Moonrise

by Terri Farley

Sam could hear her own loud breathing as she reached Jake and Witch. He must have been banking on her reluctance to hurt his horse, because he didn’t ride away.

  Jake was an expert roper. He never missed, but no one was perfect, right? Sam studied him for a clue that he’d done it on purpose.

  “It was an accident,” Jake insisted, but laughter rolled beneath the surface of his voice.

  That’s it, she thought. He wouldn’t be laughing if he’d accidentally missed. Even though he managed to keep a straight face, she didn’t believe him.

  “Anyone can miss,” he added.

  Not this time, Sam thought. She made a fist and socked him in the leg.

  “Now, Samantha, act like a lady,” he scolded and actually brushed at the mud she’d smeared on his jeans.

  Jen must have known that would send Sam over the edge.

  “Oh, I’m out of here,” Jen said, backing Silly away.

  “Can’t say that I blame you.” Jake backed Witch, too.

  Both mares, the black and the gold, stayed just out of Sam’s reach.

  “Come back here,” Sam started, but then she thought of the laughable picture she must be making.

  Hair dripping down her neck and into her eyes, walking stiff-legged because of her soggy jeans, she probably looked like a horror movie monster.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Jake teased. “All I did for you was a favor.”

  Sam told herself to get a grip, because Jake was enjoying this way too much. She had to pretend it wasn’t bothering her.

  Sam closed her eyes, clenched her fists, and swallowed. She took one deep breath. Then another.

  A sharp whistle sounded.

  “Ace,” Jake shouted, summoning the horse.

  Don’t move, Ace. Don’t you dare take a single, solitary step. Sam said it silently, inside her head. If she’d said it aloud, would Ace have obeyed?

  Sloshing legs and plopping hooves moved through the water behind her.

  No. Ace was not just walking out of the lake because Jake had called him.

  But he was.

  “Good pony,” Jake said.

  “Go away,” Sam said.

  “Not talkin’ to Ace, are you?”

  “I’m talking to you!”

  She would have yelled, except that Ace gave her such an energetic nudge between the shoulder blades, her words turned into a gasp and she barely kept from tripping.

  “Guess I’ll be riding along,” Jake said.

  “Where are you going, anyway?” Jen asked. “Gold Dust?”

  Sam couldn’t believe Jen sounded so conversational.

  “Yep,” Jake said.

  “That’s nice,” Jen replied. Sam sent Jen brain waves not to ask why. Jake didn’t like Linc Slocum, owner of the Gold Dust Ranch. If anything, he liked Linc’s kids, Rachel and Ryan, even less.

  “Matter of fact—” Jake began.

  “We didn’t ask!” Sam interrupted.

  “I’m about to go trackin’ some trackers.”

  What?

  Jake meant to intrigue them, to tempt Sam or Jen into asking what he meant by that, of course.

  Which trackers was he tracking? Sam wanted to know, but right now, with rivulets of mud tickling down her legs, all because of Jake, she wouldn’t ask.

  She flashed Jen a pleading look. They’d had their ups and downs, but Jen proved herself a best friend by closing her lips in a purposely tight line, and rolling her eyes in pretend boredom.

  Jen might be dying to know what Jake was talking about, especially since her father was foreman at the Gold Dust Ranch, but Jen backed Sam up.

  Thank you, Sam mouthed. Jen gave a no-big-deal shrug.

  Unfortunately, Jake didn’t look a bit annoyed. He touched his hat brim in a polite good-bye. As he swung Witch away, Sam noticed Jake’s glossy black hair, bound back with a leather tie.

  It swayed against his shirt collar as Witch rocked from a walk into a lope.

  Ace nickered after them, then looked at Sam with wide, surprised eyes as she snagged his reins.

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” Sam told him. “You know why I’m mad at you.”

  Ace slung his head over her shoulder and rubbed his chin against her back. Sam sighed in frustration. If that wasn’t a horse hug, she didn’t know what was, and she couldn’t resist his affection.

  “He’s saying it was all Jake’s fault,” Jen said.

  “All except for that part where I was stranded in the middle of the lake in the first place.” Sam rubbed Ace’s neck. Water dripped from her sleeve.

