Dawn Runner

by Terri Farley

  “I think he’s letting his hair grow out again,” Sam commented as they passed. She hadn’t meant to say it. The words just slipped out.

  “Which one?” Pam asked, turning to stare out the car’s back window.

  Sam was pointing at Jake when Rachel said, “The one with the mahogany skin and ebony hair. Jake.”

  Sam hadn’t realized Rachel knew words like mahogany and ebony, but her mocking pronunciation of “Jake” was familiar.

  Pam’s eyebrows quirked up and she looked at Sam. Rachel’s implication was pretty easy to understand.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” Sam said flatly.

  “Oh, right,” Rachel sneered.

  “We’re just friends.”

  Rachel leaned her head so close to Pam’s, it looked like she was going to tell her a secret. But she didn’t whisper.

  Sam had no trouble hearing Rachel say, “You know what that means.”

  “Probably that they’re just friends,” Pam answered. Until now, she’d seemed as charmed by Rachel as she’d been—at first—by Ryan. Now, Pam scooted closer to Sam.

  Rachel looked unsettled, but she wasn’t finished.

  “When we get back to the house, I hope you’ll come in for a little tour.”

  Sam turned with such surprise, her shoulder bumped Pam’s. She’d never been past the front door of the Slocums’ mansion.

  “Go ahead,” Sam told Pam.

  “No, that’s okay,” Pam said, giving Sam a small jab with her elbow.

  “But Ryan said he thought you’d like a break from, you know, Sam and Jennifer’s horse stuff.”

  “I’m actually kind of enjoying the horse stuff. I’ve ridden a little bit, but I’m not good at it, and today…” Pam drew the last word out suspensefully as she folded her hands atop her basketball. For the first time, Rachel gave it a sidelong glance, as if she’d been trying all this time to ignore it, sitting round and orange on Pam’s lap, “I promised Sam that if she played basketball with me, I’d go riding with her.”

  That was news to Sam, but she didn’t leave Pam any room to wriggle away from the statement.

  “Yep, and I’m holding her to her promise,” Sam said. “No matter what.”

  Giving a theatrical sigh, Rachel gazed out the car window.

  “I’m surrounded by people who adore horses, and I can’t understand why. They’re dumb, and dirty, and riding them increases even the most coordinated person’s opportunities for looking clumsy and inept.”

  “I hope not,” Pam began, but then she leaned forward. “But, hmm, I see what you mean.”

  It took Sam a few seconds to see past Pam and a few seconds more to make out the bulbous form of Linc Slocum clinging to the neck of a beautiful palomino.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam had heard Pepper refer to people who “rode like a sack of potatoes,” but she’d just figured that since Pepper was from Idaho, it was some regional saying.

  But watching Linc Slocum try to keep up with Ryan, who rode ahead of him on Sky Ranger, Sam understood the words for the first time.

  Even though a glare of silver saddle, spurs, and headstall surrounded him, Linc hadn’t been able to buy horsemanship. His elbows flapped and he leaned back against his reins as he stood in the tapaderoed stirrups. Shaped like upside-down teardrops and coated with silver, they didn’t hide his cruel spurs.

  Sam was glad Jen wasn’t here to see poor Champ.

  Golden Champagne was one of the Kenworthy palominos. Part of their Fire and Ice breeding program, he had the sunshine coat, snowy mane, and intelligence the Kenworthys had worked so hard to create in their horses.

  But if Champ hadn’t yet been ruined by Linc’s riding, he soon would be. How could the gelding know what to do? Linc’s spurs forced Champ forward, but his ham-fisted grip on the reins yanked the bit into the hinge of the palomino’s jaw, commanding him to stop.

  Throw him, Sam thought. Leave him to walk home in those high-heeled boots.

  But Champ didn’t heed Sam’s silent urging. He followed instincts that told him to ignore the conflicting orders from his rider and gallop after Sky Ranger, toward home.

  Mrs. Coley slowed the car, letting the horses and riders go on ahead.

  By the time they passed through the electronic gates of Gold Dust Ranch, Sam could see that Ryan and his father were standing together, arguing.

