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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © Elsa Winckler 2017
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © March 2017 ISBN: 9780008226558
Version: 2017-02-09
To our son, Johan, who showed me there is life outside the box
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About HarperImpulse
About the Publisher
“A what!” A loud voice thundered. “Are you f …”
Something fell, drowning out the rest of the word but it wasn’t difficult to figure out what the man was saying.
“… ing insane?”
Wow. A lot of aggression here. Cilla squared her shoulders and walked around the corner of the building. Two men were standing in front of the stables, glaring at each other. She knew Ken, the one who was facing her. His son was in the grade twelve class she taught. Ken was the reason she was here. Apparently the owner had a difficult stallion. But from where she was standing, the horse didn’t seem to be the one with the problem.
The other man’s back was towards her; his hands were on his hips and he was leaning forward menacingly.
“I want to use the damn horse, we need help to calm him down, to make him less aggressive, not cast a blasted spell on him. The last thing I need is a bloody woman whispering to my horses!”
Ken put a placating hand on the other man’s shoulder. “She is going to communicate with the horse so that we can find out what the problem is. No one is casting a spell! And it is not so strange – there are thousands of people all over the world who use animal communicators. Try and think outside the box for a change!”
A loud noise from within the stables again drowned out most of what the other man was saying.
“… uck the box!” were the only words she heard, but it was clear he had cussed again. Apparently his vocabulary consisted mainly of swear words that began with an f.
Ken laughed and patted the man on the shoulder. He noticed Cilla and motioned her to come closer.
“Here she is now. Stop throwing such a tantrum before this beautiful lady decides to turn around and flee. Miss Stevens, let me introduce you to this grumpy young man.”
The man turned around quickly and Cilla blinked. Everything around them became quiet. She had known exactly what he was going to look like even before he’d moved. She’d known his eyes were the colour of the deep blue sea, she’d known his hair was brown and curly, combed backwards, and she’d known about the one unruly curl on his forehead that just didn’t want to toe the line.
Slowly everything returned to normal. Kind of. Cilla inhaled and tried to focus on what Ken was saying. The man looked so familiar … she shook her head. Probably only her imagination.
“Cameron, this is Cilla Stevens, teacher and animal communicator, horse whisperer if you wish. And this skeptic, Miss Stevens, is the owner of the farm, Cameron Rahl. As I’m sure you’ve concluded by now, he is not very happy about your visit,” he teased, his eyes full of merriment.
Warily, Cilla put out her hand. Cameron had not taken his eyes off of her, neither had he said anything. His eyes were cold. That he didn’t want her here was crystal clear. Defiantly, she lifted her chin. She hadn’t asked to be here, she was invited. What a rude man. It’s no wonder his horse had a problem.
Eventually he took her hand, but only briefly. Strong fingers closed around her hand, engulfing it in his larger one. Disturbed, she looked down at their hands. She’d known exactly what his fingers would feel like, had known where the callouses would be. But how was that possible?
Quickly she stepped back and nodded her head without looking at him again. She turned to Ken.
“Where is the horse?”
Before Ken could answer, Cameron frowned.
“Cilla …” he began and his eyes narrowed. “What the hell kind of a name is that anyway?”
She glared at him. “This coming from a man whose name means crooked nose? Seriously? My full name is Cecilia but my friends call me Cilla. Do stick to Cecilia, though,” she said grimly.
He waved his finger in front of her face. “Cilla, Cecilia … whatever. You are not to touch my horses. I don’t want you putting any bloody spells on them, understand? You’ve wasted your time, my time and …”
A loud noise came from within the stables and the next moment one of the hands stormed out, muttering and cursing.
“What happened?” Ken asked.
“That animal is mad. Mad. I’m not going back into his stall.” Completely out of breath he sagged against the stable wall.
“Two of our workers are already in hospital and here’s another one who refuses to work with Bravo. But apparently the owner knows something none of us do and he can solve the problem on his own.” He took Cilla’s arm. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time, Cilla. Let me walk you to your car.”
Cilla glared at Cameron. “I don’t cast spells, Mr Rahl. I can help you, even though I’m a woman. But it’s your choice.”
“You want to whisper to the horse? Fine. Let’s see what you can do with that insane animal.” Sarcasm dripped from every word. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.
Cilla ignored him. What an insolent man. There is nothing she’d like more than to turn around and go home, but she didn’t want to disappoint Ken’s son. He was the one who’d told his father about her skills after an incident at school where she managed to calm down a stray dog.
She turned her back on Cameron, blocking out all the negative vibes coming from him and walked into the stable. The sooner she found out what the horse’s problem was, the sooner she could help him and leave this place. She would hopefully never have to see this man again.
