Kidnapped Colt

by Terri Farley

  With a delighted snort, Ace matched Nike’s speed and loped beside him.

  Soon, the hills looked like lumpy dinosaurs’ backs as the sun’s gold corona brightened the sky.

  They left the broad alkali flats behind. Underfoot, there was more grass, with only a few handprint-sized splashes of mineral white.

  To Sam, the patches looked like snow sprouting sagebrush and tender grass.

  The terrain plummeted downhill to Aspen Creek. Trees followed the water, but once a rider crossed the creek, the hillside rose again.

  Wordless and careful, they rode downhill, then through a marshy area. The horses’ hooves made sucking sounds and Ace pulled at the reins, asking for water.

  While the horses drank, Sam turned to Jake.

  “I know we don’t have time today, but when do you want to go up to the box canyon? You know, to check the fence and look for prints and stuff.”

  “Let’s see how today goes. Might be no reason to second-guess the sheriff.”

  He urged Nike, splashing, ahead, but Ace was still thirsty.

  Jake was right, but Sam couldn’t help feeling the sheriff had missed something important. Maybe she was just hoping he had.

  Finally, her bay gelding raised his head and swung it around to nuzzle her boot with wet lips.

  “Hey, wait for us,” Sam said as Ace plodded after Nike.

  Her yell disturbed the serenity around them, but the rustling didn’t come from frightened birds.

  What was it? Sam wondered. She stared hard between Jake’s shoulder blades, waiting for him to turn toward the sound.

  She was staring so hard at Jake’s back, it took a few seconds for her to notice and interpret Ace’s nicker.

  He sensed mustangs. But where?

  Sam’s head swiveled from side to side.

  She heard the crashing of a herd on the move and squinted through the half light up the gentle rise of a wooded hill. It sounded like the hooves were traveling in that direction.

  Then, in a clearing, Sam saw two horses looking down on her.

  Glowing like polished wood set against a curve of ivory, Hotspot stood beside the Phantom.

  The stallion’s ears pricked forward. His neck turned left, then right. His shoulder bumped the mare aside. She backed up quickly before whirling in the direction of the rest of the herd.

  “Jake,” Sam hissed.

  Jake had already seen the stallion, and so had Nike.

  Gathering his reins and speaking softly, Jake reminded Nike to behave, but by then the Phantom was charging.

  As the stallion thundered down the hill, the red gelding shied. Nike knew he must obey the Phantom, not the stranger on his back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam heard a rushing sound, like a wave cresting. She saw the stallion’s mane tossed back like wind-blown foam. He was a tidal wave of horse coming through the thicket of aspens, straight at Jake.

  If he rammed Nike, the Phantom could take them all down in a tangle of horses and riders.

  “No!” Sam yelled. “No, Z—”

  In that moment of panic, she almost shouted the stallion’s secret name. She bit it off, but maybe that hiss of sound made him swerve. Or maybe it had been a false charge, warning Nike and Jake away.

  Ace’s high-pitched whinny stabbed Sam’s ears. Her wrists snapped as he tugged at the reins. Her cheek throbbed as Ace jounced his front hooves against the earth, struggling to follow the other mustangs.

  Nike reared, and though Jake rode out the upheaval, he was working hard to quiet the horse. The Phantom was only yards away, his head bowed and neck full. His nostrils flared and his dark eyes flashed beneath torrents of forelock.

  But he didn’t cross the creek.

  When Nike lowered to all four hooves, he trembled.

  The stallion might have been invisible for all the attention Jake gave him. Jake concentrated on Nike, backing him and coaxing him, calming the horse with small tasks he could handle.

  Sam watched the Phantom. His fierce stance, pawing at the earth until it flew in clumps from his hoof, was a warning. Even someone who’d never seen a fighting stallion would understand they’d cross the creek at their peril.

  Satisfied by Nike’s retreat, the Phantom pivoted and plunged after his fleeing herd.

  Did he recognize me? Sam wondered. If he did, he didn’t care.

  “Ride back up the hill,” Jake said. “If we can see his herd running, we might spot the Appaloosas.”

  Sam didn’t waste time telling Jake she’d seen Hotspot. She hadn’t seen Shy Boots.

