"You can pet him," Michael told her. The older girl was a little shy, he decided, and pretty as a picture in a book. "He doesn't bite. Unless you deserve it." To demonstrate, he hauled Kayla up on his hip. "Go ahead, meet Max. He's a Southern gentleman."
"Our uncle is a Southern gentleman," Kayla announced. "But he doesn't look like Max." Delighted, she stroked the soft cheek. "Smooth," she murmured. "Hello, Max. Hello."
Not one to be outmatched by her kid sister, Ali stepped forward again and touched Max's other cheek. "Does he let you ride him and everything?"
"Yep. Max and I have fought wild Indians together, been wild Indians together, robbed stagecoaches, jumped ravines." Looking down into two pairs of wide eyes, he grinned. "Max is a Hollywood star."
"Really?" Enchanted, Kayla touched one velvet ear, giggling when it flicked under her fingers.
"Really. I'll show you his press clippings later. Come meet Darling. She's going to have a baby soon."
"Aunt Margo just had one." Kayla chattered gaily as they made the new acquaintance. "His name is John Thomas, but we call him J. T. Do horses have babies the same way people have them?"
"Pretty much," Michael murmured and skirted the issue by distracting the girls with the mare.
They met Jack, the dignified gelding, and Lulu, a frisky mare. Then Zip, the fastest horse—so Michael claimed—in the West.
"Why do you have so many?" Suspicion of the man couldn't hold out against delight with horses. With shyness outmatched by curiosity, Ali dogged Michael's every move and peppered him with questions.
"I train them. I buy them, sell them."
"Sell them?" The very idea had Kayla's lip poking out.
"All but Max and Darling. I won't sell them, ever. But the others will go to people who'll appreciate their talents and take good care of them. They all have a destiny. Now Jack here, he's going to make someone a good saddle horse. He'll ride forever if you ask him. And Rash, he'll be a hell of a stunt pony when I'm finished with him."
"You mean he'll do tricks?"
"Yeah." Michael grinned at Kayla. "He's already got a few up his sleeve. But Max—now Max knows them all. Want a show?"
"Really, can we?"
"It'll cost you."
"How much?" Kayla demanded. "I have money in my bank."
"Not money," Michael said as he led them back to Max. "If you like the show, you have to come back and work it off."
"What kind of work?" Ali wanted to know.
"We'll talk about it. Come on, Max." Michael took a bridle and slipped it on. "You've got a couple of ladies to impress here."
At five, Max was a veteran performer. He high-stepped it outside, pleased to have an audience. Michael led him to the small paddock beside the building. "You girls stay at the fence there. This could get hairy. Take your bows, Max."
Max gracefully bent his front legs and lowered himself. When the girls erupted with applause, Michael could have sworn that Max grinned.
"Up," he ordered.
Using voice and hand signals, Michael took Max through his routine. The big horse reared, pawed the air, let out a high whinny. He pranced, sidestepped, danced, circled. Then when Michael swung up onto his bare back, he repeated the routine with variations.
"Now here's his 'we've been walking in the desert for three days without water routine.' " At the signal, Max drooped, his head fell limply, and he plodded along as though each step would be his last. "Now, look out,
rattlesnake." Max leapt back, bunched up, cowered. "God almighty, the posse shot my horse right out from under me. Dead horse, Max."
For his finale Max wheeled, cantered to the left, and dropped to the ground. Michael tumbled off, rolled. As he got to his feet, he caught sight of Laura, racing in skinny little heels across the yard.
"Oh, God, are you all right? How did it happen? Oh, your horse!"
Though he started to speak, Michael found himself too involved in watching that nifty length of bare leg as she vaulted the fence in her neat little lady's suit.