Cameron stared after the long-legged brunette, trying to catch his breath. It was as if someone had punched him in the gut. Forcefully. When Ken had mentioned a horse whisperer he’d pictured a thin, old woman in flowing clothes muttering nonsense. But then he’d turned around and saw Cilla. To call her beautiful was an understatement and for a few minutes, he couldn’t even get his tongue to work properly. She was a tall one, all leg and sexy as hell. Fortunately his mouth was shut at the time, otherwise he definitely would have drooled.
A curtain of long, golden brown hair framed her face. Her skin was like porcelain. For one insane moment he’d wanted to touch her to find out whether she was real. But it was her eyes that nearly brought him to his knees. They were a hue of green that he’d never seen before, outlined by long, dark, dark lashes. Eyes that took in everything, saw right through him.
And there was something in her eyes, recognition? Did he know her? Had he met her somewhere? Angrily, he shook his head. The bloody woman already had him tied up in knots and she hadn’t been on his farm ten minutes!
This was exactly why he preferred to stay on his farm and not hook up with women on a regular basis like his brother did. They mess with a man’s head, something he’d witnessed first-hand when growing up.
After his mother’s untimely death, his dad simply gave up living. His whole life had revolved around his wife and without her, he’d turned into a miserable human being. He had blamed the rest of the world for his misfortune, got rid of everything on the farm that reminded him of her and neglected his children.
So no matter how beautiful this woman was or whether or not she could speak or sing to animals, he damn well didn’t want her on his farm.
Inside the stable, Cilla stood quietly for a moment, trying to calm down. To be able to find out what was wrong with the stallion, she had to find her equilibrium, had to put everything that had just happened, out of her mind.
This had never happened to her before. The man had upset her, disturbed her and she was agitated, distraught and plain angry, not only because he was probably the rudest man she’d ever met, but also because the mere sight of a man had never before played such havoc with her senses.
She should go out with men, mingle with other people besides her colleagues like Imke had been pestering her to do for ages. Then she wouldn’t react like a sex-starved spinster when she met an attractive man.
But right now, none of these feelings were of any use. There was an animal in distress, she had to calm down.
She looked around her. The stables were neat and tidy and looked as if they had been here for a long time. From what she’d seen of the farm and the homestead, money wasn’t a problem. So he was probably one of those rich farmers who wanted horses just to show the extent of his wealth, but he had no real love for them.
Inhaling deeply, Cilla closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. In and out, in and out. After long minutes, her breathing returned to normal and she managed to block out the negative and volatile feelings.
Feeling much calmer, she walked down the stalls, looking for the stallion. The horses neighed softly, some came closer for a quick rub, others only watched her from a distance.
She heard the stallion snort and he moved around restlessly before she saw him. Opening herself up, she quickly walked to the stall from where the noise came. Bravo was standing right at the back of his stall, his eyes wide, his whole body shivering.
“Hallo, handsome,” she crooned. “Why are you so upset?”
But she sensed immediately, he was afraid, someone was hurting him. His whole body was telling her.
“It’s okay, nobody will hurt you again, ever. I promise,” she murmured softly. Keeping her voice soft and calm, she teased and cajoled and talked nonsense until at last, the big animal stopped shivering.
Keeping her eyes on the stallion, she slowly put out her hand. Bravo stared at her for long minutes before he moved towards her, one step at a time. Cilla didn’t move, didn’t breathe, simply let herself connect to the animal.
Images flashed in front of her, Bravo snorted and finally bent his head so that she could touch him.
“So you want to run free?” Murmuring gently, she rubbed the big animal’s neck, felt the deep shudder under her fingers and saw another image.
She gasped. “Really?”
He snorted and nodded, his body moving restlessly.
“A chestnut mare?” Again his head bobbed up and down.
“Well,” she said on a laugh. “I’m not sure what your boss is going to say about that, but I’ll tell him. Come with me?” she said softly and opened the gate to the stall. “You’re not the bad-tempered one around here. Let’s show them,” she crooned, taking the reins lying over his body in her hands.
A hand came down on Cameron’s shoulder and he looked around. Ken was pointing in the direction of the stables.
“Give the woman a reasonable chance, will you? What is the worst thing that can happen? Bravo can hardly be more cantankerous than what he is at the moment. I’ve told you what she managed to do with the stray dog at school, let her at least try with Bravo.”
“Yes, you’ve told me. But to calm down a stray dog is one thing. To try and find out what is wrong with a huge bad-tempered stallion is …”
In the next minute, he lost his breath, his words and a little bit of his mind. Cilla and Bravo were exiting the stables, the horse’s head close to the woman’s shoulder, her hand against his face, the bridle in her other hand.
