Desert Dancer

by Terri Farley

  Except one.

  Sam wasn’t surprised when Aunt Sue braked to avoid hitting the rear bumper of a champagne-colored truck driven by Linc Slocum.

  Linc had purchased the vehicle just weeks ago, in order to go cougar hunting. The last time Sam had seen it, Linc had pulled up to the bus stop, jerked open the rear doors, and practically forced her and Jen to look at the dead mother cougar in the back.

  Sam didn’t want to know what he was doing now.

  “Go around,” Sam urged Aunt Sue.

  “I recognize him,” Aunt Sue said. She glanced in her rearview mirror as she started to veer around. Sam looked, too.

  Callie and her rented truck were back quite a ways, but close enough that she’d see Aunt Sue maneuvering around something.

  “He’s the gentleman with the vivid Western language and even more colorful clothes,” Aunt Sue said.

  “Hurry,” Sam said, but it was too late.

  Waving his arms like an umpire, Linc stepped into the street right in front of them. The brakes screeched and Sam’s head snapped back with such force, she wondered if her forehead would have hit the windshield if she hadn’t been wearing a seat belt.

  “Goodness! What a fool,” Aunt Sue muttered, then turned to Sam. “Sorry, dear.”

  “Don’t apologize. Say any rotten thing you like,” Sam encouraged her aunt. “He deserves it.”

  Sam could hear the truck Callie was driving draw near. It idled behind them as Linc Slocum wobbled up on high-heeled boots. Sam stared at his belt buckle. A huge chunk of turquoise was centered in a silver square half as big as a toaster. It nearly distracted her from his slicked-back hair and salesman’s smile.

  When Linc’s face appeared at Aunt Sue’s window, she did the polite thing and lowered it.

  “Howdy, ma’am,” Linc bellowed. “Hello there, little lady.”

  Sam’s mouth had opened and she’d bet Aunt Sue’s had, too, but Linc’s delight with his own non-stop talk prevented them from responding.

  “Bet you all are wonderin’ what I’m up to, stackin’ all this good alfalfa at the roadside, and you’d be right to wonder.” He glanced at the truck behind Aunt Sue’s minivan. Still, he didn’t speed up his comments for anyone’s convenience. “There doesn’t seem to be any grass along in here.”

  Even Slocum couldn’t have missed the fact that it was winter, Sam thought.

  “Mr. Slocum, it’s been down to thirty degrees, and lower at night.”

  “I know that,” he said, as if waiting for further explanation.

  “When it’s that cold,” Sam said carefully, “grass doesn’t grow very well. You know how it’s green in the spring and brown in the winter?”

  Aunt Sue looked astounded and Linc looked as if Sam had gone off on a tangent.

  “Be that as it may,” Linc brushed aside her explanation, “I have some investors coming to check out plans for my new venture, Home on the Range.”

  The name was familiar, but it took Sam a few seconds to remember Gram’s list. That’s what she was supposed to call Mr. Slocum about. But what could that be? Sam bit the inside of her cheek to keep from asking.

  “You know the sort of investors I’m talkin’ about, ma’am,” Linc said, winking at Aunt Sue. “They’ve got a lot of wrinkles on their horns and a roll of money big enough to choke a mule.”

  “Ah,” Aunt Sue commented.

  “I want them to see some local wildlife and I figured this would bring critters down into viewing range.”

  “But Mr. Slocum,” Sam said, forcing herself to stay polite so Linc would take her advice, “the reason most people don’t feed right at the highway is because it’s dangerous. The animals cluster around the hay. They get busy eating and hardly notice the traffic.” Sam saw her words weren’t sinking in. “They could get hit by a car.”

  Maybe that had done it.

  Slocum’s mouth opened. His brow creased. With both hands, he hefted his belt and the belly it underlined. Then he wagged his finger at Sam and turned to Aunt Sue.

  “Isn’t she just the cutest thing,” Linc Slocum said. “Softhearted as a newborn lamb and no head for business a-tall.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jed Kenworthy’s truck sat in the River Bend ranch yard when Aunt Sue and Sam arrived. The vapor clouding behind its tailpipes said its engine was running.

  Jed stood near the round pen, obviously eager to get the chore finished, so he could be on his way.

