The dogs followed her to the stable door, but made no move to go inside with her. Clearly, they knew this was not allowed.

Although the lights were on in the stable, no one was inside. Finding her way through a stall filled with sweet, clean straw, Leila found herself in the paddock where she had seen the mare, Suki, that afternoon. There, in a corner of the paddock just to the left outside the doorway in which she stood, by the light leaking through the stall's half doors, she could see the mare's pale shape lying on the darker grass. Rueben was there, too, crouched on one knee with his fingers braced on the ground, like a runner at the start of a race.

Leila ventured toward them as silently as she knew how. Rueben glanced at her as she crouched down beside him, but without much surprise-almost, it seemed to her, as if he had expected her to come.

"She's not doin' so good," he said in a low voice.

"What is the matter?" Leila breathlessly whispered back.

"Got halfway and quit. Happens sometimes. I think she'll be okay, though-just have to give her a little help."

"Help?"

"Yeah…gonna pull a little bit. She should start pushing on her own then."

"Should she not be inside, in the stable?" Leila's heart was beating very hard.

Rueben lifted one shoulder in his familiar shrug. "She's where she wants to be. Horses are meant to have their babies in the open. It's their nature. If the weather's bad, I bring her inside. When it's nice like this, I let her choose." He pushed himself up from his crouch. Leila did the same.

"What can I do to help?" she whispered.

He nodded toward the mare, who had her head up and was quietly watching them. "You can keep her calm, if you want. Just pet her… talk to her. Rub her under her jaw, like this…"

Leila nodded and began to move cautiously toward the mare's head, crooning to her softly in Arabic, the language her nanny had used to soothe her when she was a baby. Her heart hammered and her lungs ached as she felt the slick, warm horsehide beneath her fingers, and smelled the familiar salty horse-smell. The mare gave a little whicker of uncertainty as Leila began to stroke her sweat-damp neck, but didn't try to rise. "Beautiful, noble lady…" Leila murmured. "You must be strong…you must have the courage of a lioness."

The mare grunted. Leila felt the surge of powerful muscles, and then a groan that seemed to come from deep inside the mare's belly.

"That's it-she's pushin' good now," said Rueben after a moment, panting a little. "Okay…okay-that's good. Let her go-she'll do it herself now, I think."

Leila pushed herself away from the mare's surging body and scrambled around to join Rueben just in time to see the foal's body slither onto the grass like a puddle of spilled ink.

"Nice filly," said Rueben. "Nice big girl."

"Is she all right?" Leila asked fearfully. The foal had not moved. Leila's heart was knocking painfully; she felt as if she could not breathe. "Is she…dead? She is not breathing."

"She'll be okay." Rueben pulled his white T-shirt off over his head. "Here-wipe her head a little bit," he said as he tossed it to her.

Then she was on her knees in the wet grass, trying not to shake as she wiped frantically at the film of mucus that covered the foal's mouth and nose. Sweat trickled down her sides, dripped from her nose and ran stinging into her eyes. She kept making desperate little whimpering noises, but didn't realize then that she was crying. Not until the foal suddenly jerked her head up and shook it hard, her long ears making a slapping sound against her neck.

"She'll be fine now," said Rueben, as Leila collapsed backward onto the seat of her pants with a loud, quivering sob.

But she was laughing, too. Laughing and sobbing as she gathered the newborn foal's head into her arms and pressed her cheek to its soaking wet hide.

Chapter 8

Betsy and Rueben were in the kitchen when Leila came down to breakfast the morning after the birth of the foal. She'd heard their voices and didn't mean to listen in, but then she'd heard her own name and naturally that made her hesitate.

"I wish you could have seen her, Bets. That black hair of hers-you couldn't tell which was her and which was the filly."

Rueben's chuckle was lost in a loud metallic clang. "I wish he could have seen her, that's what /wish. He should have been here." Betsy's voice sounded angry. "Ooh, sometimes that man…Brings home anew bride and then goes off and leaves her!"

"He said it was business." She couldn't see it, but Leila knew Rueben had lifted a shoulder in his special little shrug.

