by Terri Farley
Jake locked the latch and turned toward her.
“Of all the fool things I’ve seen you do…,” he began slowly.
“It worked,” Sam said. “You can’t argue with that.”
“Don’t plan to.”
“Here’s what I was thinking,” Sam began, though Jake hadn’t asked. “You know how when you walk behind a horse, you get close enough that they can’t get up enough momentum to kick you hard?”
It didn’t matter that Jake stared off toward the hillside, ignoring her. She kept talking. “Well, I just did it from the other end.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck and gave a snort almost as loud as Jinx’s.
“There are so many things wrong with—” Jake broke off and started over. “The leverage alone, not to mention the logic—”
“But it did work,” Sam interrupted.
“Yeah,” Jake said, as she started back toward the driver’s seat of the truck. “But it shouldn’t have.”
That sure didn’t feel like a victory, Sam thought. But it was as close as she’d get to one. She hesitated before getting back into the truck and it was then she spotted a swirl of dust halfway up the ridge.
The Phantom’s mares had disappeared, but there in the thicket clogging the gully, staring through wind-tortured pinion pines, stood the silver stallion.
Jinx must have sensed the stallion, because his neigh echoed from inside the trailer and it rocked with his weight.
Was the Phantom just keeping watch? Two humans, their truck, and the pushy gelding constituted a disturbance in the Phantom’s day. Maybe he was just making sure they didn’t change their minds and come after his mares.
But Sam didn’t think that was it.
She knew the Phantom. He was the most dominant stallion on this range, but the grulla gelding had nearly outrun him.
Could the Phantom be sending Jinx a silent promise that their rivalry wasn’t over?
You’ll see me again, she imagined the stallion saying.
The white blur beyond the pinions pines grew hazy, then vanished.
Chapter Four
Sheriff Ballard had arrived by the time Sam and Jake drove up to Clara’s coffee shop and parked Dad’s truck and the horse trailer.
Sam saw Jake’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. Why did the sight of the sheriff’s black-and-white car make him nervous?
The minute she spotted Sheriff Ballard in his khaki uniform, Sam felt relieved. She liked the gruff, by-the-book police officer.
A few weeks earlier, just before school was out, he’d helped her understand the circumstances of her mother’s death. After years of being kept in the dark, she’d appreciated being treated like an adult. Besides, she liked his droopy mustache because it reminded her of an Old West lawman in a movie.
Carefully, Jake put on the emergency brake and turned the truck’s key to OFF.
“Wonder if anyone’s called my mom,” Jake said quietly.
So it wasn’t the sheriff making Jake nervous, Sam thought. He was worried over what his mom would say about the damage to her car. Sam didn’t blame him. Jake had the same kind of family she did. Mistakes had big-time consequences.
“She’ll understand, won’t she?” Sam asked. “After all, you’re a good driver. You were only trying to keep from hitting Jinx.”
Jake picked up his black Stetson from its place on the seat between them.
“Hope she sees it that way,” he said.
Together they climbed down from the truck and side by side approached the spot where Clara, Dad, and Sheriff Ballard had gathered.
The sheriff greeted them with a grim expression. It wasn’t a frown and he didn’t look angry, just very serious.
“Jake, I expect you know you’re not supposed to leave the scene of an accident.”
Sam didn’t know Jake had stopped until she’d walked a few steps beyond him.
Looking back over her shoulder, she saw he’d been about to position his Stetson on his blue-black hair when the sheriff spoke. Jake’s hand stopped halfway to his head, then he let it drop to his side, still holding the hat.
“Yeah,” he said.
“I—”
“We—”
Together, Dad and Clara explained they’d asked Jake to take the truck and trailer after the runaway horse.
Sam wondered if she’d be able to memorize all the rules of the road so that she could get a driver’s license when she was sixteen.
It made sense that you didn’t move cars that had been in an accident. Their positions might help the sheriff decide who was to blame. And yet all these adult drivers had encouraged Jake to do just that.
“All the same, it could be considered a hit-and-run,” Sheriff Ballard said.
Hit and run. Sam’s breath caught in her chest. She knew that was serious.
It grew so quiet she heard a ding as a car pulled up to the gas pumps at Phil’s Fill-Up. She heard a car door slam and coins tinkle into a slot before a soda can rattled out of a vending machine. Still, no one moved.
