Dark Sunshine

by Terri Farley

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” Pepper snapped. “On this ranch, ladies don’t talk that way.” His index finger stabbed in her direction. “No, nor guys, neither!”

  “Then maybe I just won’t come back to this stupid ranch!” Mikki shouted. She ran toward the van, bumped into the side of it, and pounded on the door until it opened.

  Pepper looked stunned. “I’m sorry, Jake,” he said as the van rolled away. “It’s not my job to scold her.” He rubbed his palms on the front of his jeans. “Shoot, Sam, if I’ve wrecked this program for you all, after everyone’s been so good to me, I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Jake clapped a hand on Pepper’s shoulder.

  “She deserved it, and she’s tough enough to take it,” Jake said. “She’ll be back. That kid has some major problems, but she’s no quitter.”

  Sam nearly fell asleep in the bathtub. Her head started off propped against the tile. Bit by bit, she slipped down until the water was lapping at her lips.

  Warm water soothed muscles knotted by her fall in that creepy bus and from the buckskin throwing her weight against the rope.

  The aromas of chicken soup and fresh-baked bread wafted up the stairs. Dinner would be ready when she went down.

  Spending all night in the corral didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore. Sam’s eyelids drooped. She might have dozed if her gaze hadn’t stopped on the jeans she’d tossed on the floor. One pocket held Dark Sunshine’s bill of sale. Sam’s eyes sprang wide open.

  She pulled the plug from the bathtub, wrapped a towel around herself, ran shivering to her room, and hid the bill of sale inside a sock in her bottom drawer.

  She knew she had to inform Brynna about the bill of sale. But she wouldn’t do it tonight.

  When she left the warm kitchen for the round pen, Sam hardly noticed the temperature difference. For her slumber party with Dark Sunshine, she wore thermal underwear, jeans, a long-sleeved shirt covered by a jacket, gloves, and a knit cap.

  She also brought snacks. A can of sweet grain for the mare, a candy bar for herself.

  The sun had set when she opened the gate, but dusk still lingered. Jake had managed to slip Ace out of the round pen. Now, disturbed by another human invasion, Dark Sunshine trotted away. She circled the pen until she neared Sam, then wheeled and ran in the opposite direction, shaking her head fiercely because, once again, Sam didn’t retreat.

  “I’m not scared of you, pretty girl.”

  To make herself smaller and less threatening, Sam sat in the dirt with her back against the fence.

  The buckskin didn’t know what to make of that. She kept shaking her mane, though her hooves moved in a regular beat. It didn’t take Sam long to hear eight separate hoof falls, followed by hesitation, and then eight more steps.

  Suddenly, Dark Sunshine changed her path. She galloped along the fence, until Sam’s nearness made her veer through the middle of the pen. Instead of circles, she made ovals. Over and over again.

  Dusk had turned to darkness when the mare stopped.

  “That didn’t take long,” Sam said. Though she could see only the mare’s outline, Sam heard her tail swish. “Ready to come over and have a little grain?”

  Since it was too soon to ask the mare to take it from her hand, Sam used a scoop. She jiggled it to waft the scent toward the buckskin.

  With a snort, Dark Sunshine began trotting ovals again.

  “As if you’d fall for such a trick.” Sam laughed. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

  Next, Sam tried the technique Mikki had used on Popcorn.

  “Keep walking away and I’ll follow you,” Sam explained to the mare. “Stop and I’ll stop. Take one step toward me and I’ll back up.”

  The mare uttered an insulted grunt, then resumed trotting around the corral with Sam right behind her.

  After an hour, Sam yawned.

  “Do what you want. I’m taking a break.” Sam stopped and the buckskin stopped, too, blowing a sigh through her lips.

  Energy. I need energy.

  Sam looked at her watch. It was 12:07. She felt hot and queasy, and it was hours until dawn. She took the candy bar from her pocket. The mare’s ears twitched at the crinkling wrapper.

  “I’ll share,” Sam coaxed. “C’mon, Sunny.” She smooched at the mare. “No girl can refuse chocolate.”

  The mare looked the other way, lifting her chin as if something far more interesting were happening outside the corral.

