Storm Chaser Read Free Page A

glanced at her watch. She had just enough time for a quick visit to the corral before she had to wash up for dinner. She put away the brush box and grabbed the last carrot, then headed out the barn door to the large pen that stood on the east side of the barn.
    The young horses tossed their heads and snorted when Jessica approached. They trotted nervously to the other end of the pen and stood with their heads high, their nostrils distended to catch her scent.
    Jessica looked over the fifteen beautifully muscled animals that stood in the corral, pawing the ground and eyeing her suspiciously as they milled about the enclosure.
    Wyatt and Gator, under the guidance of their father, were the horse breeders for the reservation. They knew the animals well and chose their stallions and mares with care. The resulting offspring were perfect examples of American quarter horses and paints. The young horses had broad and well-muscled chests, short strong backs, and powerful hindquarters. Their small, perfectly formed heads had pronounced jaws and kind, intelligent eyes.
    Most of the ranchers in the area owned Lightfoot horses that her father and brother had trained. They proved invaluable for ranch work. Their ability to carry a rider all day and twist and turn sharply to work cattle made them a favorite of local cattle ranchers.
    â€œEasy, there,” Jessica said. The skittish animals’ ears flicked back and forth at the sound of her voice. Several of the horses pushed deeper into the herd, but the little paint filly took one step forward, her petite muzzle extending to catch a better scent of the carrot Jessica offered.
    She held the carrot out for several minutes, but the filly refused to come any closer. Jessica sighed and tossed the carrot into the pen. The little filly jumped when it hit the ground near her hooves. Jessica backed up a few steps and watched the paint lower her nose to the ground, poking at the carrot before biting off a piece.
    The filly bobbed her pretty head and spit parts of the carrot back onto the ground. Jessica covered her mouth to keep her giggle from spooking the filly. “Don’t worry,” she whispered as she turned toward the house. “Someday you’ll learn to love carrots.”
    She ran across the backyard, covering the distance to the house in no time. At least she had made a connection with the beautiful paint—if only to offer the horse a treat she didn’t like. It was a start.
    The family was just sitting down to dinner when Jessica entered the back door. Already her parents seemed to be in a heated debate. She stopped short. It was unusual to hear her parents argue.
    â€œHurry up, Jess,” her father said, noticing her in the doorway. “You’re late.”
    Jessica hurriedly washed her hands and slipped into her spot opposite her brother. Duncan’s blue eyes bounced back and forth between their parents as they discussed turning the Wild Hawk into a guest ranch.
    â€œI won’t have it,” their father said as he heaped a large portion of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “As long as we can make a living running cattle and selling some of our hay crop, I won’t have strangers staying on my land—cold cash or not.”
    The lights flickered and everyone glanced at the ceiling to see if they would stay on. The wind had picked up heavily and there was no longer a doubt that a major storm was on its way.
    â€œAll right, enough of this conversation,” Mrs. Warner said, handing a plate of chicken-fried steak to Jessica. A loud clap of thunder shook the walls of the house. “Let’s worry about getting dinner eaten before the lights go out. Are all the horses in?” Mrs. Warner asked.
    Duncan nodded, stuffing a big bite of broccoli into his mouth.
    â€œAll except the new horses,” Mr. Warner said. “But they’ve got that big tree that hangs over part of their pen. They can gather under that just like