at her as she entered.

It had been so long since she’d worked with him, and that had been minimal at best. But Maple needed to get to Gus and Tony, and she needed to do it as undetected as she could. That meant no cars.

“Whoa, boy,” she murmured, holding her hands up. “Easy. We’re safe in here, okay? But I’m going to need to let you out. I can’t do that while you’re rearing” She kept it up in low whispers, half-singing to the black horse.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Mariela hissed from behind her. “You can’t!”

“I have to try,” Maple said. She kept whispering, letting Bane see her. Hoping her calm would wear off on him as she dressed in her borrowed clothing. Mariela handed her a knife and a pistol.

Maple knew nothing of guns. Mariela pointed to the side. “Safety. Click it off, then don’t point it at anyone you don’t want dead. Got it?”

No, not really
. But Maple didn’t “have” anything for what she was about to do except a sour stomach and the crank of adrenaline, pushing her to go.

After she’d pulled some boots on, it was time to let Bane out. He’d either help her or he’d flee.

“Bane, I need you” she begged. “We need to be brave. We need to prove to everyone that we’re not who they think we are. Can you do that? Can you help me?”

Her hand found Raúl’s lasso, and she began to walk to his stall again, showing him the rope. “Come here, boy. Let me slip this around your neck.”

Bane was still thundering in his stall, but he wasn’t rearing. His ears were flat against his head and his eyes so wide the whites showed, stark against his obsidian coloring. “That’s it, boy.”

She tossed the lasso once and missed terribly. Again, and it bounced off his flank, infuriating him.

“Let me,” Mariela ventured, grabbing the lasso from Maple.

She landed it in one go and handed it to Maple. It was beginning to tighten, and Bane was starting to buck, so she unlocked his stall door and threw it open in one quick movement.

He crashed past her, the rope in her hands running so fast it burned them. Maple dropped the rope and chased after Bane, yelling his name.

Once he was out of the building, he stopped, pacing back and forth. Maple’s hands clenched and unclenched.

“I’m going to step closer,” she said, stooping for the rope that was snaking on the ground.

It took minutes. Long, precious minutes they didn’t have. But Bane slowed enough for her to grab the rope.

Then, with a gentle tug, he came over.

They nuzzled, and Maple’s heart radiated with love. She’d always known he was a good horse. Just spooked easy, that’s all. He’d needed time and patience. Now, knowing Rachel had been a ponygirl trainer, she wondered if the woman had had the patience needed for a creature like Bane.

“Catch,” Mariela called, not eager to step close to the enormous black demon of a horse. A shiny object flew through the air. Bane started a little, but it slammed into her palm with a sting. A bit. Reins followed, their leather twisting in the air as it tumbled into her hands.

Bane twitched beside her, antsy. She put a hand on his side.
 

Slowly, with care, she eased the bit into his mouth, sliding it behind his teeth. It wasn’t easy-- he tried to clamp and snapped at her. Once it was firmly wedged behind, she secured the reins.

There wasn’t time for a saddle.

Everything about this ride was a bad idea. It was dark, and she and Bane couldn’t watch his footing. He’d never been saddled. He was so skittish that riding bareback was an insanely dumb idea.

All those reasons were solid ones to stay behind, to wait for the cops, and to hope the other girls-- Lexy, Katie, and Justine -- didn’t get sold to some cartel, while Gus and Tony walked free. J.B. could possibly go to prison for something he didn’t do.

If she didn’t stop them, her whole world could topple because she’d chosen safety over action.

She tugged at the reins gently, and to her relief, Bane followed her guidance. She led him all the way to the fence of the pasture, a large, wooden one with wide and heavy planks. “Okay,” she murmured. “This is it, Buddy. I’m going to get on your back. If you don’t want me to ride you, walk away now. I’m really not in a place where I can handle being thrown by a horse.”

His coat almost disappeared in the night. The flames from the stable were high enough that they shone in his wide, rolling eyes. Nostrils flaring, Bane looked like he’d galloped straight out of hell. Nothing about him looked safe.

Maple had to trust. She had to trust him, and she had to trust herself.

She could do this.

Choosing a high plank, she planted a foot. Her other hand gripped his mane firmly at the nape of his neck. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the shaking in her hands and scream in her mind, (
ohgodohgodohgod
) she launched herself up, swinging a leg over and seating herself on Bane’s back as gently as she could.

In a perfect world, he would have stood straight and tall and let her get her bearings.

It wasn’t a perfect world, and Bane immediately did a startled dance away from the fence. Maple’s body shook and swayed on top as he shuffled awkwardly around, getting used to her weight. Again, Brie had done her a favor. While Bane was young and well-muscled, he hadn’t been ridden. He never got to stretch his legs. She was as bizarre an experience for him as he was for her.

It was so hard to ignore the desire to clamp her legs down or pull hard on the reins. But those were signals, neither of which Bane was trained for, and they might be all it took for him to throw her. Instead, she loosely gripped his neck and began whispering her soothing mantra. “It’s okay, boy. It’s okay. It’s just me. It’s going to be okay.”

