by Terri Farley
The ever-alert mustang only stared into the pasture and gave a long, melancholy neigh.
The second time Dr. Scott clapped his hands, Sam wasn’t startled. She was heartsick.
She knew what the vet was doing. He was giving her horse a test, and the great gray stallion had failed.
“I don’t think he can hear us,” Dr. Scott said softly. “Sam, I’m afraid the explosion has made the Phantom deaf.”
Chapter Eight
The Phantom pawed rapidly, scoring the black ground with his mark.
He looked kingly and tough. Sam knew Dr. Scott had to be wrong.
But then the Phantom wheeled right. He gathered himself and burst into a trot, but he’d just begun his circle when he saw them. And shied. He hadn’t heard them right behind him.
Sam noticed more than his surprise.
“His neck,” Sam gasped.
The stallion hadn’t escaped the fire without burns. A scorch on the right side of his neck had the crumpled and cratered surface of a toasted marshmallow.
“Oh, no,” Dr. Scott snapped. “Why didn’t I move in and sedate him when I had the chance? It’s not going to be easy, now.”
The stallion’s startled stepping in place stopped as Dr. Scott bent to withdraw a hypodermic syringe from his bag. Maybe the vet suddenly looked like a four-legged predator, or maybe the Phantom was out of patience with humans. However he came to his decision, the stallion hopped over the burned section of fence and dashed after his herd, without a backward glance for Pirate.
The young horse shuddered a little. Even unconscious, could he know he’d been abandoned?
“I’m not going to make the same mistake with this one,” Dr. Scott muttered.
As he set to work on Pirate, Sam looked after the Phantom.
Deaf, she thought. A shuddering sigh passed her lips. What happened to a deaf horse on the open range? She longed to ask Dr. Scott, but not now.
Dr. Scott’s movements were brisk. Was he angry or just efficient as he jabbed the needle into the small bottle of liquid?
He finished filling the syringe, then strode to the trembling horse. The vet dropped to one knee beside Pirate.
“I’ll have to catch him and examine him later,” the young vet said. He was injecting medicine into Pirate, but Sam knew he was talking about the Phantom. “The important thing now is for me to help this young one.”
With gentle hands, Dr. Scott examined Pirate.
“Why is he unconscious?” Sam asked.
“Shock,” Dr. Scott said. “I gave him a sedative. Not much, though. With this facial swelling from burns and smoke inhalation, I don’t want to compromise his respiration any further.”
Pirate’s head looked disproportionately big, so Sam was relieved to hear the colt’s face was swollen for the same reasons she was rubbing her eyes and sniffing through a nose that felt twice its normal size.
Dr. Scott’s hand hovered above the light patch surrounding the colt’s eye. It was red, instead of white. Was the skin beneath the white hair more delicate? The vet frowned with such intense concentration, Sam kept her question for later.
“I’m going to need a hand getting him into the horse ambulance,” the vet said, then shook his head. “I hate to take him away from everything he knows. I’ll put another horse with him at the clinic, but he won’t like waking up without his band.”
“Will he be all right?” Sam asked, finally.
The vet’s lips pressed in a hard line. His eyes seemed to add up each detail of the colt’s condition and calculate his chances.
“Do you know what ‘guarded condition’ means?” the vet asked.
She mulled the words over for a few seconds, then guessed, “Like bad, but it could get worse?”
“Yeah.” Dr. Scott sounded discouraged. “We need to get this hole in the fence closed up, too, or we could be dealing with more injuries.”
Sam looked at Mrs. Allen’s fence. It wouldn’t stop the Phantom if he decided to run for home. And he would want out, as soon as he recovered. Wouldn’t he?
“He could jump it,” Sam said.
“Let’s hope he doesn’t want to,” Dr. Scott said, packing up his bag.
Despair puffed up inside Sam’s chest, making it hard for her to breathe. Smoke inhalation was nothing compared to this feeling. She’d never seen the silver stallion choose fences over freedom. It was unthinkable. Ace had, and after she’d foaled, so had Dark Sunshine—but not the Phantom.