Unhurriedly, horse and woman walked towards the middle of the big circle adjacent to the stables where they usually trained the horses. There, she stopped and waited. With her hand still against the horse’s face, they stood like that for long minutes.
Everything around them stilled, the wind died down and for a brief moment, even the earth seemed to stop spinning. Then Cilla nodded, stepped back and while holding on to the bridle, she let the horse trot around her.
Ken barked out an incredulous laugh and looked at Cameron.
“Look at that! He wouldn’t let anyone else near him and now he’s flirting with this woman – can you believe it?”
Cameron stared. Damn it, it really looked as if the damn horse was flirting with the long-legged beauty – his eyes were fixed on Cilla, he neighed softly and was bobbing his head up and down. Gradually, his movements slowed until he stopped moving altogether. Cilla walked up to him, the big horse moved closer to her and dropped his head against her shoulder.
“I don’t believe what I’m seeing,” whispered Ken.
Cameron was at a loss for words. He’d never seen anything like this before.
Cilla led the horse out of the circle and they disappeared into the stables. Minutes later, she came out, smiling.
Bewildered, Cameron put his hands into his trouser pockets. The smile softened her face, her eyes were shining even brighter than before. She was breathtakingly beautiful. And sexy. Unbelievably sexy.
He had to say something but logical words failed him at the moment and he was incapable of getting out a single sound, let alone string a sentence together.
“And?” Ken asked walking up to Cilla. “What did the stallion tell you – why is he behaving so badly?”
Cameron crossed his arms in front of him. He was acting like a bloody teenager who’d seen a pretty girl for the first time. He didn’t need this kind of distraction in his life, damn it to hell! He had enough trouble as it was.
Cilla opened her mouth to answer Ken’s question but then she closed it again. There was something else she needed to know first.
“Have you always had horses on the farm?” she asked.
“Oh, no. Only for the last two years,” Ken said.
“Oh,” Cilla said and frowned. She looked towards the stables. “It looks as if the building has been here for some time …”
“There used to be horses on the farm – a long time ago. I’ve renovated the stables and have been buying horses for the past two years. Why? Did Bravo moan about his accommodation?” he asked, not even trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice.
Cilla tried to keep her face expressionless as she stared at the big man. She felt torn in two. The horse needed her help but she wouldn’t be able to do her work if the owner had this kind of attitude. And on top of everything else, he was also one of the rudest people she’d had the misfortune to meet. She honestly hadn’t thought men like this one still existed.
“I can help your horse, but you don’t trust me. Your aggressive behaviour is obviously detrimental to your relationship with humans and will definitely not work in your relationship with Bravo. When you reach the point where you are prepared to investigate other possibilities and realize that what I do is one of the most natural, most instinctive things on earth, you let me know.”
She turned to Ken and shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I can’t work like this. I really hope you can find help. Goodbye.”
She ignored Cameron and quickly walked towards her car. When she disappeared behind the building, the two men started arguing again. Exasperated, she rolled her eyes.
If only he’d given her a chance. But no, he was too damn skeptical, too damn rude and too much of a chauvinistic caveman to even consider asking for a mere woman’s help.
She’d parked in front of the farmhouse. It was a lovely old building with a Cape Dutch cable and a huge veranda. A gardener was working in the garden, it looked as if he were planting bulbs in the ground. Strange, she wouldn’t have thought the grim man she’d just met would be interested in growing anything that didn’t have a monetary value.
She opened her car door, talking to herself. Normally, she tried to see the good in everyone, tried to find at least one redeeming factor, but this man had rubbed her up the wrong way from his first swear word and trying to find anything redeeming in his behaviour would take more time than what he was worth.
And on top of everything else, she hated the way he made her feel. Yes, he was attractive, but she’d seen attractive men before. Why her body went on red alert the minute she’d seen him, she had no idea. Her palms were sweaty, her breathing erratic and her heart was just about jumping out of her chest. She was behaving exactly like a panting heroine straight out of a bodice ripper romance. A good thing that she wouldn’t see him again. She’d always trusted her feelings, but this was way too intense, even for her.
Shaking her head, she turned the key. Being intense was what made it possible for her to communicate with animals. The damn man had her questioning her feelings, damn it. And she had never had to do that before.
She glanced in the direction of the stables again. And why did he look so familiar? Surely she would have remembered if they’d met before, not many people were this rude. Or had such broad shoulders and had eyes in that particular shade of deep blue. Aargh – what was wrong with her? The man was impossible.
