by Terri Farley
Kit even looked like an Indian cowboy should. His fresh-pressed shirt was the color of oatmeal and cream, and some kind of blue stones were strung on a leather thong around his neck. He strode toward his family with the stiff grace of a man who’d ridden his share of rough stock.
Champion bronc rider Kit Ely didn’t look cocky, though. He looked proud. If he hadn’t been twenty-five–or–whatever years old, Sam imagined every girl at Darton High School, including her, could develop a crush on him.
“Where’s your truck?” Bryan asked.
Sam wondered why his dad sent Bryan such a cold look. She’d been asking herself the same thing.
“Traveling light,” Kit said.
He dipped his right shoulder to maneuver the saddle to the ground and Sam noticed Kit’s left forearm was encased in a cast. Maybe he hadn’t just come home for Christmas, she thought.
She stole a quick glance at Jake, to see if he’d noticed, but his back was to her.
Once Kit had settled the saddle, he made a faint movement that seemed to launch his family’s welcome.
Mrs. Ely flew forward first. She looked suddenly blonder and smaller. She couldn’t reach around his neck, so Kit bent to meet her. Her embrace knocked off his hat, and then she was crying against his shoulder, giving him so much more than a hug, Sam had to look away.
She guessed it didn’t matter how many kids you had, every one was special. Kit’s wandering ways obviously hadn’t been easy on his mother.
Sam heard Jake clear his throat. Did his throat feel like hers—so stiff she might have swallowed a stick? Sam still couldn’t see Jake’s face, but he hung a thumb in one pocket and shook his head, pretending not to be touched.
“Mom’s losin’ it,” Quinn said, sounding as uncomfortable as Jake looked, but their dad’s hand made a slice through the air that told Quinn to shut up.
Trembling and attentive, Singer pressed his shoulder against Sam’s.
The pup’s black-dot eyebrows shifted up and down, and Sam whispered to Singer to distract him.
“Maybe Kit let a friend borrow his truck. Maybe he can’t drive with that cast.”
Kit had said he was traveling light, and he meant it. He carried nothing except a gray duffle bag and the saddle.
Somebody must have dropped him off, though, Sam thought. Walking any distance in those chinks couldn’t be comfortable.
“Honey, what happened to your arm?” Mrs. Ely asked, one hand hovering above the cast.
“It’s nothing,” Kit said. “Comes with the territory. You know.”
Shaking her head, Mrs. Ely let her son shrug free. Luke Ely clapped his son on the shoulder. Next, Nate, Adam, Bryan, and Quinn were pounding their big brother on the back and shaking his hand.
Why didn’t Jake get in there, too? Sam wondered. Even Gal, yodeling for attention, got a scratch behind the ears before Kit noticed Jake.
“Baby Bear,” Kit greeted him, but then, Sam saw him look Jake over and shake his head.
Baby Bear? Sam winced. Jake would hate that. But then she saw Kit’s eyes measure Jake.
Kit gave a short laugh. “Not anymore, I guess. You’re tall as me. How’d that happen?”
Jake still didn’t say a thing.
“Gosh, Jake,” Sam whispered in disgust.
But Kit didn’t look hurt. He just changed the subject.
“Witch is lookin’ good.” Kit patted the mare’s shoulder.
Ears pinned and teeth bared, Witch’s head swung around to glare at Kit. Finally Jake turned sideways and Sam saw his face.
She expected him to keep the mare from confronting Kit, but Jake didn’t even scold her.
Sam thought maybe she was wrong, but it almost looked like Jake was testing his big brother.
Chapter Two
If Jake had been testing his big brother’s skill with horses, Kit passed.
He didn’t say a word, simply inclined his head and stared Witch down.
The mare closed her mouth, shivered her skin as if she’d only been reacting to a fly, then gazed off toward the Calico Mountains.
Sam was delighted by Kit’s performance, but it was weird sitting here, watching all this. The Elys had clearly forgotten all about her. Even Jake didn’t seem to recall she was over by the barn with Singer, watching their family reunion as if she had a front-row seat at a play.
But what was she supposed to do? Jump up and push her way into the middle of things? That would be ruder than eavesdropping. Wouldn’t it?
