by Terri Farley
“Couldn’t?” Mrs. Coley echoed.
Rachel lifted her nose an inch toward the sky.
“You don’t know how it is. People in our position are always targets for gossip. If I’d let that man stay, he would be telling everyone he came into contact with about my ‘mistake.’”
As Rachel finished, Sam turned to Lila and Mrs. Coley. Both women looked as if they were deciding whether they should lecture Rachel or laugh at her. Everyone except Rachel could see she was responsible for this disaster.
Suddenly, Sam thought she heard raindrops. Next, she saw Jen shaking a big silver grain scoop, and the pattering sound grew louder.
Five ponies, all in shades of brown, rounded the corner of the Brahma corral at a run.
“Here they come!” Lila cheered. “Good work, honey.”
Mrs. Coley hurried ahead of Jen. She flashed her arm back and forth, making Mocha shy away. Then she opened the gate so that Jen could lead the crowding, pushing ponies through.
“How many were there?” Sam asked Rachel.
“How should I know?” Rachel laughed, amazed Sam would ask her.
Frustrated, Sam looked at Jen’s mother for an answer.
“Seven, I think,” Lila said. “The one piebald and the tiniest gelding aren’t with this bunch.”
“Is the tiniest one a gray with a bushy mane and tail?” Sam asked.
“That sounds more like a squirrel—” Rachel began, but Lila spoke right over her.
“That’s the one,” Lila said. “He’s a scamp. I bet he hightailed off somewhere and only the piebald was foolish enough to go with him.”
The slam of the pasture gate made Sam turn in time to see Mocha trot up to cautiously touch noses with the ponies. As soon as she’d bolted the gate, Jen hurried back toward Sam.
“Two are still missing. If we saddle up right now, we could find them before sundown.”
“Great,” Rachel urged. “You do that.”
“May I borrow a horse?” Sam asked.
“Sure, yeah. Take any horse you want,” Rachel said.
“Wait a minute.” Lila’s arms were crossed hard and her lips made a straight line.
Sam knew Lila didn’t want them riding out while the cougar was roaming nearby.
“Mom, I know what you’re thinking, but there’s no way in the world I’d risk Silly by getting too close to a cougar.” Jen took a deep breath, then expelled it. “Even if it was stalking the ponies.”
Lila gave a slight nod, believing her daughter.
“As long as you bring them back safely,” Rachel added.
Sam watched Rachel’s fingers flutter through her hair again and again. Was Rachel so spoiled that she didn’t realize her mistake might put others, especially the ponies, in danger?
As they hurried toward the barn, Sam thought of the mare she’d borrowed on the day Rachel “disappeared.” The mare had been surefooted and steady, even when the Phantom appeared.
“I don’t remember her name, but there’s a pinto mare with a scarred knee,” Sam began.
“Patches. She’d be good.” Jen answered automatically, but her eyes were fixed on the ground and she chewed at her bottom lip. “I’m deciding whether to take Silly, after all.”
Sam had a sensible suggestion. Shouldn’t they ride the horses that had faced the cougar and the gunfire that killed her, and then carried her body home?
This would be a bad time to make Jen mad, but Sam had to risk it. “Which horses did your dad and Linc ride? Before?”
Jen answered without hesitation, “Linc rode Champ and my dad took Sundance.”
“Wow,” Sam said, surprised. She wouldn’t have guessed either horse would stay unruffled in such loud and unfamiliar circumstances.
“Yeah, the Kenworthy palominos came through,” Jen said, sarcastically.
Jen was often sarcastic, but this time Sam couldn’t figure it out. When Jen spoke again, Sam decided she must have been mistaken.
“So, I’ll take Silly,” Jen said. “Do you want to ride Champ?”
Sam tried to say no. She reminded herself how steady Patches had been. But then she thought of the palomino Quarter horse Linc Slocum rode with a severe bit and heavy hands. She’d love a chance to show Champ that not all riders were cruel.
Finally, she couldn’t resist.
“Yes! I’d love to ride Champ! Let’s go!”
The winter sky had turned gray by the time Champ and Silly were saddled. Trying to beat the invasion of dusk, Sam and Jen set out for the ridgeline at a lope.