  “We’re making progress, even if you won’t admit it,” Sam told the mare.

  Quietly, Sam mimicked a nicker. Clearly, the horse didn’t recognize it. Instead of pricking her ears forward, she let them fall to the sides.

  “It wasn’t so bad that you have to give me the mule look.” Sam yawned again. “You know you’re exhausted, so how ’bout just one step this way?”

  As if she understood, the contrary mare backed a few steps.

  “Show-off,” Sam said. “I’m coming after you.”

  Sam’s steps were sluggish. She glanced at her watch as she chased the mare: 12:12. Five minutes had passed like an hour. She had to do something to wake up.

  She could stick her head in a horse trough. That would wake her, but it was a little gross, even for a girl who loved horses. If she went inside for a cold shower, she’d wake Dad and Gram. That left the river.

  La Charla whispered to Sam. This time of year the river was low. After running over sun-warmed rocks all day, it shouldn’t be too cold, even though the night air was chilly.

  Sam slipped through the round pen gate and locked it behind her. Dark Sunshine gave a low whinny that probably meant “Good riddance.”

  “I’ll be back,” Sam called to her. “This party won’t be over for hours.”

  The porch light and full moon lit the path to the river. Once she reached it, Sam sat on a rock and thought of her mother doing the same.

  Then, before her thoughts turned dreamy, Sam tugged off her boots. She left them on the shore. Sucking in a breath, avoiding unsteady stones, Sam waded out.

  An owl hooted nearby. Up to her knees, Sam stayed on one side of a big rock streaked with quartz. It blocked the river’s rills and formed a tiny pond within the river. Its surface was satiny and smooth enough to reflect the moon.

  Tonight’s moon wore a halo of rose-gold mist, and it floated right there at her feet.

  Hadn’t she read about ancient people who stared into still pools to tell the future? Sam wished she knew how. What was the meaning of a haloed moon and a handful of stars?

  Dizziness made her stumble forward. She caught herself before her knees hit the water, and she pushed herself up, planted her feet, and rubbed her eyes. The huge splash had silenced the owl. Sam was tempted to stand in the darkness, letting the murmuring waters lull her, but she was making progress with the buckskin and she needed to get back.

  Drawing a deep breath, Sam tried one more time to tell her future. She looked into the pool. What she saw surprised her so much she didn’t even gasp.

  Another face was reflected next to hers.

  Chapter Twelve

  THE PHANTOM GLOWED on the river’s surface. As Sam looked up from the reflection, so did he, greeting her with a nicker so quiet only his nostrils quivered.

  Sam wanted to hug him. Memory promised his neck would be warm and solid in the circle of her arms, but she stayed patient.

  “Zanzibar,” she whispered.

  Three times the stallion bowed his head. With each nod, his forelock flipped up, sifted down. When the forelock parted the third time, his eyes shone with mischief. A second later, he splashed closer. His head snapped down, then up. If she hadn’t known the game, Sam might have thought the feathery touch was a whisper of wind over her hand.

  It wasn’t. Years ago, Sam and the stallion had played a game she called “nibbles.” In it, the colt darted close, swung his muzzle her way, and gently lipped her hand before trotting off, pretending it had never happened.

  “You’re te
aching that horse to bite,” Dad had told her, but the colt never did.

  Why had the Phantom remembered the game now? Why did this mighty stallion frolic around her like a dog? Flicking her hand through the air, Sam teased him, but she was also careful to dodge the stallion’s rough moves. He couldn’t know her skin was thinner than his hide.

  As Dark Sunshine’s neigh soared through the night, the stallion stopped. Head held high, he interpreted the mare’s cry, then lowered his head and considered the girl before him. The Phantom had many mares, but Sam was the only human he loved.

  She saw him decide to stay with her, and hoped no one woke to investigate Dark Sunshine’s neighs.

  Moments with the Phantom were hers alone. Sam knew he’d run at the approach of another human. He could carry himself to safety, but she didn’t want anyone else to see him vanish like a ghost up the hillside.

  Face it, Sam thought, you don’t want anyone else to lay eyes on him.