Besides, she and her best friend Jen had always wondered about the oldest, wandering Ely brother.
“So far, the guy is amazing,” Sam whispered to Singer, but the coydog didn’t act impressed. Instead of lifting his head from his paws, he closed his eyelids more tightly.
“Where you all going?” Kit asked, noticing the open horse trailer with Ace inside.
“Nowhere,” Nate said, but his response overlapped Jake’s.
“Willow Springs,” Jake said, and when a corner of Kit’s mouth twitched as if the name meant nothing to him, Jake added, “The BLM corrals.” He nodded south. “Mustang auction coming up.”
“Jake’s going to herd horses from the far pens, up closer to the BLM offices, so potential adopters can get a better look at them,” Mrs. Ely explained.
“How’d an Ely come to be working for the BLM?” Kit’s amazement reminded Sam that practically no ranchers—or their sons, apparently—appreciated the Bureau of Land Management.
“For Brynna Forster,” Mrs. Ely said, but Jake corrected her.
“For a pretty good wage.”
Kit gave a short laugh. “I hear ya. But who’s Brynna Forster? I remember the little girl, but that wasn’t her name.”
Sam’s cheeks burned with a blush. If she was going to be brave enough to jump up and introduce herself, this was her cue to do it.
“You’re thinkin’ of Samantha,” Quinn said. “She’s fourteen.”
“And she’s around here somewhere,” Adam said, glancing around the ranch yard.
Sam felt that awful exposed feeling she remembered from playing hide-and-seek as a little kid. She’d never been good at finding hiding places. Apparently she still wasn’t.
Jake looked straight at Sam, then beckoned her to leave the shadow of the barn and come on over.
Feeling more awkward by the second, Sam stalled. She held up a finger to signal she’d be right back, then slipped inside the barn and released Singer with an apology for not taking him on a longer walk.
Then, she drew a deep breath, bolted the barn doors, and headed toward the Elys.
Coming closer, she heard Kit say, “Fourteen? Can’t be.”
“You’ve been gone most of the last five years,” Mrs. Ely said reproachfully, but then she seemed to hear how she was scolding her grown-up son and her tone turned cheery again. “Half the state’s followed your career.”
Kit rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture identical to one Jake used whenever he felt uneasy, and Sam smiled.
“Here comes Sam,” Quinn announced.
Although she didn’t think of herself as shy, the burden of all those eyes fixed on her made Sam wish Quinn had kept quiet.
Get a grip, Sam told herself. Then she not only stood taller, she swept her auburn hair behind her ears and smiled.
Kit’s head moved in a slow shake of denial. “Can’t be,” he said again.
Sam looked to Jake for help, but his eyes were fixed on Witch.
Luckily, his dad noticed Sam’s uneasiness and broke in.
“Now, before you go telling Samantha you haven’t seen her since she was knee high to a grasshopper,” Luke Ely joked, “let’s go on inside and eat the breakfast your mom’s been making since dawn.”
“Not me,” Jake said, then turned to his mother. “Sorry.”
“You’ve got ten minutes before you have to leave,” Mrs. Ely said in her no-nonsense teacher tone. Then she fluttered her hands at her sons, herding them back inside.
As an only
child, Sam enjoyed the noisy, affectionate joking that made breakfast with the Elys practically a party, even though it didn’t last long.
Ten minutes wasn’t enough time to describe all the prize money and bruises Kit had earned since his last visit home. It wasn’t enough time to list the states he’d slept in or describe the small-town arenas and big-city event centers with instant-replay screens that would dwarf the kitchen wall. But Kit tried, and he squeezed in enough excitement that he left Sam’s head spinning.
Pushing back from the table, Jake glanced at his mother. She nodded that he could leave, but Sam was surprised when Kit looked at his mom in the same way, as if he wanted permission to leave, too.
Adam must have missed it completely, because he asked, “Kit, wanna ride out with us?”
“Take a look at the old home place?” Bryan teased.
“The parts the white-tails have left us,” Quinn, the second youngest, tried to sound gruff as he mentioned the deer that had been grazing in the hay field.
