No Brand on My Pony

She gave me a smile that quickly faded away. "I spent it in bed at Steve's hotel. It wasted the day." She saw me flinch. Maybe I was being too transparent. "You were with a girl the last time I saw you—Susan? How'd that go?"

"From the way you sound, better than your time with Steve. Took her to the ballet."

Hope raised her eyebrows. "And?"

I watched my coffee while I rolled the cup between my palms. "And why do you girls talk about sex so much?"

"Don't you think sex is important?" Hope leaned closer with her elbows on the table. "Why don't men talk about sex more?"

"Dunno. Respect for women? Don't want to advertise what we have? Don't want to talk about what we don't know?" She laughed at that. "Why do you need to know about Susan?"

"If you don't think it's interesting, then don't tell me."

The tone in her voice told me she wanted to know. "We went to her place after the ballet because she has cuffs and shackles, and I don't."

"What?" Hope sat back, covered her mouth, and laughed.

"Some boyfriend got them for her, and she kept them. Tied down is about the only way she gets off."

Hope looked around to see if anyone might be listening. "I guess we're all different."

"Some of y'all are real different." My coffee had cooled, and I took a big gulp and swished it around my mouth. "Is work busy now?"

Hope pushed her cup away. "Work is slow. Some of my clients close their doors this time of year, but it's a chance to get my reports and sketches together. I have time to let my mind wander. How about you?"

"It's going to be a short session. We drafted a bill last night to get us some leverage with the Land Office, and I think the Governor's Office will go for it." I caught Hope's hand and held it. "Things are gettin' crazy. I have a little time, and I'd like to spend it with you."

A smile crossed Hope's face. "My mind has wandered there. Barfy's taken care of, so you could show me your place."

Streetlamps were coming on, and the temperature was dropping. Hope adjusted her bag on her shoulder and pulled her sweater close around her on our way to the garage where I'd parked. I watched her for a moment and said, "I've never seen you carry a bag before."

Hope glanced at me when we stopped by the passenger door. "I brought that edible lotion and a change of underwear."

Made me laugh. I opened her door and helped her in. "So this wasn't really my idea, right?"

"I was planning ahead."

My condo was off West Zia, It wasn't as fashionable as Hope's little house, and I somehow forgot that it was still a mess.

I followed Hope past the serving tray on the coffee table and the dirty glasses on the end table, and I took her sweater when she stopped to look at the 120-year-old map of New Mexico Territory that hung over the sofa.

She stepped from map-to-map around the room while I hung her sweater and put my hat and jacket away. "Santa Fe, 1880," she said. "Bernalillo County, 1917. The Village of Taos, 1927. These are like museum pieces. Where do you get them?"

"Where-ever I can. They're all history. I love history." I picked up the serving tray and stacked it with glasses and napkins. Hope dropped her bag and followed me to the kitchen where I left the tray, and I leaned back against the counter. "What do you want to order in?"

"I'm craving enchiladas."

I called Maria's and settled on the sofa where Hope was poking at the TV remote. "You know, I'm almost surprised you have a TV," she said. "Mine's usually covered so I don't see it."

Hope clicked from channel to channel without stopping long for anything, and I was hungry before the doorbell rang. They delivered enchiladas for Hope and carne adovada for me.

Hope fell back into the sofa when she was done. "And now I'm cold," she said and wrapped her arms around herself.

"We can fix that." I dropped dinner's refuse into the trash, settled down beside Hope, and wrapped a blanket from the hall closet around our shoulders. "Better now?"

"Much." Hope said, and cuddled up. She wrapped her hands around my thumbs and watched my face. "Your hands are warm. There's an old saying, 'cold hands, warm heart.' Is the reverse true?"

"Warm hands, cold heart?" I was surprised. "Why would you ask that?"

"I didn't mean to say that, but I guess I did. It isn't because you seem cold-hearted. I mean ... The news and all sometimes make lobbyists out to be the root of all evil. I'm getting a little cognitive dissonance."

Expected Hope would bring that up sometime, so I wrapped her in that blanket a little closer. "Look, my aim is to save an old tradition from a changing world, and I'm at peace with what I do. Sometimes—with compromises and all—I find myself with strange bedfellows. That's politics.

"How about you? You're a professional. Are you always happy with what you do?"

