Red Feather Filly

by Terri Farley

  Ace felt her urgency, and he’d sweated up almost immediately. He charged uphill faster than she would have pushed him, and each time the narrow ledge trails leveled, he wanted to run.

  She kept watching on her right. She knew the shaley path down to Arroyo Azul was coming up. Any minute now, she’d see it. With luck, the two horses would take it slowly enough that she could catch them and grab Star’s lead rope. What she didn’t want was to fight the filly on one of these narrow, cliffside trails.

  All at once, she hit a dead end. Her path was blocked by a huge rock face with a crack running across it. Water seeped out, too, and she recognized it.

  She’d ridden through Lost Canyon. She was on the opposite end, near War Drum Flats.

  Why hadn’t she seen the path down to Arroyo Azul?

  She let Ace take a quick drink, then turned him. It didn’t matter how. She’d missed the downhill trail. She’d have to backtrack.

  She did it, but she kept Ace reined in.

  Her spirits crashed. There was no point in hurrying.

  She’d be too late. The horses would be long gone and she’d have to take all the blame for Star’s escape.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sam heard Chip’s hooves coming before she saw him.

  It was almost dark and Jake’s hair blew in the wind, giving him a fearsome silhouette.

  “Don’t rush,” he shouted. “He’s already got her.”

  Jake’s words slashed her like physical pain, but she didn’t take it in silence.

  “Ace is winded. We passed the trail down to Arroyo Azul. Somehow—I don’t know. It’s here somewhere.” She gestured toward the edge. “It goes down, but I didn’t see it. If I couldn’t find it in the light, I’m worried that now, in the dark…”

  “Pretty hopeless, isn’t it?” Jake’s voice was sarcastic, as if she hadn’t tried.

  “I did everything I could to catch them!”

  Jake shrugged.

  “I did!” she insisted. “Look at Ace. He’s lathered up and exhausted. Would I do that to him for nothing?”

  “For nothing?” Jake asked. “Or for your precious Phantom?”

  Something invisible and frigid clamped around her.

  “I’m not lying. I did my—”

  “Take me to his hideout.” Jake’s voice stopped her before she could finish.

  “That’s what I was trying to tell you,” Sam said. “There’s a way down to Arroyo Azul and I couldn’t find it.”

  “Take me in from the other direction, then. From the River Bend side. We’ll go back to camp and Mac can drive us.”

  He was daring her. Every syllable of each word told Sam he knew she wouldn’t do it.

  Jake believed she was lying and the only way she could prove him wrong was by betraying the Phantom.

  “I can’t,” she said, at last.

  In the deserted canyon, with rock set like shelves all around, her voice sounded hollow and alone.

  Sam didn’t see the reins move or Jake shift, but he spun Chip and sent him back the way they’d come, back to Monument Lake, without Star.

  A campfire burned and Mac sat beside it, but he wasn’t alone.

  “Dad!” Sam shouted.

  He caught her as she slipped down from Ace, then hugged her tight.

  Was Dad surprised at the way she clung to him? Was he staring over her head at Mac or Jake? She didn’t care.

  Sam wanted to stay there forever, hidden in Dad’s arms. Jake hadn’t said a word as they’d ridden back. He’d forced her to choose between him and the Phantom, and she’d chosen her horse.

  If it had been life or death, she would have chosen differently. She knew that. But maybe Jake didn’t. Still, this wasn’t life or death.

  Star might come back on her own.

  Jake could ride Witch in the race.

  Or think of another manhood test.

  But once she revealed the Phantom’s hiding place, she couldn’t take it back.

  “Ready to go home for a little break?” Dad asked. He set her away from him, but only to the length of his arms.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said. She wet her lips and turned to ask Jake, but she only saw his back as he ducked into the tent.

  “Jacob!” Mac’s voice was like a whiplash.

  Jake lifted the tent flap. “Yes, Grandfather?”

  “What will you do next?”

  A lone cricket, braving the cool spring night, sang from the cottonwoods. When its solo ended, Jake still hadn’t spoken.

