by Terri Farley
And once he’d come sniffing around Calico or Ginger, he might have recognized Pirate and taken him back to his secret valley.
Sam bit the inside of her cheek. Hard.
She had to quit this. She wasn’t being cautious. She was depressing herself to the point where she felt like she stood at the bottom of a cold, dank well.
“Hey, are you shivering, too?” Gabe asked. “It’s about two hundred degrees out here!”
“I’m fine.” Sam tried to keep her tone light. “You know that expression—like when you get chills for no reason, you say a goose walked over your grave?”
“Never heard that one, cowgirl,” he joked.
But Sam barely managed a smile. If the Phantom took the colt to his secret valley, BLM wouldn’t find him. If she had to choose between revealing the Phantom’s hiding place and letting this colt brave winter in the mountains and die, what would she do?
Tires skidded on dirt. They all looked ahead to see Mrs. Allen parking the truck.
They’d walk down to the hot springs, where the tumble of rocks would block them from her sight.
Sam looked back over her shoulder to see Mrs. Allen give a stiff wave.
She’s trusting me, Sam thought.
“Wow! This is so outstanding!” Gabe said suddenly. “How could I have missed this?”
The hot springs sat like a vivid jewel amid the buff-colored dirt, weeds, and rocks. Pale aqua in the shallows darkened to turquoise, then dark jade green in the center.
“How deep is it?” Gabe asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but not that deep, I don’t think.” Sam knew she sounded vague and distracted, but she couldn’t quit scanning the area around them for anything that might frighten the colt.
“I’ve got to sit down,” Gabe said.
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked. The colt had quit trembling and Sam turned her worried gaze on Gabe.
“No big deal,” he said, lowering himself to sit on a flat-topped boulder. “I just want to take a look at the path.” He nodded toward the water. “Kind of strategize my way down there so the tips of the crutches don’t slip or something.”
If Gabe did fall, if he slammed face first into the rocks…
“Will you quit freaking out?” Gabe asked. His voice was low and almost kind.
“I’m not—”
“Sam, I can see you obsessing over what’s going to happen. Shake it off.”
Silence surrounded them.
Finally, Gabe shrugged. “Face it, if anything goes wrong, I did it to myself.”
“That helps a lot,” Sam snapped.
“Just figure out how you’re going to get that plastic bag out of your pocket without him getting scared.”
Sam drew a deep breath, and suddenly the moment came. A black bird with a flash of yellow on its wing sat wobbling on a reed. The colt snorted and took a step forward.
While he was distracted by the flutter of the bird’s sudden flight, Sam dug her fingers into her back pocket and dropped the folded black plastic near Gabe.
As he pulled it up over his cast, it rustled, but the colt watched without shying.
“I don’t think you have any idea how incredible this horse is,” Sam told Gabe. “He’s bonding to you. He’s going to turn to you if something goes wrong.”
“No he won’t,” Gabe said. He knotted the yellow plastic drawstring with an adamant jerk. “He’s more wild than he is mine.”
The words hung between them for a minute before Sam smelled the smoke.
The hot air was clear, with no sign of drifting smoke, but the smell of it filled the air as strongly as if she’d been sitting in front of a fireplace.
The colt wasn’t afraid. He straightened, ears pricked. His lips moved as if he were talking to himself. Then he licked his lips.
“What’s he doing?” Gabe asked.
“I have no idea. That licking is supposed to be submissive, but—” Sam broke off, shaking her head.
All at once, the horse shook like a dog and the lead rope swung crazily, hitting Gabe and Sam before the colt surged forward toward the water.
“We’re going in!”
Sam splashed along in the colt’s wake as he pawed at the warm water, splashing his chest and his legs. She stayed steady on her feet as he lowered his face and, mouth open, splashed himself some more.
“He loves it!” Gabe shouted.
“You don’t have to tell—” Sam began, but then the colt lowered himself into the hot springs.
Warm as a hot tub, she thought, but then the colt rolled onto his side and a wave of desert water hit her face, her jersey, and her shorts, drenching her completely.
Through wet eyelashes, Sam saw a blurry vision of Pirate tucking his legs in like a dozing colt.
Horse island, she thought, when only part of him showed above the blue water. Could he be floating? Or was his side resting on the bottom?
Blinking and wiping her eyes with the back of her free arm, she held tighter to the lead rope and didn’t venture closer. If the colt decided to get his legs back under him, he’d thrash and cause such a commotion, he could hurt her without meaning to.
Then, he was thrashing, heaving himself over to wet his other side.
“Wait for me,” Gabe said.
From the corner of her eye, Sam saw him sitting, easing one leg into the hot springs.
