Red Feather Filly

by Terri Farley

  “We won’t stop to sleep, either.”

  Sam wanted to jerk Chip to a stop so sudden, he’d tuck his haunches under and Jake would slide off, onto the ground. But that would be mean. Chip had a tender mouth and was used to being ridden on a loose rein.

  Just then, Chip’s entire body tensed. He’d spotted the filly.

  Her stark black-and-white coat stood out against the stand of juniper where she’d sought shade from the midday sunshine. She stood tall, head turned their way with ears pricked forward.

  “I see her,” Jake muttered. “Let’s go.”

  Sam sent Chip forward. Instinctively, he knew what they were doing. He shook his head against the reins, fighting to break into his breed’s lightning-fast sprint for a quarter mile.

  “We had this talk before,” Sam told Chip. “I’m the boss and I want you to save it.”

  Chip settled into a smooth, ground-eating lope.

  “’Bout time,” Jake complained, but then they both watched the filly.

  Understanding this had turned into pursuit, she ran, dodging clumps of sagebrush and boulders, jumping a dry riverbed.

  “Just keep her in sight,” Jake said.

  “That’s what I’m doing,” Sam told him.

  After thirty minutes, the filly showed no sign of slowing.

  Jake had instinctively leaned forward into Chip’s lope, and Sam was sick of it.

  “You’re crowding me,” she complained.

  “Sorry.” Jake drew back, sounding embarrassed.

  “It’s okay,” she told him.

  A dark rise of earth littered with granite boulders showed just ahead. As the filly scaled it, they could hear her grunts.

  Was she finally tiring? Sam urged Chip on faster. Jake’s plan was to get within a quarter mile, a horse’s natural flight distance, then dismount and pursue her on foot for as long as he could.

  In two strong surges, Chip passed over deer trails twining through the dust. He was atop the mound and Sam felt one of Jake’s running shoes graze her boot as he got ready to dismount.

  The top of the mound was level and Chip came almost to a dead stop. Sam’s heels flared away in the stirrup irons, ready to give Chip a boot, but the filly was gone.

  Thick with juniper, the other side of the mound descended back to level range that was greener than the territory they’d just covered, but nothing moved.

  Chip tugged on the reins. His chocolate ears tipped forward. His hooves danced lightly in indecision. He sniffed and his head swung from side to side, searching.

  Sam fanned herself with her Stetson. When had the temperature soared?

  “It’s not your fault,” Sam said, rubbing Chip’s wet neck. “We lost her.”

  A gull coasted overhead. His cry sounded a lot like laughter.

  Sweat dripped into Sam’s eyes and the small of her back was itchy. It had been chilly when they’d started this run, but now she wanted to shuck off her jacket and throw it on the desert floor.

  Sam heard the wind in the gull’s feathers as his wings tilted his body right, then left, chuckling as he watched the stupid humans.

  She was about to dismount and grab a rock to scare him away, when she felt Jake hop off Chip.

  He stood next to her stirrup just long enough to tighten the thong holding his black hair.

  “We didn’t lose her,” he whispered, “She’s hiding. Right there.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chip trembled, leaning forward to stare in the direction Jake pointed.

  Darn, this was just like tracking with Jake. He saw things that were invisible to normal humans.

  Placing each footstep precisely, Jake started down. Brush grabbed at his sweatpants, but he moved with a quick and soundless stealth.

  Chip tugged at the bit, wanting to follow. Sam kept her reins snug. When Jake did flush the filly from hiding—and she knew he would—Chip couldn’t be stampeding over them.

  The clink of Chip’s bit must have told the filly she was no longer safe.

  Black-and-white hide glinted as the filly broke cover and ran. Jake slipped, skidded after her, then regained his feet and settled into his stride.

  Now what?

  Jake’s secret plan hadn’t included directions for this. Sam looked at her watch.

  They had plenty of daylight left, but the filly’s short rest had revitalized her. She ran full out, raising a rooster tail of dust until she passed a row of black sawtooth rocks sticking up from the desert floor.

  When the filly stopped to look back, Sam recognized her strategy.