  Sam wheeled Ace, set her heels against his ribs, and rode. Nike joined in the pursuit, and when they reached the hilltop, both horses and riders were breathless.

  “There,” Sam said.

  The Phantom’s herd meandered across the plain below.

  As always, the two blood bays showed first. Sam was able to pick out the big honey-colored lead mare and the pinto she’d named Pirate. Blacks, bays, and chestnuts moved at a steady walk, and she made out one Appaloosa. Only one.

  “Where’s Shy Boots?” Sam whispered, and when she looked at Jake, he shook his head.

  Looking lost, Hotspot trailed the mustangs.

  The lead mare didn’t let her lag for long. With a squeal and snapping teeth, she forced the Appaloosa to join the rest of the herd.

  Sam leaned forward until the saddle horn pressed into her stomach and her forearm rested against Ace’s coarse black mane, as if moving just that much closer would show her what wasn’t there.

  Hotspot wouldn’t have left without her colt if he’d been nearby.

  Shy Boots was gone.

  At the sudden sound of hooves, Sam spotted the white stallion galloping after his herd.

  He seemed to skim above the earth, mane and tail lashing free around him. She could more easily believe he was flying than she could believe he was a killer.

  Beside her, Jake tugged his black Stetson down.

  “I want to go home,” Sam said.

  They’d ridden a long time in silence when a sage hen rose straight up in front of Ace. Feathers brushed his nose, and spooked him into a single, vigorous buck. After she settled the gelding, Sam’s spirits picked up enough to ask Jake the question that had been plaguing her.

  “There could be another explanation, right? The Phantom might not have killed Shy Boots.”

  “Sure,” Jake said, but his sideways glance said that most of the other possibilities were no better.

  So Sam made herself say the words. “A young foal alone won’t live long on the range.”

  Hoofbeats filled in the silence for a minute, then Jake said, “If he’s on the range.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, but didn’t you say the trailer had been messed with? And the fence taken down by hand?”

  “That’s what Sheriff Ballard said,” Sam told him.

  “It’s a real long shot, Brat, but someone could’ve taken him.”

  Sam stared at Jake. She couldn’t see Jake’s eyes in the shade of his Stetson, and the skin over his high-carved cheekbones lay smooth.

  He wasn’t smiling or frowning as he said, “Just suppose someone was trying to steal them both—”

  Sam’s heart beat with crazy hope as she suggested, “Someone who didn’t know horses.”

  “Especially if the stallion was nearby, Hotspot might have gotten away and she might not have noticed the foal wasn’t right with her, until she was too far away to turn back.”

  “Or maybe she did turn back, but he’d stolen Shy Boots already.”

  Jake shrugged, without questioning the “he.”

  As they rode toward home, Sam felt something like relief. At least Hotspot was safe. Sam sighed and the muscles in her shoulders loosened.

  Sam yawned. Three o’clock had been a long time ago.

  When she and Jake arrived back at River Bend, Sam could hardly believe it was only lunchtime. But the ranch yard lay quiet, so Jen and the girl
s must be inside eating lunch.

  “We found Hotspot,” Sam said as they entered the kitchen.

  “What?” Jen’s voice cut over Jake’s grumble.

  “You found her!” Mikki celebrated by pumping a fist toward the rafters.

  “I bet it was the skilled tracker who trailed her to where she was hiding,” Gina said with a flirtatious grin.

  Sam grabbed Jake’s sleeve before he ducked out the kitchen door.

  “You’ve got to eat,” she told him, and Jake managed to fold himself into his place at the table without brushing anyone’s elbow.

  “Any sign of Shy Boots?” Jen asked.

  “He wasn’t with her,” Sam said.

  Silence seemed to press out from Sam until it filled the room. Dad had stayed silent, as if he’d known this would happen.

  Cougar came slinking into the kitchen. In the quiet, Sam could hear the cat’s tongue lap from his water dish.

  “No sign of him anywhere?” Gram asked, and Sam realized she’d been drying her hands on a dish towel since they’d come into the kitchen. Everyone was shaken by the prospect of the foal being alone.

  “Nothing,” Jake confirmed.

  “I’m still suspicious over that Karl Mannix,” Gram said.