  As Aunt Sue parked, Sam heard Blaze barking inside the bunkhouse. Jed must have confined the dog so he wouldn’t frighten the skittish new horse.

  “Your Blaze doesn’t sound happy,” Aunt Sue said.

  Sam nodded in agreement, pleased Aunt Sue was coming to like the animal she’d first dismissed as a dirty dog.

  Aunt Sue and Sam stood watching as Callie backed the truck and trailer toward the corral.

  Sam admired the way Callie drove, but she didn’t admit it.

  She resented the other girl’s maturity, just as she resented her adoption of the Phantom’s lead mare. Her feelings might not be fair, but she couldn’t ignore them.

  “Her other plan fell through,” Aunt Sue said, as if she knew what Sam was thinking. “There wasn’t much else we could do.”

  “I know,” Sam said, but she was more interested in Ace’s plaintive neighs, telling her to come play.

  “Later, boy,” Sam called. Then, before Aunt Sue could read her mind anymore, she added, “I’m going to run over there so I have a better view when Jed starts to unload her.”

  She’d just reached the corral when Jed released Queen from the trailer.

  He stepped aside as the mare leaped out like a huge jungle cat. She almost went down from the sudden impact on her damaged hoof, but instantly she was up. Swift and silent, she ran for the closest fence, then slid to a stop. Her head jerked up in surprise, scattering her dark red forelock over her face. The hair separated over brown eyes that blinked in confusion. Then she swung away from the fence with a snort. She ran up to another section of six-foot-high rails and stared at it.

  At last, Queen returned to the center of the pen. Her barrel shook with a neigh of longing and Sam knew the mare finally understood. Although this corral might look different and smell different than the one at Willow Springs, she still couldn’t escape.

  Wind snapped Callie’s velvet cloak as she approached.

  “I understand that she’s safe here. I wish she did,” Callie said. With a soft smile, she added, “But she will. Isn’t she wonderful?”

  “Beautiful,” Sam agreed, but she was watching Jen’s father come toward them. He looked just as quarrelsome as Jen had at the wedding.

  “Not a bad-looking horse,” he said, as if he’d guessed at their conversation. “Too lightweight for my taste. I’d say she hard-wintered, but it’s not yet January. Winter’s got four months to go.”

  Sam knew Dad wouldn’t like it if she contradicted Jed Kenworthy. He was a lifelong cowboy and foreman of Slocum’s Gold Dust Ranch.

  Still, as Sam watched the mare circle the pen in a long, extended trot, she thought he was wrong. The red dun stretched out like a Thoroughbred, looking lean and fit, not underfed. Could it be that Jed saw her through different eyes because he didn’t like mustangs?

  “No more meat on her than a well-fed needle,” Jed added.

  Sam laughed, rolling her eyes at the cowboy expression.

  Jed ignored her. “Too bad about that hoof.” He paused to greet Aunt Sue with a touch to the brim of his Stetson. “You all plan to have this horse here when Wyatt gets home?”

  “Do you think that will be a problem?” Aunt Sue asked and a line appeared between her eyebrows.

  “Well, ma’am, Wyatt’s like most cattlemen. We like usin’ horses, ones that earn their feed. Not meaning any disrespect,” he said, grinning at Callie, “but most of these”—he jerked his thumb toward the corral—“are only good for crow bait.”

  For a minute it was quiet and Sam heard scratching from t
he direction of the bunkhouse. She’d guessed right. Blaze was locked up over there and he was eager to get out.

  “Well,” Aunt Sue said, clearing her throat. “I’m going into the kitchen to brew some cappuccino. I brought my own portable espresso maker,” she confided to Jed. “Can I interest you in a cup?”

  “No ma’am,” Jed said, and Sam was glad he withheld his opinion on fancy coffee. “I’ll go over and tell Dallas he can turn that dog loose. I don’t think he’ll bother this mare none.”

  Jen’s father had only taken a few steps when he turned back.

  “I was supposed to ask you if you’d take Silk Stockings out for a good run while Jen’s gone. She said she’d appreciate it.”

  For an instant, Sam felt as she did while standing in line for a roller-coaster.

