Catalina Claussen - Diamonds at Dusk

Diamonds at Dusk

by

Catalina Claussen

Copyright 2016 Catalina Claussen. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission, in writing, from the author.

Book & Cover Design by Kalpart.

Visit www.kalpart.com

Published by Progressive Rising Phoenix Press.

www.progressiverisingphoenix.com

Printed in the U.S.A.

Book Editor: Dr. Diana Edwards

ISBN: 978-1-944277-45-1

Acknowledgments

Building a novel takes a community. Special thanks to my editor, Diana Edwards, who has believed in and supported this project from early on and who has helped me polish the piece line by line, idea by idea. To my children, Ajalaa and Banyan Claussen, for getting me out to adventure wherever we are. To Brenden Claussen whose deep connection with the land permeates his every move, with brilliant gardening and reverent harvest of deer in the winter season.

Special thanks to the wonderful writing community in southern New Mexico, nurturing me and my school community with enriching writing workshops. We have been privileged with workshops from Philip Connors, Sharman Russell, Denise Chavez, Derek Markham, Damien Davies, Doug Fine, Jimmy Santiago Baca, Dr. Emma Bailey, and Mary Sojourner .

I deeply appreciate the master writers who have taken time to read and provide thoughtful blurbs and reviews for the book including Dr. Jon Stott, Sharman Russell, and Chris Lemme.

Thank you so much to Chris Lemme, editor of the Silver City Quarterly Review for your excitement about the project and acknowledgement of the work in the Winter 2016 issue.

Last, but most certainly not least, I would like to recognize my daughter's best friend, Michelle Narvaez , whose early praise of the novel spurred me to push for its publication. And who along with Zach Donnelly's expertise in technology spent hours in the school computer lab on a Saturday working on a cover. My daughter's gorgeous photos made the design process a lovely experience for all. Aji, I thank you for your dedication to your art and inspiring me to move forward with mine.

Thank you Amanda Thrasher, Publisher, and Anne Dunigan, Acquisition Editor, at Progressive Rising Phoenix Press for being willing to take a chance. You inspire me!

Chapter 1

Race you to the end of the field, I challenge, mounting Cinnamon, my fifteen-year old Arabian mare. Grandpa Norm got her for me when I was born. Grandma Alice scolded him for it, the latest of his Cracker Jack ideas. Who buys a horse for a newborn ?

Youre on, Chad grins, swinging his leg over Beau, his dappled gray Appaloosa.

I dig my heels into Cinnamons groomed sides . Her loose mane floats in the wind along with my unbound, sun-streaked hair. I lean forward. The wind howls in my ears as Cinnamon leaves Chad and Beau behind in our dusty tracks. The edge of the road falls away to the creek rushing by in the opposite direction. The cottonwood trees chatter with the breeze kicked up by the looming afternoon thundershower. The summer rains have grooved the road with dozens of dry rivulets that gouge at the contour. I watch ahead to protect Cinnamons hooves at this breakneck speed.

Oh come on, you can do better than that, I tease Chad, turning to look over my other shoulder. He, too, is hunkered down with the full intent to overtake us. But Beaus not as young and spry as he used to be and Chads out of practice. Weve been riding like this side by side for ten summers now. Chadwick Dean Holbrook III is the grandson of a millionaire and a junior at Sandia Prep. He always has to go back to the city in the fall.

Red cliff faces, dotted with junipers and the odd prickly pear cactus, watch us pass. Waist -high grasses skirt the base of the cliffs, swaying in the pre-storm gusts.

The road widens into a field of wild sunflowers , grown head and shoulders above the fence posts. Skirting the edge of the field, the black and yellow flower heads bob in our wake. Suddenly, the ground breaks into the arroyo. I pull up hard on Cinnamons reins. Wheeling around, I gloat in our victory.

You still cant catch me, I laugh at Chad, blazing to a dusty finish.

I did once, he says, smiling at the memory.

That doesnt count, I protest with a hot mix of competitiveness , fury, and laughter. Ive warned girls about you since then--fancy prep school boys. You have way too much time on your hands if you can figure out how to undo a girl's bra while saddled up.

The look on your face was priceless, he laughs, showing his perfect white teeth and tossing his dirty blond waves. His green eyes glitter. He looks a little too long at me. I look back--bold and unflinching. From just under his rolled short sleeve , I trace the curve of his bronzed bicep where it meets his shoulder muscle. The open collar of his western shirt reveals a trickle of sweat that glides from his cheek, down his neck, and into that little hollow above his collarbone. The opalescent snaps catch the sun, teasing at whats inside. A shimmer of attraction takes hold. I look away.

Boy has he changed! Ive taken pride in how Cinnamons muscles are defined and well formed under her silky coat, showing off years of teamwork between us. But, until now, Ive never really appreciated it on a guy. And I never thought I would be appreciating it this much on Chad.

Hey, Cassie... I, he starts softly. The rush of hooves pounding the road behind us interrupts him. Ahzi reins Yas up short. Yas is Beaus white-lightning foal that has grown into a stallion only Ahzi can control. Ahzis waist-length, raven-black hair settles seductively , framing her dark brown eyes, raised cheekbones, and full lips.

Whered you come from? I ask her.

Up on the ridge, she breathes. Then she turns to Chad with a victorious smile. Still cant beat her, can you? she teases. When are you going to learn you cant beat us, right Cassie? She shoots me with her finger, our old signal for 'girls rule, boys drool.' I shoot her back and laugh.

Chad sloughs off the slight, a little too easily this time. Hes caught up in Ahzis sparkling eyes and irresistible charm. Ten years of playing hide -and-go-seek, tag, capture the flag, buried pirate treasure, and our personal favorite, wild princess warriors save the wounded knight from the dragons lair, has acquainted him with our charms. But, today, somethings different. Chad looks at her and glows. A pang of jealousy races through me. I wish it would stop.

Chad plays back. Theres nothing wrong with trying. I mean you girls have to have someone to sharpen your blades on.

Shut up, we say and shoot him with our guns.

Thats just it. Weve always had each others back. Rural New Mexico is lonely country. Grandpa Norms ranch is different from most. He parceled it out thirty years ago after an angry bull pulverized his pelvis. Most of the neighbors are what Grandpa calls fair-weather friends since we tend to see them in summer while on vacation.

Ahzi Toadlena has been there for me always. Her family lives here year-round and her grandpa or Sicheii has been friends with my grandpa since the beginning of time. Yeah, weve fought over whose kachina doll belongs to whom, who gets to play Barbie, who gets to play Ken, and who gets to read the new issue of Seventeen , Sicheiis latest cruel test of our ability to share.

But we never fight over anything that cuts deep or lasts long enough to tear us apart for more than a day. So, I dont want to start now. I dont want to be attracted to Chad. And I dont want to be jealous of her.