Coughing against a mouthful of warm water, Sam tried to be mad at Gabe for not understanding this was really a dangerous situation. But she couldn’t be angry because she was delighted, too.
The gleaming colt groaned with pleasure, rolling his eyes and baring his teeth in contentment. He stayed on his side long enough that the water around him calmed to small ripples.
Gabe dangled his bruised leg within inches of the colt and Sam felt her heart tighten. The expression of bliss on the colt’s face and Gabe’s were identical.
What could she do to convince him they were good for each other? No, it was more than that. They were made for each other.
But she didn’t have to say a thing.
Eyes wide open, the colt lifted his scarred head and opened his mouth.
He wasn’t going to bite Gabe. Sam knew that from his gentle expression, but Gabe didn’t. His eyes widened in fear, but still he didn’t move, so he was perfectly in position when the colt gave him a pink-tongued lick.
Chapter Eighteen
“Did he just lick me?”
“Yeah,” Sam said past her smile. “Some horses do that.”
A sigh rolled through the colt and Sam’s cheeks ached from the width of her grin. It didn’t stop there, either. It spread, warming her in a way that had nothing to do with the hot springs or the hundred-degree day.
These two were healing each other. They had to stay together.
“He’s your horse, you know,” Sam said.
This time, Gabe didn’t protest.
“I know. I guess I could keep him at Grandma’s.”
“Forget it,” Sam said, surprised her whisper could sound so sharp. “You’d break his heart all over again. Adopt him and leave? Think about that, Gabe.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t tell me there aren’t stables in Denver,” Sam said.
This time the big sigh came from Gabe. “Actually, there’s a field right down the street. The guy who owns it lives next door, and he doesn’t do anything with it. He keeps saying he’s going to put in a swimming pool or something.”
Gabe leaned over to rub the colt behind one ear. “Would you like that, Firefly? Huh, boy? Your very own swimming pool?”
Sam sat very still. Her hand tightened on the lead rope as it floated.
“Yeah, well,” Gabe said. “I guess my secret’s out. I’ve been calling him that in my head for a couple days.”
“Firefly?” Sam said carefully.
“Okay, you might think this is totally sappy, but if you laugh, I don’t care. And neither does he.”
She didn’t tell him she wouldn�
��t laugh. He could have called this horse anything and she wouldn’t have laughed. Naming the colt meant Gabe really had claimed him for his own.
“It has nothing to do with the bug,” Gabe said. “It’s more what a firefly looks like. Like a spark floating away from the fire. Escaping.” Gabe’s voice turned husky and even more quiet. “It’s like the fire came after him, but it didn’t get him. He made it. And he’s going to be okay.”
A sigh rocked the horse and a sense of peace fell over the hot springs.
Then Sam realized the birds were no longer squabbling. She didn’t hear the buzzing of insects, either.
Her shoulders tightened. Why were all the desert creatures quiet?
All she heard was a faint wisp of country music from Mrs. Allen’s truck radio and the crunch of dry weeds.
The colt jerked Sam farther into the hot springs as he rolled into a resting position, but he wasn’t resting.
He struck out with a foreleg, trying to stand.
“Gabe, watch out!”
The colt lurched with a grunting effort. Then all four hooves were planted on the sandy bottom of the spring.
His ears twitched forward, then sideways. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped as he used every sense to interpret what had disturbed him.
Backing onto the shore, Sam stayed low, wrapping the rope around her hand. She planted her shoes on the driest rock she could see, and was looking around for another when Gabe spotted the Phantom.
“It’s that stallion. He came for Firefly.”
Peering through the reeds, Sam saw him, too.
“Maybe he just came to drink,” she said, but none of them believed that.
The stallion pawed, creating a dust cloud that made him ghostly, even in the heat of the day.
He tossed his head and the colt answered the summons with all his power.
“Chase him away!” Gabe pleaded.
But the colt slammed to the end of the rope. He bucked and his mane shone like a sheet of black satin.
The small bones in Sam’s hand grated and she cried out as the rope tightened.
She couldn’t hold him. She wanted to unsnap the lead rope, but she couldn’t reach him. Sam opened her fingers at the same time that the colt flung himself sideways. With a mighty jerk, he ripped the rope from her hand.
Sam fell to her knees, holding the hand up to her mouth, gasping but still watching the colt.
The Phantom flattened his ears and swung his head at the colt.
He stopped. Though he was used to the stallion’s superiority, the colt had clearly expected to be welcomed. He hesitated until the stallion’s mouth opened and his teeth flashed.
It was a serious warning. Sam knew it even before the stallion reared and the sun made a silver corona of his flying mane.
