by Terri Farley
“He doesn’t need an expert opinion. He needs to know I want that horse. I’m the only one who cares if she’s worth buying.”
“Fine. Then why don’t you have Jed go over and check Mocha out tomorrow?”
“Because”—Rachel’s voice rose in a sort of trill, and Sam wondered how a single word could imply the listener was stupid—“tomorrow, Jed’s driving my dad to the airport so he can fly to New York. Some people yearn for civilization, if you know what I mean?” Rachel chuckled. “But then, you probably don’t.”
Sam’s feelings might have been hurt if she hadn’t been so irritated. But she was. Really irritated.
“Rachel, I’ve got an idea,” Sam said. “Why don’t you do whatever you want and so will I? Right now, though I can hardly believe it, I want to go do my algebra homework. See you at school.”
It took all Sam’s self-control not to slam down the receiver. She replaced it gently and stood with her hand on it, as if it might pop back up, with Rachel still chattering.
“I won’t even ask what Rachel wanted,” Gram said, “but it sounded as if you did a fine job of staying polite.”
“She thinks she’s a queen,” Sam fumed. “And if you don’t hop to obey her commands, you’re, you’re—” She searched for a word. “You’re nothing. Sure, I was polite, but what does that accomplish?”
Gram rinsed two spoons before she answered.
“I know it’s tempting to give Rachel a taste of her own medicine, but there’s something you should remember: bad deeds have a nasty way of coming home to roost.” Gram tilted her head as she met Sam’s eyes. “So do good deeds. You just have to decide which ones you want returning.”
High winds blew in overnight. On Thursday morning, they seemed to have swept away Jen’s low spirits.
Sam and Jen shivered and talked at the bus stop. They considered the white skies and hoped for sledding during winter break.
Once they were at school and headed for their lockers, Jen asked, “How did you do with those polynomials? I called to see if you needed help, but your line was busy forever. What were you doing, talking to Rachel?” Jen gave a self-mocking smile.
Sam wasn’t sure how to explain. Jen was pretty sensitive on this subject.
“Well, actually…” Sam began.
Jen struck her forehead with one mittened hand.
“No, wait,” Sam said, then nodded down the hall.
Rachel clicked in their direction. She wore high-heeled boots, a sleek fudge-brown skirt, and a matching blouse that shimmered just a shade lighter. Her head was bent to hear the latest gossip from Daisy. Other girls, dressed more for nightlife than a snowy school day, tagged along. They looked as if they were hoping for crumbs of Her Majesty’s attention.
“Really, Jen, you’ll like this.” Sam held Jen’s arm to keep her from veering off, then waited until Rachel was about a yard away. “Hi, Rachel, thanks for calling last night.”
The girls around Rachel stopped, shocked. Rachel kept walking, though an attractive little frown marked her brow as she gazed over Sam’s head.
“Daisy, did you hear something like the squeak of a very, very small insect?” Rachel asked.
“I didn’t hear a thing,” Daisy chirped, tossing her long blond hair. “But I see a most amazing sweater.”
The other girls giggled, nudging each other as they gaped at Jen’s harvest fair sweater. Although Sam didn’t appreciate the gold-and-pumpkin plaid as much as Jen obviously did, she figured her friend should be able to wear whatever she wanted without criticism.
“She must be wearing it on a dare. There’s no other possible explanation,” Rachel said. Then she and her entourage moved on in a cloud of mingled perfume.
Sam tried to let the comment pass. She tried to remember how Gram had cautioned her against bad deeds. But she couldn’t let Rachel get away with insulting Jen like that.
“Hey, Rachel,” Sam said, and Rachel glared back over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “I hope you don’t pay someone to come up with your snotty remarks, because if do, you’re getting robbed.”
The girls twittered on down the hall. The farther they got, the more confused Sam felt. Why had Jen, who always had a comeback, kept quiet?
“Does that answer your question about what great friends I am with Rachel?” Sam asked Jen.
“Oh, yeah. And it was lots of fun,” Jen said, but her expression seemed to ask if Sam knew what she’d gotten herself into.
“Why are you giving me that look?” Sam demanded.
