by Terri Farley
Sam struggled with her sweater. Stuck midway, looking through the burgundy knit, she recalled the last time she’d worn it. The day she’d tried to help Rachel pick a horse, the sweater had made her feel out of place. Today, Sam was surrounded by friends who cared about her, not what she was wearing. Or not wearing.
Finally free of the sweater and jeans, Sam turned toward the bridesmaid dress.
“Ouch.” Jen gasped.
“Does it look that bad?” Sam wanted to hide whatever Jen had seen, but rushing didn’t seem possible.
“I don’t know how you can even—” Jen broke off, shaking her head. “Sam, your neck’s probably too sore to look over your shoulder into the mirror—”
“I’m not even going to try.” Sam stepped into the dress, but she couldn’t seem to lift it as far as her hips.
“I guess you’re lucky his claws and teeth didn’t break the skin. If they had…” Jen shook her head. “I bet you’d be in the hospital getting pumped full of antibiotics. Still, you’re black-and-blue from your neck down to the backs of your knees.”
“It feels like it,” Sam said.
“Did Brynna see?” Jen asked.
“Probably. I was pretty out of it last night. The whole county could have looked and I wouldn’t have noticed.”
“No wonder you’re walking funny,” Jen said. “Let me help you with the dress. And tomorrow, if you go to school—”
“Of course I’m going to school!”
“Anyhow, I’ll carry your backpack.”
“Thanks, Jen, you’re the best.”
“Oh, yeah, right.” She shrugged off the compliment and zipped the dress. “Gosh, it looks perfect.”
As Sam faced the mirror, Jen arranged the long forest-green skirts, then stepped back.
“Can you see my bruises?” Sam asked.
Jen brushed at the back of Sam’s hair, smoothing it over her nape. “Hardly. You look amazing. Let’s go show the others.”
A chorus of sighs wafted their way. They entered the living room in time to see Brynna twirling the skirt of her bridal gown.
“Wow.” Sam sighed. How could a few yards of satin and lace transform a hardworking outdoors-woman into a fairy-tale princess?
“It’s not finished,” Mrs. Coley said, her arms crossed and a huge smile on her face. “But when it is, I think it will do nicely.”
“I love it!” Brynna hugged Mrs. Coley in thanks, then hurried to Sam and kissed her cheek.
“This calls for a toast,” said Lila. “I have hot apple cider on the stove.”
A knock sounded at the door before Lila took a step. It was quiet until Mrs. Coley whispered, “If it’s a disaster with the investors, I’m not here.”
“I am!” Jen said. “This could be fun.”
Sam giggled and followed Jen. She didn’t know whether to credit the brown sugar tarts or the friendship, but all at once she felt a whole lot better.
“Hello? Pardon me for interrupting, but I’m looking for Ms. Olson. Is she here?”
The English accent and coffee-colored hair proved the guy at the door was Ryan Slocum, Rachel’s brother. Sam had to agree with Jen. So far, the male twin was a lot more appealing than the female.
He waited. Sam wondered if he thought they were both simpleminded, since neither she nor Jen had managed an answer, when Brynna came to the door.
“Yes?” In spite of her white lace gown, Brynna’s tone was all business.
Ryan looked relieved. “Ah, Ms. Olson. I was told you’re something of a wildlife expert.”
Brynna nodded.
“Yes, well, if you’d be kind enough to come with me, I’d like your opinion on a situation in the dining tent.” He nodded toward the billowing structure.
“I’m hopeless when it comes to food,” Brynna said, looking confused.
“Food is the root of the problem—however, there’s something else.” He looked so perplexed, Brynna followed him outside.
Sam tucked in right behind them, holding her skirts clear of the cold ground. She should have taken time to slip on shoes, but this sounded too intriguing to miss.
Jen would have followed, too, if Lila hadn’t snagged her elbow.
“The thing is,” Ryan confided to Brynna, “I’d like to set a plan in action before I notify my father.”
