by Terri Farley
“Sam’s been gone the last two winters,” Dad pointed out.
“Instinct, I guess.” Brynna waited.
Sam stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. She pictured Lost Canyon. It was a lot lower than the Phantom’s hideaway in the Calico Mountains. From War Drum Flats, you went uphill, but then down into the canyon. Arroyo Azul, a gully holding a turquoise stream centered on the canyon’s floor, was lower still.
A lower altitude meant less snow and a warmer place to winter.
She didn’t know how far Lost Canyon stretched into the mountains. She only knew the canyon was old. Jake had told her stories about Indians who’d lived there with fast, loyal war ponies. And once, she’d followed a wild horse rustler in there.
She shivered at the memory of that close call and then stopped.
“I bet I know where they’d be, if they’re in Lost Canyon at all,” Sam said. “Do you know Arroyo Azul?”
Brynna shook her head.
“I could show you,” Sam offered.
“And break your neck trying,” Dad added.
“Dad, I won’t ride down there.” Sam caught her breath, remembering the sandstone shelves and the stream she’d only seen from above. “You can see it from the path.”
“That sounds safe enough,” Brynna said.
Dad made a disapproving sound.
“But I don’t know how the horses get in there,” Sam told Brynna.
“Keep it that way,” Dad said. “And if you two are thinking of riding in that canyon tomorrow, watch out. Don’t go till the ice is melted in the dog’s water dish.”
Sam smiled. Her family had always measured cold by the thickness of ice crust on the dog’s bowl.
“And watch where you let the horses step,” he added. “There’s no telling what the storms have washed loose.”
“Brynna knows how to spot avalanche danger,” Gram said, but her words were a reminder.
“Are we going?” Sam asked Brynna.
“If you want to,” she said. “I need to go anyway.”
Something in the way Brynna said it worried Sam. “Why?”
“Only part of that canyon is Bureau of Land Management land,” she explained. “If there is a herd in there, I hope it’s on it.”
“Who owns the rest of it?” Sam asked. An ugly thought floated into her mind. “Not Linc Slocum?”
“Not Linc,” Brynna said. “Part of Lost Canyon belongs to the local tribes.”
“Oh, my.” Gram sipped from her water. “That could be a problem.”
“Why?” Sam shifted in her seat, facing Gram. While Gram searched for words to explain, Sam turned toward Brynna and Dad.
“It’s not likely they’d want to,” Brynna said, “but they could trap the horses and keep them or sell them.”
“What?” Sam screeched loud enough that Clara turned to see what was going on. “Wild horses are protected by the government. Everyone knows that. Catching them is against the law.”
“Sorta,” Dad said, tilting his hand back and forth.
“Sorta?” Sam asked.
“BLM has pretty cordial relationships with the tribes, but the Indians are a sovereign nation. It’s like they have their own country within this country,” Brynna explained. “So they don’t exactly have to obey U.S. laws.”
“Even the ones protecting wild horses?” Sam asked.
“That’s about the size of it.” Dad raised his hand. “Check, please,” he said, and Clara nodded that she was on her way. “The tribes have their own laws, and there’s nothing you or the BLM can do about it.”
Brynna scooted closer to Dad and leaned her head against his shoulder. “What Wyatt said isn’t precisely true,” she said pleasantly. Then, looking at Sam, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’ll explain tomorrow.”
“Ain’t nothing to explain,” Dad shot back, just as pleasantly.
He and Brynna sat up straight, staring at each other as Clara approached their table.
“This is goin’ to be a real interestin’ marriage, Wyatt.” Clara put the check facedown on their table. “Yep, if nothing else, you all will be fun to watch.”
Chapter Four
Sunday morning, Sam went to church with Gram and Brynna.
“By the time we get back, the ice should be melted off Blaze’s water dish—right, Dad?” Sam joked as she climbed into Gram’s Buick, but Dad just waved them on their way.
They shared a pew with Mrs. Coley, and because they were early, the women made wedding plans until the organ’s chords announced the first hymn.
Sam couldn’t figure out why she suddenly felt disloyal.