“It wasn’t a hit-and-run,” Sam protested. “He stopped and talked with everyone—”
Sheriff Ballard held up a calming hand. “I know that, but in some places, it might not matter. It’s not a good habit to get into.” His chin lifted and he met Jake’s eyes, waiting for a response.
“No sir,” Jake agreed. Just above his faded yellow shirt, Jake’s throat moved as he swallowed. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll remember.”
“Now, since this accident happened on private property”—Sheriff Ballard’s nod took in the parking lot—“and there’s no one hurt or any signs of substance abuse, it’s of no interest to the county.”
A shuddery breath made its way through Sam’s lips. She noticed Dad look down, shaking his head in relief, and decided she’d just discovered another reason to love him. Dad was more worried about Jake than he was his own truck.
“I’ll write up an accident report for your insurance company, Jake. Hope it does you some good.”
“Thanks,” Jake said, but Sam could tell by the way his jaw stayed set in a hard, smooth line, that Jake dreaded facing his mother.
“Now, tell me about the horse,” Sheriff Ballard said.
Jake’s attention turned inward for a minute, as if he were replaying what they’d seen out on the range.
“He might be the fastest horse I’ve ever seen,” Jake said.
“Is that so?” Sheriff Ballard’s voice lifted as he glanced toward the trailer.
“The cowboy who sold him to me said he was ‘frightenin’ fast,’ that he could throw dirt in the eyes of a jackrabbit,” Clara said. “But I chalked it up to exaggeration. Besides, where are you going to race a fast mustang?” she asked, looking a little sly. “Not against Thoroughbreds or Quarter Horses.”
“He is fast,” Sam admitted, thinking of the flier tucked in her pocket.
“Sometime I’d like to take a look at him,” said Sheriff Ballard.
“You in the market for a horse?” Dad asked, surprised.
“Could be.” The sheriff tapped the end of his pen against the unopened pad of citations he held. “A horse would be handy for search and rescue situations, but let’s finish this up. What do you say?”
A half an hour later, Sheriff Ballard’s patrol car pulled away.
“The dent’s nothing,” Dad told Jake as he apologized once more. “This old truck has a dozen more just like it.”
Jake nodded his appreciation for Wyatt’s acceptance. Then, with the grim determination of a guy on his way to his own hanging, Jake left, too.
Dad started toward the rear of the horse trailer to unload Jinx.
“I want you to keep him,” Clara blurted.
Sam caught her breath and held it as Dad turned to face Clara.
Before he could protest, Clara said, “Probably you’re thinking you don’t need another mouth to feed on River Bend Ranch, but he’s a mustang. You can tell by that light spot on his neck, even if you can’t qu
ite read the brand.”
“Saw it.”
“And if that HARP program would pay his room and board…” Clara let her voice trail off.
“I don’t think so,” Dad said, but he looked uneasy.
Dad’s habit of being neighborly had him in a quandary, Sam thought. River Bend Ranch didn’t need another horse, but Clara’s request sounded temporary. Dad probably didn’t want to offend Clara over the cost of a few scoops of oats.
“Since he’s real nimble-footed,” Clara sighed, then interrupted her own careful negotiating. “Oh shoot, Wyatt. I want to run him in that YRA claiming race. I might make a little extra money.
“Maybe you could take the rough edges off him before the race and Sam could ride him. We could share the profits.”
“Dad?” Sam knew better than to get into the discussion, but she couldn’t stop herself.
“Go on, you might as well put in your two cents worth,” Dad told her.
“Brynna said she thought we’d be using Popcorn and Dark Sunshine to work with the new girls. They’re the only two horses that really belong to HARP, and since Tempest has just been born—”
“That buckskin’s even more cantankerous than before,” Dad said.
He still didn’t trust Dark Sunshine, and Sam didn’t blame him. She’d stood watch as the abused buckskin had given birth to the beautiful black filly she’d named Tempest, but she didn’t think a stranger would be safe around the mustang mare.
“We’ve got Ace,” Dad said. “And Penny. They were both wild.”
Sam shifted her weight. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to sound sappy. Finally, she just blurted it out.