“Well, I can’t help wondering how much more fun it’s going to be after school.”
Now it was Sam’s turn to hit her brow in dismay. Jen gave Sam a one-armed hug, then a gentle push toward history. As she walked, Sam tried to figure a way out of riding home in the same car as Rachel.
Maybe there’d be a blizzard and they’d all have to stay at school. If so, she’d make sure to slip out of journalism, so she wouldn’t be trapped with Rachel.
Maybe there’d be a flood and all of Darton High would be evacuated to a Red Cross shelter in Sacramento. If so, she’d offer to clean out lavatories, rather than stay near Rachel.
Maybe there’d be an invasion of space aliens….
Almost anything sounded better than reality. She couldn’t stand the thought of being confined in the backseat of the Slocums’ Mercedes when Mrs. Coley picked them up to drive Jen, Sam, and Rachel to the Gold Dust Ranch today.
After school, Sam and Jen stood waiting. Gulls spun in a flock above the Darton High parking lot, but Mrs. Coley was nowhere in sight.
“People always say that means a storm at sea,” Jen mused as she looked at the gulls. “But that’s a long flight to come to a place as cold as this. I think I’d stay at the beach and wait out the rain.”
“They’re just cruising over the parking lot for the leftover lunches,” Sam said. “Or the remains of students who’ve been stared to death by Rachel.”
“I bet she’s not looking forward to this forced neighborliness any more than we are,” Jen said.
Sam had to agree. “There’s Mrs. Coley.” She pointed as the blue Mercedes-Benz rolled among the student cars.
“Let’s go,” Jen said.
They bolted toward the car. Once there, they greeted Mrs. Coley, slid into the backseat, and fastened their seat belts.
When Rachel arrived, she didn’t say a word. She sat in the front seat and waited for Mrs. Coley to take her home.
On the way to the Gold Dust Ranch, Mrs. Coley entertained Sam and Jen with descriptions of the dress Brynna had picked out for Sam to wear as maid of honor.
Apparently, the pattern for the dress was a tricky one. Mrs. Coley joked about how long it had taken her to make even a “rough draft” of the dress. Rachel sat like a statue, ignoring the whole conversation.
Sam had only been to the Gold Dust Ranch three times since the Slocums had moved in, and the last time she hadn’t really noticed the grand entrance to the ranch because she’d been worried about Rachel. Linc Slocum had declared her missing, and Sam and Jake joined the search party—but Rachel, of course, had been fine.
Now, Sam was impressed all over again by the soaring iron gate, which swung open at the touch of a remote control button inside the Mercedes.
The car rolled along a paved road, past flower beds planted with some kind of bright bush that had survived the cold. Farther on, white wooden fences lined pastures filled with healthy livestock.
On the right, Sam saw Danish Belted and blue-black Angus cattle. Next came a fenced field that held a dozen Brahmas, including the brindle bull named Maniac.
On the left, a herd of Shetland ponies roamed a rolling pasture. One ran along the fence, and his shaggy charcoal mane looked as full as a lion’s.
The Shetlands were so cute and fuzzy, Sam wanted to give one a hug. In the next minute she felt a stab of worry. The ponies wouldn’t be much of a match for even an inexperienced cougar.
Up ahead stood the foreman’s house. The log
cabin had been the Kenworthys’ when the ranch was still the Lazy K, before hard times forced them to sell out to Linc Slocum. Sam thought it looked cozy and perfect for the high desert setting.
Mrs. Coley paused to let Sam and Jen out.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, girls,” Mrs. Coley said. “As soon as I drop off Rachel.”
At that, Rachel gave a little flounce of temper, but still didn’t speak.
Sam watched the car continue past redwood hitching posts with brass rings, straight ahead to the hump that had been bulldozed from the surrounding land so that the Slocums’ home could be built on a man-made hilltop.
Even though Jen saw the white-pillared mansion every day, she stared, too.
“I never stop wondering why they thought it would be a good idea to build a replica of a Southern mansion in the middle of cowboy country.” Jen started up the path to her own one-story cabin. “Could a building be more misplaced?”