"Huh. He couldn't cancel it? Just once? What kind of thing is that to do? Go off and leave his bride all alone…And such a nice girl, too. Really sweet, you know?"

Leila had gone into the kitchen, then, and her cheeks were hot and her heart beating fast.

Now it was Sunday afternoon, and Leila was lying on a chaise longue beside the pool, remembering that conversation from two mornings ago, and the moment that followed when she had walked into that room that was flooded with sunlight and the warm smells of coffee and bacon and toast.

Rueben had been at the sink preparing a large plastic bottle with a long red rubber nipple on it for the new foal, because, he said, the mare's milk wasn't comin' in so good yet, and maybe Leila would like to help him feed the baby in a little while. Betsy's eyes had lit with welcome and her smile had been warm.

Leila remembered the strange little lump of yearning that had come into her throat just then, the sting of lonely tears that she had blinked hastily away. Because she understood that she had interrupted a moment of special intimacy between these two long-married people-she knew because she had encountered such moments between her own parents, many times before. There was such ease between them. She could hear it in their voices-trust and understanding, respect and friendship. It was, she thought, just what a marriage should be like. It was what she wanted her marriage to be like.

But…what of her marriage? Would she and Cade ever know that kind of ease? Right now such a thing seemed impossible.

Hopelessness settled over her, more oppressive than the midday heat. She'd managed to keep it at bay the past two days, spending most of her time in the stables with Rueben, working with the new foal. Oh, and she'd been riding, too, and was getting more and more comfortable with Western-style saddles. At night she watched old movies on television until she fell asleep on the sofa.

But now, lying on her stomach beside the swimming pool with the sun like a hot anvil between her shoulders and her forehead resting on her hands, she could not stop the tears from seeping between her eyelids. She had never, even as a child in those first wretched months of boarding school, been so lonely.

Because today was Sunday, Rueben and Betsy had the day off. Rueben had come early to feed the horses and then had gone off to his home on the other side of the pasture, taking the dogs with him. Betsy had left fruit salad and cinnamon rolls for Leila's breakfast, and deviled eggs and sliced ham and tomatoes stuffed with tuna salad and sliced strawberries to eat with ice cream for later. She would be cooking at home today, she had told Leila, because her kids were coming over. According to Betsy, she was going to have a "houseful." You should come on down, she had said to Leila. You should come and join us.

But Leila had not wanted to intrude on their day off, on their family's time together.

Now she thought that she had been very foolish to say no. Proud and foolish. Because of course she would not have been intruding at all. If there was one thing she had learned in these past few days, it was that Rueben and Betsy Flores had hearts as big as the wide-open spaces Leila had come to Texas expecting to find. They would welcome her with open arms, she was sure of it. And if she was feeling lonely and sorry for herself right now, then she had only herself to blame.

She could hear them down there now, on the other side of the pasture. If she stilled her own breath she could hear distant music-sometimes Mexican music and sometimes American country and western music. She could hear shouts and laughter.

Finally she could stand it no longer. She rolled over and sat up. A particularly loud burst of laughter at that 1 moment settled her resolve; she would not play this role she despised-the pitiful abandoned bride. She was Princess Leila of Tamir. She had been invited to a party, and she would go.

She was in America, now. She could do whatever she pleased.

She rose and dressed quickly, putting on a brightly colored wraparound skirt and a loose-fitting T-shirt over her modest one-piece bathing suit. She had braided her hair for swimming, one long braid that hung straight down her back. It would do fine as it was, although she did dip her hands in the pool and smooth back the loose wisps of hair around her face. Then she slipped into her sandals and set out.

She walked briskly, following the well-trodden path she had seen Rueben use, past the stable, along the paddock fences, then through a gate and straight across the pasture. Almost at once she could feel her spirits lift; it was not Leila's nature to be gloomy for long. And it was not so humid today. There had been a little rain in the night, and this morning some leftover mist and fog, but that had blown away in a light cool breeze and now the sky was a bright blue patterned with a few billowy clouds. The pasture was spotted with little yellow flowers, and white butterflies fluttered dizzily among them as if they had been sipping fermented honey. Once a bird flashed by in front of her, a stunning streak of blue that made her gasp in wonderment.