Several times she lurched and thought it wasn’t going to happen, her stomach turning flips. But finally, oh thank God,
finally
he settled with her. Scooting herself up gently, she sat just below his withers. They were broad, and while it put some strain on her legs and back, it meant it would be easier to stay on if they had to go downhill.

“Which way is north?” she called to Mariela.

The cook pointed. Maple twisted to look. Bane sensed her torso twist, and shifted his body, beginning to trot in that direction.

She was off.

Chapter Seventeen

After only a mile or two, Maple was in pain. It was an enormous endeavor to not squeeze with her legs, giving Bane mixed signals. She let him set the pace, a light gallop. She didn’t think either of them could keep it up much longer. Underneath her palms his flank was wet with sweat, his mouth lathering. Bane seemed to know, though, that he was doing something important and pushed ahead.

Maple did the only thing she could: She held on for her life, and she shut her mind off. It wanted to delve into doubt and crippling worry over the situation, and she couldn’t let it. So she switched it off and spent all of her energy focused forward, looking for anything that might give her a clue.

The clop of Bane’s hooves hit pavement. In the moonlight, the road slithered like a silver serpent, veering a smidge off their (hopefully) straight northern course. Best bet was they had taken this road to the sell point, rather than try and move the trailer off road.

She eased back on the reins, and Bane slowed, his massive hooves thundering to the ground in frustration. Using her body instead of the reins, Maple told him where to go. As if they were one being, he followed, setting off at a quick walk just to the left of the road.

Maple kept her ears on alert and her eyes peeled. It was rough terrain, and she feared for Bane. Large crops of rocks began to form around them, and she worried an errant stone would twist his ankle. But he continued forward, hooves striking true. The rocks that menaced them also provided some cover.

When the soft haze of headbeams shone ahead, Maple pulled on Bane’s reins again. He slowed to a stop. Lowering her body to rest on his, she combed his mane and hugged his neck for comfort. It was hard to decide whether she was grateful or not about managing to catch up with Gus and Tony.

Still, it was nothing less of miraculous that the large beast she was on had carried her, steadfast, to where she needed to be. J.B. was in for a serious talking to if he thought Bane would ever be locked up again.

If, of course, she survived long enough to tell J.B.

That seemed unlikely.

With care, she slid off the strong back. Bane was tall, and it was a hard drop. When her boots hit, she fell back on her ass with a thud. It was painful, but Bane didn’t spook. Wincing, she stood and walked him until she found a small tree.

It was a Lost Maple, young, already struggling to make a stand in the dry soil.

Her chest ached and tears sprang to her eyes. Maple didn’t believe in signs, but this one--

It couldn’t be ignored. Her namesake, exactly where she needed it. Looping the reins loosely around its branches, she gave Bane one last pat. Whether she was reassuring him or herself, it didn’t matter.

She crept along, hiding as best she could behind rocks. Her breath sounded so loud in her ears it was like she was breathing into a megaphone. Overhead, the sky spanned horizon to horizon in both directions, uncut and unfettered. There’s something about Texas skies. They were huge. All-encompassing.

More stars dotted and swirled in it than should be possible. It was a stark, haunting beauty. Something she took for granted having grown up under it her whole life. Now it weighed on her, a quilt, wrapping her in this moment.

The moment was significant. Bane. The Lost Maple. Mariela finding her just in time.

The ranch. The job. Raúl, her first real friend. Reece, her guardian.

J.B.

J.B., J.B., J.B.

Jean Baptiste
, his mother had named him. A gorgeous, lilting name. Out of place, it was a marker she’d put on him at birth that said “this one is special.” And he was, Maple knew. He was special. They shared so much. The way art moved them, their love of this land… their need to always push boundaries. To explore the dark.

Maple had left the church when she’d left Silt Springs. In this moment, with her complete, expansive love for J.B. fusing with each cell in her body, crackling and connecting her to him and the air and the universe itself…

She didn’t know. She didn’t know if the answer lay in the worn Bible her mom insisted on sneaking into her bag each time she helped Maple pack. She wasn’t sure who, or what, was responsible for this moment.

Maple only knew that, under that heavy, dream-filled sky, this moment was significant, and she was not.

Not in a depressing way. No, not morose. Her insignificance was brilliant. Her life a flash, like a star. She knew from her limited time at college that when a person saw a star brighten, grow, it was actually already dead. Its last minutes of life passing over vast, infinite distances to reach her eyes, to help her share in a moment that was over lightyears ago.

Was this it for her? Was she projecting her life out, asking the universe to accept it, to pass it on, so that someone, somewhere might know her long after she died?

Fuck, that was a question.

And while Maple snuck closer and closer to the parked truck and trailer, it wasn’t one she needed to answer.

She just needed to try her hardest.