  “Jake, I’m sorry,” Sam said again. “I did everything I could to hold her, but she reared and…”

  Jake didn’t interrupt, but Sam was listening so intently, she heard his lips part. She stopped to hear what he’d say.

  “I’m going out at daylight to track her. No sense in you staying around.”

  That was it, then.

  What had she expected him to say? He was telling her he’d go on without her. Telling her he didn’t need her. Asking her to go away.

  “You go get your stuff, then,” Dad said. “I’ll load Ace. I expect he could use a little time at home, too.”

  Jake stepped aside, letting her into the tent, very carefully not brushing her sleeve.

  He stood at the flap while she crammed her belongings into her backpack.

  Why was he just standing there, watching? Why didn’t he say something? She worked quickly, but he had plenty of time to apologize. He didn’t.

  The zipper on her backpack sounded loud and final as she ducked past the tent flap.

  She’d already started toward Dad’s truck when Jake called after her.

  “Sam?”

  Her heart hammered so loud, she didn’t know if she could hear him, but she turned, biting her lip to keep from saying anything dumb.

  “You forgot this,” he said.

  For a minute she couldn’t tell what it was. This far from the campfire, the light was dim, but then something soft grazed her fingertips. As soon as she grasped it, she knew what it was.

  Jake had returned the glossy red-brown hawk’s feather that she’d given him. For luck.

  Things weren’t so bad, back at the ranch. If she hadn’t felt heartsick and nervous, everything might have been fine.

  She decided to give Ace and Sweetheart a try in the ten-acre pasture. At worst, she’d rescue Ace five minutes after she turned him out. At best, he’d fit into the saddle horse herd and rekindle his friendship with Dark Sunshine.

  Instantly, the buckskin perked up. She loped to Ace and seemed to make little darting figure eights with her muzzle. She trotted alongside him, uttering nickers of joy. Neck arched, she kept bowing her head as if telling the others to look at her new friend.

  When they did, the best of all possible things happened: nothing. They weren’t mean, aggressive, or excited. They barely noticed Ace was back.

  Sam spent most of Thursday alone.

  Brynna was at work and Dad was readying Nike and Jeepers-Creepers for the race. Although Gram clearly knew something was wrong, she didn’t pump Sam for information, even when she turned down a chance to go back out to Monument Lake.

  She knew Jen and Ryan were working with their horses, so she didn’t call. At least that was the excuse she gave Gram, but Sam knew it was something more. She was afraid she might confess what had happened with Jake and Star. Her feelings were still too raw to talk about, so she didn’t take that chance.

  Then, Jen called her.

  “Things are really crazy around here,” Jen whispered. “My dad stood up to Slocum about the buffalo.”

  “What about them?”

  “They arrived on Tuesday and they’re really hard to handle. Linc hasn’t set up a big enough pasture and Dad insists they can’t be put out with the cattle until they’ve been in quarantine.

  “And Dad’s refusing to truck them over to Mrs. Allen’s for the race. He says they’re entirely unpredictable.”

  “Sorta like cows?” Sam asked.

  When Jen squeaked
in surprise, Sam smiled for the first time in days.

  “I can’t believe I said that,” Jen recalled. “They’re really kind of ferocious. Ryan thinks they’re great, but Sky doesn’t like them at all.”

  Sam got chills at the way Jen said it. She really sounded scared.

  “Good for your dad, then,” Sam said. “I can’t picture Linc bringing them over by himself, can you?”

  “To tell you the truth, I can picture him doing just about anything.” Jen covered the phone’s mouthpiece, to talk with someone else, but Sam still heard her say, “I’m not biting the hand that feeds me, Mom!”

  For a few seconds, Jen and Lila bickered over Jen’s criticism of Slocum.

  “All right, Mom, I’m getting off.” Jen laughed. “Gotta go, Sam. Hey, see you at the races!”

  Sam had worked Ace early in the morning and groomed him afterward, but she went out to groom him anyway.

