by Terri Farley
“Don’t forget,” Jake said finally. “I’m the one who picked you up after that cougar attack. You were probably in shock, and you were for sure shaken up. Your jacket was ripped with stuffing flying out, but you came walking down that shale hillside, out of a dark passageway, looking like the happiest kid in the world.”
Sam started to deny it.
“Don’t waste your breath, Brat. You were flying. And we both know why.”
That night, Sam dreamed, again, of falling.
This time the dream was different. She still cartwheeled through night air, still passed a silver blur of stars, but then she was plummeting into water. All around her, it flowed brilliant turquoise, and she was going down toes first.
At last, her toes touched the bottom. Her calf muscles bunched and she pushed off. Bubbles streamed all around her as she jetted up toward the light. And when she broke the surface, a hot orange sun warmed her face.
As before, Sam woke to darkness and the sound of Cougar resettling himself on the quilt beside her. She stroked the kitten’s fur, but he twisted and turned, trying to find a more comfortable position.
This time, Sam’s heart wasn’t pounding, but Aunt Sue’s words played back as clearly as if she were listening to a tape recorder.
One of the saddest things in life is to take something that gives you joy and let it get ruined.
Sam’s sleep-bleary mind sorted through images as if they were snapshots. She saw herself riding across War Drum Flats with Jen, then catching Champ after Linc Slocum had fallen from the lively palomino. She saw herself riding through the snowstorm to rescue an orphaned foal, and then she imagined leading Teddy Bear home with an injured Jake clinging to the saddle horn.
She tossed to her other side, trying to make sense of it all.
“Too tired,” Sam murmured to Cougar.
Claws sheathed inside a velvety paw, the kitten gave Sam’s cheek a gentle bat.
“Does that mean ‘shut up’?” Sam asked.
She pulled the sleepy kitten into a hug.
“Mrow,” Cougar said, and together they slept.
Chapter Eighteen
Early the next morning, Quinn called to tell Sam that her joke had gotten him in trouble.
“Jake’s threatening to tell Dad how I helped you, unless I come over for Chip and Witch. Brian’s driving into Darton to the library around noon, so he’s gonna drop me and I’ll need to ride Chip and pony Witch home.”
“Sorry,” Sam said. “I didn’t mean for you to suffer.”
“I haven’t suffered much yet.” Quinn laughed. “And it woulda been worth it if I coulda been there when Jake found his horse. You’ve got to tell me all about it. When I asked him, all he said was she looked like someone’s pet poodle.”
“She looked cute,” Sam protested, but Quinn was already saying good-bye.
Sam hung up, took a bite of the quiche Aunt Sue had made for breakfast and decided the least she could do was catch Chocolate Chip and Witch before Quinn arrived. Jake had put them into the ten-acre pasture with the other saddle horses before he left last night.
The phone rang as she was washing her plate.
“Hi honey, I miss you.” Dad’s voice sounded younger than Sam had ever heard it.
“I miss you, too, Daddy,” Sam said, realizing she’d used her childhood name for him. “But we’re fine. Are you having fun?”
“Big fun,” he said. “Walking all over this town. So much that I had to get new shoes.”
Sam smiled as she imagined Dad strolling hilly San Francisco in his cowboy boots.
“Are you shopping and going to plays?” she asked.
“Yeah, and hitting the aquarium and museums, too. Brynna’s leading me around like a sow on a string,” he said, but laughter filled his voice. “Things okay there?”
“Just fine,” she said. Her eyes met Aunt Sue’s. Would her aunt tell Dad about Queen?
“Weather okay?”
“We had some sleet, but Dallas and the Elys went out and checked on the stock. Today’s gray and over-cast, but it looks like the sun will burn through in a little while. Everything’s fine.”
“Good,” Dad said.
Sam told herself it was just guilt that made her think she heard a tinge of suspicion in Dad’s voice.
She heard Brynna speaking in the background before Dad added, “So, if we decided to rent a car and drive back home, that wouldn’t be a problem?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “We’re doing fine.”