  Sam nodded, but she didn’t say anything. That meant she hadn’t really committed to the offer, right? Jen’s palomino was beautiful, but a little crazy. Jen’s nickname for her was Silly.

  Sam wanted to ride her, but she was afraid. “Aunt Sue is kind of weird about horses,” Sam said.

  Jed nodded. “Guess you’ll want to help this young lady with her new horse, too,” he said. “I’ll tell Jen not to count on it.”

  “Uh, no,” Sam protested. Jen didn’t like Callie. She didn’t want to give Jen, far away in Utah, anything else to worry about. “I’ll see what I can work out,” Sam said.

  Then she turned to Callie. “It’s not like I’m a great rider or a real horse trainer and you’re just boarding Queen here,” Sam said. “I don’t know if—”

  “Of course I’d like your help,” Callie began.

  “Queen?” Jed asked.” Did you say that horse is named Queen? Kind of a high-toned name for such a sorry cayuse.”

  Sam and Callie both stopped talking. Sam drew a deep breath. Even if Callie didn’t recognize the cowboy word for a pathetic-looking horse, she understood his tone. And it hurt.

  As Jed Kenworthy chuckled, Callie seemed to shrink. All of the spirit she’d shown while doing her own adoption and driving the truck and trailer faded. She wet her lips, at a loss to answer Jed’s criticism.

  Sam wanted to speak up. I think the name suits her, she wanted to say, but she didn’t.

  The last thing she wanted was for Jed to tell his daughter that Sam was sticking up for Callie. Jen would think Sam had a new best friend.

  After Jed walked off to see Dallas, Sam picked up on what Callie had started to say.

  “I’d be glad to help with Queen. I’m no expert, but I know a little bit about working with mustangs.”

  “A little bit?” Callie said. “You’re practically famous for it. Everybody knows you’ve worked with the HARP horses, and I saw the way the Phantom came to you, that day at the bus stop.”

  Sam felt herself blush at the flattery, but she was pleased. She couldn’t think of anything she’d rather be “practically famous” for than working with mustangs.

  There was a metallic sound as Jen’s dad opened his truck door. Sam looked after him, hoping Callie wouldn’t ask why the man was so mean.

  Sam could only think of one thing, and that couldn’t be it.

  Jed Kenworthy couldn’t be petty enough to ridicule Callie just because she looked different than most local girls. Could he?

  “I’ll go get poor Ace,” Sam said as her gelding gave another longing whinny.

  “He loves you, doesn’t he?” Callie asked.

  “Either that, or he wants to get a look at the new girl,” Sam said, nodding toward Queen. “I’ll be right back.”

  Ace was so excited to see her as she came into the barn, Sam made sure she reached over and snapped a lead rope on his halter before she opened the stall door. Even then, she stood slightly behind the door instead of right in the opening.

  It was a good thing, because Ace seemed determined to leave the barn without her. “Hey! This isn’t a starting gate,” Sam told him.

  The gelding took her warning to heart, apparently, because he circled back. The lead rope hung slack between them as Ace waited.

  “There’s my good boy,” Sam said, but she wasn’t fooled. “Oh yes, you’re very sweet,” she said as Ace whuffled his lips against her neck. “But I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

  Sam kept the end of the rope coiled in one hand, and the other hand closer to his chin as she took him over to Callie. Sure enough, Ace’s strides lengthened, his ears pricked up, and he uttered a low, inquiring nicker when he saw what Callie was holding.

  “Your aunt brought us cupcakes,” Callie said. She smooched at Ace, but gently shouldered his muzzle aside. “You’re cute,” she told him, “but there’s not enough for three.”

  Sam took the package Callie offered. Gram wouldn’t believe the stuff Aunt Sue had brought along or that she was offering chocolate cupcakes before lunch.

  “I don’t have to go to work today,” Callie said. “But I have to take the truck back pretty soon. What do you think we should do until then?”

  “Well, this is where I try to think like a horse,” Sam said. Ace slung his head over her shoulder and rubbed his cheek against hers. “Take a look at this faker, for instance. He likes me fine, but it doesn’t take a mind reader to see his drooling has to do with the cupcakes, not me.”

  Callie laughed, but then her eyes wandered to Queen. As if the mare felt them watching her, she trotted to the far side of the round pen.

