by Terri Farley
Sam had found that hard to believe, since both girls had just finished seventh grade.
“Guess I’ll be takin’ my keys up to bed with me.” Dad said it like a joke, but Sam knew he’d do just that.
“And Emily—” she began. “I mean, Amelia, is a total follower, and that’s what gets her into trouble.”
Big trouble, Sam thought. Brynna had mentioned that even in her small town in New Mexico, Amelia had been accused of shoplifting, cutting class, and alcohol abuse.
Dad rubbed his rough palms together. “Sounds like one heck of a long week to me, honey. How about you?”
It sounded like forever, especially when Sam thought of trying to do her usual chores, too.
Still, sappy as it would sound if she tried to explain, Sam knew she’d been lucky. She hadn’t done anything to deserve her loving family. If she’d been born into Mikki’s family, or Crystal’s or Amelia’s, life might have been different. She would probably be different.
A little embarrassed by her own corny thoughts, she rolled her eyes in mock horror.
“Tell me why we’re doing this, again?” she joked, but Dad answered seriously.
“Helping horses and kids is Brynna’s dream,” Dad said. “If she’s willing to take vacation time to do this, how can I say no? And we can use that HARP money.”
As she opened the truck door to climb down, Sam’s eyes were already searching the barn corral, looking for the tiny black filly. Sam wanted to take this last, unscheduled moment to check on Dark Sunshine and Tempest.
She’d only taken a few steps when the bunkhouse door opened and Brynna came out with two girls.
They were so quiet. Sam heard nothing but the crunch of dirt beneath their shoes. It was weird. Without knowing it, Sam had grown to expect lively conversation and laughter any time three people were together on this ranch.
A girl walked on each side of Brynna. The dark-haired one was pretty. She held her shoulders stiffly, but her head swiveled from side to side as if she couldn’t believe she didn’t see anyone she knew.
The other girl’s fine, light-brown hair was almost invisible. She wore thick-lensed glasses with dark-red frames. Even from a distance, Sam noticed she was pale. She, too, looked around the ranch, but her steps were choppy. She held her hands in front of her, not clasped, but tumbling over and over each other, like mice on a wheel.
Although Sam longed to visit Tempest, she walked out to meet the girls.
“Sam!” Brynna beckoned her closer. “Come meet Amelia and Crystal. Girls, this is my daughter Samantha.”
My daughter. Not stepdaughter. Sam smiled at Brynna, but she felt a little shy as she extended her hand toward Crystal.
The girl’s hand closed around hers, warm and soft. Crystal’s springy black hair fell to her shoulders and though she matched Sam in height, she seemed taller. She assessed Sam with ice-blue eyes that fixed on her work-scarred boots and the brown Stetson she held.
When Crystal released her hand, Sam started to brush off the dusty Western hat.
“Nice to meet you.” Crystal had a weird way of giving the same emphasis to each word. It made her sound bored.
Amelia’s stance changed after Crystal’s words and her interested expression disappeared. She fumbled a cell phone from her pocket.
Why? Sam wondered. She hadn’t heard it ring.
When Brynna cleared her throat, Amelia shoved the phone back in her pocket and reached out to shake Sam’s hand.
It wasn’t much of a greeting. Amelia gave Sam’s hand a single downward tug, then pulled her cold palm out of reach. As she did, Sam noticed a blue tracery of veins showed in the girl’s hands and near her hairline.
Don’t stare, Sam told herself, then she asked, “Have you met the horses yet?”
“They haven’t come over for an introduction,” Crystal said, sarcastically. “Only you.”
“Yeah,” Amelia echoed.
If she’d been meeting them at school, Sam would have waved and walked away. But this wasn’t school. Sam looked to Brynna for help.
“I’ll select your horses,” Brynna said, “once I get to know each of you better.”
As Brynna walked toward the ten-acre pasture, the two girls lagged behind.
Because she was a few yards ahead, Brynna probably didn’t hear Crystal whisper, “Who cares?”
“You should,” Sam said, making sure she sounded mature, not rude. “The horse will be yours all week. If it’s a good match, you’ll have more fun.”