  It looked like Ryan was stripping the tack from Sky Ranger, but Linc was too busy yelling to do the same for Champ. From inside the car, Sam couldn’t hear Linc, but she saw the pumping of his arms and the way his head slung from side to side as he hurled out angry words.

  Nearby, Champ wandered head down, reins trailing from his bit, making a careful escape.

  Mrs. Coley braked in front of the foreman’s house to let Pam and Sam out as far from the argument as possible.

  “See you later,” Sam said to Rachel as they climbed out of the car.

  “It was nice meeting you,” Pam added, leaning down to look back inside.

  Was Rachel embarrassed by the argument between her father and brother? Or annoyed by Pam’s refusal to fall under her spell?

  Sam only knew that Rachel sat with her spine pressed against the back of her seat and didn’t say a word.

  As they headed toward Jen’s porch, Sam and Pam realized they were almost close enough to eavesdrop on the Slocums’ argument. So they did.

  “What’s a black baldy?” Pam asked, her face twisted in confusion.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Sam said. “But it sounds like they’re arguing about which beef cattle would be most profitable for the ranch and—” Sam paused a second, trying to listen. “Ryan knows what he’s talking about. Linc is just repeating stuff he’s heard.”

  “Another wild goose chase!” Linc bellowed.

  “That was easy enough to understand,” Pam whispered.

  They both listened intently, but it was harder to make out Ryan’s words because he didn’t shout like his father.

  Once, Sam was pretty sure she heard Ryan snarl, “I hope you’re satisfied,” but she had no idea what he was talking about.

  Then Linc lowered his voice. It was still loud, but Sam could tell he was trying to sound logical as he made one more attempt at convincing Ryan to do things his way.

  “Look, there’s dozens of cowboys around here who wouldn’t balk at taking a few hundred dollars to run her down and drag her back here.”

  Ryan’s head snapped back as if he’d been slapped, as if his father’s calm suggestion hit harder than his shouting.

  “You think I want to buy my way out of this?” Ryan’s voice rose in disbelief. “Well, I’m not like you!”

  Linc twisted the top half of his body away from Ryan. He seemed stalled there for a second, or maybe he was hoping Ryan would take back the hurtful words, but then the rest of his body turned and he made his way toward his shiny Cadillac.

  Tottering on his high-heeled boots, he shouted something about BLM over his shoulder, then yelled, “So take the rest of the week off!”

  Ryan stood watching as Linc heaved himself into the Cadillac, gunned the engine so loudly that horses bolted in every pasture, then drove out of the ranch yard, gravel spitting from his tires.

  Pam released a loud gust of breath. “Don’t introduce me to him, okay?”

  “Don’t worry,” Sam said.

  “Hey,” Jen said as she came out onto the porch. “That was quite the performance, wasn’t it? Imagine living in the same house with that guy?”

  Sam shook her head. She couldn’t understand how Jen lived on the same ranch with Linc Slocum.

  If Linc hadn’t respected Jed Kenworthy’s ranching skills, if he hadn’t been smart enough to know Jed was the only thing keeping the Gold Dust in business, things would have been much worse.

  “I wonder what my dad’s saying to Ryan?” Jen mused, and they looked to see Jed standing near the younger Slocum.

  They were having a serious talk, cowboy-style. Jed was looking down, k
icking at the dirt, not making eye contact, but staying close.

  “If Ryan has to pick someone to try to impress, he should pick your dad,” Sam told Jen.

  Maybe Jed Kenworthy was kind of old-fashioned and he didn’t value mustangs as much as she did, but he knew you got important things by working for them, not buying them.

  “Sam, that was so nice.” Jen’s voice was incredulous.

  Blushing, Sam shrugged.

  “Yeah, Sam,” Pam said, holding her basketball in one hand and giving Sam a gentle punch with the other. “How come you never say anything like that about my mom?”

  “But your mom’s great. I—” Sam stopped when Pam started laughing. “I think you should be quiet.”

  “Fine, then let’s go see what they’re talking about,” Pam said.

  “I’ll go with you, but I’ll be leaving for a doctor’s appointment,” Jen said. “I only have a few minutes.”