The question made Hope look away. "Not always. Sometimes my clients have agendas I didn't expect, but I do the job anyway." She looked into my eyes, and we were nearly nose-to-nose until she drew back. "I have to learn to deal with that."

I caught her hand, kissed her fingers, and opened the button at her wrist. "I can help you deal with it. Help you keep it all together—body, mind, and spirit. Maybe your clothes are too tight. They're blocking the flow of your spiritual energy."

Hope laughed at me, but she didn't stop me. I opened her cuffs and stroked her wrists, and the welcoming scent of anticipation mingled with her perfume. She lifted her chin to let me unbutton her collar, and I stroked the sensitive skin on her throat and behind her ear. I knew I shouldn't have asked, but I wanted to know. "Does Steve do this?"

Hope tensed and studied my face for a moment. "Not your business, Cowboy."

Damn my curiosity. Hope took a moment to relax again, and then I worked slowly, one button at a time down past her breasts until I could slip my hand under the fabric to touch her soft skin.

I brushed Hope's lips with mine, and she pressed her body against me. She was as eager for that kiss as I was. Her lips were honey-sweet, and her tongue was soft and yielding when it met mine.

It seemed like I could still feel Hope's breath brushing my cheek even after we broke that kiss. She lifted her legs over my lap and started unbuttoning my shirt under that warm blanket, and she was biting her lip when she looked up at me. "Do cowboys still ride ponies? I've never been on a horse."

Her fingers traveled over my chest, and she made it hard for me to think. "Not for work." I said. "Horses are expensive to buy, hard to train, and expensive to keep. We use trucks and ATV's mostly. They're easier." I reached up under her long, black dress, touched the back of her knee, and slipped my hand up inside her thigh. "We still have horses at home, just not for work."

I found Hope's soft cotton knickers before I went on. "We have a big, gentle gelding mostly for my sister's kids. I could teach you to ride—he'd be great for you."

Hope smiled for a moment as I slipped my hand to her hip and tugged at the bow on the drawstring, but then her smile vanished. "That sounds like a 'meet the family' date," she said. "I'm not going there, Adam."

Didn't mean it that way—at least, I didn't think I did—but that's how it came out. I dropped the subject, and after a little squirming, I dropped Hope's knickers behind me.

Hope stroked her fingers down over the bulge in my jeans and ground the heel of her hand along the length of my hardening shaft. She made me moan in her ear, and it was time for us to go. I threw the blanket off, she snatched her bag from the floor, and I stood with her cradled in my arms. Hope laughed all the way to bed.

I got to know the bits of Hope's body that I'd overlooked the first time, and it seemed too soon when I had to blink back the bright morning light. I climbed over Hope to get out of bed and parted the curtains to find out why it was so bright. When I turned away from the window again, I found her sitting on the edge of the mattress. She was checking her messages.

"Snowed while we were busy, but the sun's clearing the streets pretty fast."

"Good," Hope said. I sat down beside her before she looked up. "I need you to take me home pretty soon."

"What's the hurry? I thought we could spend some time together."

Hope didn't have a hint of a smile when she answered. "One of the engineers I work with is writing a proposal. The deadline is just after the first of the year, and they want my part today. I have work to do."

I know my face fell. "I'm going to Tesuque this afternoon to visit a friend—more work for me than play, but he has orchards and horse pastures along the creek. The orchards are bare right now, but I still thought you'd love it there."

"Maybe I would." Hope folded her hands around her phone and settled them into her lap. Her eyes searched my expression for a moment before a little smile flitted over her lips. She nudged me with her shoulder. "Look, Cowboy. I've enjoyed almost every minute we've spent together, but if you need to take a woman along to make your contacts more comfortable, then maybe you need a wife—not me."

* * *

Dale McMillan was sort of a fraud, but I needed his help. I carried my hat and a wrapped gift through the corridors. I dodged busy nurses and dieticians, and patients who slowly walked off their surgeries. "Adam!" he said, when I finally found his room. Dale extended his hand from his bed and asked, "What brings you to these sunny halls?"

He knew why I was there. "The session starts in two days. I'm here to warn you—if you can't make it there by yourself, then I'll throw you over my shoulder and haul you to the Senate chamber myself." It made him laugh, and that was what I wanted.

The Senator from Portales was a professor at the little university there. He was elected and re-elected on a "support our farms and ranches" platform, but the State's small colleges were his secret love child.