Crystal’s pale eyes didn’t change, but her lips gave a phony smile. “This isn’t a vacation for us, you know.”
“Yeah,” Amelia said. “You’re supposed to help us get our heads straight.”
“Not me,” Sam said. “The horses do that.”
If you’ll let them, she added silently.
Crystal shrugged. Amelia copied her, but Sam noticed Amelia’s gaze had strayed ahead to the pasture.
“As you know,” Brynna said once they all stood at the fence, “you’ll be paired with a mustang. Most of these animals are saddle horses. See if you can guess which ones were born in the wild.”
Dad had turned Jinx into the small pipe corral next to the pasture. They’d built it a few weeks ago to help introduce Penny into the saddle herd.
Now Jinx stood alone, watching the other horses as they checked him out, feinting kicks and snapping teeth in his direction.
Sam sighed. Horses made a very big deal of establishing dominance. For some reason, a chunky roan mare named Strawberry ranked highest. She ate first, crowded other horses away from the water trough, and constantly reminded the rest of the saddle herd who was boss.
Now she stood near the fence, and though she didn’t look at Jinx, she swished her tail and stamped the hind hoof nearest him. To Sam, it looked like a kind of acceptance, but she wondered what the girls would think.
Could she have guessed which horses had been wild? Sam wondered. Strawberry, Tank, and Amigo all had Quarter horse conformation and muscles built by hard work. Nike was a blood bay and Jeepers-Creepers was an Appaloosa, but both were tall, rangy, and speedy looking. Sweetheart, Gram’s aged pinto, was built like a Morgan.
Just like mustangs, they were a mixed bunch.
“You’re looking for four wild horses,” Brynna said, nudging the girls to guess.
Sam’s eyes counted out the mustangs.
Ace, Popcorn, Penny, and Jinx—with coat colors of bay, white, sorrel, and grulla—had once been wild.
She glanced sideways at the two girls.
Behind her glasses, Amelia’s hazel eyes were greedy as she studied each horse.
She likes them, Sam thought, and she smiled without meaning to. For the first time, she felt something beyond obligation—like a shared interest in horses—might make her like Amelia.
Amelia’s lips parted. But before she ventured a guess, she darted a look at Crystal.
Crystal frowned as she considered her nails and pressed back the cuticle on her index finger.
Seeing that, Amelia kept quiet.
“I guess you’ll just have to be surprised,” Brynna said. She started walking toward the barn. Sam thought her stepmother was trying to hide her disappointment that the girls refused to guess, until she said, “Let’s go see our new baby.”
“Aren’t you going to tell us?” Crystal asked. As she hurried after Brynna, she demanded of Sam, “Shouldn’t we know which ones are wild?”
Was she scared? Sam considered the idea for a minute, but that couldn’t be it. The HARP program was voluntary. No one who was afraid of horses would apply.
“I’ll make sure you get the horse that’s right for you,” Brynna said over her shoulder, and Sam knew her stepmother had heard everything.
Though Amelia was clearly eager to see the foal, she stayed in step with Crystal. Sam was already peering through the fence rails at the barn corral when they caught up.
With her legs tucked under her gleaming black body, Tempest slept. Dark Sunshine stood beside her f
oal, ears pinned back in warning. Her buckskin neck jutted out from tense shoulders, cautioning the newcomers to stay back.
Reading Sunny’s threat, Amelia stopped a few feet from the fence and just peered through the rails as Sam had.
Crystal stepped on the lowest rail, swung up her other foot, then climbed up two more rails and rested her arms on the top of the fence.
“The baby’s cute. Make her get up,” Crystal said.
Was she talking to Brynna?
No one responded except Tempest.
Disturbed by the voice or maybe warned by her mother’s circling, Tempest awoke.
“She’s just a week old,” Brynna explained.
Tempest’s head bobbed unsteadily for an instant, but then her small hooves scrabbled against the dirt and propelled her up. Alert brown eyes, wide nostrils, and ears no longer than Sam’s little finger took in all there was to learn about the humans at the fence.
Then, without a trace of shakiness, the filly raced to the far side of her mother. Protected by the barricade of Sunny’s body, Tempest peeked under her mother’s belly.