  For two years, Sam and the colt had longed for each other. Once she returned, nothing could keep them apart.

  Sam held out her hand, palm up. The Phantom buried his muzzle in the cup of her hand, but he didn’t continue the game. He pressed down, then drew his chin toward his chest, urging Sam to move closer. She did.

  Her other hand combed through his mane. Each time her fingers hit a snag, she untangled it.

  Watchfulness vibrated through the stallion, but he wanted the grooming and didn’t mind the tugging of her fingers.

  Since he hadn’t been brushed in two and a half years, strands of mane pulled loose, and suddenly Sam had an idea.

  Once before, she’d thought that what she really needed to tame Dark Sunshine was a recommendation from another wild horse. Maybe Zanzibar could give it to her.

  Each time a long thread of hair worked free, Sam tucked it into her pocket. She’d braid a horsehair bracelet, a silver token to wear beside the black one she’d made from her colt’s mane years ago. The untamed scent might tell Dark Sunshine that Sam could be trusted.

  As she tucked more strands into her pocket, she looked down. The moon was still bouncing along the surface of the river when the image shattered.

  They had company.

  The click of the border collie’s toenails on the bridge alerted the horse to Blaze’s approach, and the stallion leaped, front feet tucked up like a carousel horse.

  As the Phantom dashed to the distant shore, Sam ran for the ranch.

  “Stay, Blaze, stay,” she called. She could see his silhouette on the bridge. She had to keep him from barking.

  Hours ago, Blaze had bedded down in the bunkhouse, so he must have scratched at the door long enough that someone had gotten up to let him out. That meant one of the cowboys could be up and walking around in the darkness.

  Breathless, Sam paused on the bridge and looked around. The dog seemed to be alone. He growled and bristled, staring into the night, but the Phantom had vanished.

  “You crazy dog.” Sam rubbed Blaze’s ears.

  At her touch, he shed his fierce stare and gazed up at her, openmouthed and happy. He bounced along beside Sam until she reached the round pen. Then he sauntered to the house, climbed the front porch steps, and threw himself down to sleep.

  Sam wanted to do the same. Instead, she entered the pen. Dark Sunshine moved away, but she didn’t slam against the slats as she had before.

  “You’re not trying to ram your way out, are you, girl?” Sam leaned against the fence, then slid down until she was sitting in the dirt.

  The mare watched, waiting for Sam to get up and chase her. But Sam only yawned.

  “You’re gonna have to get used to me like this,” she said.

  Before another ten minutes passed, Sam was sound asleep.

  Something told her not to open her eyes, not to gasp, not to jerk away from whatever was moving nearby.

  Sam stayed still. It wasn’t the early-morning chill that had wakened her. Sam heard snuffling and smelled the sweet dusty scent of horse. Then she felt a bump against her denim-covered hipbone.

  Dark Sunshine was nuzzling her pocket.

  Sam lifted her eyelids just enough to see a stretch of buckskin neck. The mare startled back a step. Her black-tinged ears tilted toward Sam, but when Sam didn’t move, the mustang’s muzzle returned. She was sniffing the pocket where Sam had stashed the Phantom’s hair.

  The nudging tickled, and finally Sam couldn’t help laughing. When she did, Sunny trotted off a few steps, but she tilted her head, still looking curious.

  “That’s it.” Sam stood and walked toward the gate.

  As she glanced back, Sam saw the mare wearing the expression she’d been waiting for. If Dark Sunshine was curious, if she didn’t want Sam to leave until she’d discovered what was in her pocket, that was good.

  Outside the gate, Sam didn’t stop to roll the stiffness from her shoulders. She hurried toward the house, thinking of bed.

  In the entire history of River Bend Ranch, no one had been allowed to sleep until noon, and Sam was no exception. In fact, this was one of the busiest Saturdays Sam could remember. Ross, Pepper, and Dallas had gone over early to the Gold Dust Ranch to help unload Slocum’s new Brahma breeding stock.

  Sam had already put in a full day of work when Brynna arrived with Mikki at two o’clock.

  At the sound of the white BLM truck, Sam looked out the kitchen window. Mikki climbed out. Arms crossed, she walked a few stiff steps, as if her legs were sticks.

