Silent Run

sank down to the ground right where she was.
    * * *
    "She don't look so good, Zach."   Sam Jordan pushed back the brim of his Wildcats baseball hat and squinted at the woman sitting on the ground.
    "She's fine," Zach snapped.
    Sam didn't look convinced. There was a frown across his normally cheerful square face, and the laugh lines that ran like a map across his weathered brown skin were pulled taut against his cheekbones.
    "You sure?" Sam asked doubtfully. "She looks shaken up to me."
    Zach respected Sam's instincts where horses were concerned. Sam could tell when a filly was yanking his chain or a colt was testing his patience, but he was a soft touch where people were concerned, especially women.
    "She has a tiny nick on her forehead. That's it. I'm more concerned about Rogue."
    "He's okay. See for yourself."
    He slid into the trailer and searched the big black horse for any bruises or scratches. Midnight Rogue tossed his head and stomped his feet, complaining once again about his confinement in the trailer, but otherwise he looked fine. They were less than three weeks away from the biggest race of Rogue's life, the Kentucky Derby, and they simply couldn't afford an injury or a setback now.
    "Okay, you big ugly baby. No more knocking around back here, all right? We need to get you home in one piece."
    Rogue nuzzled Zach's hand with his nose. Zach reached into a burlap bag and pulled out a carrot, feeding it to Rogue with a gentle hand.
    "I know you're tired. We all are. It's been a hell of a year. You did good at Keeneland. If you hadn't slipped coming out of the gate, you would have had first. We're going to work on that this week, because you can't afford another stumble. We are so close to making all our dreams come true." He scratched Rogue's nose and saw the horse's ears perk up to listen to his quiet words. "We're going to show this town. Hell, we're going to show the whole damn world that we don't take shit from anyone. We won't be left behind, not ever again," he whispered, knowing he was talking about more than a race.
    Rogue whinnied, as if to reassure his owner that he understood. Zach smiled to himself. They'd been on the same wavelength since he'd picked Rogue up at a yearling sale. Unproven bloodlines in the dam, not to mention Rogue's off-beat appearance and high spirits, had brought Rogue's price into Zach's range. And Zach had known as soon as he laid eyes on the rangy, long-legged colt that this was the horse he wanted.
    This horse, which everyone else had overlooked, was already drawing attention with its unexpected successes. The racing world, especially that of the Kentucky horse breeders, didn't want to accept that a horse like Rogue or a trainer like Zach could do so well. But their arguments were losing ground with each victory.
    In a few weeks, Rogue would quiet even the harshest critics with a win in the Derby, and Zach would get the recognition, the respect, he deserved. No more doors slammed in his face, no more scornful looks from the folks in town. No more being on the outside. He was going to the inner circle -- the winner's circle. And no one was going to stop him.
    Rogue nudged Zach in the chest. "We'll be home in a few minutes, boy," he said, giving him one last pat. "As soon as I get this city girl on her way."
    "That city girl looks like she's about to faint," Sam said from the van's doorway. "You better get on out here."
    Zach stepped out of the trailer and pulled the door shut behind him. He looked at the woman sitting on the ground, her head resting in her hands. She was a tiny thing; she'd barely come up to his chin. Not that she'd let him intimidate her. She'd given as good as she got. Maybe he shouldn't have yelled at her, but dammit, she'd almost destroyed the dream of a lifetime. When he'd seen her car come around that corner... The thought of it sent his pulse racing again.
    And all because she wasn't paying attention. Zach tried to harden his heart against the sight of the slender figure slumped on the ground.   But he could still remember the shock in her big blue eyes when she'd discovered she was bleeding. He cleared his throat, struggling to rein in his wayward thoughts.
    He'd always been a sucker for beautiful blondes, and this one was as soft and sexy as they came in a silky purple blouse that hugged her breasts, form-fitting black slacks, and ridiculously impractical high-heeled black sandals. She was all woman and all wrong, he reminded himself. He'd been