Sam gave the mansion one more look. She wondered which wing held Rachel’s bedroom suite with hot tub and entertainment center, but she didn’t ask Jen. Sam was pretty sure her friend had never been invited inside.
“I think that place is perfect for Linc and Rachel,” said Sam as she followed Jen. Gram would be proud, Sam thought, that she hadn’t said that the mansion looked stiff and show-offy, just like the people who lived there.
“We’ll see if Ryan likes it,” Jen said. “I don’t think he’s ever been here.”
“But you have high hopes, don’t you?” Sam asked as Jen opened the door to her house.
“I really do,” Jen admitted. “Sometimes, I can be quite optimistic.”
Inside Jen’s house, a fire crackled in the fireplace and the scent of cinnamon mixed with wood smoke. Sam felt immediately at home.
“Hello, Samantha,” Lila Kenworthy said as she came slowly from the kitchen. “How was your day, Jen?”
“Fine, Mom.”
“Why don’t you all come into the kitchen?” Lila had a faint Texas accent and short blond hair. Her blue eyes looked weary. “We’ll have a snack while we wait for Helen.”
Maybe Lila was just tired, Sam thought as she drank the milky tea and ate the honey-spice cookies Jen’s mother set before them.
“Mrs. Coley does a lot of sewing at our house because she only has one room up there,” Jen explained, nodding toward the Slocums’ mansion. “And the light in our living room is good most of the day.”
“I bet it’s because the company’s better,” Sam said, and felt pleased that Lila smiled. She couldn’t really be thinking of moving, could she?
“Brynna won’t be by until tonight,” Lila told Sam. “I guess you knew that?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve been seeing her plenty these days.”
Lila and Jen met each others’ eyes.
“Things are going great,” Sam hurried to assure them. “I think we’ll be fine.”
“All families have their problems,” Lila said. “But Brynna and Wyatt seem real happy whenever I see them together.”
When Mrs. Coley arrived, she showed Sam a copy of Bride’s magazine and pointed to the dress Brynna wanted Sam to wear.
The floor-length gown had spaghetti straps and a snug bodice that narrowed down to a tight waist, then flowed into full skirts that would rustle when she walked.
“And because it’s winter, I’ll be making some kind of a little jacket to go over it. Lace probably,” Mrs. Coley said, tapping another picture. “And here’s the material.” Mrs. Coley took a swath of shiny material from a pink paper bag.
“It’s great,” Sam said. She could picture herself moving down a church aisle with formal grace, and she couldn’t help wishing there’d be someone watching and appreciating her.
Dad will, she thought suddenly.
He might be marrying Brynna, but it would be the first time he’d see his daughter in a formal gown. If it looked anything like the photograph, Sam thought she’d look pretty enough to make him proud.
“Today, I’d like to get started pinning it on you,” Mrs. Coley said.
“Okay,” Sam said softly, wondering why this dress felt so important.
She stood with her arms out. Because Gram had sewn a lot of her clothes when she was little, Sam knew how to stand still while a tissue paper pattern of the dress was slipped over her head, then pulled and pinned into place.
Before Mrs. Coley was done pinning, Sam heard the rumbling of a truck outside. Tires crunched, gears made grinding sounds, and Sam heard lots of high-pitched neighs.
Jen’s pale eyebrows arched above the frames of her glasses as Lila went to the window and pulled back the curtain to peer out.
Sam barely understood the words Mrs. Coley uttered through the straight pins clamped in her lips, but it sounded like, “What’s all the ruckus?”
“It’s a big horse van from”—Lila paused, then read—“Sterling Stables.”
Sam gasped. Rachel had done it. She’d bought Mocha.
“I don’t remember”—Mrs. Coley took the pins from her mouth and set them aside—“that we’re expecting any pickups or deliveries, do you, Lila?”
Mrs. Coley lifted the pattern off, and Sam ducked her head to avoid the pricking pins.
“No. Definitely not.” Lila’s hands perched on her hips. “Jed would never schedule the arrival of a new horse when he was gone.”
“Rachel would,” Sam said.
Lila, Mrs. Coley, and Jen all turned to stare at her, in spite of the commotion outside.
