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She whirled, not sure if the stud had suddenly started talking or just what was going on. The horse was nowhere to be seen, but a man stood there, a very tall and well-built man. A very under-dressed man, too, clad only in a breechcloth, like some of the Indians wore in the summer. He looked something like an Indian, too, yet he didn't. He seemed to be very clean, which, in itself, was strange out here in the desert.
He was tall, slender but well-muscled, and the hair that blew free down past his shoulders was deep auburn. She could see that even in the dim light. He was as magnificent a specimen of a man as that stud was of a horse. A skitter of excitement danced along Nellie's nerves.
"Who are you?"
"I've been called many things, few of them complimentary. Once I was a regular man, but no longer. I only take this shape now when it's needed. Somehow running as a horse seems to be a better life."
Nellie shook her head. Surely she was dreaming or had gone plumb loco. Horses did not turn into men. For sure, horses did not speak. Still, there was an uncanny similarity between this handsome stranger and the red stud. He spoke very quietly, with hardly any real sound. The effect was almost as if he communicated without speech at all. She'd read in a book that some people could by something called telepathy, but she wasn't sure she'd really believed it, at least not until now.
