Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption: Cool Hand Hank / A Cowboy's Redemption. Kathleen Eagle

did it make? What the heck was in a horse’s name? He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t looking at anything but the water. Needed a moment, maybe. “My sister, the teacher. It’s a kid’s book.” No connection. “Ribsy’s Henry’s best friend.” Still no movement. “Ribsy’s a dog.”

      He looked up. “This horse is named after a dog?”

      “Henry and Ribsy. Ribsy’s a dog.”

      “Hoka Hey!” Hank called out as he nudged the mare with his boot heels.

      She took the plunge. Hank kept his seat, and the big black easily ferried him across the water. He looked a little sallow, but his dignity was still intact.

      “What did you call me?” Sally asked, grinning like a proud instructor. “Hooker something?”

      “I said, Hoka Hey! It’s a good day to die.” He leaned forward and patted the mare’s neck. “Sunka Wakan.”

      “That’s right,” she enthused. “It means holy dog, doesn’t it? Well, there you go. Ribsy, Phoebe and me, we’re your destiny. Stick with us, and your hydrophobia will be cured.”

      “What’s that?” He glanced back at the murky water. “A monster with a bunch of arms?”

      “I think that’s a hydra.”

      “Yep. They’re all down there.” He looked up at her and smiled sheepishly as he joined her on the high ground. “Kind of embarrassing. I had a bad experience when I was a kid.”

      “Maybe you should try a different war cry.”

      They covered a lot of ground and saw a couple of eagles, a few deer and a few dozen mustangs before they found Don Quixote, a stout bay who’d surrounded himself with the prettiest mares on the Double D. There were roans and paints, mouse-brown grullos, buckskins and “blondies.” After what had turned out to be a more tiring ride than she’d expected, Sally was energized simply by the sight of them, mainly courtesy of her left eye. But the vision of blue sky, green grass, striated hills and a motley band of mustangs was glorious. She didn’t have to see Hank’s excitement. She could feel it. His rapt interest was palpable.

      “Let’s get down for a while,” he said quietly, as though speaking might disturb something.

      She nodded. He must have sensed her weariness because he swung to the ground and came to her, and she dismounted with far less grace than she would have wished. He noticed. He didn’t say anything, but he took her full weight in his arms, drew her up to him and recharged her with a deep, delicious kiss.

      It wasn’t until he took his lips from hers that she realized she couldn’t feel her right leg. She had to hang on to him—not that she didn’t want to, but not for this reason.

      “You made the earth move under my feet,” she said. “Either Night Horse or Charley horse, I’m not sure—ah!” The sound of sharp pain was an innocent lie, if there was such a thing. Everybody understood pain, at least to some extent. Numbness was harder to explain.

      “Damn cousin Charley’s beatin’ my time.” He supported her against his right side. “Can’t let him get away with it.” He brought the horses along on the left and found a little grass for everybody on the shady side of a clump of chokecherry bushes.

      “Better already.” Her butt welcomed contact with good old terra firma, but she felt obliged to protest. “I’m okay now.”

      “Not so fast. I know how to—”

      “Seriously, it’s coming back.”

      “That’s Charley for you. Right calf?” He massaged with practiced hands. She didn’t feel much at first, but her nerves responded steadily to his gentle kneading. “This can be a sign of calcium deficiency.”

      “I’ll load up on it tomorrow.”

      “I’m abig believer in truth and supplements for all.”

      “Good to know.”

      “Better?”

      “Infinitely. Like your talents.” Smiling, she grabbed his hand. “Wait. I think he’s moving into my feet.”

      “Sorry, Charley,” he quipped as he slid his hands down to her boot.

      She stilled them with hers. “I’ll take a rain check.”

      “Sounds good.” He went to his saddle and brought back the canvas pack he’d tied behind the cantle. Squatting on his heels, he took out a bottle of water and cracked open the plastic cap. “It might be warm, but it’s wet.”

      “You think of everything.” She took a long drink.

      “Second nature when you spend your life on the road.”

      “I’ll bet you’re starving. I do have supper waiting in the refrigerator. I almost brought something along, but then I thought, no, we’ll be sweaty and dirty, and we’ll appreciate it more after we get back, and it’s nice and fresh and…” She handed him the bottle. “Annie would have packed a nice picnic. She’s like you. She thinks of everything.”

      He took a drink from the bottle and laughed. “It’s just water.”

      “I’m easy.” She smiled. “Simple pleasures. I don’t do this often enough. I used to ride out here all the time, but it’s become…” She gazed at the bluffs in the distance. “I’ve become lazy. It’s easier to hop in the pickup. And now that Zach’s come on board…”

      “You don’t get out here in a pickup. It’s too rough.”

      “And we don’t want this area disturbed by anything motorized.” She pointed west. “There’s some public land beyond those hills. Very isolated. And there’s tribal land adjoining that.” She swung her hand in a northerly arc. “If… when we get those new leases, we’ll almost double our carrying capacity. The Tribal Council has been very supportive of our program, but Dan Tutan’s been leasing it forever, and he pays practically nothing for grazing permits on the public land. He has his own support from Pierre all the way to Washington.”

      “You’re running publicly protected wild horses for the Bureau of Land Management, aren’t you? You should get preference. Plus, if you’ve got the Tribal Council…”

      “We have the majority. We’re…pretty sure we do.”

      “You can never be too sure about those Indians.”

      “I’m not too sure about you.” She smiled. “But I know what assume makes out of me.” She lifted one shoulder. “And Tutan’s been taking us all for granted for far too long. He knows how to work the system. Like anything involving property, it’s all about location.”

      “Tell us about it.” He glanced at the barren draw below. “I’ve got some beachfront reservation land for sale. Complete with a big bridge.”

      “I’ll take it,” she enthused. “Where do I sign?”

      “I’ll have my people draw up the treaty.” He adjusted his hat by the brim, leaned back on his elbows and eyed her for a moment. “You’ve got a good thing goin’ here. Why push it?”

      “Because we can.” She leaned closer. “Because the push needs to be made. More needs to be done, and we can do it. All we have to do is show that our program is viable, that we can handle more land, more stock, and we’re in the catbird’s seat. Tutan’s free rein over the range will soon be over. For a considerable piece of these grasslands, it’s back to nature.”

      “This part doesn’t look like it’s ever been away.”

      “My father never got much use out of this part of the ranch. He would have sold it, but back then there weren’t any takers. But the takers are…” The look in his eyes set her back on her heels. The takers are what? The takers are who? “I don’t