Side by side, the two palominos surged up the path. They were always kept in the barn, blanketed, so they didn’t have shaggy winter coats. Their muscles rolled under hides that shone like gold satin.
“They look and move alike, don’t they?” Sam called to Jen.
Her friend nodded, but just as there’d been something sarcastic in Jen’s tone when she talked about the Kenworthy palominos before, now her mouth twisted in a bitter smile.
Once, the Kenworthys’ ranch had been famed for its palominos, but now only four remained. Sam guessed the horses were a reminder of better times.
When the horses reached the ridge top, the girls let them rest for a minute.
“Jen, if we see the ponies, do you think we can herd them back?”
“Yeah. I think they’ll be hungry and ready to get back with their pals.” Jen put Silly into a walk toward River Bend Ranch.
“I hope so,” Sam said, glancing at her watch. “And I hope they’re down this way, because it’s almost sundown. If they’ve scampered off in some other direction, they’re going to be roughing it tonight.”
The girls rode along, eyes searching each clump of sagebrush, each stand of piñon pine. Except for a covey of startled quail, which ran twittering and flapping away from the horses, nothing moved.
“About five more minutes and we’ve got to turn around,” Jen said. “You heard me promise Mom.”
Sam nodded. At least the two ponies would have each other. Out in strange terrain, they’d be watchful and wary through the night.
Silly and Champ swung their heavy heads at the same time and looked down a ravine on their left.
Brush shook and then they saw that at least one of the ponies was safe.
The piebald pony wasn’t trapped, but he was in a tight spot. His high-pitched whinny asked the big horses to wait.
“That’s right, cutie,” Jen crooned to the pony. “We’re here to take you home.”
“I wonder where the other one’s gone?” Sam was glad they’d found this pony, but it meant the gray was out all alone.
“I don’t know. But the cougar should still be eating that deer,” Jen said. “And maybe the avalanche hit two of them. You can never tell.”
The piebald pony made a halfhearted bolt up the side of the ravine.
“C’mon, you can make it,” Jen called, but the pony shook his disheveled mane and stayed put.
“How do you want to do this?” Sam asked.
Her fingers touched the coiled rope held in a leather loop on Champ’s saddle. The rope felt stiff and new, as if Linc only carried it for decoration.
“I’m a lousy roper, anyway,” Sam said. “And this rope doesn’t feel like it’s been used much.”
“I bet it hasn’t.” Jen tilted her head thoughtfully.
One white-blond braid swung away from her shoulder and swayed like a pendulum as she considered their situation as if it were a math problem.
“Okay,” she said finally. “That pony knows me, but he has no idea who you are. So why don’t you tie Champ, then climb down there, swinging the rope to spook Chipper. I’ll pretend to ride away. Maybe he’ll think he’s being left behind with scary old you, and climb up here after us.”
Sam nodded, but she didn’t like Jen’s solution. Steep downhills were her least favorite sort of riding, and she wasn’t a lot more confident about doing them on foot. All she had to do was step on a loose rock and she’d go plunging headlong down the cliff.
“Okay, Champ,” Sam said, unhooking the rope from the saddle. “Enjoy your rest. I’ll go get the little guy.”
The sidehill was sticky with mud, and Sam made it down without falling. It was surprisingly dark in the ravine, though it was only ten feet below the ridge trail.
Sam held an open loop in one hand and smooched to the pony as she swung the loop his way.
He stabbed at the hillside with hooves that would fit in teacups, and his small neigh made Sam feel like a bully.
“I’m doing this for your own good,” she chirped. Then, as the piebald started up, she encouraged him. “Let’s go! Upsy-daisy! C’mon!” Sam jogged up behind him and the pony bolted. “You’ve got it. Go!”
With a grunt, he reached the ridge, leaving Sam in the dark ravine.
“I’ll keep him moving.” Jen’s voice floated back to Sam as she herded the pony toward home.
“Okay,” Sam yelled, but the sides of the ravine absorbed the sound. She wasn’t sure Jen had heard.
All at once, Sam shivered. She looked toward the darkest part of the ravine. Something rustled in the brush.