  “We had horses when I was growing up, and my mom said I was good with them, but thinking like a horse? I’m not sure I can do that,” Callie said.

  “You already have,” Sam told her. “When we were up at Willow Springs and Queen was all agitated from being loaded, you distracted her. You knew she’d be interested in the sound of your rain stick, and you were right.”

  When Callie began shaking her head, as if anyone with a brain could have figured that out, Sam gave her another example.

  “And look what you just did.”

  “What?”

  “You could have just crinkled up that cellophane wrapper, making a loud noise that would have startled Ace and frightened Queen. Instead, you folded it into a teeny square and slipped it into your pocket.”

  “It can’t be that easy,” Callie said.

  “Not always,” Sam admitted. “But if you go with your feelings and remember two things, you can come pretty close.”

  “What two things?” Callie asked.

  “Horses are prey animals,” Sam whispered, as if she didn’t want Ace to hear. “In the backs of their minds, they’re always thinking something’s going to eat them. The second thing is, they only feel safe when they’re in their herd.”

  “So she’s probably feeling lonely,” Callie said, watching the mare. “Or at least, kind of exposed.”

  “That’s what I think,” Sam said. “Consider what she’s been through in the last few days.” Sam let her eyes lose focus as she stared at the mare. For a minute, it was almost as if the horse’s experiences were a movie. “She was probably left behind by the herd because she couldn’t keep up. She must have been hurting and feeling abandoned. Then, if they herded her in by helicopter—”

  “What would she think it was?” Callie wondered. “A noisy hawk, a giant mosquito?”

  “Who knows,” Sam said. “Imagine, when she smelled the other horses, but before she could get to them, she was trapped in a squeeze chute for shots and a freeze brand.”

  “I bet that hurt,” Callie said.

  “They say not nearly as painful as a red-hot branding iron,” Sam said slowly. “I think I could stand the touch of something really cold easier than something really hot.”

  Callie nodded, but she was still imagining Queen’s arrival at Willow Springs.

  “And then, when they let her out—” Callie broke off, covering her mouth. “She found out that the other horses were strangers. They might not even have been nice to her.”

  Sam swallowed hard. She was glad Callie had begun thinking like a horse. She jus
t hoped she wasn’t projecting her own experiences on Queen.

  “And then the food was all wrong,” Sam hurried on.

  “Oh yeah, they don’t have hay in the wild, of course.”

  “And just when she was getting used to the weird food—”

  “We brought her here,” Callie said. “Do you think we should turn her out with the other horses?” Callie turned toward the ten-acre pasture. “I mean, you have other mustangs here, don’t you?”

  “Three of them,” Sam said. “Including this noisy pony right here.”

  Sam traced her fingers over the light-colored patch on Ace’s shaggy bay coat. The angular code wasn’t easy to read, but it proved he’d been captured by BLM.

  “And there’s Popcorn, the albino out there,” Sam said, pointing. “And Dark Sunshine, the buckskin right next to Popcorn.”

  “She’s a pudgy little girl, isn’t she?” Callie asked.

  “She’s in foal,” Sam corrected.

  Callie’s cheeks turned bright red. “How stupid. Of course she is. When is her baby due?”

  “In the spring, I don’t know the exact date, but we’re pretty sure the sire is the Phantom.”

  “How incredibly lucky,” Callie said, as she looked back at Queen.

  All at once, Sam wondered how she could have been so dense. The fine-boned red mare trotting laps in the round pen was the Phantom’s lead mare. There was an excellent chance she was in foal to him, too.

  In just a few months, Callie Thurston could own the Phantom’s lead mare and his baby. There was nothing Sam could do about it. In fact, there was no reason she should, but jealousy sped through her veins like lightning and Sam decided she’d keep that secret to herself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam’s mind spun with envy.

  But Callie had just asked a question and she was waiting for an answer.

  “I think we should leave Queen where she is,” Sam managed. A breeze blew through just then and Sam was amazed at its frigidity. She pulled her jacket closer, but the wind seemed to slice right through. “We do have other mustangs, but if we turn her out with them, I don’t think we’d ever get her back in this round pen where we can work with her.”