Firefly

by Terri Farley

  “Physically? Sure, he’s fine. He’s learned to accept my touch, so other human hands shouldn’t terrify him. As I said, this is the best time for him to bond.”

  “Except that he’s loco,” Sam said. Both Brynna and Dr. Scott stared at her in surprise. Since this did not sound like something she’d say, Sam explained, “That’s how Dad, Jed Kenworthy, or most ranchers would think, right?”

  “Yep,” the young vet agreed, but he met Brynna’s eyes instead of Sam’s.

  What kind of plan had they worked out for the colt? They must have thought of something.

  “Can’t we take him to River Bend?” Sam asked.

  “Honey, if we didn’t have the HARP girls coming tomorrow, I’d probably face off with Wyatt and give it my best shot,” Brynna said. “But we budgeted for last week’s girls and they didn’t come. That’s nobody’s fault, but we need this week’s payment from HARP, and I don’t think this colt would get the attention he needs while the girls are with us.”

  Sam drew a breath so deep, the hot air made her sneeze. Then she sighed. Brynna was right.

  She looked back at the colt, studying his ugly burns. He needed every advantage he could be given. Someone should eat, sleep, and work near him. If he learned humans could make up his new herd, he’d not only be more adoptable, he’d be happier.

  “Okay,” Sam said as her mind sorted possibilities.

  Gold Dust Ranch? The Slocums had plenty of space and money. Jen would do a wonderful job working with the colt. For a minute Sam’s spirits skyrocketed. Then they crashed. Jed Kenworthy wouldn’t let Jen work with an injured mustang, for free, if she could be using the same hours to earn money helping HARP.

  Besides, Sam scolded herself, Linc Slocum had almost destroyed Shy Boots, just because the foal wasn’t a purebred. Her heart froze at the thought of how he’d treat a singed and psychotic mustang.

  “What about Mrs. Allen?” Sam said.

  The first fourteen horses sheltered at Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary had been just like this colt—wild and unadoptable.

  “She’d be first on my list,” Brynna said.

  Of course she would, Sam thought. Not only had Mrs. Allen successfully gentled Faith, a blind Medicine Hat pinto filly, to lead and accept humans; but Roman, the liver chestnut gelding who considered himself the boss of the captive mustangs, had been gentled to ride and very nearly won an endurance race.

  Both had been slated for euthanasia because they were unadoptable, but both had healed under Mrs. Allen’s care.

  “She’s all alone out there where it’s quiet,” the vet said. “She has plenty of time to pamper him, and some real expertise with horses.”

  “She’ll do it,” Sam said confidently. “I know she will.”

  Already Sam could picture the bright bay colt sharing the big square corral with Calico, Ginger, and Judge. The two paints and the old bay would be his new herd, crowding close to give him the security he missed.

  “And she can put him in with her saddle horses,” Sam said.

  Dr. Scott was smiling, as if she’d guessed the right answer. “That’d be better than putting him out in the open pasture with the other mustangs,” he added.

  Better, too, Sam thought, because the wide pastures bordered the Phantom’s territory. Running with a captive herd, with his home herd just outside the fence rails, would be too tantalizing.

  “We’ve got the Willow Springs auction coming up soon,” Brynna said. “And I make a point of telling a little about each horse. If I could mention he’d been handled for three weeks, if we could get him broken to lead by then…”

  Brynna’s words were hopeful, but her eyes weren’t. A new owner would have to overlook the colt’s damaged face and mind. Still, Brynna was willing to give it a try.

  Sweat found its way from Sam’s forehead to her right eyebrow. Then suddenly it sizzled in her eye.

  Stupid heat, she thought. She loved summer, but about one week each year, she caught herself thinking no one with a brain had settled in northern Nevada during the hottest week of summer.

  Sure, the early pioneers had stopped to plant trees and build cabins in springtime or fall. They might even have sheltered in the high desert in winter, since more days were cold and sunny than wet and dreary. But Sam knew if she’d been driving a covered wagon through northern Nevada during this August heat, she would have slapped the reins, clucked her tongue, and called out to her horses or oxen or whatever to keep on going.