Sam realized she’d said fine way too many times. She had to quit. If Dad hadn’t started out suspicious, she’d make him that way.
“Uh, Brynna wants to talk with you,” Dad said, and there was a jumble of sound as the receiver was passed along.
“Sam!” Brynna sounded like a cheerleader. Enthusiasm bubbled in her voice. “How are the horses? Did you go up to Willow Springs? Is Norman White—?” Brynna’s voice broke off. “Okay, your dad just reminded me we’ve only been gone a couple days and it’s unlikely Norman White could reduce the entire BLM to rubble so fast.”
“He was okay,” Sam said. “But hey, it’s not okay, is it, for Linc Slocum to be feeding mustangs out next to the highway? He wants some guests of his to see them. He—”
“Definitely not okay,” Brynna’s voice turned clipped and official. “If the horses stumble upon supplemental feeding for cattle, or if there’s an emergency hay drop, that’s one thing, but if you see him doing it, call Norman White right away.”
Next Dad wanted to talk with Aunt Sue.
Sam had almost made it out the kitchen door to the stable when Aunt Sue hung up the phone and called her back.
“One hour of housework, then the day is yours,” Aunt Sue told her. “Dallas is feeding the animals before he goes to Clara’s for coffee, so don’t even think of using that excuse. When we’re finished, I plan to drive into Alkali or Darton, or wherever I have to go to get what I need to make peanut brittle.”
“That’s Dad’s favorite!” Sam said.
“Louise mentioned that once,” Aunt Sue said. “And there’s no reason I shouldn’t whip some up for him. I could wait and send him some from the city, but I’m learning it’s not always a good idea to wait.”
Aunt Sue held her arms open and Sam met her hug halfway. For a full minute, Aunt Sue rested her cheek atop Sam’s head. Then she held her back at arm’s length.
“Now, my little Cinderella,” Aunt Sue said, using her fingers to comb the hair back from Sam’s eyes. “Get in there and make that kitchen shine.”
The house looked pretty good at the end of the hour, and Sam promised she’d help keep it that way until Dad and Brynna returned. Next, she called Willow Springs to tell Mr. White what Slocum was up to. When no one answered, she left a message on Mr. White’s answering machine and hoped he’d check it soon.
As soon as Aunt Sue drove off in her minivan, Sam released Blaze from the house.
“Go get ’em!” Sam cheered the dog on. There wasn’t anyone or anything that needed “getting,” but the Border collie searched nonetheless.
Blaze ran three circuits of the ranch yard, passing the chicken coop, swerving left in front of the barn, veering toward the bunkhouse, then back to the front porch to start over again.
As much as he liked the scraps and tidbits Aunt Sue tossed him, Blaze would probably be glad to return to his routine once she left.
Because she’d entangled Quinn in getting back at Jake, Sam was determined to have Chocolate Chip caught, brushed, and saddled when Quinn arrived. It was the least she could do, and it turned out to be a fairly simple chore. When Strawberry trotted up to see what Sam was doing in the pasture, Chip followed.
Catching Witch, however, was impossible.
When Callie arrived to work with Queen, Sam was approaching the black mare, shaking a measure of grain in a coffee can.
Afraid to wave “hi” with the hand holding the lead rope, Sam just lifted her chin toward Callie when the girl yelled
a greeting out her Jeep window.
Eyes fixed on Witch, Sam heard the Jeep stop and its door slam. Then the pen gate opened. She didn’t hear it latch into place behind Callie.
That wasn’t good. She listened for Callie to check the latch. She might have missed it, because Witch was showing a little interest. She was still halfway across the pasture, but Witch extended her neck and her head jerked upward with a hungry snort.
Even if the gate hadn’t latched, it might be for the best. Queen had never charged Callie, but there was always a first time, and no one was at the gate standing guard. If she was in danger, Callie might race for the gate instead of climbing up and over the fence.
For safety’s sake, Sam knew she should be over there, watching Callie and Queen. She’d give Witch five more minutes to cooperate.
“Come on, Witch. I’ve got some sweet grain here. Smell that molasses? Oh yum.”