My hat hung on the back of a chair while I sat, and we talked about agendas until Dale's phone rang. I dropped my gift—an old print of Zane Grey's "Riders of the Purple Sage"—where he could reach it, and I left him talking with the minority whip.

I pulled my jacket shut and my hat down to brace for the bright, cold day outside the turquoise doors, and I looked up when a man in a dark suit walked around the corner with a woman on his arm.

Looked once then had to look again. It was Hope. She had makeup on, and her long braid fell down the back of a business suit. I stared until she caught sight of me, and her pale complexion blushed pink. Steve nodded without smiling, but Hope pulled herself against his shoulder and looked away, concentrating on—well, a spider on the wall, I guess.

It was just two days before the session started, or at least that's what I reminded myself. I shoved Hope to the back of my mind, and tried to keep her there.

It didn't work. I was at my office trying to frame some kind of schedule for the next two weeks when my urge to call Hope won the battle. I sat back with my boots on my desk, and she answered her phone with "Look, Cowboy, I don't owe you an explanation."

Guess it was on her mind, too.

"I hardly recognized you," I said. "How's that body-mind-spirit thing doin' right now?" It was quiet on the other end of the call. Maybe I heard Barfy's meow.

Hope sighed into her phoned. "Thank you for not pointing and laughing. The body-mind-spirit thing isn't at peace right now." Fabric rustled and in my minds eye I could see Hope settling on her sofa and tucking her feet under her.

"I don't know if I ever told you, but Steve's a doctor—an Oncologist. My job while he was building his practice was to be his good wife at all the parties and such. My mom raised me to be that woman, so it was easy to do.

"He was talking about setting up shop here. I don't know ... I don't know, Cowboy, how he talked me into playing his good wife again, but he did. We met at the hospital with the partners in a local practice. Now, my skin crawls a little when I think about how he can manipulate me."

The sun was dropping into the cloudy horizon, and the light through my office window was fading. "Are you going to keep seeing him?"

"He flew back to LA this afternoon, and I have planning meetings with the Diné for the next two weeks. I'll be in Window Rock more than I'm in Santa Fe, so I'll see Henry before I see either one of you again."

"Would it be better if you just told Steve 'No'?"

Hope's answer was sudden, and her voice was tense. "Mind your own business, Cowboy. Steve's my problem, not yours."

I didn't have trouble minding my own business. I had troubles that filled fourteen-hour days and sometimes spilled over. That schedule ran on for more than a week before I found an early escape from a committee meeting and called The Shed to make sure they were still serving.

There was a cold breeze at my back as I walked down the hill and through the plaza. Gritty ice was mounded in the gutters and against the buildings. I stood in the foyer and shook off the cold before I realized that Steve was beside me.

"Does this town shut down at nine?" he asked. "There aren't many places open." He extended his hand. "I'm Steve Coyer ..."

His pause was an invitation to introduce myself. I squeezed his hand and said, "Adam Cruz. I saw you with Hope."

"I remember. You're the one she called 'Cowboy.'"

At least he remembered. I had to wonder what else she told him. "She's out of town. What brings you back?"

Steve shrugged and glanced away. "I needed to finish something I started the last time I was here."

The hostess picked up two menus and stepped closer to get our attention. "Two for dinner?"

Steve nodded. "Why not? I'm not a fan of eating alone. You?"

I watched Steve smile before I answered. Dinner might be a liar's contest, but if I knew how to do anything, then I knew how to lie. "Sure," I told him. "It'll pass the time."

We took a table near the bar and talked about the weather over the clatter and the laughter. We talked about LA. We talked at first about anything but Hope, and Hope was all we had in common. It wasn't until our dinners were in front of us that Steve glanced up from his steak and asked, "How did you meet my wife?"

Steve was staking his claim to Hope. "We met on Black Friday," I said, and motioned to the east, "just a few shops down from here."

"So, seven weeks? Eight weeks? I've known her for twelve years." His claim was getting bigger and louder.

I gave him that ground and swallowed my bite of enchilada. "And that might be all of it. She told me to get lost the last time we talked." That wasn't the truth, but it wasn't far off. I watched Steve's shoulders relax and realized my lie had the effect I wanted.

"What did you see in her?" he asked.