  By the time they reached Ryan, Jed had snagged Champ’s reins.

  “C’mon,” Jed said to the horse.

  His voice was gentle, but when he used the back of his hand to wipe bloody foam from the gelding’s lips, then checked Champ’s hot chest, anger suffused Jed’s face. He’d bred this horse, watched him be foaled, and raised him. Seeing Champ treated like an unfeeling object must be making him furious.

  “At least he doesn’t do it much,” Ryan said. “Ride, I mean.”

  “No,” Jed agreed. “Like you said, he’s losin’ interest.”

  Ryan forked his fingers through the front of his hair. He looked frustrated but thoughtful. “I don’t know what that means for the rest of us.”

  “Doesn’t do to dwell on it,” Jed said. “About your mare, though? I think you’re on the right track.”

  Ryan hesitated, staring toward the electronic gate after his father. He swallowed audibly and Sam wondered if that meant he was giving up, for now at least, on trying to please his father.

  “Bring her in without all that helicopter hoopla,” Jed suggested.

  “I will,” Ryan said, then he watched without blinking as Jed pulled the silver-mounted bridle from Champ’s head. With a groan, the palomino rubbed his forelock against Jed’s chest.

  Sam didn’t realize they were all watching the horse thank the man until Champ blew through his lips and the foreman looked away.

  Then they all followed Jed’s eyes. He looked pointedly at Sky Ranger.

  Turned out in the corral and stripped of tack, Sky still had a sweaty patch from his saddle.

  Without saying anything, Ryan moved toward the horse, letting Jed know he planned to do better than his father.

  As Sam and Pam walked Jen toward her mother, they revised their strategy.

  “I think we should just leave him alone,” Jen said.

  “Me too,” Sam agreed. “Did you hear him tell Linc he wasn’t like him?”

  “Wasn’t that great?” Jen said. She bit her lip and looked toward Pam. “Let’s just let him think about it.” Then, when Pam didn’t offer any sign of agreement, Jen said, “Don’t you think that’s the right thing to do? Just let him think it over?”

  “Probably,” Pam said, nodding. “But I was just remembering what my coach on my old coed team told me when one of the guys was driving me crazy.”

  “What’s that?” Sam asked. She could see the sparkle in Pam’s eyes that signaled a joke.

  “He said, ‘Pamster…’ That’s what they called me, ’cause I was quick as a hamster—”

  “Go on!” Sam pleaded.

  “Okay. ‘Pamster,’ he said, ‘don’t spend too much time trying to figure out what guys are thinking; they don’t do it very often.’”

  Gram arrived just minutes after Lila and Jen left for the doctor’s office. As they drove, Sam asked Gram to take them home to River Bend instead of driving out to Pam’s camp at Lost Canyon.

  “We’re going for a ride,” Sam said.

  “Oh, it’s so nice that you ride, Pam,” Gram said.

  “That remains to be seen,” Pam said, and Sam heard the echo of Dr. Mora in her words. “I’ve done it, but I’m definitely not experienced.”

  Sam and Gram discussed which horse Pam should ride. Strawberry was gentle, but liked her own way; Ace liked to pull tricks on unwary riders; and Jeepers-Creepers had been known to crow-hop if he didn’t like the look of his own shadow.

  “Hey, I know,” Pam said. “Why don’t we just drive?”

  “We don’t keep a mean horse on the ranch,” Gram assured her.

  “And a promise is a promise,” Sam said.

  “Oh, but wait,” Pam said, holding up an index finger as if she’d found a way out. “What will I do with my basketball? I can’t carry it on a horse.”

  “We’ll think of something, dear,” Gram said. “If nothing else, we could put it in one of those hay nets and tie it in place on your saddle. Now, I hope you can stay for dinner. We’re having a front-porch picnic—cold fried chicken, potato salad, and—”

  “Don’t tell me any more,” Pam said, covering her ears. “Mom made me promise to come back to camp.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Gram said. “You could even spend the night, if you like.”

  “Yeah!” Sam and Pam chorused, and all the way back to the ranch, they made plans for a Friday night sleepover.

  Tank, Nike, and Blue Wings were gone from the saddle pasture, but that still left lots of horses to choose from.