  Prey animals survived by getting out of reach first, then turning to see what was after them.

  Jake stopped, too, showing the filly he’d only chase if she ran.

  The filly wasn’t frightened by him, but she didn’t understand, either. Jake wasn’t acting like any human she’d encountered before.

  She made a prancing path among rocks and gave her mane a playful toss.

  It’s been a lonely, boring day without the others, she seemed to say, so come on and chase me.

  She bolted, but Jake didn’t rush after her. He kept his stride smooth. Once he’d reached the sawtooth rocks, Sam let Chip go on.

  The sky had turned dusky gray when the filly stopped once more and lowered her head.

  Jake halted, too. When he did, Sam held up the canteen, hoping he’d look back and remember he needed to stay hydrated.

  He didn’t take his eyes off the filly.

  A lowered head could signal a weary horse, ready to give in and accept a leader, but Sam couldn’t believe it had happened so soon, unless the filly was remembering that humans could be kind.

  Sam stood in her stirrups for a better view. She tightened her reins. Chip slowed to a jolting jog, then stopped.

  Sam saw a greenness on the plain where the filly had stopped.

  Of course—water. The filly wasn’t lowering her head to give in. She was smart enough to take a drink. Sam did the same, wishing Jake would, too.

  Sam leaned low on Chip’s neck, massaging the gelding’s shoulder.

  “You’re a good, strong boy,” she told the big horse. He stamped as if he agreed wholeheartedly. “I’d let Ace take a turn if I could, but he’s back at the tent. Besides, it looks like we’re about to have Jake back up in the saddle, and Ace can’t carry double.”

  Ahead, Jake rested his hands on his hips. He still didn’t look at Sam. He stretched one leg behind him, then the other. She’d bet he was trying to keep his muscles from cramping without moving toward the filly.

  The pinto watched Jake. Head still lowered, she stared across the green pool, ears pointed right at him. Slowly, legs braced to run, she raised her head about halfway up. With water dripping from her muzzle, she took two steps toward him.

  Oh, yeah, Sam thought as Jake retreated two steps, a teeny bit of progress.

  The filly tossed her head, then stood still. She gave a loud inquisitive snort, then jogged on.

  “Guess I was wrong, Chip,” Sam said, because Jake was following the filly once more.

  It was full dark and Sam had let the monotony of the chase lull her into gazing blindly into the darkness, when she realized Jake had stopped up ahead of her.

  “Water,” he said.

  Before Sam could hand it down to him, he placed his palms wide apart on Chip’s shoulder and rested his forehead against the horse.

  “Jake, are you all right?” She’d never seen him make such a weary gesture.

  “No, it’s killin’ me, but at least I’m not doin’ it under a blazing sun.” He kept one hand against the horse as he took the canteen and leaned his head back to drink.

  Sam watched his throat move in long gulps.

  “Jake, you’d better stop,” she cautioned. “When a horse has had this much exertion, you don’t over-water him.”

  He ignored her, finished drinking, and peeled off his sweatshirt. He used it to mop his mouth, then the rest of his face.

  Sam noticed he had a soft cott
on rope knotted around his waist. Clearly he meant to put it around the filly’s neck if she ever stopped.

  “What’s she doing?” he asked, since Sam was still facing the filly.

  Sam peered through the darkness. The filly stood less than a quarter mile away. Her white markings were still visible, and she held her head to one side as if eavesdropping, while her long mane draped her shoulder.

  “Just standing there,” Sam said.

  First, Jake began coughing. Next, he grabbed at his stomach.

  “Cramps.” He gasped, wrapping his arms around his stomach.

  It wasn’t like Jake to wait too long to drink, or to drink too fast and too much once he did.

  “Oh, shoot,” he said, with a mocking laugh at his own foolishness, “calves, too.”

  It took Sam a second to remember the painful muscle cramps she’d gotten some nights after playing basketball, but as Jake yanked up the legs of his sweatpants and rubbed at his calves, grimacing, she remembered and started to get down.