  “If you don’t want to go for a ride water-logged, I don’t blame you,” Jen said. “I have to be home soon, anyway. My parents saved most of my chores for me. Can you believe that? I’m off taking a college chemistry class during summer vacation and they couldn’t brush a few ponies for me.”

  Jen made a face. “And they say that if I want to help out with HARP next week—which I absolutely do—I have to finish my work first.”

  “It will be so cool working with you on the HARP program,” Sam said.

  HARP was the Horse and Rider Protection program, which matched at-risk girls with captive mustangs that had been relinquished by their adoptive families. River Bend Ranch, with Sam’s stepmother Brynna in charge, had been chosen to host the program for several weeks this summer.

  Last week had been their first official session, and though only two girls had stayed in the new bunkhouse and Sam and Brynna had worked together as teachers, the week had been way more exciting than Sam had bargained for.

  In fact, Sam had learned to watch where she stepped around the ranch. One of the HARP girls had been bitten by a snake, and though it hadn’t been a rattler, Sam knew there were poisonous snakes around.

  “Next week shouldn’t be as crazy as last week,” Sam told Jen. “I mean, Brynna will be back at work during the day, but I sort of know what to expect now.” Sam felt a little guilty as she lowered her voice. “It’s not just doing a good deed and playing with horses.”

  “I never thought it would be,” Jen said. She blinked owlishly behind her glasses.

  “Well, I did,” Sam confessed. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure the three of us can handle it.”

  “Tell me how Brynna convinced Jake to do it, after he said he wasn’t cut out to be a teacher.”

  “He needs the money,” Sam said simply. “He and Darrell were able to make his mom’s Honda look good as new after he crashed it trying to miss Jinx—”

  “Hey,” Jen interrupted when Sam mentioned the hard-luck horse Sam had ridden in a claiming race just days ago. “When do I get to see Jinx?”

  “Maybe we can get someone to drive us to Sheriff Ballard’s house,” Sam said.

  “That would be kind of weird,” Jen said.

  Sam gave a disagreeing hum, but she knew what Jen meant. Even though Sheriff Ballard was friendly before he’d purchased Jinx from the claiming race, you didn’t just drop in on the local sheriff.

  “For sure you’ll see him at the Fourth of July parade,” Sam said.

  “And Jinx has what to do with Jake teaching for HARP?” Jen asked.

  “Money,” Sam reminded her. “Even though it wasn’t his fault, Jake’s car insurance has gone up big time.”

  Ace moved to the end of his reins and Sam clucked at him to keep his attention. She really should remount, but she was pretty sure she’d be even less comfortable in the saddle.

  “That’s not even fair,” Jen said.

  “No, but his parents say the extra dollars aren’t in the family budget, so if he wants to drive—”

  “—he has to pay for it,” Jen finished. “Just like I have to go out and look for stray cattle because Linc Slocum was too lazy to hire cowboys for the roundup.”

  Sam nodded. The range was divided into sections. Each spring and fall, ranchers were responsible for bringing together the cattle—their own, and cows that had wandered from other ranches—on their sections.

  Linc Slocum h
ad neglected his part of the job this spring. Ever since the roundup had ended, calves from Gold Dust, River Bend, and Three Ponies ranches had been showing up unbranded.

  “So, you’ll be the responsible one, and Slocum gets off again,” Sam said.

  Jen nodded, then her face lit with an idea.

  “You know what would be unbelievably cool? Oh wow,” Jen paused. Sam could see that Jen, in her typically analytical way, was processing her idea before blurting it out. “It could work. You know our campout? What if we gathered strays at the same time—oh, and it could be a Father’s Day present. So my dad and yours can quit worrying about all those unbranded calves.”

  Despite the warm June sun, goose bumps rose beneath Sam’s wet clothes as a breeze passed by, but she nodded eagerly.

  “We’ll talk,” Jen promised. “But you’re starting to shiver. Time for you to get home,” Jen said.

  “It is,” Sam said, not protesting her friend’s maternal urging.

  Slowly, movements made stiff by her sopping jeans, Sam lifted her boot to the stirrup and swung back into the saddle.

  She was about to tell Jen good-bye when she heard a high, undulating wail.

  Silly tossed her palomino head. Her brown eyes looked frightened behind a veil of flaxen mane.

  “What was that?” Sam asked Jen.

