by Terri Farley
“I remember, but Jake’s also the one who cut off his own cast before he was supposed to.”
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Allen said. “I wouldn’t want him to encourage Gabriel to do anything other than what the doctors have ordered.”
It was the perfect time to ask about Gabriel’s progress, but Sam couldn’t.
She wanted to know. She cared about the guy she’d talked with on the phone, late that night at Mrs. Allen’s house, but her throat felt swollen shut. She could barely swallow and certainly couldn’t form the words she needed to ask.
He must be better or he wouldn’t be coming here, Sam told herself. And that was all she needed to know.
“I’m going upstairs for a nap.” Voice lowered, Brynna tried to be quiet, but Sam glanced over to see Brynna kiss Dad’s cheek and add, “Doesn’t sound like I’ll miss much.”
Frustrated, Sam struck her thigh with her fist. There had to be a solution. Someone, somewhere must have the time to spend with the yearling.
“Maybe this is how things are supposed to work out,” Mrs. Allen said.
“But who’ll adopt him the way he is now?” Sam asked.
“Maybe no one,” Mrs. Allen said. “Maybe the poor little fella wasn’t meant to be tamed and adopted. It’s unlikely he’ll be put down with Brynna pulling for him, don’t you think? Look at the bright side,” Mrs. Allen said. “The BLM has those pastures out in the middle of the country. He could go to one of those.”
For someone trying to be optimistic, Mrs. Allen’s voice sounded forlorn.
“He’s not the type to just graze his life away,” Sam said. “That’s not much better than just keeping him sedated, like Dr. Scott’s been doing so far.”
The rambunctious colt deserved better, Sam thought.
Gram shifted in her chair at the table, and Sam wondered why she looked so distressed. But Sam looked away when she heard Mrs. Allen take a troubled breath.
“I’ll keep thinking,” Sam said, trying to reassure her. “Mrs. Allen, you’re doing all you can. Your grandson needs you more than the colt does. I know that.”
“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Allen said. “You’ve been a great help over the past couple weeks and I appreciate it more than you know. I hope you’ll get to be great friends with Gabriel while he’s here this week….”
Great friends? Sam definitely didn’t see that happening. She might have time to ride over to Mrs. Allen’s house once this week, or Gram might drive her over to visit, but “great friends” didn’t happen in an hour or two.
“…call me back when you work out a plan,” Mrs. Allen concluded.
Sam blinked in surprise. When she worked out a plan? She appreciated Mrs. Allen’s faith in her, but didn’t she mean if?
But this was no time to dump her own doubts on Mrs. Allen, so Sam promised, “I will.”
She hung up the phone and stood with her arms crossed, wondering what to do next.
“So she has her hands full with her grandson?” Gram asked.
“He’s there for only a week,” Sam explained.
Of course it had to be the week before the auction. Would it really matter to Gabriel if he came to Deerpath Ranch a week later? It would matter to Pirate. A single week of gentling could give him an edge over the other mustangs up for adoption. He’d be sweeter and more likely to get a home.
But Sam didn’t say that. She knew it would sound pouty and insensitive, even though it was the truth. Instead, she told Gram about Mrs. Allen’s offer: She’d let the colt stay at her ranch, but someone else would have to care for him.
“Honey,” Dad said.
Sam had almost forgotten Dad was still sitting at the kitchen table. But there he was, wearing a blue chambray shirt, long sleeved to protect him from the sun. He was drinking a cup of hot coffee, too, even though it was a million degrees outside.
“Yes?” Sam asked, hoping Dad could point a way out of this maze of confusion.
“We can do without you this week.”
One drawback to having a cowboy father was that he spoke briefly, with no explanations or details.
“Do you mean Jen can take over?”
“And Jake,” Dad said.
Okay, Sam thought. That made sense. There were only two HARP girls coming, so they wouldn’t really need three teachers.
It would have been great if Dad had gone on for a few minutes about how it wouldn’t be the same without her. Or if Gram had mentioned the girls would really miss out on a great teacher, but Sam knew that was unlikely.