“Ohh,” Amelia sighed.
“I pick her to be my horse,” Crystal said.
“Sam and I haven’t decided if we’ll use Dark Sunshine,” Brynna said.
“That’s the buckskin’s name?” Amelia asked. She covered her lips then, as if she hadn’t meant the words to escape.
Amelia knew something about horses, Sam thought. Identifying Sunny’s color proved that.
“I want the little scared one,” Crystal said, impatiently. “How am I supposed to know her name?”
Sam wanted to growl an answer, but she’d known the girl for less than an hour.
“I’m sorry, Crystal,” Sam told her. “Tempest is mine. She’s not a HARP horse. Besides, Brynna’s got a whole list of things HARP expects you to do by the end of the week, including ride your horse.”
That wasn’t the real problem. If Amelia had said she’d like to work with Tempest, Sam might have suggested she pet and rub the filly, teaching her to trust humans.
“If you think I can learn to ride a horse after a few days, you’re crazy,” Crystal said.
“You will.” Brynna’s voice was meant to comfort Crystal. “But I guess that means you’ve never ridden?”
“Never even touched one of them,” Crystal said proudly.
What was going on? Crystal seemed to be patting herself on the back for duping whoever screened kids for the HARP program.
A cool breeze signaled evening wasn’t far off.
Sam stepped out of the barn’s lengthening shadow as if she could escape her sudden dread. If Crystal didn’t like horses, what was she doing here?
Chapter Six
The aroma of Gram’s cooking wafted onto the front porch and welcomed them into the kitchen.
Crystal and Amelia would eat every meal with the family. Both looked uneasy about it, especially when Brynna disappeared upstairs, leaving Sam to introduce them to Gram.
At first, Sam couldn’t figure out why the girls regarded Gram with such wariness. She wore a bright lilac apron over her jeans and blouse. Her gray hair was coiled into a smooth bun and her lined face glowed with the confidence that any problem could be cured with a good meal.
Then Sam noticed Crystal and Amelia focusing on the heavy gunmetal-gray object Gram held in her right hand.
“What is that?” Crystal asked, nodding at the hammer-shaped implement.
Gram laughed. “I call it a tenderizer, though it probably has another name in proper cooking circles.” Gram set the utensil aside. “Looks kind of menacing, doesn’t it, but it’s used for pounding meat so that it’s more tender when it’s cooked. We’re having chicken-fried steak for dinner.
“In fact, once you two have helped Sam put the leaf in the table and washed up, I’ll need you, Crystal, to make sure the gravy’s not lumpy and Amelia, as soon as the bread’s cooled, I’d like you to slice it.”
Sam showed Amelia and Crystal how to pull each end of the kitchen table to leave a gap in the middle. Then she retrieved the polished wooden piece—Sam hoped neither girl asked why it was called a leaf—which fit between them, making the table that usually seated four big enough to accommodate six.
Sam pulled a white cloth from a drawer and flapped it over the table. Then she gathered handfuls of silverware and noticed Crystal and Amelia were just standing there, arms crossed, looking out of place.
When Amelia’s hand dropped to her pocket to retrieve her cell phone, Sam handed her the silverware.
“Here,” she said. “You can set the table with these. And Crystal,” Sam told the dark-haired girl as she took a stack of folded cloth napkins from their drawer, “why don’t you put these out?”
Crystal stared at the napkins as if Sam had offered her a porcupine.
Sam tried to understand the girl’s reaction. Was it reluctance to help? Or maybe, since Crystal lived alone with her father, they hadn’t made a big deal of meals like Gram did.
“They’re napkins,” Sam said.
“I know what they are, cowgirl,” Crystal snarled. “I don’t live in the backwoods like some people.”
Silence filled the kitchen.
It was getting harder to be tolerant of Crystal, but Sam gave it another try.
“I’m sorry—” she began.
“Look, HARP didn’t say anything about being a maid.” Crystal jerked the napkins from Sam’s hand and tossed one at each place setting.
Amelia rubbed her forearms and made a fretting sound just as Brynna came back into the kitchen with Dad.
Brynna introduced Dad and snatched a raw carrot stick from those Gram had arranged on a vegetable platter.