Ryan Slocum had his dad all sized up, Sam was thinking. But then she heard the crash of plates and a growl.
“Stay back,” Brynna said. She pulled aside the flap of the tent, then glanced at Sam. “Go get my hand-held radio from the truck.”
Although curiosity consumed her, Sam went. Every freezing-cold, bone-jarring step hurt, but she ran.
She returned, handed Brynna her radio, then edged closer to the tent. As she reached for the flap, Sam could have sworn she heard the sound of purring.
And then Ryan moved in front of her.
“I’m not sure that gown is quite the thing for lion taming.”
Sam stared at him in disbelief. He was blocking her way. Who did he think he was?
“That lion and I have already met,” Sam assured Ryan, and while he tried to figure that out, she stepped right on by.
The cougar crouched on a linen-covered table that ran the length of the tent. Places had already been set with silver and china. Small cooked birds were centered on each plate.
Licking his whiskers and purring, the cougar made his way down the table, grabbing and swallowing with obvious pleasure.
Brynna’s arm circled Sam’s shoulders. To keep from disturbing the cat, she spoke next to Sam’s ear.
“Division of Wildlife is on its way.”
Sam nodded, and then, at the sound of approaching footsteps, she and Brynna glanced up to see Linc Slocum puffing toward the tent.
Sam felt sick. “You won’t let him—”
“—do a single thing,” Brynna promised.
Sam believed her. For a lady in a wedding dress, Brynna looked pretty tough.
As they watched from the front of the tent and the two uniformed chefs watched from the back, the cougar edged forward without wrinkling the linen tablecloth. He lashed out a paw, swept a green salad aside, then gulped another smoked quail.
“It’s sort of amazing,” Sam whispered. “Gram was right about bad deeds coming home to roost.”
Close by, Linc was yelling, while his son spoke in low, reasonable tones.
“If Linc hadn’t killed that cougar’s mom,” Sam continued, “I bet that cat would be up in the Calicos chasing mule deer instead of down here, wrecking Linc’s party.”
The Division of Wildlife truck rattled through the iron gates and into the center of the yard. Two men in khakis climbed out of the truck. One looked at Brynna’s attire in amazement, then gave her a sort of salute.
“Time for us to turn it over to the experts,” Brynna said. Then she lifted her white lace skirts and marched toward the house.
Although Sam wanted to stay and watch, she knew Brynna was right. With fewer distractions, the cougar’s capture would go more smoothly and he’d be up in the Ruby Mountains even sooner.
As she and Brynna reached the Kenworthys’ door, two black limousines rolled into the yard and swerved around the Division of Wildlife truck.
Sam heard Jen giggling inside the house and then she heard Linc Slocum moan. She couldn’t tell what Linc said, exactly, but his son’s words were crystal clear.
“Oh, Father, give it up!” Ryan snapped. Then he walked back to the mansion and left Linc to deal with the investors, alone.
Sam was ready to go home long before they hung the two gowns and finished off the snacks. She ached all over, and she was anxious to get to bed early. Tomorrow, after all, was Monday.
Just the same, when they pulled into the ranch yard, she was glad to see Jake’s old blue truck parked near the bunkhouse.
Jake wore a bulky denim jacket, but no Stetson. He kept his hands buried in his pockets as he stood in front of the bunkhouse talking to Dallas.
As Sam pull
ed her aching body out of Gram’s car, he turned to watch.
“Go see what he wants,” Gram said with a shooing motion. “I’ll get dinner started. And don’t worry about your chores. Wyatt’s given you the day off.”
Sam sighed with relief, then straightened her shoulders. She did her best to walk without limping and must have done an all right job, because Jake didn’t get fussy like he had yesterday.
He gave a nod to Dallas, then strode toward Sam.
“Got something I want to show you,” he said, turning toward the barn.
“I don’t think I can ride,” Sam said. In fact, Sam knew she couldn’t, but she wouldn’t admit it.