She did a good job. They knew it. She knew it. So why waste words talking about it?
“So it’s okay with you if I tell Mrs. Allen I’ll come over and take care of the colt?” Sam asked.
Even though Jake or Callie would probably do a better job, Sam knew she should grab the opportunity. She might be Pirate’s best hope.
So why did she feel like there was some snag in this smooth way out?
“I can’t leave Tempest,” Sam said suddenly.
“Well, you certainly can’t take her with you,” Gram said.
“I could,” Sam said, trying to figure out how that would work.
“It’s too early to wean her,” Gram said. Her tone hinted that Sam should know better than to even suggest such a thing.
“I wouldn’t wean her,” Sam said. “I could take Dark Sunshine, too.”
Dad gave a disgusted snort and pushed away from the table to stand.
“Don’t ask me to be part of your travelin’ circus,” he said, sounding impatient.
Sam bit her lip.
Dark Sunshine was half wild under the best of conditions. In a strange place, she’d feel more protective of her foal, more hyperalert and wary. Pirate didn’t need that kind of influence in the next corral.
Okay, so taking Dark Sunshine and Tempest with her was a crazy idea. But she still felt torn.
“Well, it’s not like I won’t be handling her for a week. I just won’t have as much time with her,” Sam said. She slid her eyes sideways, watching Dad. In fact, she was testing him. And he knew it.
“Wrong. If you’re going over to help with that burnt colt, you’re staying there. A halfway job is worse than no job at all.”
“You’d make me stay over there?” Sam asked.
“I’m not making you do anything,” Dad said. He took his cowboy hat from the rack by the kitchen door. “Go or stay, Samantha. It don’t make any difference to me.”
Chapter Five
The door closed behind Dad.
Openmouthed, Sam turned toward Gram.
“He’s just testy because of the heat,” Gram assured her.
“I hope you’re right,” Sam said as she bolted out the kitchen door after him.
Her first step into the Nevada sun was as dazzling as it was hot. Shading her eyes against the glare, Sam sprinted to catch up with Dad.
He must have heard her steps pelting closer across the sandy ranch yard, because he turned and waited.
“What would you do?” Sam asked.
“Couldn’t say,” Dad told her. “But one week’s not worth wastin’ a whole day thinking about it. Go, if you think you can do the colt some good. Stay, if you think home is where you need to be.”
A high-pitched, fussy squeal interrupted them. It meant that Tempest had spotted Sam.
Sam glanced over to see the black filly peering through the fence around her pen. It hadn’t taken long for Tempest to learn that Sam was the one person on River Bend Ranch who was guaranteed to pay attention to her.
My baby is spoiled, Sam thought, as a second, more demanding whinny floated to her.
“Sam,” Dad said as his big hand closed over her shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “You’ve hardly slept in your own bed this summer, but I’m proud of what you’ve done since school let out. Go try your hand with that colt, or stay and help the HARP girls. Either way, it’s fine with us.
“Now, I’ve got to ride out and see how long I can leave that hay in the field.”
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Sam thought about last year’s haying as Dad walked away. They’d come close to losing the entire crop because they’d waited until the last minute to harvest.
“It’s the same sort of decision, isn’t it?” Sam asked.
Dad stopped.
“What’s that?” he asked, frowning.
“If you leave the hay out too short a time, it’s green and bad for the animals. If you leave it out too long, there’s a risk of it being damaged by rain or frost.”
Dad nodded as if he were following her so far.
“If I go help with the mustang, Tempest is without me, and…”
The rest of the comparison was a little harder to explain, and Dad had run out of patience.
Dad nodded. “It’s a balancin’ act, all right. Tell me at dinner what you decided.”
The buckskin mare and black colt weren’t going to help her decide, either, Sam thought as she climbed the corral fence to look inside.
Dark Sunshine stood in the gray shade of her corral fence. Fine-boned and nervous, she rarely looked so relaxed. With eyelids lowered, the buckskin held one back hoof cocked on its point. Her black-edged ears tilted out to each side. She looked half asleep as she stood beside Tempest.