More quail, Sam decided. Just the same, she clambered back up the hill, stuck a muddy boot in Champ’s stirrup, and swung up.
“If it’s all the same to you, let’s get out of here,” Sam said, touching her heels to the palomino’s sides. He leaped after Silly and the piebald pony.
For an instant, Sam tried to look back at the bushes.
Night was falling fast, and the chasm below wouldn’t reveal its secrets.
So, if a flash of fiery eyes seemed to show, deep in the ink-green bushes, it was probably just her imagination.
Chapter Sixteen
The piebald pony, with his large, irregular patches of black and white, was easy to follow through the dusk. He required no herding as he wended his way home. He moved at a trot where the trail was rough and rocked into a bound-for-home lope where the path was smooth.
Once the pony was back in the pasture, Sam and Jen faced the others.
“Good job, girls,” Mrs. Coley called as she walked down the path from the mansion. Rachel followed a few haughty steps behind.
“Just in time, too.” Lila rubbed her arms against the evening chill as she looked toward the road.
Sam knew Gram would arrive any minute to pick her up, but she didn’t want to leave things unfinished.
“Jen,” she said quietly, “do you think there’s a chance your mom would let you skip school and go look for that pony in the morning?”
Apparently she hadn’t been quiet enough, because Rachel made a mocking moan and rolled her eyes skyward. Even worse, Jen’s mom had heard.
“Samantha Forster!” Lila Kenworthy sounded shocked.
Sam sucked in a breath. “I know it’s not a great idea, and I never cut school, but what about that pony?”
Lila sighed and said, “I know he’s not suited to spending a night on the range, but he’ll live.”
Looking through her fringe of wheat-colored hair, Lila Kenworthy appeared determined. Sam was glad when Jen took over negotiations.
“It’s an emergency,” Jen insisted. “Here’s what we could do. Early tomorrow morning, before school, Sam leaves from River Bend, I leave from here, and we trap the pony between us.”
Mrs. Coley looked half convinced, but Jen’s mom wasn’t.
“No,” Lila said flatly. “There’s a reason the hunting hours for cougars start a half hour before dawn.”
Mrs. Coley shook her head, going over to Lila’s side. “Girls, it’s just too dangerous.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” Rachel said, waving one hand. “There’s no rush. My dad won’t be home for days, and it’s not like he’d notice one of them is missing.”
Sam’s anger boiled inside her. Rachel couldn’t imagine the pony being attacked and killed. She only saw the inconvenience of going after him.
“When Jed comes back from the airport, I’ll explain what’s happened,” Lila said. Her eyes slid toward Rachel.
Of course, she didn’t take the hint. Rachel had put the pony in danger, but it didn’t occur to her that she should confess.
At the sound of approaching tires, Sam turned. Gram was coming, and that gave her an idea.
“I’ll tell my dad, too,” Sam said, and suddenly her spirits lifted. “This is a slack time for the cowboys, and I bet they wouldn’t mind looking for the pony.”
As if to contradict Sam, a gust of icy wind sliced through the evening, making them shiver.
“Stand out here if you like,” Rachel said, “but I’m going indoors where it’s warm.”
“What about your new horse?” Mrs. Coley asked quietly.
“Oh.” Rachel stared at the dark chestnut mare who’d crowded against the white fence as if trying to escape the ponies. “What about her?”
“She was living in a stall at Sterling Stables,” Sam said.
Rachel gave Jen an encouraging smile, as if she expected her to take over the chore of bedding down the mare. Jen pretended not to notice. She brushed imaginary dust from her hands, tugged at the cuffs of her sweater sleeves, then rubbed her palms together, warming them against the evening chill.
“I could lead her up to the barn, I guess.” Rachel’s tone implied this was hardly her job.
“Good idea,” Mrs. Coley said, then she turned briskly toward Sam. “You don’t want to keep your grandmother waiting, honey.”
Jen walked along beside Sam as she set out for Gram’s car.
“If they don’t find Chipper,” Jen said, looking a little sheepish, “do you think Jake could track him?”