Mom is dead. Sam made herself think the words in a hard, blunt way. That didn’t help. Some childish part of her brain still believed she and Dad should keep waiting for Mom to return.
She needed to talk with Gram or Dad about her mother. She always felt better after she did. She’d bet, though, that Mom wouldn’t want Dad to stay alone if he could be happy with someone else. True love wasn’t selfish.
Sam quit singing because of the hard lump in her throat. The altar’s harvest leaves and candles blurred before her eyes.
“Samantha?” Gram asked quietly as Sam quit singing.
Sam rubbed her eyes. “I might need glasses or something,” she mumbled. “I can’t see too well.”
If Gram didn’t buy that excuse, she didn’t mention it.
Two hours later, Sam mounted Ace. He danced with impatience while Brynna finished saddling Jeepers-Creepers. A rangy, flea-bitten Appaloosa with a skinny rattail, Jeep wasn’t the prettiest horse on River Bend Ranch, but he was a quick, dependable mount.
Ace swung his head around and peered up through his forelock at Sam.
“Ready to get going, pretty boy?” she asked.
The gelding tossed his black mane. The star on his forehead shone extra white in the cold, cloudless afternoon. He hurried Sam with a low nicker, then nudged the toe of her boot.
“In a minute,” she told him, but Ace didn’t want to wait. He watched the other horse and rider. The instant Brynna’s jeans hit the saddle, Ace stepped out.
The cold boards of the bridge gave the horses’ hoofbeats a hollow sound as they left River Bend.
Sam wanted to let Ace run, but Brynna kept Jeep at a jog and she seemed determined to start a conversation.
“I wanted to ride Popcorn,” Brynna said as they approached War Drum Flats. “But since you’ve had him under saddle for such a short time, I’m not sure it would be fair.”
Sam nodded, feeling Ace bunch beneath her.
“Taking him where there might be a wild herd, I mean,” Brynna added, in case Sam had missed her point.
“Yeah,” Sam said, nodding. “You’re right.”
Judging by the way Brynna’s lips pressed together, that wasn’t a great response.
“Why don’t we let them run here?” Sam suggested. “Ace is ready to stretch his legs.”
“I haven’t had a good run for a while, either,” Brynna agreed.
For five minutes, the two horses ran together. Galloping into the frosty air, Sam wished she’d worn something heavier than her fleece jacket. Once they were in Lost Canyon, though, stone walls would block the wind, and she should warm up.
After they’d crossed War Drum Flats, Ace was willing to settle into a jog. When Jeep slowed to match Ace’s gait, Sam glanced at Brynna.
Strands of red hair had blown loose from Brynna’s braid and they straggled over her flushed cheeks. She looked happy. Sam knew she was lucky to be getting a stepmother who loved to ride.
Mountain mahogany flanked the path up to Lost Canyon. Its branches rattled, although Sam couldn’t feel the breeze. She couldn’t feel her fingers, either, curled tight around her reins. She really should have worn gloves, like Brynna.
As they started up the path to Lost Canyon, the two horses tried to walk abreast.
Brynna was an expert rider. She must have noticed there wasn’t room for the two horses side by side, b
ut she seemed more interested in talking.
“Have you been over to Mrs. Allen’s place lately?” she asked.
Sam shook her head and reined Ace in behind Jeep.
“I hear she’s calling her new venture the Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary,” Brynna said over her shoulder.
“Great,” Sam answered.
She was being as uncommunicative as Jake, but she couldn’t help it. Brynna was such an experienced rider, she could concentrate on something else while the horses worked out who ranked higher in this herd of two. Sam wasn’t that good.
Just ahead, Jeep whisked his tail in irritation. Was he about to kick? Ace didn’t want to lead, but Jeep didn’t want to be followed.
Sam had just recognized the cracked rock on her left when Brynna stopped her mount. Two months before, water had dripped from the crevice in that rock and Dark Sunshine, snatched by Sam from the rustlers, had stopped there to drink.
Now Brynna had chosen this wide spot in the trail to look irritated.
“I don’t know if you’re trying to be difficult—”
“I’m not,” Sam interrupted. “It’s just that the horses are working things out and I need to pay attention. I’m still just a teeny bit afraid of getting bucked off.”