Although the filly had been calling to Sam, beseeching her to play just minutes ago, Tempest was sprawled in the small patch of shade cast by her mother. She lay flat on the short grass, eyes closed, long legs extended as if even in her sleep, she was running.
Sam wished her life were so easy.
Why was it that anytime she wanted to make her own decision, her family refused to allow it? Then, when she wanted help and direction, they said she had to make her own choices?
She had to decide between Tempest and Pirate.
She wanted to stay home during these last few weeks of summer and cement her bond with Tempest. And she wouldn’t mind earning another paycheck from HARP. Soon, Gram would drive her to the Crane Crossing Mall for school shopping and Sam knew she’d want a few things Gram would call luxuries and refuse to buy.
But who would help Pirate if she didn’t? And he could be helped. She felt sure of it.
At Dr. Scott’s house, the damaged colt had trembled and panted, but he hadn’t struck out at ghost flames. He might be scared, but she didn’t think he was crazy.
Sam definitely didn’t want to spend another week at Mrs. Allen’s house. The lavender ranch house had only one spare bedroom and certainly it should be Gabriel’s.
A hot breeze, as if someone had opened a huge oven door, blasted past Sam. Could you be so hot that you were cold? Sam didn’t know, but a shiver prick-led down her forearms.
It would be awkward to stay at Mrs. Allen’s house, but what if one more week of kindness could soothe away Pirate’s bad memories? What if she slept in a sleeping bag outside the corral, while Mrs. Allen’s three old saddle horses—Calico, Ginger, and Judge—acted like a cozy family to the frightened yearling?
Dad had said he’d like to hear her decision at dinnertime, but Dr. Scott wanted the foal moved right away. According to Brynna, if Pirate didn’t go to Deerpath Ranch, he’d go to the corrals at Willow Springs Wild Horse Center.
Sam fanned the hem of her tank top, cooling her tummy.
She’d make up her mind soon, but she’d think better if she weren’t so hot, and that meant taking Tempest wading.
Instead of going inside the barn, walking through Dark Sunshine’s box stall and out into the small pasture, Sam threw one leg over the top of the fence, then climbed down as if the rails were rungs on a ladder.
A low nicker told her Dark Sunshine noticed, but she only watched as Sam’s tennis shoes touched the ground.
“Get up, lazybones,” Sam called to Tempest. “Time to go down to the river.”
The foal’s long black legs thrashed. She scrambled upright, tiny hooves barely touching the ground before she ducked to the other side of her mother.
Sunny curved her neck and nuzzled the filly’s withers, comforting her.
Reassured, Tempest lowered her head to look under Dark Sunshine’s buckskin belly, then gave a snort.
“Yep, it’s only me,” Sam said. She made a smooching noise and held out her hand. Tempest looked back over her shoulder and gave three quick nods that made her fuzzy forelock bob, but she didn’t stop. She followed her mother as the mare moved toward the barn.
A dusty haze surrounded the horses as Sam entered the box stall. It was a little risky, being in this confined space with the mare and foal, but Dark Sunshine knew what came next. The mare had learned to enter her stall, allow herself to be haltered and led.
“You’re a good girl.” Sam praised the mare, then slipped past her through the stall door, grabbed the halters, and returned.
The mare dropped her head and stood still for the halter to be buckled on.
“This is your passport out of here, isn’t it, beauty?” Sam asked.
For a few weeks, Dark Sunshine had run wild with the Phantom. Her sturdy legs had galloped many miles, and sometimes she gazed toward the Calico Mountains with longing. But the mare was settling in. Shortly after Tempest’s birth, she’d had a chance to leave with the Phantom, and she’d stayed home at River Bend Ranch, instead.
“If we ever get a saddle on you, we can go lots farther away,” Sam told the mare as she picked a wisp of straw from her black mane. “Think of it, girl.”
As she said the words, Sam realized lots of people—in fact, most people—would call her a nut-case for asking a horse to think about anything.
Luckily Pepper, Ross, and Dallas, the River Bend cowboys, who definitely would have laughed, were out on the range, not eavesdropping outside the barn.