Jen and Jake did not have compatible personalities, but Sam knew her two best friends admired each other’s skills.
Although Jen was a freshman, she was in Jake’s physics class, and he grudgingly admitted her ability. Jen knew Jake’s tracking skill was superb. The sheriff’s department had even called on him to work with their adult experts while they tracked wild horse rustlers.
“Of course Jake would help.” Sam gave Jen a hug, climbed into Gram’s car, and turned the heater all the way up.
As soon as Sam saw her dad, she knew her predictions had been right. He was restless and frustrated by winter’s inactivity.
When she and Gram came shivering into the kitchen, Dad stood in front of the stove, lifting lids and poking at stew with Gram’s wooden spoon.
“I hate winter, and that’s the truth,” he greeted them.
Gram sighed as if she’d heard his complaint a hundred times. “Now, Wyatt, all spring, fall, and summer you complain about long hours and backaches. You pine for the winter so you’ll be able to sit by the fire and read a book.”
Wordless, Dad made room at the stove for Gram, then took a restless lap around the dining room table.
Finally, he shook his head in a self-mocking way.
“I know it. But I look at the clock, thinking this is about the time I should be riding in, rubbing down my horse before heading for the shower. Instead, I’m looking at the clock.” Dad paused, and when he pointed at the clock, Sam noticed he was still holding Gram’s spoon. “And I’m wondering what’s on television and calculating how long I have to wait before I can decently go to bed.”
“Go on out to the bunkhouse and harass your cowboys,” Gram suggested. “And may I please have that spoon?” She took the wooden spoon back and tsked her tongue as if Dad were still a boy.
“I don’t want to play cards and tell lies with the boys. I’m past that stage of my life.”
Before Dad could think of phoning Brynna, Sam jumped in with a suggestion.
“Don’t worry, Dad, I’ve got a real chore for you.”
“Oh, you do?” Dad looked amused. “It wouldn’t have to do with wild horses, would it?”
Sam hesitated. Did the mustangs need Dad’s help?
Yesterday, the Phantom’s herd had been pawing the frosty grass on the other side of La Charla. The silver stallion and his mares had look
ed fit and strong, though she didn’t know where they were wintering.
And Moon? The young black stallion might be lonely, but he’d been born and bred on the range. She thought he was safe.
“No, Dad, it’s not wild horses this time,” Sam said. “It’s a pony named Chipper. He belongs to the Slocums. He got out, and with this storm brewing…”
Sam didn’t mention the cougar. She didn’t have to.
“One of those fancy little imported ponies wouldn’t stand a chance against that cat,” Dad said, disgusted.
Sam felt a surge of protectiveness, but Dad stopped her before she could defend the pony.
“I’m not blaming the pony, Sam. I blame people. Some animals—people too—just don’t transplant well. They need to be protected for their own good.”
Sam saw a softening in Dad’s expression and she knew he was thinking of her mother. Mom had been city-raised, but she’d fallen in love with wild Nevada.
“How did this pony get out?” he asked.
Gram finished spooning the dumplings on top of the stew, then turned to them with a humphing sound.
“Linc’s out of town and his daughter charged a purebred Morgan mare—on her own credit card, I might add—to be delivered to the ranch.” Gram held up a hand against Dad’s astonishment. “In the excitement of the delivery, the entire bunch of ponies escaped. Your daughter helped bring back all but one of them.”
“Gram? How did you know?” Sam was so amazed at Gram’s recitation, she almost missed Dad’s satisfied smile.
“Lila called while you and Jen were out chasing down the escapees,” Gram said.
“How long till dinner?” Dad asked suddenly.
“Ten minutes, more or less,” Gram said. “I’m just waiting for the dumplings to cook.”
“I think I will walk out to the bunkhouse.” Dad took his Stetson from a hook by the door and pulled it on with a contented nod. “I’ll let the boys know we’re going out at dawn and pen us a pony.”
The Phantom called at midnight.
Half asleep, Sam sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes as her heart pounded. Was it a dream?
No. Hooves thundered on frozen ground, sounding so close she thought the stallion was in the ranch yard. He wouldn’t be, though. The Phantom never crossed La Charla.