Sam watched Brynna’s lids lower over her blue eyes. She let her reins rest on Jeep’s neck as she watched Sam, deciding whether to believe her.
“You know, don’t you, that your dad and I love each other.” Brynna said the words carefully. “That’s why we’re getting married.”
“Well, that’s what I figured,” Sam said sarcastically. Why was Brynna talking to her as if she were a toddler?
Ace’s hindquarters shifted nervously. Sam laid a hand on his neck. The move seemed to steady her, too. She took a deep breath, deciding to tell the full truth. “It’s just that I keep thinking of my mom,” Sam admitted.
Brynna sighed. “I don’t blame you, but it’s not our fault your mom is gone,” Brynna said gently. “You might as well blame the herd of antelope your mother swerved to miss.”
“I know,” Sam said.
Both Gram and Dad had told her that her mother’s last action was typical. Everyone had been saddened, but no one had been shocked to hear that Louise Forster had driven her car off the road rather than crash into a herd of wild antelope.
“I was hoping,” Brynna said, slowly, “that you’d be glad your father’s finally happy.”
“He was happy with me and Gram!” Sam heard how bratty the words sounded as soon as she uttered them.
Brynna could have snapped right back, but she didn’t. Instead, her voice softened. “Of course he was, but this is different.”
In the quiet that followed, Jeep moved aside so that Ace could lick the damp rock. Sam let him.
Overhead, a hawk’s cry rang, but when Sam looked up, the blue sky was empty.
“Wyatt has told me things about your mom that made me think we could have been friends.” Brynna held her reins in one hand and took off her deerskin gloves by nipping at the leather covering her index fingers, then tugging the gloves off.
“Like what kinds of things?” Sam asked.
“Probably stuff you know.” Brynna looked a little embarrassed. Now that she had both gloves off, she flexed her fingers.
“Tell me anyway,” Sam encouraged her.
“Did you know she worked with a mechanic in Darton to rebuild the engine on her VW bug when she found out she was pregnant?”
Sam shook her head. “That’s kind of weird.”
“Wyatt said she not only wanted it new and reliable, she wanted to know how the engine was put together so that if anything went wrong without Wyatt there to help, the two of you wouldn’t be stranded and helpless.”
Sam thought of a snapshot in the family picture album. In it, her mom wore overalls and long auburn pigtails. She could imagine Mom tying a bandanna over her hair, then sliding under a car with a wrench.
“Thanks. No one ever told me about that.” Sam pulled Ace away from the rock and backed him up a few steps. “We can keep going if you want.”
“In a minute.” Brynna drew a deep breath. “Sam, I love your dad and I want us to be a happy family, but I know I can’t replace your mom. After all, she gave him you.”
Sam didn’t know what to say, and Brynna saved her the trouble of thinking of something.
“Let’s go find some wild horses,” she said, “so I don’t have to listen to the I-told-you-so’s from everyone who said this was a job better done from a helicopter.” Brynna put Jeep into a quick walk up the trail and Sam followed.
How deep was Lost Canyon? Sam had only ridden in a few miles, but she’d seen the Phantom there and imagined some back entrance to the canyon from the Calico Mountains.
Sam watched Ace’s ears. The gelding was alert, but he wasn’t showing the excitement he usually did when they were near other mustangs.
The canyon walls narrowed, putting them in shadow as they rode on. They passed a cottonwood tree that had managed to survive with its roots sunk in the cleft of a rock. Down at River Bend, cottonwoods and aspens still showed leaves of gold. Here, the altitude and weather had stripped the cottonwood of leaves. Its gray branches were cracked and bare.
Sam pulled her jacket closer. The lack of sun and the wail of wind around the rocks made her shiver.
As they approached the overlook to Arroyo Azul, Sam realized she was actually leading Brynna to a place where she might find the Phantom.
Sam wouldn’t think of showing anyone the stallion’s haven in the Calico Mountains. Not Jake, Dad, or even Jen, but Arroyo Azul wasn’t a secret. Brynna already knew where to search. With Sam’s help, Brynna would find him sooner, without the swooping racket of helicopters.