Out in the pasture, he glimmered in the smoky gloom, bright as the sun that glowed through the haze overhead. She didn’t like thinking how hard it would be to bring the stallion in for examination, but at least he was near enough that she could watch over him.
Dr. Scott looked down at Pirate and shook his head. Then he squinted toward the firefighters.
“Luke,” Dr. Scott called. He shouted twice more before he got Jake’s dad’s attention. “We need a quick repair on this fence. I’m not set up to do it until I go back, and…”
Jake’s dad gave an okay sign and right away, Jake and Bryan swarmed out of the truck.
“We gotcha handled,” Bryan said as they hurried toward the ruined section of fence, then stretched yellow “fire scene” tape back and forth between the fence posts.
“They can walk right through this, I know.” Bryan took out a pocket knife as he talked to the vet. “But I’ll cut off some short pieces and tie ’em on here so they’ll flutter in the wind and maybe spook ’em back.”
“Good idea,” Dr. Scott said. It was the first time Sam had seen him smile all day. “Nice workin’ with folks who know stock,” he added.
As Sam’s eyes strayed over the blackened grass and weeds, she noticed something made of crumpled metal. It took her a few minutes to realize she was looking at one of the paint cans. How much of the damage was from the explosion and how much had it melted from the fire’s heat?
Pirate had been right next to it. No wonder he lay so still.
And the Phantom…
“’Bout time you showed up.” Dr. Scott’s grumble broke Sam’s trance. “I called you as soon as I heard. Now, I need some help loading this colt.”
It was a pained intake of breath that made Sam look up. She knew it was her horse-loving stepmother before she saw Brynna’s saddened face.
“Are we going to lose him?” Brynna asked, looking down at Pirate.
“Not if I’ve got your permission to treat him,” the vet said. He raised one brow and Sam knew Pirate’s care would be expensive.
Brynna didn’t hesitate. Sam felt a flood of relief and love as Brynna said, “Do it.”
Sam rushed to Brynna, who put an arm around her shoulders. They stood together as Bryan, Jake, and the BLM worker Sam thought of as Bale Tosser helped Dr. Scott maneuver Pirate into the trailer.
“Keep your eyes open for trouble,” he instructed Sam, as he nodded toward the huge pasture. “I’ll be back to check out the rest of them, as soon as I’ve got this guy stabilized.”
As soon as the vet’s tires crunched, moving away, Brynna enclosed Sam in a hug.
The creases in Brynna’s khaki uniform were sharp and Sam could feel the edge of the official name tag pinned to her crisp shirt. Brynna’s hair had been scraped back, then braided so the corners of her eyes showed its tightness, but there was nothing professional about Brynna’s hug. It told Sam she was loved.
“I’m okay,” Sam said, her voice muffled against Brynna’s neck. “Nothing’s wrong with me.”
“I can see that now,” Brynna managed, setting Sam back at arm’s length. “But I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster for the last thirty minutes. First, the emergency radio only called out the volunteer fire department’s brush truck.” She nodded at the vehicle. “The fire sounded like a tiny flare-up, so, even when Dr. Scott called BLM to let me know there could be wild horses involved, I wasn’t worried. Neither was Wyatt, or he never would have stayed home. You know that.”
If his new baby had been near a b
rush fire…Sam shook the jealous thought from her head. She was fourteen years old and in charge of an entire ranch. She should be able to handle an emergency like this.
And she had. It was a good thing Brynna couldn’t read minds, because that resentful notion had been just plain stupid.
“…closer I got, the worse it looked. Then, I passed Callie on the road—”
“Is she okay?” Sam interrupted.
“She looked fine to me,” Brynna said. “Where was she headed with that trailer?”
“Our ranch,” Sam said.
In her instant of hesitation, Brynna must have thought of Dad, then the money for extra hay, and finally, Western hospitality.
“Oh,” Brynna said, shrugging. “All right.”
Sam nodded. If Brynna was satisfied, was there really any reason to mention Imp and Angel? Sam decided there wasn’t. She’d find out soon enough.
“Of course, I wondered why Callie was evacuating horses, but it wasn’t until I got close enough to see flames…” Brynna bit her lip, then shook off the memory and smiled. “That was about the same time Sheriff Ballard closed the road.”