What a pity he was unable to get his head around something different. But she felt sorry for the horse. She could help the fiery stallion, but she’d learnt along the way that the problem very seldom lay with the horse. And this particular cranky owner was so full of prejudice, it was clear he was not going to be persuaded to listen to her advice.
Fortunately, she’d realized a long time ago that she couldn’t persuade people to believe in what she did. And at this point in her life, it didn’t matter what other people thought. She was comfortable with her ability, albeit a little bit weirder than what was considered the norm.
One of her most wonderful memories was the short period she’d taught in America right after she finished her studies. Over weekends she was able to work on a horse farm and nobody there thought it strange that she knew what animals were thinking. In fact, most of the people on the farm were able to communicate with animals on some sort of level. The principle used on the farm to train horses was one of respect and love of the horses.
And to her, it was so logical, her own dad had always used the same ideas when working with his horses.
Ever since she remembered, she’d been able to communicate with animals. When she was little, she’d thought everybody did. Her parents never let her believe that what she was able to do was abnormal. It was only when she started school that she gradually came to accept that other people found her understanding of animals weird. And so she’d learnt to keep her thoughts to herself.
Her phone rang. She smiled. It was her friend, Imke. Since the first day of school this busy blonde had taken Cilla under her wing and nobody had dared to tease her when Imke was around.
They grew up together, went to university together and both went overseas for two years to work, make money, experience different cultures. Afterwards, they both returned to teach at their alma mater, the High School in Caledon.
“And? What does the horse say?” Imke teased.
“He’s alone, bored and on top of it, his boss is …”
“Cute? Gorgeous? Sexy? All three?” giggled Imke.
Cilla laughed. “Yeah, all three. He thinks I’m a witch and is about to cast a spell on his horses. I only hope for the horse’s sake, they find someone else who can help.”
“Well, it’s his loss. Are you on your way to the farm?”
“Yes, I am. Will you be able to help this afternoon?” Cilla asked.
“Of course. I’ve already spoken to your mom and I’m spending the night at your parents’ place. It really is amazing what you and your parents have managed to do over the last six months. I am in awe.”
“Every time I look at the happy and playful horses we have now, I’m so glad we were able to save them from the terrible conditions they’d had to endure,” Cilla said. “It cost lots of money and we’ve spent many hours on grooming and nurturing them, but they’re such a joy now.”
“And now that you’ve managed to get the kids to visit the horses, your dreams have come true. To help now and again with your project is such a humbling and satisfying experience. I gladly help out when I can. Drive safely – I’ll see you later,” Imke called out gaily before ringing off.
Cilla smiled as she put her phone away. In collaboration with social workers from Cape Town and various sponsors, they were able to start the programme in which they brought traumatised children and the horses together.
Over the last few weeks they had also started working with an autistic little boy. The fact that Cilla’s mother was a well-known and respected psychologist, had made the whole process a lot easier.
The healing process they’d been witnessing over the last few weeks was remarkable. Each trembling smile on a defenseless child’s face made her realize that all the effort, money and time were so worth it and she had a hard time keeping her tears at bay.
Cilla took the turn-off on to the N2 on her way to Caledon. Fortunately she didn’t have to drive too far to Cameron’s farm this morning. The farm was a short distance from Villiersdorp, a small town about an hour’s drive from Caledon. It was a beautiful road, and this time of the day, there was hardly any traffic. Which meant she’d be in time for the children this afternoon.
She passed the short-cut wheat fields. It was the end of March and one of these days, just before the first winter rains, the farmers would sow their wheat.
From the top of the next hill, she had a lovely view of the mountains and hills of the Overberg. Close by was Babylon’s Peak, a well-known mountain peak that rose high above the farmlands. She couldn’t help smiling. To her, this piece of land would always be the most beautiful on the planet. She stepped on the petrol; she wanted to get home.
Her mind drifted back to the farm she’d just visited. The man’s eyes were the most amazing shade of blue she’d ever seen. He looked so, so familiar. But where would she have seen him before? She’d ask her mother. Maybe they saw one another when they’d been kids. It was as if … Irritated with herself, she shook her head. Surely she would have remembered if she’d ever touched those black curls? Wouldn’t she?
“Pure bliss,” sighed Cilla and, stretching herself out, took a sip of the chilled wine her dad had just handed her.
The sun had just disappeared behind the mountains and they were all sitting outside. Imke and she had spent the whole afternoon with the kids and the horses and still had time to take their favourite horses for a gallop afterwards. Now her head was clear after the week and the frustration of the morning. Her dad was making a fire, they were having a barbeque later.
“Okay, you’ve had enough time. Tell us about the cute, gorgeous, sexy man you met this morning,” Imke teased.