Besides, Brynna was trying to protect the mustangs, not catch them, and that made all the difference.
“Remember the young black horse you mentioned? The Phantom’s son, you thought, who took over the herd while Karla Starr had the Phantom?” Brynna glanced over her shoulder to see Sam nod. “I wonder if he’s still with the herd?”
“I don’t know,” Sam mused. “The Phantom must have driven him out once, because he was with a bachelor band. But then he was back with the herd when the Phantom was gone.”
“Horses try to stay with their family herd,” Brynna said. “I wonder if he was in charge or just hanging around because his father wasn’t there to drive him out?” Brynna said.
“He thought he was in charge.” Sam recalled how the young horse had pranced and threatened. “But the lead mare didn’t seem convinced he was the boss.”
All at once, the trail widened. Sun struck them and Ace seemed to trot on tiptoe.
“We’re getting close,” Sam said, and then they stopped. Even the saddle horses stared at the vista that suddenly appeared on their left.
Sandstone cliffs were stacked like rows of seats in an amphitheater, and a turquoise stream marked the bottom of Arroyo Azul. Horses moved like wind-up toys, dwarfed by the distance between the trail where Brynna and Sam sat their horses and the bottom of the arroyo.
Ace gave a short snort and Jeep echoed it. Both geldings grew tense as they listened for sounds from the horses down below.
“We have to go down closer to watch,” Sam said.
“Why? They’re here, and I’ve got a good enough idea of where they are that I can check our maps and see if they’re on BLM or BIA land.”
“There’s got to be a path down,” Sam said, “and we’ve got to take it. Look.”
Sam pointed as Ace and Jeep whinnied.
Silver against the pink-gold sandstone, the stallion stood silent, but he saw them. Sam’s heart swelled with excitement.
Though he stood a half mile away, across thin air, the Phantom flipped his heavy mane and tossed his head in greeting. He saw all of them, but he was welcoming her.
She wanted to call back to him, using his secret name, but she didn’t. She wanted to fly across the canyon, circle his neck with her
arms, and hug him, but she couldn’t. Not even if she were standing beside him.
Sam ached with what she’d lost.
Before he’d been betrayed by humans, the stallion had let Sam stroke his sleek hide and bury her face in his mane. Before, she’d finger-combed that thick mane and braided a bracelet of loose silvery hairs. When she gave that bracelet away to a girl who needed its magic, Sam hadn’t guessed the Phantom might never trust her to get that near him again.
“We’ve got to move closer,” she repeated, “just to watch.”
With silent skill, Brynna turned Jeep toward a deer trail. To human eyes, it was faint, as if a bit of dull green had been erased from the hillside, but the horses followed its twisting path downward.
Trusting Ace to keep his feet, Sam turned in her saddle, still watching the Phantom.
In her imagination, she could lure him to the river again. She could lay hands on his warm back. Her touch would tell him she’d never hurt him. He’d understand she could ride him and then slip from his back and set him free.
Across the canyon, the Phantom rose in a half rear. Sam tried to believe he wanted their friendship as much as she did.
A crunch and shower sounded as Jeep’s hoof struck a piece of loose sandstone and crushed it. Taking no chances, Ace rocked back, then vaulted forward, leaping over the spot.
Hazards were all around. This was no place for daydreaming.
“Doing okay?” Brynna called back.
“Sure. Ace is more surefooted than—”
Scattered neighs and a tumult of hooves interrupted. Something was going on. Whatever had disturbed the mustangs was hidden by a dust cloud swirling over them.
Sam glanced up. They were pretty close to the herd, about two city blocks away, but she could no longer see the Phantom. No silver shadow glittered against the pink sandstone. He’d gone to protect his family.
“Oh, my gosh.” Sam took a breath, then pointed. “Look.”
A tall black horse strutted apart from the herd. It was Moon. Sam was sure of it. She’d just recognized him when a movement farther up caught her eye.
Through a piñon-choked pass, Sam saw a pale flicker. And there—dust floated in the wake of something moving fast. The stallion raced toward the intruder.