  “Yeah, all this stuff happens and he takes off,” Jen said.

  “Yet Linc says they parted on friendly terms,” Gram pointed out.

  “I’m calling Ryan again,” Sam said.

  When all eyes turned to Gram, she dipped an arm toward the telephone. “Be my guest,” she said.

  “Ryan, this is Sam. We found Hotspot running with the Phantom’s herd, but Karl Mannix is gone.”

  “Answer your stupid phone,” Mikki yelled.

  Sam hung up.

  “I’d wonder if he’d even taken his cell phone with him, except that Linc said he talked with him,” Jen said.

  “No fair.” Gina’s whine made everyone stare. “Karl Mannix steals, like, thousands of dollars’ worth of horses, and doesn’t get caught. All I did was break a few windows and eat some candy, and the law’s all over me.”

  Sam saw her own alarm reflected in Jen’s eyes. Everything had been going well, but the HARP program wouldn’t like the lesson Gina thought she’d learned.

  “He’s a man on the run,” Jen pointed out.

  “And we all hate him,” Sam added.

  When Gina didn’t appear convinced, Sam looked to Mikki for help. The younger girl wore a faraway expression while her fingers plucked at her wispy blond hair. Suddenly, she grinned.

  “And we’re going to catch him. I know how to do it.” Mikki bounced in her chair.

  “How?” Jake asked.

  He watched Mikki with such open respect that she blushed, straightened in her seat, and then, after shooting Gina a gloating glance, explained.

  “Mr. Slocum said Mannix was a computer nerd. I think that he thinks, because you guys are all ranch people…” Mikki paused. “I don’t mean that in a bad way, but you know, he probably figures you’re not really—”

  “Civilized?” Sam put in, recalling Mrs. Allen had made this suggestion, too.

  “How about ‘computer literate’?” Jen suggested.

  “That’s a better way to put it,” Gina said, giggling.

  “Yeah, he’s the type who figures everyone’s dumber than him, but I bet he’s dumb enough to do this on the Internet, where anyone could catch him.”

  “That seems too easy,” Jen said.

  “Easy?” Gram chuckled. “Sounds to me like a wild-goose chase. I’m not sure I’d trust that sort of electronic gossip.”

  “I think Mikki’s right about his attitude,” Sam said. “Remember when Sheriff Ballard was giving Linc strategies for tracking down the horses? Mannix was astounded that a small-town sheriff knew so much.”

  “I love to see smug people get caught,” Jen said with a sigh.

  “I want to see him taken down,” Mikki said.

  It sounded too dramatic, like something Mikki had heard on television, but Sam could see she meant it.

  “Remember that poor little colt,” Mikki said.

  “I couldn’t forget if I wanted to,” Sam said, and when she thought of her part in his disappearance, the marrow of her bones ached.

  Mikki struck her fist against the table. She wanted more than justice. Mikki wanted revenge.

  The gesture was like a bugle call. Gina, Jen, and Sam pushed back from the table, ready to get started.

  “Two problems,” Dad said. “First, Brynna’s laptop, our only computer, is with her at Willow Springs. And second, you girls are supposed to be working with horses, not computers.”

  “This is about horses,” Mikki insisted.

  “I’m sure it would be okay,” Gina added. “Please, Mr. Forster.”

  “Please.” Mikki drew the word out in a high-pitched appeal.

  Sam didn’t blame the two girls, but they didn’t know Dad. Begging made his resolve set up like concrete.

  “We’ll check with Brynna tonight,” he said.

  Mikki and Gina slumped and grumbled.

  Sam met Jen’s eyes, then Jake’s. Time to think fast, counselors. Mikki and Gina were growing more disgruntled by the second.

  What should they do?

  “Mount up,” Jake said.

  “What?” Mikki asked.

  “Get in the saddle. We’ll play follow the leader.”

  “I’ve just been doing ground work,” Gina said, looking to Jen for backup. “I haven’t gotten on Popcorn yet.”

  “It’s Tuesday. How long were you gonna wait?” Jake asked Jen.

  “’Til tomorrow, like it says in the lesson plan.”

  Sam had seen sparks fly between her two best friends before, but this wasn’t the time for it.