  “No!” Jake pumped his arm in her direction. “Stay on. If she takes off, you’ve got to keep her in sight.”

  Sam stayed in the saddle and divided her attention between watching Jake walk two unsteady laps around Chip, and peering through the darkness toward the filly.

  “She’s still just watching us. Want something to eat?” she asked.

  “I don’t. It might make me puke,” Jake said.

  Sam gave a short laugh. This manhood initiation thing was showing her a whole other side of Jake Ely.

  “You’ve been running for about two hours. Probably close to a marathon.”

  The faint praise cheered him up.

  “Just give me one of those energy bars.”

  As Jake chewed, Sam glanced at the moon. It would be full in a couple of nights. If they were still out here, following this filly around, they wouldn’t have time to get her ready for the race.

  Sam glanced back at the filly.

  “Jake,” she said quietly. “Don’t turn around, but I’m sure she’s come toward us a few steps.”

  “What’s she doing with her lips?”

  Sam laughed again. “Are you getting delirious, Ely? It’s dark. I can barely see something the size of a horse. I can’t see her lips move.”

  Sam knew what he was waiting for, though. The mouthing movements of a weary, ready-to-give-in horse.

  “I think we need to push her all night,” Jake said, ending with a yawn.

  “Much as I hate to admit it, I bet you’re right,” Sam said. “I’ve been thinking she might go back to the lake at dawn, and if there are no other horses there—”

  “She might accept me,” Jake finished.

  “Or Chip,” Sam suggested. “Do you want to ride now? I promise not to complain about your sweat.”

  “Thanks, Brat, but I’m gonna hold out a while.” He turned back in the filly’s direction. “Maybe she’ll just let me walk up and put this rope around her neck and then we can all go in the tent and sleep.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Sam said, though the tent and a warm sleeping bag sounded like heaven. “Oh—”

  She’d almost said “oh yuck” as Jake pulled the dirty sweatshirt back over his head, but then she realized how cold it had turned. She was glad to be wearing the coat she’d wanted to throw on the ground a while ago.

  “‘Oh’ what?”

  “I forget what I was going to say. Just go ahead and see how close she’ll let you get.”

  Once Jake took five steps, the pinto resumed her run. In the moonlight, Sam watched the long, white legs carrying the filly across the range. They looked delicate in the moonlight, but the filly knew where she was going. Jake was more at risk than she was.

  While they got a head start, Sam let Chip drop his muzzle down to sniff out some grass. Holding her reins in her teeth for just a few seconds, Sam pulled some jerky out of a sealed plastic pouch in the saddlebag. She ate it, washed it down with water, then clucked to Chip.

  “Time to go, boy,” she said. The good-natured Quarter horse blew through his lips, moved into a grudging jog, and kept up the pace until midnight.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Drumbeats, Sam thought.

  She blinked and straightened. How could she have heard drumbeats?

  Her back ached. She wished for her own Western saddle. Old as it was, it seemed comfy as a living-room chair compared to this little exercise saddle.

  Those drumbeats must have pounded in her imagination. Probably, she’d been half dreaming.

  No. There they were again. Not drumbeats, but hooves.

  Chip stopped and neighed into the night.

  Sam rubbed her eyes and listened. She forked her fingers through her hair, then pressed her nails against her scalp, trying to wake up.

  Where am I? she wondered. She didn’t have a clear idea of how the tribal lands looked on a map. Mac had said these fifty acres were fenced, though, so they couldn’t get lost.

  Night lay between her and the filly. Once in a while she glimpsed the black-and-white jigsaw pattern ahead. If Chip hadn’t kept plodding, though, they might have lost her.

  The night smelled like hay and wet rocks. If she had to guess, she’d say they’d circled back toward Monument Lake.

  Still, there was no answer to Chip’s neigh, so they rode on.

  A half-hour later, Chip shied violently and nearly fell.

  “Sorry,” Jake called from the darkness. “I had to sit down a minute. There’s this blister…”

  While Sam comforted the tired Chip, Jake limped up, unbuckled the saddlebags, and rummaged around for a minute. He came up with a small flashlight and a Band-Aid.