“Don’t expect you to,” Jake answered.
Sam glanced at Jake’s face as she walked beside him. With his long hair tied back, gleaming and black, and the sun glinting on his dark brown cheekbones, he looked familiar and dependable.
She was sure Jake knew the truth, that she’d fall down whimpering if she even tried to throw her leg over a horse’s back, but he didn’t hint at her weakness.
But if he teased her, she was ready to respond. Once, Jake had told her he remembered Ryan Slocum as a jerk. She could tell him Ryan was back, and that he’d helped save the cougar. She could, but right now Jake was being a decent friend.
She’d let someone else tell him Ryan was back.
“Where are we going?” Sam asked as they passed through the old pasture and started up a path. It was nearly twilight. Gram would get cranky if she stayed out too long.
“Just to the top of the ridge,” Jake said. He slowed his pace a little, but didn’t ask if she could make it.
Sam heard hooves and nickering before Jake held a finger to his lips. He continued on silent feet, but Sam could hear her own breathing. Then she tripped on a root, yelped, and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her.
Two dark shadows passed through the gorge down below, manes and tails streaming as they ran.
“Who was it?” Sam asked.
“Moon and some mare,” Jake said.
“Moon? He’s got a herd?”
“I wouldn’t call it a herd,” Jake said. “More like, he stole himself some company.”
“From who?” Sam grabbed Jake’s jacket and gave him a shake. When he leaned forward, curling his arms across his chest and pretending she’d hurt him, she insisted, “Whose mare?”
“Can’t say for sure. Both the Phantom and Yellowtail were chasing him down by Three Ponies. Then Moon herded her across La Charla and the other stallions stopped.”
A vision of the Phantom filled her mind. This time last year, she’d thought her colt was lost forever.
Sam wondered what the next year would bring, then shook her head and looked back down in the gorge. Moon and his mare had galloped out of sight.
“He knew he was safe on this side of La Charla,” Sam said. She rubbed her hands together, but she didn’t need the warmth.
She was so happy Moon had found a family that she almost missed the small sound from inside Jake’s jacket.
“Jake?” she asked. “What was that?”
He shrugged. Then, looking embarrassed, Jake unbuttoned his jacket with one hand.
“Since your mustangs are gonna be out of touch for the winter, I brought you a house pet.”
Jake’s big hand withdrew a brown-striped kitten from the sheepskin lining of his jacket. Awakened from its nap, the kitten blinked up at Sam and uttered a tiny mew.
“We’ve been calling him Cougar,” Jake said.
“Jake! You are the best!” Sam squeezed Jake’s neck in a clumsy hug. It hurt her, and it probably hurt Jake, but she couldn’t resist.
“Careful. You’re squishing him,” Jake said.
“I love him!” Sam released her grip on Jake’s neck and held the kitten next to her chest.
“It’s no big deal,” Jake said, but the grin on his face said otherwise.
Sam led the way back toward the ranch house, and when the winter wind brought her the sounds of galloping hooves, she felt cozy and contented. She and Moon were both back where they belonged.
About the Author
Terri Farley has always loved horses. She left Los Angeles for the cowgirl state of Nevada after earning degrees in English and Journalism. Now she rides the range researching books and magazine articles on the West’s people and animals—especially Nevada’s controversial wild horses. She lives in a one-hundred-year-old house with her husband, children, and way too many pets.
Visit www.phantomstallion.com
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Read all the books in the PHANTOM STALLION series:
1
THE WILD ONE
2
MUSTANG MOON
3
DARK SUNSHINE
4
THE RENEGADE
5
FREE AGAIN
6
THE CHALLENGER
Credits
Cover art © 2003 by Greg Call
Cover © 2003 by HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
Copyright
PHANTOM STALLION #6: THE CHALLENGER. Copyright © 2003 by Terri Sprenger-Farley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Adobe Digital Edition February 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-188936-3
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