  Before she could intercede, Jake realized it, too.

  “Think she could start a half day early, if we keep it simple?” Jake asked.

  Jen’s expression grew hazy as she rewound a mental videotape of Gina’s performance so far. Then, Jen nodded.

  “She could, if we keep it simple.”

  “Gram, could Gina borrow Sweetheart?” Sam asked.

  The aged pinto mare had once belonged to Sam’s mother. When Mom died, Gram had taken Sweetheart as her own riding horse. Always responsive and well-mannered, the mare, at twenty-two years old, was safe as a rocking chair.

  “Good idea, dear,” Gram said. “She hasn’t had a rider up for a while.”

  Gina swirled the bit of milk left in her glass around and around. Finally, she asked, “Does that mean she’s going to be all spirited and stuff?”

  “She’ll be perfect,” Sam promised.

  Thirty minutes later, five riders explored the ranch. Sam took the lead on Ace, while Mikki rode Popcorn behind her. On Penny, Jen stayed just ahead of Gina and Sweetheart, while Jake rode Nike at the rear, watching for problems.

  At a flat-footed walk, Ace led them out to the bridge, but didn’t cross it. He came back past the ranch house and circled the barn pasture. Dark Sunshine watched the procession and Tempest nickered that she wanted to come along.

  When Sam reined Ace aside and let Mikki take the lead, Popcorn’s hooves stuttered. He felt his rider’s lack of confidence, but his uncertainty didn’t last. A minute later, the albino gelding stepped out at a brisk walk and the others followed.

  Mikki let Jen take over, but she took her turn for only a few minutes. Then Gina became the leader.

  “Doin’ fine,” Jake said, two or three minutes into Gina’s turn.

  But Sweetheart was picking up speed, ambling toward the barn.

  “What should I do?” Gina said,

  “Move your hand to the right,” Jake said. “Good.”

  Sweetheart obeyed instantly. Gina wrinkled her nose in delight and turned to Jake.

  “My hero,” she said.

  Jake shrugged. “You told her it’s not quittin’ time.”

  He might not know it, Sam thought, but Jake had saved the afternoon f
rom becoming a pouting competition between Gina and Mikki.

  Although he was only helping out as a HARP counselor for the money, he was good at it.

  When Brynna arrived home, she agreed to Mikki’s plan to stalk Karl Mannix on the Internet. As soon as the dinner dishes were washed, the girls got started.

  Sam and Gina quickly discovered their fingers didn’t fly as quickly as Mikki’s and Jen’s, so they made lists of ideas.

  “Just in case, we should check lost-and-found sites—”

  “Places you can post horses for sale—”

  “And brand inspectors—”

  Sam’s pencil jotted down each item, and then she realized Gina was shaking her index finger at an invisible idea.

  “We’ll post a reward leading to the, um, you know, to the—”

  “Recovery,” Jen suggested as her fingers went on dancing over the keyboard.

  “Right!” Gina said. “We describe Shy Boots and say there’s a reward for his recovery. That way, if Mannix still has the colt, and he responds, the sheriff can arrest him!”

  “Yeah!” Mikki said. “And we’ll use my e-mail address, because he couldn’t possibly know it.”

  Mikki and Gina wiggled like puppies, delighted with their deceit.

  “We are so sneaky,” Mikki said.

  “But in a good way,” Gina shouted to Brynna as she peeked in from the kitchen.

  And Sam decided that was progress, of a kind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sam and Blaze sat on the bridge over the La Charla River. With her cheek pressed against one wooden rail of the bridge, Sam looked down at ripples turned silver by the moon.

  She’d been awake for nineteen hours, and though she was definitely tired, she was just as definitely not sleepy. The Phantom wouldn’t come to the river tonight, and she was almost glad.

  Glad might be the wrong word, Sam thought, but she felt relieved.

  The Phantom had not been friendly to her today. He certainly hadn’t come to her like—what was it Dad had said?—a lapdog.

  In fact, the Phantom hadn’t indicated by even a flick of his ear that he’d recognized her.

  So she didn’t have to feel guilty about him tonight. And though Hotspot must miss her foal, she’d soon find her place in the herd. She’d probably be a part of it until autumn.