“Marc’s fucking late,” Tony groaned. He was sitting on the opened bed of a pick-up, his legs dangling and a cigarette hanging from his lips. Its amber tip glowed in the dark as he took another drag.

Behind a rock, Maple tried to make her body as small as possible. It wasn’t hard. The fear of what she was doing, of the men she was up against, pressed in on all sides. Her chest complained, aching as it tried to contain a heart that was ricocheting in panic.

“He’s always late,” Gus spat. There was a loud, metallic bang, and Gus swore. Maple peeked. Gus was shaking his hand out, and Tony was glancing at the side of the truck.

“She probably died in the fire,” Tony added, sounding shockingly saddened by it. Maple didn’t know if that was because he had some small, kind feelings tucked away for her somewhere, or if it was because he was disappointed he hadn’t been able to torture her. It gave her pause.

“This whole thing as about her and that asshole. I should have had her!” Gus raked his hands through his hair. “No woman gets the best of me. Stupid, filthy, worthless--”

“Man,” Tony held his hand up, shaking his head. “We’re partners, but you’re one twisted fuck. Whatever your mother did to you--”

Gus lunged and clocked Tony hard across the face. In response, Tony whipped out a handgun, clicked the safety and pointed it at Gus’s sweating, angry face. “Back the fuck off,” he rasped, working his jaw as he recovered from the punch.

Hands in air, Gus backed off. “Fine. But next time you point that thing at me, be prepared to shoot.”

Tony slowly reset the safety and lowered the gun. He didn’t, Maple noticed with dread, tuck it away. “It’s a shame about Brie,” he ventured, tone casual, like he was talking about a date gone wrong instead of their accomplice.

“It’s her fault we’re one short for Marco. So it’s her job to take that slot. I promised him four, he gets four. We get paid.”

“I wish I could’ve been at the other hotspot,” Tony added wistfully. “Watching that motherfucker get pinned would have been unreal.”

“He’ll get his. Big surprise in for him when they find him and his crew near a trailer full of dead slaves. Small price, really, for the four in here.” He slammed the side of the trailer and some muted moans erupted. “Shut the fuck up!” He barked, and the trailer was silent again. “I can’t believe he thought he could catch us. It was too easy.”

Tony smiled. “Yeah. There’s something so satisfying about knowing he’s going down for our crimes. And we still got his money. I knew he was rich, but that check cashed like it was nothing. I’m thinking about retiring after this and just living off that cash.”

Gus ignored this. He pulled out his cell and hissed as he saw the time. “Fucking Marc.”

Maple knew she needed to do something. But Tony had a gun, too. And there were two of them.

Mariela’s gun felt wrong in her hand. There was so much sweat on her palm that it slid around, her finger avoiding the trigger. It was still on safety, but Maple didn’t know guns. She’d only held a rifle a few times growing up. The power in the small metal gun she held now was terrifying.

She peeked back over the edge of the rock. Gus was leaning against the front of the truck between the headlights. Tony had laid back in the bed. Neither was watching the trailer.

Sliding her borrowed boots off, Maple tread, barefooted, to the back of the trailer. It was shut, with an open lock hanging from its handle.

There hadn’t been many boardgames in Maple’s home growing up; there hadn’t been time for them. On her parents’ farm there was always work to be done, so not much thought was spent on frivolities. But when Maple had been in elementary school, her folks had surprised her with a game. Not just any game, either.

Operation. Battery-powered, noise making, Operation. She’d spent hours playing alone, the comical man with his red nose stretched out on an operating table. Maple never had dreams of being a doctor. What she liked was the patience of the game. You couldn’t rush. Each movement needed calm and precise.

With enough solitary practice, she could remove each organ with a smile and time to spare.

That was years ago. And her body was shaking with the fear of what she was about to do. Hesitant, she grabbed the lock. It made a hushed metal clang.

Maple froze.

When no one came charging for her, ready to torture and kill her, she began again.

With creeping, measured centimeters, she began to remove the lock. There was a hair’s breath between it and the handle, but it was enough. Like tweezers in a boxed body. Steady hands. Deep breaths.

Sweat dripped in her eye, stinging like crazy, but Maple kept her focus.

The lock came free. The back door was open. 

Now came the hard part. She pushed the handle down, wincing as it clicked. There was no way she’d be able to swing the trailer door open without being heard. Her heart and stomach clamped, furious and expectant.

“I have to pee,” Tony announced.

There wasn’t time to move. Maple crouched low.

Her ex walked right past her, never looking down. She watched his back as he took a few more steps and then pulled his zipper down.

He didn’t have his gun.

Maple stood and took aim. She slipped up behind Tony and pressed the muzzle to his back. “Give me your gun,” she hissed to hide her wavering voice.

She could feel his smile. “Maple. I’m glad you aren’t dead.”

“Gun, Tony. Give it to me.”

“It’s in the holster on my side.”

“Put your hands on top of your head, then.”

“My dick’s still out.”

“Let it stay out. Hands up,
now.
”