  Pam fell in love with Penny, Brynna’s mare, at first sight.

  “That’s it. I’ve decided,” she said when Penny stood at the fence nuzzling her hand.

  But then Sam explained the mare’s blindness. “And it’s not that I think Brynna would mind if you rode her,” Sam said. “It’s just that Penny’s minus one of her senses. She’s pretty dependent on her rider for direction.”

  “Whoa,” Pam said to Sam. “She’s not for me, then. I’ve been trying to count, and I think I’ve only been on a horse five times. And none of those were out in the, you know, wide open. So, you pick. Give me the tamest horse you’ve got.”

  “Okay,” Sam said slowly.

  At last Sam decided on Popcorn. Although the albino gelding had once been wild, he worked well with the HARP girls and his tall, free-moving gait fit Pam’s.

  Sam saddled up for both of them and Pam proved to be more comfortable riding Popcorn than she’d thought.

  “There’s only one thing I’m worried about,” Pam said as they crossed the bridge over the La Charla River. “What if we ride into the middle of a stampede of wild horses? Is he going to buck me off?”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Sam assured her. “If wild horses hear us coming, they’ll be gone.”

  “But is Popcorn going to take off with them?”

  “I don’t think so,” Sam said. “After all, I’m riding a mustang, too, and if I thought there was anything to worry about—”

  “You don’t think so?” Pam said.

  “Do you want to ride back to the ranch and get Gram to drive us after all?” Sam asked.

  For one fraction of a second, she wanted Pam to say yes.

  Since Popcorn had lived in captivity, he’d had lots of kind care and skilled handling. He wasn’t likely to take off after wild ones as they ran, but she didn’t want to be responsible for Pam’s safety if that did happen.

  “Never mind. I’ll be fine,” Pam said. “Besides, you were brave enough to play basketball with me, so I guess it’s my turn to prove I have some guts.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mustangs rarely drank at the lake at War Drum Flats unless it was dawn or dusk. Although the summer sun wouldn’t drop below the horizon for at least two more hours, clouds had crowded in front of the sun, dropping the late afternoon temperature, bringing a wild herd down from the foothills.

  The girls had been riding along, talking about the Chinese language class Pam would be taking in school. Her mom had urged her to sign up for it because of a research trip Dr. Mora had planned, to study stor
ies of China’s spotted Heavenly Horses.

  Pam and Popcorn got along fine until they followed Sam and Ace downhill from the highway. Popcorn snorted, pulled to the right, and resisted Pam’s clucking encouragement as they headed toward the shallow lake.

  “Sam, what should I do?”

  “He’ll be okay,” Sam said, but then she looked away from Popcorn to the territory ahead and saw what the albino gelding did.

  The Phantom’s herd drank in the shallows of the lake, and the big honey-colored mare had spotted them.

  Sam didn’t take her eyes from the wild horses, even when Pam gasped behind her.

  “If we stay really still, maybe they won’t see us,” Pam said, halting her horse. She leaned low on Popcorn’s neck as if she could hide.

  “Too late,” Sam said. “The lead mare already sees us.”

  “The big gold one?” Pam asked. “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure,” Sam said.

  Even though the lead mare’s head was down and she still appeared to be drinking, the mare looked tense. She could bolt and alarm the rest of the herd at any second.

  Ace felt himself being watched. He took a step backward. Popcorn did the same. They both recognized the mare’s authority.

  “I thought the stallion was the boss,” Pam said quietly.

  “He’s the protector,” Sam whispered, “but the lead mare decides where they eat and drink, and she disciplines the colts so that they know how to act.”

  Pam’s breath caught as another horse jostled the lead mare.

  “That’s Ryan’s horse, right? She looks just like her baby.”

  “That’s Hotspot,” Sam agreed, “and she’d better quit crowding the lead mare.”

  The honey-colored mare flattened her ears into her flaxen mane and swung her head toward Hotspot.

  The Appaloosa ignored the warning and lowered her cocoa-brown muzzle right where the lead mare’s had been. At once, the lead mare’s lips tightened, showing her teeth, and she lunged.