The colt lowered his head. His lips moved in a silent plea to rejoin the band. Sam felt her throat close in sympathy.
But the Phantom would have none of it. When the colt jostled forward, trying to look past the stallion for the herd, the Phantom squealed and lunged forward, striking the colt’s shoulder.
Firefly shied, but not before the silver stallion dealt him a painful bite on the neck.
The colt began backing as the Phantom wheeled. Hind legs tense, tail flung high, one hind leg struck out with the kick, but the colt didn’t see it.
He turned toward the hot springs, making his way back to Gabe.
Sam stared after the Phantom. He was leaving as quickly as he’d come.
Alabaster white in the searing sun, he galloped away. Sam swallowed hard. Brynna would probably say the stallion had just been warning off an intruding male, but Sam didn’t quite believe that. He’d given Firefly the push he needed to start a new life.
“Hey!”
The colt had returned to Gabe with such enthusiasm, he’d knocked him down.
Gabe wasn’t moving.
“Easy boy,” Sam said. As she crept back toward the horse, she could hear Gabe talking to him.
“You don’t need him, Firefly,” he said. “You’ve got me.”
Sam stood still, watching the colt lip Gabe’s shirt. Finally Gabe rolled to one side. Even as he gathered his crutches and struggled to his feet, the colt stayed beside him.
Sam, Gabe, and Firefly hiked to the spot where Mrs. Allen had parked. Her dark head nodded forward, then she jerked out of her doze.
Blinking, she watched them approach, but if Mrs. Allen wondered about Gabe’s scuffed knee, she didn’t have a chance to ask.
“Grandma, I need you to help me,” Gabe said.
“Just ask, honey.”
“Okay.” Gabe’s tone sounded as if he’d given her fair warning. “I want you to help me convince Mom and Dad to let me keep Firefly.”
He squared his shoulders as if the name were magical.
Mrs. Allen accepted it without question. “I’ll do what I can,” she said. “But you know a wild horse, especially one traumatized like this, is going to take a lot of time and attention.”
“I’ve thought about that,” Gabe said. “And I’ve got the time. During soccer season, I usually run before school. Then, after school, I was at practice until it was too dark to see the ball. I think the coach will understand if I don’t sit on the bench and watch practice. That doesn’t mean I won’t still go to the games.”
Gabe stopped when he heard his grandmother sniff and dab at the corner of her eye.
“Of course I’ll help you, Gabriel,” she said.
As they followed Mrs. Allen’s truck back to Deerpath Ranch, Sam was grateful Gabe hadn’t mentioned the Phantom to his grandmother, and she said so.
Gabe snorted. “He’s vicious. I don’t know why you like him so much.”
“He wasn’t trying to hurt Firefly.”
“No, he was just setting up to kick out his brains!”
“He struck out with one leg,” Sam explained. “I’ve seen him mad, and this wasn’t it.”
“Yeah,” Gabe said, looking back over his shoulder. “Maybe.”
Sam turned, too, but there was no sign of her horse.
“I think the Phantom did him a favor,” Sam said, and she kept on, even when Gabe shook his head. “I think he was just telling Firefly to”—she searched for the right words—“get a life.”
Gabe took a deep breath, then turned to face the colt.
Firefly lowered his head and stood quietly as Gabe skimmed his hands over the colt’s healing burns.
“‘Get a life,’ huh?” Gabe whispered to the horse. “Well, as long as I’m around, he’s got one with me.”
About the Author
Terri Farley has always loved horses. She left Los Angeles for the cowgirl state of Nevada after earning degrees in English and Journalism. Now she rides the range researching books and magazine articles on the West’s people and animals—especially Nevada’s controversial wild horses. She lives in a one-hundred-year-old house with her husband, children, and way too many pets.
Visit www.phantomstallion.com
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Read all the books about the
Phantom Stallion
1
THE WILD ONE
2
MUSTANG MOON
3
DARK SUNSHINE
4
THE RENEGADE
5
FREE AGAIN
6
THE CHALLENGER
7
DESERT DANCER
8
GOLDEN GHOST
9
GIFT HORSE
10
RED FEATHER FILLY
11
UNTAMED
12
RAIN DANCE
13
HEARTBREAK BRONCO
14
MOONRISE
15
THE KIDNAPPED COLT
16
THE WILDEST HEART
17
MOUNTAIN MARE
18
FIREFLY
Credits
Cover art © 2005 by Greg Call
Copyright
PHANTOM STALLION #18: FIREFLY. Copyright © 2005 by Terri Sprenger-Farley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition February 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-189022-2
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