“I’ll ride along with Baby Bear, if he don’t mind.”
Jake flinched as hard at the nickname as Mrs. Ely did from Kit’s bad grammar.
“Doesn’t,” Mrs. Ely corrected.
“Like bein’ a kid again,” Kit said, grinning. Then he turned to Jake and waited for an answer.
“Fine,” Jake said.
He didn’t add, As long as you don’t call me Baby Bear again, but Sam would bet he was thinking it.
Having Kit come with them to Willow Springs would be fun, Sam thought as Jake led the way out, but Jake and Kit were both tall and broad-shouldered. It would be a pretty crowded ride.
Sam crossed her fingers, hoping Witch wouldn’t pull some trick to make Jake look bad in front of his big brother, but when he led the mare toward the trailer, she behaved like there was a bushel of carrots waiting inside.
“Easy loader,” Kit said as Witch ambled up the ramp.
Jake looked down, hiding his smile, and Sam knew Kit’s approval pleased him. As Jake pulled the truck keys from his pocket, he glanced at Kit.
“You drive,” Kit said, “and Samantha, why don’t you sit in the middle and be the rose between the thorns?”
“Okay,” she said, laughing, but then she saw Jake evaluating her reaction.
Maybe he was just disgruntled, since he grabbed and flung away the branch that had broken his windshield at about the same time Kit had arrived. Just the same, Sam felt her lips lose their smile.
Sitting elbow to elbow with the Ely brothers wasn’t comfy, but she thought it was kind of nice that Kit didn’t mention the newly cracked windshield or the way he had to lay his cast across his lap. He just leaned back in the passenger’s seat with a groan.
“Y’okay?” Jake asked.
“As much as I ever am,” Kit said.
“Your arm?” Sam asked, but Kit shook his head and lifted his necklace so she and Jake could see chunks of brown-streaked turquoise cut into rough beads.
“Notice how all of ’em slide on the string and jam together? That’s what my vertebrae do every time I draw a sunfishing bronc.”
Sam shuddered, imagined herself astride a bucking horse that alternately dove for the dirt, then slammed up into a sky-pawing rear.
“Bet that’s hard to get used to,” Jake said as he turned the key in the truck’s ignition.
The words were barely sympathetic, but Sam heard his admiration for Kit’s grit.
“You got that right,” Kit said, then sighed. “If you’ll pardon me, Samantha,” he said, tilting his hat down over his eyes, “it’s nap time.”
“Sure,” Sam said, but she gave Jake a sidelong glance, kind of wondering why Kit needed a nap so early in the morning.
Jake ignored Sam’s silent question.
They drove away from Three Ponies, taking a dirt road to the highway along the La Charla River, past the turnoff to River Bend.
Just minutes after Sam thought Kit was dozing, he spoke up again.
“I’ve walked down lots of roads at night, but I could tell this one led home. Only saw a single truck on the highway. Even though it had a burned-out headlight, it blinked the other one hello.”
Sam smiled at the small-town courtesy. If that happened to you on a deserted street in San Francisco, you’d be a little worried over what it meant.
“Huh,” Jake said.
After that, Kit slept without moving, even when the pavement ended and the road up to Willow Springs turned to rock-hard corduroy.
Sam wondered if she should tell Jake and Kit to expect more uneasiness when they reached Willow Springs. Her stepmother Brynna, manager of the BLM’s wild horse corrals, was finding it difficult to get along with Norman White. The man had been hired to take her place as soon as she left on maternity leave, and they were clashing because he’d shown up early.
It had been Norman’s idea to have this unscheduled wild horse adoption event, and it was just the kind of crazy decision that made Brynna put off the start date of her leave so that Norman could do as little damage as possible to the captive wild horses.
Sam sighed. Loudly. But Jake gave no sign he’d welcome a little conversation. Sam was pretty sure whispers wouldn’t wake Kit, but Jake kept his eyes focused on the road, and he was frowning.
Twisting as far as she could without bumping either Ely, Sam looked out the window behind her head. She could see a wisp of Ace’s black mane inside the trailer and she couldn’t help thinking what she always did: Her bay gelding was better to have a talk with than Jake.