Witch’s ears flicked forward, then back. She swished her tail, flashed her teeth at Dark Sunshine, then crossed the pasture to stand beside old Amigo.
Dallas’s sorrel gelding had gray around his eyes and muzzle. As Witch stood near him, the veteran cow pony’s lips moved. When Witch tossed her head and snorted, Sam imagined Witch was telling Amigo how insulted she was that Sam would think she’d fall for that ancient trick.
Sam decided she’d just have to let Quinn catch Witch.
“You win,” Sam called out to the black mare. “But Quinn will be here soon, and he won’t put up with your nonsense.”
Sam was halfway between the big pasture and the barn when she noticed Blaze. Head and tail low, he skulked toward the new pen where Callie was working with Queen.
“Blaze!” Sam called out, but the dog paced faster. “Get over here!”
She slapped her hand against the side seam of her jeans, trying to break the dog’s concentration, but he ignored her and broke into a trot.
Sam increased her pace. She saw a flash of red through the fence rails and heard Queen moving restlessly.
Sam didn’t want to yell and scare the dun. Queen could bolt into Callie and injure her. But she had to warn Callie to close the gate.
Don’t be silly, she told herself. He’s not going to start yapping and scare Queen. He won’t flatten himself and slip under the lowest fence rail to sneak in, either.
He’s a ranch dog. He knows how to act around horses. But Blaze had been Aunt Sue’s prisoner for days. He might not be himself right now.
By the time Sam figured out what Blaze was up to, it was too late to stop him.
The Border collie trotted to the unlatched gate and jumped up.
Sam broke into a full run. Please let me get there first, she thought.
Blaze jumped a second time, and Sam knew for sure that he intended to slip into the pen and investigate the new horse.
“No!” Callie shouted from inside the pen as the gate opened.
Blaze jumped back with a yelp. The gate slammed wide, just as it had before when she’d been opening it for Jake.
This time Queen knew exactly what to do. She stampeded through the opening, alone. A lead rope streamed behind her. Sam ran to grab it, but she couldn’t get near the mare. Queen didn’t detour near the ten-acre pasture. Before, she’d hesitated, but now she knew the way out and she was headed for home.
“I tried to hold on!” Callie staggered out of the pen. Her forearms were skinned and bleeding.
“Are you okay?” Sam shouted.
“I’m okay, but her hoof—”
Chocolate Chip was saddled and tied near the front porch.
“I’ll go after her,” Sam said.
The big brown gelding tossed his head with excitement. He neighed and pulled, agitated by all the commotion.
“We can’t let her run on that hoof!” Callie cried.
“I know! Call Jake,” Sam yelled, trying to approach the eager horse. “Call Mr. White, or anybody.”
“I want to come with you,” Callie insisted.
“Go saddle Ace,” Sam said, as she petted Chip’s neck. She didn’t shout, so maybe Callie didn’t hear, but she had her hands full right now.
Quinn had boasted his gelding was fast, the only horse that could catch Witch. That meant Chip would have no trouble catching up with Queen. If only Quinn was here to ride.
“Settle down,” Sam ordered, and Chip did. His hooves stuttered in place, but he was eager for her to mount. He snorted and looked back at her.
Sam put her hands on her hips and met the gelding’s eyes. She’d been home for seven months. She knew how to ride. Even in new situations, the old rules applied. And rule number one was that there was only one leader in the herd.
“I’m taking charge, Chip,” Sam told the gelding. “I can do this.”
She jammed the toe of her left boot into the saddle stirrup. The leather was adjusted for Quinn and it was way too long.
For an instant, Sam considered riding with the stirrups that way. She could still climb up into the saddle, but she remembered how Jake had ridden bareback. What a disaster. Riding with flapping stirrups would be equally foolhardy.
Working quickly, she took both stirrups up. She slipped the bit into Chip’s mouth and unsnapped the rope holding him to the hitching rail. Then she swung into the saddle.
The horse swerved in a wide arc. Sam had a hard time keeping her seat as Chip turned toward the bridge like a barrel racer headed for the way out.