  “Mmmm, feels like heaven,” he murmured as he sat on the bare ground, tending his foot.

  “When you get that excited by a little bandage, it might be time to mount up,” Sam said.

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “Give me a hand.”

  She kicked her boot free of the stirrup so Jake could use it. She grabbed his wrist and hauled him onto Chip.

  The gelding gave a disgruntled snort, but that was all.

  “He’s a good horse, isn’t he?” Jake asked in a sleepy voice. “Sweeter than his sister.”

  “You know what my dad says about Witch?” Sam joked. “The only safe place is on her back.”

  Jake chuckled and yawned. In minutes, he was dozing against Sam’s back.

  It was her job to stay awake, to make sure the filly didn’t get a nap. The burden of responsibility stirred Sam. She adjusted her seat on Chip’s back, feeling wide awake.

  That was why she was pretty sure she didn’t imagine the ghost horse.

  Tatters of fog had drifted off the lake, obscuring all but sound.

  The glowing blue-green numbers on her watch said three o’clock when she heard the clatter of many hooves, not four. She wasn’t following the filly. Or, at least, not only the filly.

  Had the Shoshone horses escaped? No, there weren’t that many hooves.

  Could the damp night air change sound?

  Maybe, but as the fog floated apart, she saw a pure white tail drifting behind a trotting horse. But black streaked the pinto’s tail and hours of pursuit had taken the zest from her trot. This was a different horse.

  Chip didn’t want to move closer, but when Sam tightened her legs and leaned forward, Chip obeyed.

  A sudden squeal, pitched as if the horse were holding its breath, rushed at them. It was a stallion’s territorial warning.

  Could it be the Phantom? A gliding trot, a flowing tail, a pale mane wafting like a wave on the wind?

  But the Phantom wouldn’t ignore her, even if he wasn’t always friendly. He’d been fierce and protective when he was courting Dark Sunshine. He’d been wild and threatening when he was drugged at the—wait.

  Sam’s tired mind finally focused. Could the Phantom be after Jake’s filly? He was way out of his territory, and yet…she had to believe it was him or admit she’d had a hallucination.

 
A sudden hammering of hooves, like rocks bouncing off boulders, woke Jake.

  “What’s she doing?” he asked, groggily.

  “She’s okay. She hit some different footing,” Sam said. And it was true, because now Chip’s hooves clattered on stone. She could only hear his hooves and the filly’s.

  Where had the ghost horse gone?

  On her very first day back in Nevada, after her accident, Dad had told her mustangs had hideaway trails no human knew.

  She had to trust Dad’s words, or believe the Phantom had blown away like mist on the wind.

  Maybe she’d dreamed it. Sam hoped so, because she couldn’t imagine what would happen if both Jake and the Phantom were after the same filly.

  A wintry wind swept in just before dawn. Jake got off to run, just to keep warm. When he did, Sam let Chip rest.

  I can’t do this another night, she thought, and neither can Chip. Maybe, if the sun comes out, Ace and I could do it tomorrow. Or today. Whatever it was. Or whenever.

  At last it was light enough to see the filly. Wide-eyed and nervous, she ran a few steps, stopped with lowered head, then turned toward Jake. Snorting and tossing her mane, she trotted in his direction.

  Sam realized she’d pressed her hand flat against her chest, as if she could still her lurching heartbeat.

  Even though the filly wheeled and bolted on faster than before, the change was coming.

  At last they reached the lake. The filly treated it like home, wading in up to her knees. A sigh shuddered her lean body as she drank.

  When Jake kept walking, following her into the water, she lifted her head to be sure of what she was seeing.

  When he turned away, moving with a leisurely step as if he really was just strolling on the beach, the filly followed.

  Sam’s hands trembled on her reins.

  When Jake stopped, the filly extended her head. She didn’t look beaten, but curious. Could he be like the first humans she’d known? A kind one?

  Without hesitating, Jake touched the white nose she offered, but Sam still held her breath.

  Standing in front of the filly, as Jake was, could be deadly. She could bolt forward or strike out, but she didn’t.