It wasn’t until the road slanted up through Thread the Needle, where there was barely enough room for a single car to pass between the cliffs, that Kit awakened.
“Passin’ through Alkali, I stopped for a cup of coffee,” Kit said, resuming his earlier conversation with Jake as if he hadn’t slept in the middle of it. “Sittin’ at the counter, I overheard someone sayin’ you’re the real horseman of the family now—”
“Who said that?” Jake snapped out the question, but Kit didn’t answer, didn’t push his hat brim up, didn’t even seem to hear.
“Maybe we’ll have to get us a couple wild horses, little brother, and see if you can prove it.”
Chapter Three
He had to be joshing with Jake, Sam thought, looking between the two.
Kit’s remark surely hadn’t been a dare, because he just dropped the idea as he climbed out of the truck and took a look around at Willow Springs Wild Horse Center.
“Ain’t this a sorry setup?” Kit asked, as he offered Sam a hand getting down.
Sam gave a tight smile and hopped down on her own. Then she surveyed the BLM facility, trying to see it as Kit did.
She saw acres of pipe corrals filled with horses, a wall of hay bales twice as tall as her home, an office building, and a parking lot with white trucks labeled U.S. GOVERNMENT. This morning’s light snow had melted off, leaving mud in low places, but the footing inside the corrals had been designed so that the moisture ran off and the horses weren’t standing in puddles.
Brynna worked hard here and so did Hugh and Brynna’s secretary, her two permanent staff members. Half of Sam wanted to ask Kit to explain what was “sorry” about it, but she already knew.
Kit was a cowboy. He would protest that the wild horses grazing on his family’s ranch were competing for the grass that cattle grew fat on. Still, he looked as disappointed as she’d felt on her first visit here. Sam knew it was because of the horses.
The pipe corrals were filled with mustangs. Mustangs were supposed to be running wild with blowing manes and tails, challenging humans to catch them, confronting each other in mock battles, and defying fences that imprisoned them. Here, nothing like that was happening. These horses looked dull and resigned to captivity.
That’s what Kit thought was a sorry sight.
“Wait until you see wild horses trucked in fresh off the range,” Sam said. “Or watch them being loaded into the trailers after the auction.”
From the corner
of her eye, Sam caught Jake’s expression. There, then instantly gone, it had been a look of disbelief.
Mustangs looked wild and beautiful when they were fresh off the range or being loaded because they were terrified. Had she really been offering horses’ panic as entertainment?
Sam was ashamed. She didn’t know what to say.
“Am I ever glad to see some friendly faces.” A female voice floated from the direction of the office. “I never would have let Hugh take time off, but he called me a grinch!”
Sam, Jake, and Kit turned to see Brynna approaching. In her khaki uniform and official nametag, Brynna still managed to look confident and very much the boss, though she was round with pregnancy.
Jake frowned, and Sam remembered how he’d steadied Brynna to keep her from falling the other day. It was pretty clear he thought she should begin her maternity leave now. In contrast, Kit grinned at Brynna as you would at a kitten.
“Brynna, this is Jake’s brother Kit,” Sam rushed to introduce them.
“The bronc rider,” Brynna said with a nod. “Welcome.” She extended her hand and clasped Kit’s in a firm grip. “You’ve come to the right place if you’d like a horse to help with your homework.” Her eyes swept the corrals of wild horses before halting on Kit’s cast. Her lips pursed with interest, not pity. “Did a bronc do that?”
“Yep,” Kit said. “It’s nothing.”
A faint alarm went off in Sam’s mind. Twice she’d heard Kit dismiss the injury as “nothing.” Knowing what she did about cowboys, she wasn’t convinced. She’d been with Jake when he’d broken his leg in a riding accident. It had been a compound fracture. The bone had actually stabbed through his skin, but Jake had dismissed the blood and pain and just asked her to find his hat and get it back on his head.
“Are you still riding?” Brynna asked.
“Takin’ a little time off for the holidays,” Kit answered.
“You probably deserve it, so I won’t draft you to help Jake and Sam move the horses around. You can just watch them and”—Brynna’s voice took on a wheedling tone—“shop for a new horse?”
“I might do that,” Kit said.