  “Not a coyote,” Jen muttered. She turned Silly in a circle, distracting her from the sound.

  Sam swallowed hard. The keening cry was like the one she’d heard before, but this time it not only sounded weirder—it was closer, too.

  Chapter Three

  “It’s just wind in the canyon. Now that the trees have leafed out, the acoustics are different.” Jen’s voice deepened as she stressed a logical explanation.

  “You’re probably right,” Sam said, though Ace’s ears pricked forward with interest. With a wave, she aimed Ace toward home.

  The sun shone from directly overhead. Ace seemed to jog within his own shadow. If he’d sensed that howl from the hills was worth fearing, he’d forgotten about it.

  Sam was nearly home when she saw Dad. From his lazy wave, it was clear he’d spotted her first.

  She’d come to expect that.

  A lifelong cowboy, Dad could scan the brown and green vastness of the range and tell faraway rocks and bushes from cattle, deer, or mustangs. It sounded easy, but it wasn’t. Sam couldn’t count the number of times her heart had leaped up from spotting a wild horse, only to have it turn into a stunted pinion pine, dancing in the wind, when she got closer.

  Dad swayed easily in the saddle as Jeepers-Creepers, his flea-bitten Appaloosa cow horse, descended a trail from the foothills.

  Jeep seemed nervous. The rangy gray-and-white horse switched his rattail and looked behind him as if he feared he was being followed.

  He was.

  Baying and rushing, a pack of dogs skittered down the trail behind Jeep.

  Dad didn’t look back. He sent the Appaloosa surging forward, jumping ahead to level footing. Then, Dad turned Jeep to face the dogs.

  And they were dogs, not coyotes or wolves. Black, white, speckled, and tan, the dogs moved in a blur. Sam couldn’t tell how many there were. Four? Maybe five?

  They circled silently now, except for loud sniffing. Could the hounds be planning their next move?

  Sam pulled Ace to a stop. His forefeet danced. Did he want to bolt forward or retreat? Sam sat hard in the saddle, reins snug.

  “Dad’s got enough to worry about,” she whispered to Ace.

  Dad had Jeep under control, but the Appaloosa was scared. He tossed his head, straining the horse-hair reins in a straight line to his hackamore. His pink-rimmed eyes rolled white and his hooves’ staccato tapping said Jeep was barely setting each hoof down before jerking it up again.

  Dogs were predators.

  Horses were prey.

  Jeep knew that speed was his only defense. He wanted to flee, but as long as the dogs weren’t snarling or biting, he’d trust Dad’s orders. He wasn’t allowed to bolt.

  Sam knew why. If Jeep ran, the dogs would be on him.

  “Get outta here!” Dad shouted at the dogs. “Go on, get!”

  One dog fell back, hearing the authority in Dad’s voice, but another dashed ahead, brushing Jeep’s forelegs.

  Jeep started to rear as the largest of the hounds jumped up. Dad slammed his weight against the horse’s neck, trying to keep him down, so he’d have the balance of all four hooves.

  With a low whinny, Jeep obeyed. Suddenly Dad gripped and lifted his coiled rope. In a backhand smack, he struck at the big dog, but not before it nipped the Appaloosa’s nose.

  It was too much.

  Jeep was stronger than Dad was heavy. He soared into a full rear, nose dripping blood. When the speckled hound leaped a second time, as if going for the horse’s throat, Jeep tried to stand even taller. Then, he fell.

  Dad! Sam thought. Fear tightened her throat. She couldn’t yell, but she gave a kick and Ace galloped straight toward Jeep.

  Sam had never seen Dad be thrown from a horse.

  Hands tangled in Ace’s mane, she leaned low, holding tight in case the dogs turned on her.

  She’d fallen before. She’d seen Jake thrown, too.

  But not Dad. Ever.

  A yelp split the rustling sounds of paws and claws. The pack was running away.

  By the time Sam pulled Ace to a stop, dust hung in the hounds’ wake. They’d retreated up the hill, back the way they’d come.

  “Don’t get down!” Dad warned her.

  His voice lashed so loudly, Ace shied and sniffed, sucking in a wind scented with dogs and Jeep’s blood.

  When Jeep lurched to his feet, Dad held his reins, keeping the horse between himself and the hillside.