  He didn’t need it. The gelding was thriving on the extra attention he’d received this week. His coat glowed red gold and his black mane and tail were silky.

  Just the same, she curried him and told him what she’d been afraid to tell anyone else.

  “I want to go get her, Ace. She’s up there with the Phantom and I’d like to go get her, but there are at least two things wrong with that.”

  The mustang bobbed his head as if he understood, but she told him anyway.

  “One, the Phantom might not let me take her. I couldn’t stand battling him. He might never come to me again. Two.” Sam sighed. “Jake might track me! I’ve seen him track across bare rock. Do you know that Quinn has called here twice, asking what I’m up to? Don’t you just know Jake has him spying on me?

  “But if I don’t get her back, there goes my chance to be in the race, my chance to show Dad I have some riding skills. And you are doing so well,” she said, hugging the mustang’s neck.

  Sam stood there thinking. The carpenters had made lots of progress on the barn, and she watched them while she concentrated.

  Just then, Ross rode in on Tank. The big gelding was limping.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam called.

  “Threw a shoe,” he said, and when he looked more sheepish than usual, Sam remembered Dad had turned the shoeing chore over to Ross that first day they’d talked about the race.

  Sam shrugged with an understanding grin and expected Ross to disappear. Instead, he took a breath, expelled it, and managed another sentence.

  “That filly of Jake’s a paint?”

  Sam nodded, and hope crowded out every other feeling. Ross never wasted a word in idle conversation.

  “Saw a strange paint just ’cross the river.”

  “Oh my gosh, Ross, that is so cool. So cool!” She grabbed the cowboy’s upper arms and might have kissed him in joy, but he looked so startled she released him. “Thanks!”

  Sam saddled Ace. She got a rope from the half-ruined tack room and tied it onto her saddle. It could work.

  She ran into the kitchen.

  “Gram, I’m taking Ace out for a little while.”

  She already had the door open again when Gram’s voice stopped her.

  “You’re not going up into the mountains after the filly, are you?”

  Sam shook her head. “Nope, I’m hoping she’ll come to me.”

  If I only I had my horsehair bracelet, Sam thought.

  She knew it was superstitious, but she had a feeling that once she crossed to the wild side of the river, its magic would draw the filly to her.

  You didn’t need it for the Phantom. The whisper came in her own voice and she realized it was true. She didn’t need a magic bracelet. The power she had over the Phantom was her own. And if she could communicate with him, she might be able to connect with the filly. All she needed was a chance.

  Where was she? Sam stared so hard her eyes already burned.

  Even though the sandspit jutting out into the river made it possible to ride across La Charla, it took thirty minutes to ride from River Bend Ranch to the Phantom’s trail through the stairstep mesas.

  “We’re not going up, boy,” she said when Ace tugged at the bit. “I don’t know where Jake is, but he’d follow our tracks for sure.”

  Instead, they loped back and forth, letting any animal around know they were there.

  She was determined to be in that race. If Jake didn’t have Star, he could ride Chip. She’d make him ride Chip.

  The Quarter horse had shown his stamina and will during that long night they’d chased the filly. He could certainly run a seven-and-a-quarter-mile race.

  A lonely neigh made Ace spin on his heels.

  The pretty pinto had sighted them, but she didn’t know the path down. She picked her way slowly through the sagebrush and shale.

  “Star, pretty Star,” Sam called.

  The filly had lost her leather halter and the rope trailing from it. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  Sam remembered what Mac had said about not asking your horse to do something you’re not brave enough to do.

  Although her palm was still ripped and red from the last time she’d tried to hold onto the black-and-white filly, Sam knew that if Star came to her, she’d be brave enough to slip a loop over her head and never let go.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A racket started up on the road that ran past River Bend Ranch and paralleled the La Charla River.

  Instead of fleeing, the filly’s ears pricked up and she watched it come with such intensity that Sam looked, too.

  Mac Ely’s red Scout wagon was headed toward Three Ponies Ranch, dragging the horse trailer carrying Chip.