  The shade cast by the roof on the front porch of Brynna’s office didn’t seem to help much, and since the air conditioner in the beige government building had been turned off last night and no one had turned it on this morning, it was no better inside.

  Sam longed for home, but Brynna wanted to talk with Mrs. Allen as soon as possible. Since Mrs. Allen’s phone kept ringing busy, Brynna was alternately catching up on work and dialing.

  If Sam had closed her eyes, she wouldn’t have known she was looking out over hundreds of horses. A hoof stamped or a tail swished through the wind sometimes, but both were quiet sounds.

  Willow Springs Wild Horse Center was a combination of what she loved and hated about the government’s wild horse adoption program.

  The pipe corrals help keep wild horses segregated by age and gender. They were a little more crowded than usual. Horses from holding corrals in other states were being sent to Willow Springs for the upcoming auction.

  Of course, Sam was grateful that the horses had been rounded up and taken off the overgrazed range. In the old days, they might have been shot or captured and sold for pet food. Still, Sam hated it that none of the penned horses looked wild.

  Sam pried a tiny rock from between two boards in the plank porch, turned it over on her palm, then threw it toward the dirt. After it struck the ground, Sam finally heard the flow of Brynna’s voice from inside her office.

  Sam couldn’t tell what Brynna was saying, but she had to be talking with Mrs. Allen about adopting—or at least fostering—the burned colt.

  Good!

  The day was slipping away. Though she was eager to get the yearling’s future settled, she could have finished weeding by now. She could have haltered Tempest and led her down to the river to wade.

  It wasn’t likely Tempest would go without her mother, but the point of the walk was to continue accustoming the foal to her halter. When Sam pictured herself leading Dark Sunshine and Tempest, she saw herself wrapped in lead ropes, stumbling in all directions, trying to control both horses.

  Suddenly the door opened behind her.

  Smiling, Sam swiveled to look up at Brynna, then felt the muscles in her cheeks sag.

  Before Brynna said a word, it was clear she felt dejected.

  “She won’t do it,” Brynna said. Her shoulders sagged. The corners of her mouth drooped and Sam could see Brynna had counted on Mrs. Allen just as much as she had.

  “Why?” Sam asked.

  Looking resigned to Mrs. Allen’s refusal, Brynna was about to go on, but Sam didn’t give her a chance.

  “That’s why she has Blind Faith Sanctuary, isn’t it? To shelter wild horses that have nowhere else to go?”

  Sam felt angry, disappointed, and amazed, all at once.

  “Sam, if you’d just listen—”

  “What kind of excuse could she have? She could take him in for just a few days…”

  Brynna’s expression had changed. Her eyebrows arched, one higher than the other.

  Sam’s lips slammed closed. She had a feeling her stepmother was about to tell her she was being bratty beyond words. Or that she was babbling down the wrong track. Maybe both.

  “I happen to think Mrs. Allen has a pretty good excuse,” Brynna said quietly.

  Uh-oh. Sam felt a hot blush clamp her face.

  “She’s picking up her grandson Gabriel at the airport tonight,” Brynna continued, “and his doctors in Denver think Mrs. Allen’s plans for this week could make the difference between Gabriel walking again, or staying in a
wheelchair for life.”

  Chapter Four

  Sam swallowed hard.

  She’d talked with Gabe once. He’d been lying in a hospital bed, legs paralyzed by an accident that had happened a few days before the fire that had temporarily deafened the Phantom and burned Pirate. For some reason—maybe because Sam had been in an accident, too—Mrs. Allen had encouraged Gabe to call Sam.

  She didn’t remember much of the conversation, except that he’d made a dark joke. When she’d asked “What’s up?”, he’d answered “Not me.”

  She’d told him about the Phantom’s deafness, too, and Gabe had told her he would let the stallion make up his own mind about returning to the wild. At the time, the suggestion had sounded insane. But that’s just what Sam had done.

  Maybe Gabe had an instinct for horses like she did. If only Mrs. Allen would accept the colt, Gabe might be able to help it recover. After all, they had a few things in common. The yearling had been a strong runner and a leader of other colts before the accident. Gabe was an athlete who’d made the varsity soccer team when he was only a freshman.