  The Appaloosa blew through his lips, calmer now that another horse was near.

  “You did pretty good,” Dad said, giving Jeep’s neck a hearty pat. Using his shirtsleeve, Dad swiped at Jeep’s nose. “That cut’s no big deal,” he told the horse. “You’ll forget about it before long.”

  Standing beside Jeep, Dad gripped both reins in his right hand while he slid his left over the horse’s shoulder. He closed his eyes and grimaced, squatting instead of bending from the waist, to run his hand across Jeep’s chest.

  Dad’s eyes darted from the hillside to Sam to his search for more wounds on the Appaloosa.

  “Pretty excitin’ there for a minute, wasn’t it?” Dad asked Sam. His smile was white against his sun-browned skin, but Dad’s eyes weren’t happy. They weren’t even relieved.

  Sam’s breath gusted out.

  “Pretty terrifying,” she corrected him. “Are you all right, Dad?”

  “I’m kicking myself for being a fool. I never should have taken the scabbard off my saddle.”

  Sam shivered, and this time it wasn’t from her damp clothes. When cougars had roamed the foothills last fall, Dad had put a rifle scabbard on his saddle. That was the only time she’d known him to ride out armed.

  Did that mean he would have shot the dogs? Would he call Sheriff Ballard and have him capture them? Or would Dad think it was a one-time accident?

  She didn’t recognize the dogs, but maybe he would. Before she could ask, Dad took in her soaked clothing.

  “What happened to you?” Dad asked.

  “Ace decided to go for a swim,” Sam said absently.

  Dad wasn’t moving right. He gave a short, humorless laugh. He pressed his lips together in a hard line as he lifted his boot toward Jeep’s stirrup.

  “Did Jeep fall on you?” Sam asked.

  “Didn’t you hear the yelp? He fell on that black-and-tan hound. Don’t know how bad he hurt him, but that’s what sent ’em runnin’.”

  Vaguely, Sam remembered the cry of a frightened dog. Next, she realized Dad hadn’t really answered her.

  “Maybe you should stay here and let me go get Gram, so you could ride back in the car,” she suggested.

  “Maybe I should, but then Jeep woul
d think something had gone wrong,” Dad said. “It could turn him spooky around dogs, and then what? If there’s one thing we don’t need around here…” Dad’s voice trailed off, then he looked up and gave Sam a wink. “If I ride him in as usual, he might forget all about it. When I doctor his nose, he’ll wonder what the fuss is about.”

  “Okay,” Sam said dubiously.

  Dad’s boot was in the stirrup and he was about to swing his leg over for the other stirrup when Jeep shied off a step.

  “Knock that off,” Dad ordered.

  His sternness turned the Appaloosa statue still, but Sam saw a pale ring around Dad’s mouth.

  She’d been right. Dad was in pain.

  “Dad, are you sure?” she asked as he gathered his reins.

  “Let’s go,” he said, and Sam rode after him.

  Chapter Four

  The La Charla River glinted sapphire blue and its rills shone in the summer sun.

  Sam’s clothes had dried to a comfortable temperature and the countryside lay peaceful around them. Only the far-off bawling of a calf broke the silence and Dad rode with his usual ease.

  It was hard to believe anything was wrong, but swelling marked the spot where the dog’s fangs had slashed Jeep’s tender nose.

  “What are you going to do about those dogs?” Sam asked.

  “I’m thinking,” Dad said. “Goin’ after a full-grown horse like that shows they’ve got some nerve. Wouldn’t take much at all for them to bring down a calf or foal.”

  The image of Dark Sunshine’s foal, just weeks old, flashed into Sam’s mind.

  “Tempest—” she began.

  “—is safe,” Dad assured her. “That corral fence goes down to the ground. You checked it yourself. And can you imagine the ruckus Blaze would set up if another dog trespassed on his territory?”

  Dad was right. Blaze was the ranch dog. A Border Collie, he was devoted and fiercely protective when it came to River Bend Ranch.

  “Do you think those dogs would go after the mustangs?” Sam asked.

  “They might,” Dad said.

  “I think—I’m not sure—but I think I saw Moon nearby with a couple of mares,” Sam said. In all the excitement, she’d almost forgotten.

  “He’s young,” Dad said, “but the wild ones are probably safe. They’re set up for attacks.”