If Sunny considered the idea of carrying a saddle and rider, she didn’t think much of it. She snorted and stiffened her legs.
“Say what you want,” Sam told her. “But it would really speed up your baby’s lessons if I could ride you and lead her.”
Dark Sunshine tossed her head in what Sam guessed was the horse equivalent of a shrug. Then Sunny blew through her lips as if saying, “Whatever.”
The mare watched carefully, though, as Sam prepared to halter Tempest.
Dad had hand-stitched the foal’s soft leather halter and Sam had kept its brass rings and buckles polished bright.
Smelling milky and feeling warm from the sun, Tempest crowded Sam, so eager to put her muzzle in the noseband that she made it almost impossible.
“Hey, baby girl,” Sam crooned, “give me a second.”
Once she had the noseband in place, Sam lifted the cheek pieces up, laid the thin strap behind the filly’s satiny black ears, and threaded it through the buckle.
As soon as the buckle was fastened, Tempest butted her forehead against Sam’s chest.
“I’m hurrying,” Sam said. Though she’d been braced for it, the filly had given her a pretty good thump. “Don’t be bratty,” Sam teased.
Their ritual called for Sam’s fingers to finish buckling, then rub the always-itchy spot behind Tempest’s ears.
The ranch yard lay still before them. Even the hens had taken shelter from the heat inside their coop, but the horses surged against their lead ropes, nostrils flared to catch scents from the river. A few yards behind the horses, Blaze tagged along, panting.
The temperature couldn’t have dropped more than a couple of degrees as they neared the river, but relief blew toward Sam when she smelled the scents of water, vegetation, and hot rocks.
Sunny gave a low, contented neigh. Tempest tried to lift her knees in a half rear and kick out with her hind hooves at the same time, and Sam held on to their lead ropes, hoping for the best.
This was the first time she’d tried tying the buckskin to anything besides the hitching rail, and Sam was a little scared. If the mare felt restricted or confined, she might start bucking. That could be dangerous for all three of them.
“Okay, Sunny, I’m gonna loop this rope around this cottonwood tree,” Sam said when they reached th
e edge of the river. “And I’m going to try to—Blaze, no barking!”
Amused by Sam’s contortions as she gripped Tempest’s lead rope with one hand and tried to tie a square knot with the other, the Border collie bowed his head between widespread front paws, waved his tail, and gave a yodeling growl.
“Real funny,” Sam muttered. Then, as if Blaze had given her instructions on how to tease Sam further, Tempest walked steadily toward the river. “We’ll go wading in a minute,” Sam promised, but the filly didn’t understand.
Sam gasped as her arms were pulled in opposite directions.
“Please stop,” she begged, but she didn’t dare yank the lead rope.
The filly’s halter-breaking had progressed really well, but one rough experience could be a setback.
After another bark, Blaze sat. His tongue lolled and his eyes gleamed as if he were enjoying a joke, but his silence made Tempest stop and glance at her mother.
Sam sighed. “Thanks, baby,” she said to the filly. “I thought you were going to split me in two.”
Despite the turmoil, Dark Sunshine stood quietly as Sam tightened the knot, then stepped back with Tempest to watch.
Sunny stared over the La Charla to the wild side of the river.
Did the mare see or hear mustangs? Sam’s heart beat more quickly.
“What is it, Sunny?” Sam asked, but the mare only shivered the skin on her neck, twitching away invisible pests.
Maybe it gave her chills, looking to the Calico Mountains and knowing the Phantom was up there somewhere. Sam knew just how the mare felt.
Back to work, Sam told herself. Then, with Sunny looking on, she held the end of Tempest’s lead rope and followed the filly to the water’s edge. Tempest looked down. She stared past the silver ripples, through the shallow water to the sandy river bottom. She stamped one hoof, then gave a little buck at the sudden shower.
“Just like your sire,” Sam told her.
The Phantom had started playing in the water as a young black colt, and he’d never stopped. Each time Sam had seen him at the La Charla, he’d managed to drench them both by splashing in the river water.