Seemed like an odd question, but I gave it a try. "Independent—thought for herself. I've always liked that in women."

Steve snorted and sat back as a server leaned over the table to refill our water. I guess he didn't agree with me. The server motioned to my empty beer and to Steve's. "More?" he asked.

I shook my head without saying anything, and Steve said, "Later." He leaned forward again and glanced to the couple at the next table. "How far did that get you, letting her think for herself?"

Wasn't going to answer that question, and I'm not sure he expected me to.

"Hope didn't tell me much," I said. "How long have you been divorced?"

Steve took a little frustration out on the steak. "Married for eight years, divorced for three years. The divorce took me by surprise. I was too busy, and I felt like I lost the game." He looked up past a dripping chunk of meat on his fork. "I hate losing."

My enchiladas were gone, so I scooped up the last of the posole and said, "Then start a new game."

Steve waved down the server. "I'll have that refill now." He didn't have more to say about Hope until his beer was in hand and our plates were cleared. He stifled a belch and leaned forward on his elbows. "The game's on, and I'm not losing this time."

"You looked like you were winning when I saw you at the hospital." I knew Hope's side, but Steve probably didn't know that. "Visiting a friend?"

"That was round two," he said and sat back while the server brought our tabs and left with our credit cards. "I had a mostly social meeting at the hospital with the partners in a practice here, and Hope wanted to help. Looked good, didn't she? Looked like my wife again."

The table beside us emptied before the server came back with our tabs, and the bartenders were putting things away. I signed and waited for Steve. "Is that what brought you back today?"

He glanced up before he signed. "I came back to talk business. It was a short meeting. I'm not cutting my income to move here, so Hope is going to come to me, whether she knows it now or not."

The restaurant was almost empty when we left, and we stopped under the portal where our frosty breath swirled under the lights. "That meeting at the hospital would have been a waste of time," Steve said, "but I got a great nooner out of it. Winning's good."

Steve went east on Palace toward La Posada. I shoved my hands into my coat pockets, ducked my head against the breeze, and went the other way. I wondered while I walked just what the rules were to Steve's game. Would he even tell Hope that the deal fell through?

I hadn't heard from her since she told me to mind my own business. I started the engine, pulled my phone from my pocket and hesitated because, you know, maybe I should mind my own business.

My fingers were stiff from the cold when I picked out the letters to text her and sent, "Where are you?"

My phone rang as I turned onto Zia Road. It was Hope. I put her on the speakers and answered, "Hey! I didn't expect a call."

"I wanted to hear a familiar voice. Are you driving? The sound isn't great."

"Sorry. I'm almost home." I turned into my drive, threw the transmission into park, and turned the lights off. "How are you doing?"

Hope sounded tired. "I could be better."

"I'm taking you off the speakers." I killed the engine and held my phone to my ear while I climbed out. "When are you coming back?"

"What is today? Tuesday? I should be back in my own little house on Thursday afternoon. Maybe Barfy will even remember me."

I got inside and shook off the cold. I wanted to blurt, "Talked to Steve," but I didn't. Instead, I hung my hat and tossed my coat on a chair. I settled on the sofa, and we talked about long drives alone, public meetings, and hidden agendas.

I needed to ask, "What are you going to do?" but I didn't, and I knew nothing more when Thursday came around. I watched from the gallery over the Senate chamber as the first test came for the little urban/rural alliance we hammered together. I hurried out once I knew we'd won, and I congratulated Sam Gutierrez in the hallway and Dale McMillan outside his office.

There were going to be bigger tests, but I took a moment before lunch and sent a text to Hope. "Where are you now?"

Hope didn't answer until nearly mid-afternoon. I leaned against the rail over the rotunda and read, "I'm on NM4. I stopped in Jemez Springs and found your text."

"How is it there?" I asked. "Will you be in town for dinner?"

"Beautiful. A little snowy. Dinner with Steve, but I'm going to stop at Tyonyi before I deal with either one of you."

I imagined that Steve was still in town to play round three and checked the time on my phone. I had to catch Hope at Tyonyi. I was going to save her, you know.

The road north was busy, but the traffic thinned when I turned west. I crossed the river and climbed the canyon between tan-pink cliffs. Traffic disappeared completely when I passed the turn to Los Alamos, and there were no cars in sight when I pulled into the national monument.