  Sam’s mind veered to school. With the beginning of classes just weeks away, Gabe had to be scared. Unless his condition had changed a lot, he might not be able to walk down the halls of his high school again, let alone play soccer.

  “Taking care of her grandson’s more important than the colt. Even I know that,” Sam admitted. “But I can’t believe they’re letting him come here. When I got hurt, Dad sent me to San Francisco.”

  Two years ago, medical care in this part of Nevada had been hours away. Any complications could have killed her.

  “He’s told me how awful that was,” Brynna said.

  Awful? Dad sure hadn’t acted like he felt that way. Sam remembered begging to stay home. Dad had refused, looking harsh and stubborn.

  “First he lost Louise. Then he had to be separated from you. He told me”—Brynna paused and her voice softened—“that ’til then, he hadn’t known a heart could break twice. But the doctors told him head injuries were risky, and you’d be safer in San Francisco, where you were minutes away from a hospital, instead of hours.”

  Sam didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine Dad saying his heart had broken twice. And yet, he must have.

  Brynna filled the silence with a sigh.

  “So, thinking of that,” Sam said, “aren’t you kind of surprised they’d let Gabriel come here? I know things are better now, with the Angel Flight helicopter and stuff, but Mrs. Allen’s ranch is even farther from town than River Bend.”

  Brynna shrugged. “Apparently the doctors agreed. I don’t know the details, but Trudy said she’d promised him a trip out here before school started, and he wasn’t about to let her back down from their deal.”

  Wait a minute, Sam thought. If the deal was the one she knew about and they still planned to go along with it, they were all crazy.

  When Gabe had lain unconscious in the hospital, Mrs. Allen had flown to Denver to be with him. Sam had filled in as house, dog, and horse sitter and Mrs. Allen had called to check on things. Then, she’d told Sam she wanted to get Gabe up on a horse this summer, “no matter what.”

  Later, Mrs. Allen had amended that statement by saying they had plenty of time to teach Gabe to ride. Could he be holding his grandmother to her earlier promise?

  Maybe, she thought, but why would his doctors go along?

  “Has his condition improved a whole lot?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know anything,” Brynna said. She fanned herself with a couple of sheets of paper, probably the fax from HARP. “Except that we’d better get home and have some lunch before I faint.”

  Instantly Sam’s knees straightened. She stood and her arms reached out to steady Brynna.

  “Get off me,” Brynna said, half laughing as she shrugged out of Sam’s grip. “It’s too hot for hugs.”

  “I’m not hugging you,” Sam snapped, embarrassed as she realized that Brynna had been exaggerating, like everyone did.

  She’d imagined Brynna pitching off the porch, face first to the ground, hurting herself and the baby she carried.

  “Why did you say that? My heart is pounding like…”

  Sam guessed Brynna must have seen past her rudeness to her concern, because she gave a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. It’s just a figure of speech. I’m fine, just extra hungry since I’m eating for two.”

  Sam smiled as Brynna meant her to, but she didn’t stop thinking of Pirate all the way home.

  Lunch was finished. Sam, Dad, and Gram were still sitting at the kitchen table in the breeze from the ceiling fan, putting off the time when they’d have to continue their outside work.

  Just as Sam began thinking of her walk with Tempest, the telephone rang. Brynna jumped up to answer it.

  Refreshed and refueled, Brynna shifted from foot to foot, her eyes on Sam as she listened.

  It must be Jen, Sam thought. Her best friend was almost psychic about trouble, especially horse trouble. Maybe she’d have a strategy for helping Pirate.

  For the hundredth time, Sam wished their house had a telephone extension in another room. What she wanted to discuss with Jen was no secret; still, she’d enjoy a little privacy.

  Lots of her school friends carried cell phones, but they weren’t much of a solution. Cell coverage in this part of the high desert was spotty. Brynna joked that her government-issued cell phone was mostly good as a paperweight, and really a little light for that.

  “Whoever’s called isn’t giving Brynna a chance to get a word in edgewise,” Gram said, sipping the last of her iced tea.

  That would be totally unlike Jen, Sam thought.