  “Look at her,” Sam said to Gram. “She doesn’t want to be here, and she sure doesn’t look sorry.”

  Gram didn’t look up from the cheese she was shredding for that night’s taco dinner. “Who should she apologize to, the horse?”

  “How can you feel sorry for her, Gram? After she jerked poor Popcorn around and just”—Sam swept her hand through the air—“threw away the trust he put in her?”

  Gram flashed Sam a disappointed look. “I feel sorry for her because she was scared, and she failed at something she was about to get good at, something that matters to her very much.”

  “She sure doesn’t act like it matters.” Sam heard her childish tone even before Gram spoke.

  “Samantha, for a girl who’s so good at reading animals, you are downright dense when it comes to human beings.”

  “I probably am, but—” Sam stopped. She’d been about to point out Mikki’s baggy jeans and frazzled blond hair, but she stopped just in time.

  “You think that horse’s trust has been betrayed?” Gram slammed the cheese grater on the counter. “Mikki’s mother has married three men and—if Mikki’s right—each time she’s put the man before her child.”

  Sam stared at the whitewashed kitchen ceiling, trying to keep tears from overflowing. Her own mother had died and left her behind, but not because she wanted to go.

  “Honey, can’t you see why Mikki doesn’t show her feelings? Can’t you recognize a heart that’s been broken one too many times?”

  Sam swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. “If Popcorn will give her a second chance, so will I,” Sam said. It was only for an hour. She could do it. “And if Popcorn is cranky, I’ll help her make up with him.”

  Gram put her work aside and wrapped Sam in a hug. Sam shut her eyes, enjoying the closeness Mikki would envy.

  “Used to be, I could kiss the top of your head when I hugged you,” Gram said. “Now you’re just getting too big.” Gram gave her a loud kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good girl, Samantha, just a little impatient. But you’ll have a chance to practice: Mikki and Brynna are joining us for dinner tonight.”

  Popcorn gave Mikki a second chance, and Sam practiced patience. Since Jake was in Darton, helping his mom with the week’s shopping, Sam took over.

  The busy morning had become a quiet afternoon. After Dallas, Ross, and Pepper had helped Slocum with his Brahmas they’d gone to town together. As they were backing Dallas’s truck around to leave, even Blaze had jumped in the back and joined them.

&nb
sp; Only the chickens’ clucking and Dark Sunshine’s lonely nickers broke the quiet.

  Perfect, Sam thought. There’d be no noise, no interruptions. Since Popcorn was alone in the barn corral, she decided to let Mikki sit with him there.

  The day’s heat filled the barn, magnifying the smell of the hay packed in bales to the barn’s rafters. Ribbons of light fell through the roof, turning the hay golden, then rippling down to stripe Mikki as she opened the gate into Popcorn’s corral.

  Sam held Mikki off a minute.

  “Once you get inside, just sit,” Sam said. “Remind him you’re no one to be afraid of.”

  Mikki’s condescending laugh said Sam was wrong.

  “Mikki, you can’t bully half a ton of horse.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Why would you want to?” Sam let the question hang between them until Mikki blew out her cheeks and shook her head, then sat.

  Sam stood outside the corral.

  Dark Sunshine nickered from the round pen. The slats in the fence were set so close together, the mare could barely see out. She and Jake had thought that would give the mare the closed feeling she longed for. Now, the buckskin seemed to want company. Sam would have gone to her if she hadn’t been put in charge of Mikki.

  Sam alternated between watching Mikki and Popcorn watch each other and trying to attract Brynna’s attention. Sam had slipped the bill of sale into her pocket, but she was still deciding what to do about it. She itched to know if Brynna had more information about Dark Sunshine or the rustlers before she handed it over.

  But Brynna was strolling around the ranch with Dad, pointing and gesturing. Although they never got within earshot, Sam knew Brynna was making plans for the HARP program.

  The more Sam thought about it, the more she liked the idea of HARP. What she didn’t like was the way Dad was smiling. If he distrusted the government and blamed BLM for the high cost of grazing, why was he strolling around grinning at Brynna Olson?