The big brown horse moved into a hammering trot before Sam gave him a signal to go. She had to let him know she was the boss. Sam gathered her reins and sat into him.
“We’re going to run, Chip,” she told him. “But we’ll do it when I say so, got it?”
The horse lifted his head and knees. He snorted and pranced, then settled into a perfectly collected lope.
Nice, Sam thought. Maybe I’ll live through this after all.
Coming off the bridge, Sam wished she’d asked Jake where he’d found Queen the first time. Horses were creatures of habit.
But it was too late for regret. Sam leaned right, deciding the mare would have run along the river on this side, rather than try to cross over on her damaged hoof.
She saw horses.
At first Sam thought Queen had crossed the highway to the hay bales left by Slocum. Even from this distance, she knew none of the horses was Queen. Maybe the lead mare had headed toward Gold Dust Ranch where there were lots of other horses to command.
Feeling her indecision, Chip pulled toward the river.
“I’m still here,” she told him, and used her hands and legs to underline the message.
All at once she recognized the horses on the far side of the highway. Two blood bays meandered along, munching hay with the rest of the Phantom’s herd.
On the near side of the highway, right in her path if she continued on this trail, Sam saw five more horses, a buckskin and several bays including that leggy colt with a white patch over his eye. Their heads flew up and their nostrils fluttered as they inspected Chip.
Horror swept over Sam like a crashing wave. The herd was divided by the highway. Startled by a passing car or truck, they’d reunite.
Every moment of their lives had told them safety was in the herd. No one had taught them to look both ways for traffic.
Think, Sam told herself. Should she try to get them back together now, before something scared them?
And where was Queen? All she needed was for the dun to show up and run gathering laps around her band.
All at once, Sam felt the odd static that came with a lightning storm.
The sky changed from gray to an eerie red and a splashing sound drew Sam’s attention to her left. For a minute, she couldn’t tell what made the splash. Sun filtered through the clouds and shone on the river, turning it red. Then she saw Queen, scattering red drops as she ran through the shallows of La Charla.
More hooves drew Sam’s attention away from Queen and up the stair-step mesas leading to the Calico Mountains.
A big p
aint with red-brown spots on a creamy body raced toward the divided herd and Sam knew from the animal’s determined stride that a new lead mare had been crowned.
Beyond her, the Phantom came down from his ridge top lookout.
His flowing mane and tail caught the ruddy light as he moved down the hillside. This time, he didn’t float. There was an urgency to his gait that frightened Sam.
Queen saw it, too. She splashed out of the river and ran clumsily toward the five horses on the near side of the highway. Suddenly she stopped, but Sam didn’t think she was daunted by the paint mare.
Queen stood on three legs, calling sharply to the herd. Relieved but full of pity, Sam knew the dun would not be leaving with the herd. The horses glanced at Queen, but did not obey.
Suddenly, every horse stood alert, but they weren’t heeding the new lead mare or the Phantom. The sound of an engine warned Sam to look up the highway.
Linc Slocum’s beige Cadillac led a motorcade of three black limousines. They would come between the horses in about a minute.
Sam knew what she had to do.
Now, before the cars reached this stretch of road flanked by mustangs, she had to get the herd together.
But it meant riding at a run on Chip.
It meant riding across asphalt.
It meant possible entanglement with Queen, the paint, and the Phantom as they tried to gather the herd at the same time she was.
Fear of falling gripped Sam until the instant the Phantom’s neigh rang louder than the approaching cars.
Sam sighed. Long ago, she’d vowed to help the silver stallion and his herd stay safe and free. She had to keep her promise.
As the five wild horses nearest to her drifted in indecision, she set Chip after them. Awkward but strong-minded, Queen closed on this half of the herd as well.
Sam felt Chip’s sureness as he noticed he had a herding partner.
Up the highway, Slocum slowed his car to a crawl. Behind him, one limousine stopped and two men in suits disembarked to watch as the buckskin skittered.
“Don’t fall, please don’t fall,” Sam begged.
The blood bays on the far side of the highway surged forward to meet the buckskin, but the big paint mare cut them off her body, then scolded with an angry whinny.
