Untamed by Nora Roberts Page A

instructions.
    â€œAll right, Buck’s going to let Merlin through the chute. He’s the most tractable of the cats, except for Ari.” She paused a moment while her eyes grew sad. “Ari isn’t up to even a short practice session.” She pushed away the depression that threatened and continued. “Merlin knows you, he’s familiar with your voice and your scent.” Gerry nodded and swallowed. “When we go in, you’re to be my shadow. You move when I move, and don’t speak until I tell you. If you get frightened, don’t run.” Jo took his arm for emphasis. “That’s
important,
understand? Don’t run. Tell me if you want out, and I’ll get you to the safety cage.”
    â€œI won’t run, Jo,” he promised and wiped hands, damp with excitement, on his jeans.
    â€œAre you ready?”
    Gerry grinned and nodded. “Yeah.”
    Jo opened the door leading to the big cage and let Gerry through behind her before securing it. She walked to the center of the arena in easy, confident strides. “Let him in, Buck,” she called and heard the immediate rattle of bars. Merlin entered without hurry, then leaped onto his pedestal. He yawned hugely before looking at Jo. “A solo today, Merlin,” she said as she advanced toward him. “And you’re the star. Stay with me,” she ordered as Gerry merely stood still and stared at the big cat. Merlin gave Gerry a disinterested glance and waited.
    With an upward move of her arm, she sent Merlin into a sit-up. “You know,” she told the boy behind her, “that teaching a cat to take his seat is the first trick. The audience won’t even consider it one. The sit-up,” she continued while signaling Merlin to bring his front paws back down, “is usually next and takes quite a bit of time. It’s necessary to strengthen the cat’s back muscles first.” Again she signaled Merlin to sit up, then, with a quick command, she had him pawing the air and roaring. “Marvelous old ham,” she said with a grin and brought him back down. “The primary move of each cue is always given from the same position with the same tone of voice. It takes patience and repetition. I’m going to bring him down off the pedestal now.”
    Jo flicked the whip against the tanbark, and Merlin leaped down. “Now I maneuver him to the spot in the arena where I want him to lie down.” As she moved, Jo made certain her student moved with her. “The cage is a circle, forty feet in diameter. You have to know every inch of it inside your head. You have to know precisely how far you are from the bars at all times. If you back up into the bars, you’ve got no room to maneuver if there’s trouble. It’s one of the biggest mistakes a trainer can make.” At her signal Merlin laid down, then shifted to his side. “Over, Merlin,” she said briskly, sending him into a series of rolls. “Use their names often; it keeps them in tune with you. You have to know each cat and their individual tendencies.”
    Jo moved with Merlin, then signaled him to stop. When he roared, she rubbed the top of his head with the stock of her whip. “They like to be petted just like house cats, but they are not tabbies. It’s essential that you never give them your complete trust and that you remember always to maintain your dominance. You subjugate not by poking them or beating or shouting, which is not only cruel but makes for a mean, undependable cat, but with patience, respect and will. Never humiliate them; they have a right to their pride. You bluff them, Gerry,” she said as she raised both arms and brought Merlin up on his hind legs. “Man is the unknown factor. That’s why we use jungle-bred rather than captivity-bred cats. Ari is the exception. A cat born and raised in captivity is too familiar with man, so you lose your edge.” She moved