“I heard some discussion of chores,” Brynna said. “Since Sam is assisting me in teaching you about horses, you’ll help her with chores. Just about anything you’re asked to do”—Brynna made eye contact with each girl—“like feeding and watering the animals, helping with the laundry or kitchen work, Sam would do alone if you weren’t here.
“Now, I’d like you to wash your hands before you help Grace with the—?” Brynna looked at Gram.
“Gravy and bread,” Gram supplied as she mounded black olives in the center of the vegetable plate.
Crystal looked ready to make another protest. Instead, she sighed, “Whatever.”
But that implied she was agreeing to the plan, and Sam could tell Crystal was not being agreeable. Brynna and Dad weren’t fooled. And neither was Gram.
The minute the girls had come into the kitchen, Gram had told Crystal she’d stand at the stove to whisk gravy instead of trusting her with the bread knife.
Gram had sized up Crystal right away.
After the dinner dishes were washed and dried, Gram and Dad stayed in the kitchen to go over the ranch accounts, while Brynna, Sam, Amelia, and Crystal sat in the quiet living room.
“Leave the television off, please,” Brynna said when Crystal paused in front of it.
Sam sat at one end of the couch, nearly squirming in the quiet. If it had been winter, at least they’d have had the crackle of a fire in the fireplace to fill the silence.
Crystal sat in the room’s largest armchair, icy-blue eyes staring at Brynna. Amelia sat on the armchair’s ottoman, chewing her already short fingernails.
Brynna sat cross-legged at the opposite end of the couch, stockinged feet pulled up as she flipped through a thick file folder.
Her ease in this awkward situation reminded Sam of how smoothly Brynna dealt with her duties as manager of the Willow Springs Wild Horse Center. Even though she had employees, adopters, a budget, government regulations, and all the controversy swirling around Nevada’s wild horses to handle, Brynna loved her job.
Her casual authority said, loud and clear, that a couple of cranky eighth graders weren’t going to get her down.
“Here’s what’s happening this week,” Brynna said. “It will deviate a little from what you’ve been led to expect, but the succ
ess of the HARP program depends on making it fit the individuals involved.”
“In other words,” Crystal said, tossing a lock of black hair back over her shoulder, “now that you’ve met us, you’re changing everything.”
“A few things,” Brynna said. “But you’re not the only factor I’m considering. We’ve got a new horse.”
Sam sat up straighter. They would be using Jinx, then. Great! Despite the gelding’s fearsome speed, Sam wanted to ride him.
“During the six days you’re here, you’ll get to know your horse, learn to groom him,” Brynna numbered the first two tasks on her fingers: “Halter, lead, and tie on day three, saddle and bridle, and then on days five and six, we’ll have you riding.”
“Which horses are we getting?” Amelia asked.
Brynna smiled. “I haven’t quite decided, but let me tell you a little about each one.”
Sam snuggled back into the couch and listened. Crystal crossed one leg tightly over the other and jiggled her foot. Amelia interlocked her fingers and rocked a little.
“First, you know all these horses are here because they need a second chance, right? They were wild, then captured, then adopted by people who…” Brynna’s voice trailed off.
“Got sick of them?” Crystal interrupted.
“Not exactly,” Brynna said. “They just weren’t up to the challenge of a mustang.”
Crystal snorted. “Yeah, like we are.”
Sam ached to remind Crystal that she was a challenge and that’s why she was here. But Brynna probably wouldn’t like that.
“Popcorn is the white horse. The one with blue eyes like Crystal’s,” Brynna began. “He’s tall for a mustang and he was abused. Not on purpose, but his adopters thought the way to teach him to carry a rider was to ‘break’ him, to show him who was boss. They thought horses were born to carry riders and the faster he learned how, the sooner he’d be a happy horse.”
Amelia drew in a loud breath, then blushed when all eyes turned to her. “It’s, uh,” she giggled, “sort of like parents who say ‘we’re doing this for your own good.’”
“Exactly like that,” Brynna agreed.
It must have been the approval in Brynna’s tone that made Crystal glare at Amelia. Just the same, Brynna kept talking.