  Sam was still deciding what to do when the Scout stopped. It was at least two miles away, but Sam knew what was about to happen.

  She glanced back at the filly. Star hadn’t come closer but, ears flicking, she kept watching the small figure that was Jake.

  She loosed a high, wild neigh and trotted forward.

  She knew him!

  When Sam looked back at Jake, he’d crossed the river. Even though he wore jeans that had to be wet from crossing, he was running.

  The filly advanced more cautiously, but the steps of her trot grew longer, and then she broke into a lope.

  Sam tightened Ace’s reins, leaving Jake alone to greet his filly.

  He had no rope, no saddle, or bridle, but when Star reached him, she stopped. Head lowered, she nibbled his hair. When she raised her head again, nodding, Jake slid his hand along her side. Then, with a hop and a handful of mane, he jumped onto her bare back.

  The filly circled nervously, and gave a few halfhearted bucks to punish him for their parting.

  But when Jake leaned low on her neck, she forgave him. His black hair mixed with her wild mane and Star lunged into a gallop. They ran along the river, away from Sam, until they were out of sight.

  On race day, Sam pulled on a sweatshirt and her softest old jeans to go downstairs for breakfast. Still yawning, she entered the kitchen and saw Dad sitting at the table drinking coffee. With Jake.

  “Am I late?” she gasped. Every nerve crackled with something like electricity. If she’d overslept, after all of this…

  “No,” Jake said, as he pushed back from the table.

  Dad stood before Jake could, made an excuse about checking water troughs, and left them alone.

  Sam had a bad feeling about what was coming next.

  “I’m sorry about that stuff I said in Lost Canyon,” Jake said.

  Sam’s throat constricted. Her chest ached all over again, remembering how he’d accused her of letting the Phantom steal Star. She held onto the back of a chair, unable to respond.

  “Last night,” Jake went on, “I did this meditation thing Dad told me about. You lay out four sticks, one for each direction. You know, east, west…”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of them,” Sam joked, hoping to erase Jake’s serious expression.

  He only shook his head. “Anyway, I sat in that square and thought for hours. I wanted to focus on t
he race, but I only realized what a jerk I’d been to you.”

  “It’s over,” she began, but his look of frustration stopped her from adding more.

  “Here’s what kinda came to me.” Jake laced his fingers together and stared at them, instead of looking at her. “Whatever it is in your head or heart that made you not betray the Phantom’s hideout, it’s the same thing that made you stand up for me.”

  “When did I stand up for you?” Sam asked.

  “You could have told Mac and your dad how I acted and what I said. You didn’t. You let them think I was succeeding at this manhood thing.”

  “You are, Jake,” Sam said, softly.

  Apologies came hard to Jake, but his sudden, fearful look said he found her compliment even harder to accept.

  Jake folded his arms and cleared his throat. “So that’s all. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d feel better about riding in this race if I could have my feather back.”

  The starting line of the race had become a carnival. At least a hundred people had gathered to ride or watch. Girl Scouts had set up a cookie booth. The Darton High Art Club was painting children’s faces and the Methodist Women’s Society was making a pancake breakfast.

  Wearing a red shirt, jeans, the new chaps Dad and Brynna had given her for an early birthday present, and her old brown Stetson, Sam enjoyed the activity as she and Jake led Ace and Star toward the other horses.

  Jake wore his usual shirt and jeans, but Star Shower tossed her head, showing off the red hawk feather braided into her mane.

  The race had drawn twenty teams.

  “Forty horses. One team made the trip from Canada. Hard to believe, isn’t it? On short notice, I think Mrs. Allen’s doing pretty good, don’t you?” Sam said. “I mean, people have only known about it for—”

  “You’re doing it again,” Jake said quietly.

  “Doing what? Babbling because I’m nervous?” Sam asked.

  “Sounds like it,” Jake said.

  When Star startled at the flap of the plastic flags used to mark the course, Jake swung onto her back and rode her in a small circle.