“He closed the road?” Sam asked. She could imagine the mustached sheriff, arms crossed and boots set apart as he stood beside his black-and-white police car. “How did you get through?”
“I pestered and threatened him until he realized I’d start a riot if he didn’t let me past.”
“Not really,” Sam said skeptically. How could one small woman start a riot?
“No, not really, but there were lots of good Samaritans lined up with trailers, willing to rescue the sanctuary horses, who didn’t like being kept out.”
“Like who?” Sam asked.
Brynna rattled off a list of local ranchers, including Jed Kenworthy, Jen’s dad, who had once scoffed at Mrs. Allen’s sanctuary. He couldn’t believe she’d waste money on such “good for nothin’” animals, but out here, neighborliness came first.
“By the time I reminded Heck Ballard I was a peace officer, too,” Brynna said, “he was ready to just wave me on through.”
Brynna let out a sigh. When she drew a breath to replace it, she coughed. Suddenly Sam remembered the baby. She’d been careful of each mouthful Dark Sunshine had eaten while she was in foal. She should be just as protective of Brynna, even if the whole situation made her uneasy.
“Should you be here?” Sam asked. When Brynna looked hurt, she asked, “Breathing the smoke and everything? You know?”
Once Brynna understood, her expression softened. “Thanks, honey, but I think I’ll be okay. Besides, it’s my job to look after the horses. Did you say we have an entire band out there? Were any others hurt?”
“The Phantom,” Sam said.
Brynna’s mouth opened in horror. She looked around, searching for something she dreaded seeing.
“He’s in there, with the rest of his herd,” Sam rushed on. If she stopped to take in Brynna’s sympathy, she’d start crying. And she wasn’t about to do that. “He’s burned and Dr. Scott thinks he might be deaf from the explosion—”
“Explosion? Was it the propane tank? Something left over from mining? My gosh, the house—”
Sam interrupted her. “It was from the paint cans I left out near the fence.”
Guilt avalanched down on Sam. She hadn’t had time to feel it, until now.
Sure, Mrs. Allen had talked her into leaving them there, but Mrs. Allen hadn’t been here this morning when lightning had struck.
If I’d only thought, Sam realized, I could have prevented Pirate’s injury and the Phantom’s.
“That’s an unlucky coincidence,” Brynna said sternly, as if she could keep Sam from feeling guilty. “But that’s all. And almost certainly it will be temporary.”
Temporary? Sam felt as if Brynna had boosted her into the sky.
“Are you sure? How do you know?” Sam wanted to believe it, but what if Brynna was wrong?
“Because it was a minor explosion. That doesn’t mean you won’t have some waiting to do.”
“I can wait,” Sam said, and already she imagined herself, back propped against the pasture fence, reading while the Phantom stood nearby.
Then Brynna interrupted her daydream. “Do you think I should evacuate them all to Willow Springs?” Brynna asked.
Sam caught her breath. As always, Brynna trusted her instincts about horses, but this time the burden was heavier than usual.
The mustangs would be safer at Willow Springs, but once there, it would be simple to vaccinate and freeze-brand the horses, then put them up for adoption. And she wanted them to stay free.
She tried to focus on Brynna’s question, though, instead of letting her feelings run away with her.
“I don’t think we’ll need to evacuate,” she said, sensibly. “If the fire doesn’t turn back this way, they’re okay here. I have to stay and watch Mrs. Allen’s place, anyhow, so I’ll keep watch. Besides, Callie will be back.”
At the mention of Callie, Brynna’s mouth tightened in a straight line. She gave her head a small disapproving shake.
“What?” Sam asked. She knew Brynna had approved Callie’s adoption of Queen. And she’d thought it was okay for the two of them to take care of Mrs. Allen’s ranch. So what was she frowning about?
“Nothing.” Brynna said. “Or if—” She shook her head again. “It can wait. Right now I’ll go talk with Luke and the chief from Darton and see if they can predict what this fire will do next.”
Brynna took a small leather-bound notebook from her pocket.