  “Of course Wyatt wouldn’t mind if you put your heads together,” Brynna said.

  Sam glanced toward Dad. He gave a grunt as if he weren’t so sure he liked anyone, even his wife, speaking for him. Then Brynna said, “Sam, it’s Mrs. Allen.”

  Brynna extended the phone and Sam scrambled up from her chair. It tipped and Sam barely caught it before it fell over.

  “Careful,” Gram cautioned.

  “Sorry,” she apologized, but her mind was already on the phone.

  Please let Mrs. Allen have changed her mind, she begged silently.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, Samantha, I can hear the hope in your voice, and I’m not at all sure I can help, but I’ll try. I’ve been feeling awful since Brynna called.” Mrs. Allen paused and tsked her tongue. “That poor burned little colt.”

  “If you could have seen him before…” Sam said, but her voice caught.

  So few people had seen him whole and healthy. Born in the secret valley, he’d learned to run on broad white alkali flats that humans avoided. He’d hardened his hooves by climbing red rock plateaus that were a test even to mustangs.

  Sam felt lucky to have seen the colt before the fire had scarred him forever. No one who saw him now would know how he’d been before.

  “I’ve been thinking, Sam, if I took that colt in—”

  “Oh, Mrs. Allen!” Sam rejoiced.

  “—someone would need to take care of him, and by that I do not mean you, because I know how busy you are with the HARP girls and that darling black filly, but what about your friend Jen?”

  When Sam didn’t answer right away, Mrs. Allen said, “But Jen helps with the HARP girls, too, doesn’t she?”

  “She does,” Sam said, but her mind sorted through every young rider she knew. Who could help? Someone had to.

  “What about Callie, the girl who stayed with you here before?” Mrs. Allen suggested.

  “She’d be perfect,” Sam said.

  Callie’s gentle, otherworldly approach to horses charmed them. There was no other word for it. But Callie couldn’t help either.

  “She’s decided to go back to school and she’s applying for financial aid to pay for college classes. She says it’s a full-time job filling out forms and sending them in.”

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” Mrs. Allen sa
id.

  “I’d ask her to try to work it in anyway, but she doesn’t exactly live nearby….” Sam’s voice trailed off.

  She glanced at the kitchen table. Dad, Brynna, and Gram were still sitting there. They listened openly, but no one offered a suggestion.

  “I’m afraid I just don’t know many of the local teenagers,” Mrs. Allen fussed.

  “That’s because there aren’t many,” Sam said. “Everyone lives in Darton except for me and Jen.”

  “Don’t forget the Slocum twins,” Mrs. Allen said grudgingly.

  “There’s no way Rachel—” Sam began.

  “I’ve heard she’s not the most responsible girl,” Mrs. Allen said.

  “She doesn’t like horses,” Sam said. “And Ryan is pretty busy with his own colt.”

  It was quiet for a minute. Sam swallowed, unsure why she didn’t want to make the list of local teenagers complete. But then, she did.

  “And there’s the Ely brothers, of course.”

  “That’s it!” Mrs. Allen’s outburst made Sam hold the telephone away from her ear. “Jake Ely would be perfect. He has such a touch with horses, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, he does,” Sam said. “But he’ll be working with the HARP girls, too.”

  Jake could work wonders with the colt, but Jake was saving money for college, too. Would he be willing to take time out from his duties at Three Ponies Ranch and HARP work to help an injured mustang?

  “But Jake would be perfect, Samantha,” Mrs. Allen insisted. “Think about it. And he had the riding accident, too. I can’t help thinking that another boy, a strong, athletic boy just like Gabriel, might be a help to him.”

  “I don’t know,” Sam said when she noticed Mrs. Allen’s shift from the colt’s welfare to that of her grandson. “Jake isn’t the sympathetic type.”

  “How can you say that?” Mrs. Allen asked. “Why, that night my little Faith was lost in the snowstorm, he brought her home over the front of his saddle. Samantha, you must remember. You gave me that lovely photograph.”

  In his leather coat and black Stetson, Jake had looked his tough, no-nonsense self as he carried the fragile, long-legged foal through the snow. Sam had to admit it was one of her favorites, too.