Her mom started spluttering and Cilla groaned.
“What man?” her mom asked when she could talk. Her dad came closer, holding a fork threateningly in his hand.
“What man?” he asked as well.
“See what you’ve done? I’ll never hear the end of this,” Cilla grumbled.
“What man?” her dad asked again, swinging the fork in the air.
Cilla sighed. “A few days ago, a stray dog scared the kids at school and …”
“Cilla talked to the dog and calmed him down in front of the whole school. The kids talked about it for days,” Imke interrupted.
“Anyway,” Cilla tried to continue with her story, but Imke continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted.
“One of the matric boys mentioned the incident to his dad. His dad is a manager on a farm near Villiersdorp and the owner has a difficult stallion. The manager asked Cilla whether she’d have a look and … I don’t know the rest, you’ll have to explain,” Imke said.
“Oh, may I really talk now?” Cilla asked sarcastically.
“Come on, you don’t talk fast enough, I just gave the background. So, what happened then?” Imke asked.
Cilla laughed. It was no use getting angry with Imke. When things didn’t move quickly enough for her, she took over.
“I went there early this morning, but the owner doesn’t believe in what I do, he doesn’t like the fact that I’m a woman and … well, he basically has a problem with everything. He thinks I’ll cast a spell on his horse. Apparently, he didn’t know I was visiting. Ken, the manager asked me to have a look at the horse and the owner was very angry when he found out. His vocabulary is … explicit.”
“Did you look at the horse?” her dad asked.
“Yes, I did and I can help him but if the owner doesn’t believe in what I do, there isn’t much I can do. You know how it works.”
“What is wrong with the horse, do you think?” her dad asked.
“He …” Cilla shook her head and laughed. “You won’t believe me, but the stallion has a picture of a mare in his head and I … well, it sounds bizarre, but I could swear it was of Maggie.”
“Our Maggie?” her dad asked, clearly amazed.
“Yeah – a chestnut mare with a black mane. I know, I know. There are probably lots of other mares who look exactly like that, but what are the odds? The only way it’s even remotely possible, is that he probably caught her scent, but how? I should have asked them where he came from. Anyway, he is also very bored and wants to be able to run free.”
Her dad nodded. It was never necessary to explain in detail what a horse’s problem was, but her dad knew what she meant.
“Who is the owner?” her mother asked.
“Cameron Rahl, he farms −”
“… near Villiersdorp. On the farm Yonder Hill,” her mother murmured.
Surprised, Cilla stared at her mother. “Yes, do you know him? I did wonder …”
“No, you won’t remember, you were a baby at the time but I knew his mother well. We were at school together and after we moved here, I visited her once or twice but we lost touch. Her death was such a tragic event. They farmed with horses, she adored them. They had two sons. The youngest was about ten years old, I think, when she was thrown off a horse and died instantly. We visited once or twice afterwards, but the husband was completely devastated, I don’t think he ever recovered from his wife’s death. I remember being so sorry for the two little boys who had to grow up without a mother. You say his name is Cameron?”
She looked at Cilla’s dad. “He was the younger of the two, I think. I wonder why the older brother hasn’t taken over the farm.”
Her dad nodded. “I don’t know. From what you’re telling us, it sounds as if Cameron has decided to breed horses again. I remember that his dad got rid of all the horses when his wife died.”
“Yes, one of the few things he did manage to get out was that he renovated the stables about two years ago and began buying horses right after that,” Cilla said.
Cilla’s cell phone rang. It was not a number she knew but she didn’t want to ignore it. It might be someone phoning about one of the children. “Excuse me,” she said and got up.
“Cilla Stevens.”
“Hi,” a gruff voice answered.
Cilla stopped in her tracks. It sounded very much like Cameron Rahl, if she wasn’t mistaken.
“Good evening,” she greeted him formally. What did the man want with her?
He cleared his throat. “I …” He swore softly and she smiled. So he did know swear words that didn’t begin with an f.
“Yes, sir?”
“My name is Cameron. And what I’m trying to say is that I … about this afternoon … I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I know I was …” He uttered a few more swear words.
“Rude? Bad-mannered? Overbearing? Insufferable?”
“No … I was … okay, yes, maybe, but …”
“I was there, there is no maybe about it,” Cilla insisted.
“Dammit to hell, will you stop interrupting me?” he shouted over the line.
“Don’t yell at me!” she shouted back.
The line was silent for a few minutes.
It was obviously very difficult for him to apologize, if that was what he was attempting to do. But she really wanted to end this conversation; she didn’t want all these bad vibes spoiling the rest of her day. “Look, it’s fine. I accept your apology. Anything else?”
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