“If all their graze was burned off,” she said, eyes doing a quick assessment of the terrain, “I’d board them here and arrange to pay Trudy for their food, but I don’t think it will be necessary. It looks like there’s still plenty to eat.
“Besides, if we keep them off their territory for too long—well, you know how wild horses can be. That black horse you call Moon will be back, or another stallion just like him, and the Phantom will have a fight on his hands. Hooves, I mean,” Brynna amended, smiling as she closed her notebook.
Brynna was trying to joke about it, but could the Phantom battle another stallion in silence? Every snort and neigh was a clue to his opponent’s weakness. If he couldn’t hear them, he’d be handicapped.
Sam swallowed hard and looked into her stepmother’s eyes.
“Ask me,” Brynna said.
Even though she’d just brushed aside the other question, Sam knew Brynna could tell this one was serious. Brynna would answer, if Sam could get up the guts to ask.
Sam wet her lips, drew in a breath, then let it out. “What if his deafness is permanent? Would you release his herd without him?”
Chapter Nine
Brynna’s eyes widened, but then she looked away, staring out into the pasture. There wasn’t a horse in sight.
“Since he’s an adult horse and knows what to watch for on the range, I’m sure he’d survive,” Brynna said slowly, “but I’d need to do some research.”
“Do you think he’d still be a leader?” Sam knew it wasn’t a fair question, but Brynna was a biologist. She’d explain the truth, no matter how ugly.
“It’s unlikely,” Brynna said. “Horses interpret what’s around them with sight, smell, and sound. He’d be missing a full third of what he needs to know about his world.”
Sam thought of her own world. If it were divided into three parts, there’d be her family, horses, and her friends. Which third could she do without?
She couldn’t choose. And the Phantom hadn’t been allowed to choose.
“Herd stallions are always on guard,” Brynna added. “Without his full alarm system, his herd wouldn’t be as safe.”
“But mustangs don’t talk that much,” Sam protested.
“You mean neighs and whinnies,” Brynna said.
“Yeah, they move their heads and tails and ears and eyes, right? The Phantom would still have all that.”
“He would,” Brynna said. “But I think you may be g
etting all worked up about something that won’t even be an issue this time tomorrow.
“As long as I’m out here,” Brynna continued, “I want to check the herd and see if we’ve got any other injuries, or any strays. After I talk with the fire chiefs, I’ll come right back and we’ll saddle up.”
It would have been fun, riding out to check on the Phantom’s herd as they mingled with Mrs. Allen’s mustangs, but Sam couldn’t be excited. She was too afraid she’d find the Phantom in misery.
“You’re looking pretty flushed,” Brynna said, touching Sam’s cheek with the back of her hand. “Why don’t you go inside and cool off while I do business. I’ll meet you at the house as soon as I’m finished.”
An oasis couldn’t have felt more welcome than the garden path up to Mrs. Allen’s front door. Inside, Sam understood why Mrs. Allen always kept the drapes drawn. It was as good as air-conditioning, even though she didn’t like the darkness.
Alone in Mrs. Allen’s house, Sam wasn’t sure what to do. It was awful quiet without the patter of the little dog feet.
Sam looked at the kitchen clock. It was only 3:30. Had it been just this morning that she and Callie arrived? And just three hours ago that they’d been making a lunch to take to the tree house? If it had been a school day, she’d just be getting home and putting on clothes in which she could do chores, then ride.
She glanced around the house for chores. Mrs. Allen had left her house tidier than usual. Sam imagined her filling the hours until she could drive to the airport by scrubbing the kitchen sink and counters, vacuuming, dusting, and arranging her bills into neat stacks. Even the dogs’ dishes were shiny and arranged on a scrubbed plastic mat.
If Imp and Angel had been sniffing around her ankles, she’d feel less like an intruder, Sam thought.
Had Mrs. Allen called? She didn’t have an answering machine, so there was no way to tell. Maybe she’d called Gram with news she didn’t want to share with kids.
Her grandson’s legs wouldn’t move. What was his name? The least she could do was remember. Sam concentrated. Was it Josh? No…Gideon? Wait, Gabriel, that was it! She’d bet his friends called him Gabe.