“Whatever would Rachel want with a horse?” Mrs. Coley asked.
“She’s been thinking about getting a Morgan mare named Mocha,” Sam answered.
“Hasn’t she given up the idea of being a rodeo queen?” Lila turned to Jen.
“How would I know?” Jen snapped. “Rachel sure doesn’t share her secrets with me. If Sam says Rachel wants a Morgan mare—”
Before Jen finished, the cabin door flew open so hard, it hit the wall and nearly bounced closed in Rachel’s flushed and frantic face.
She was still dressed in her high-fashion clothes, but her hair wasn’t sleek, and she was wobbling a little. It looked as if she’d broken the heel off one of her knee-high boots.
“You’ve got to help me.” Rachel gasped. “One of you who”—her hands fluttered wildly—“does horses. They got Mocha into the pen all right, but all those little ponies escaped into the mountains.”
Chapter Fifteen
Sam and Jen slipped past Rachel through the door and stared around the ranch yard.
Rachel couldn’t possibly have lost an entire herd of ponies, could she?
A brown Morgan mare trotted up and down the front fence of the pasture that had held the ponies. It was Mocha, and she was all alone.
Mrs. Coley, Lila, Jen, and Rachel were all outside now.
“Did your father know this mare was on her way?” Lila rubbed her brow in confusion.
“No. I ordered her and I paid for her. Katie Sterling had no qualms about billing Mocha to my credit card. There weren’t any problems.” Rachel took a long breath and added, “At first.”
As soon as Rachel was quiet, everyone else began asking questions.
“Why didn’t you put the new mare in the round pen?” “How did the ponies get loose?”
“Where did the horse van go?”
Sam couldn’t tell who was asking what. Apparently, neither could Rachel, because she put her hands over her ears, then shouted, “If my dad was here, you wouldn’t be ganging up on me.”
There was a moment’s quiet. Then Rachel’s hands fell away from her ears.
“We just want to know what happened so we can help.” Mrs. Coley kept her tone level.
Rachel looked hopefully at Sam.
“I asked before, but I guess you didn’t hear me. Why didn’t you have them put Mocha in the round pen by herself?” Sam asked.
“That’s what that driver said, too.” Rachel’s tone dismissed them both. “But Mocha is my ho
rse, and I thought she would like being the only big horse among all those munchkins.”
Rachel nodded as if she were an expert, but Sam decided Rachel’s horse psychology told more about her than it did Mocha.
“Those munchkins,” Jen said, “are registered Shetland ponies bred and raised in the Shetland Islands.”
“So they’re hardy,” Mrs. Coley mused. “That’s good. If this snowstorm breaks, they should be able to withstand it.”
“They’re tougher, stockier, and have heavier coats than American Shetland ponies,” Jen conceded, “but they’re also smaller.”
Involuntarily, Sam looked toward the ridge.
“You’re worried about that orphaned cougar, aren’t you, Samantha?” Lila’s voice lowered to a whisper. “That was a sorry idea from the first.”
Jen’s expression flickered between anger and sympathy, then she squared her shoulders.
“Look, I don’t think the ponies went far,” Jen said. “They’re all tubby little guys. They like their feed. As soon as they hear me filling that manger with grain, I bet they’ll come trotting back home.”
Without waiting for a second opinion, Jen headed for the barn.
“How, exactly, did this happen?” Mrs. Coley asked.
“Just the way I said!” Rachel insisted.
“I admit I’m surprised,” Lila said. “I’d heard such good things about Sterling Stables…”
Sam watched Rachel squirm as Lila continued.
“…and for that driver to just create this mess, then leave, is not reputable behavior.”
“How did the ponies escape?” Sam asked.
“The driver agreed to do what I told him, and he asked me to hold the gate open while he unloaded Mocha. And then—” Rachel shuddered. “All those furry ponies started crowding against the gate. And one of them started rubbing its little whiskery chin against my hand, and then it nipped me!”
Rachel snatched both hands against her chest as if the terrible event had just happened again.
“So you jumped back and they all got out,” Sam said.
“The driver wanted to help catch them,” Rachel said, “but I couldn’t let him.”