“Neither of them needs a second chance. Jinx does.”
Dad shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. No sale.”
When Dad shot back the bolt holding the trailer doors closed, Jinx startled and jumped forward. As the doors opened, the horse gazed over his shoulder with troubled eyes.
Sam thought of the broken heart brand the gelding wore. Jinx might not bring bad luck, but he sure had his share of it.
“I can’t blame you, Wyatt,” Clara said. “Just the same, Sam, you might take a look at the flier. Here, let me put my phone number on it.” Clara fished a pen from her pocket, took the flier from Sam, then handed it back.
After a moment of uneasy silence, Clara shaded her eyes to look down the highway.
“Isn’t that Grace’s car?” Clara asked.
“Yep,” Dad said, recognizing Gram’s yellow Buick. “Brynna took it to pick up the HARP girls.”
As the car slowed, Sam felt a fizzing combination of excitement and dread. It was going to be cool to be sort of a camp counselor for the two girls, but what kind of problems would they bring with them?
Slowly and quietly, Dad closed the trailer doors again, but his gesture said it was just temporary.
It might not be, Sam thought. Maybe there’d be an extra girl in the car. Maybe they’d need another horse. Sam crossed her fingers. Maybe Jinx’s luck was about to change.
Dust still swirled as Brynna climbed out of the yellow car. She wore a bright summer dress, but her smile was strained.
“What is it?” Dad asked. He seemed to cover the yards between himself and Brynna in one long stride.
Looking both pleased and embarrassed, Brynna waved Dad away. “Nothing, really,” she said.
“Tell us,” Sam said, hurrying closer.
“You two,” Brynna laughed, shaking her head. “All your fussing is embarrassing. Now I see how silly I’m being.”
The screen door to the cafe closed quietly as Clara went back inside, leaving the three Forsters alone.
“One of the girls is going to be a handful,” Brynna told them.
“You expected that,” Dad said.
Brynna matched her fingertips together before she added, “It’s Crystal. She missed her plane and we had to wait for her. Luckily, the second plane was only an hour behind the first, but she didn’t offer anything like an apology.”
Sam waited. That couldn’t be all.
“We only have one week to make a difference in these girls’ lives and she missed her plane.” Brynna stood stiff.
“Well, yeah,” Dad said.
Brynna had a college degree in biology. Her logical, scientific mind had made her director of Willow Springs Wild Horse Center. She didn’t get angry very often, and yet she seemed on the verge of it already.
Sam’s thoughts flew to the horses. If the girl was inconsiderate of people, how would she be with the mustangs?
In the HARP program, a horse “belonged” to each girl for the entire week. Would Brynna let this Crystal have sweet, wise Popcorn?
She couldn’t trust her with Penny, could she? Even though the sorrel mustang had lots of spirit, blindness made her vulnerable.
Sam took a deep breath and reminded herself she’d decided to like these girls.
A hoof crashed against the metal trailer. Could Jinx be reacting to the tension whirling around out here?
“I thought you were taking Buff in early,” Brynna said.
“We did,” Dad told her. “That’s Clara’s horse.”
“Clara’s?” Brynna asked.
“She just got him. She bought him for a dollar and a piece of upside-down cake,” Sam said, knowing Brynna couldn’t resist such a story. “He’s a mustang and—”
“And, we’re about to unload him,” Dad insisted.
“Unless we want to use him for the HARP program,” Sam hurried on. She didn’t look at Dad. “Clara said we could.”
Brynna’s eyes narrowed in thought, then she was moving to peek into the back of the trailer. She peered through the side. Finally, she moved to the front.
Dad didn’t say a word, just sighed as if the argument were already lost.
“What’s he like?” Brynna asked.
“He likes goin’ back inside that pasture and never seein’ us again,” Dad insisted.
When Brynna shook her head so that her red braid flopped over her shoulder, she looked much cheerier.
“I mean, what’s his temperament? Is he dangerous? Sam?”
“His name is Jinx and he’s a little feisty, but he doesn’t act mean,” she said honestly.
This didn’t seem like a good time to bring up his speed, or the claiming race. Despite Dad’s pessimism, wasn’t it possible that HARP could buy him for more than Clara would get in the claiming race?
“Don’t forget that part where he brings bad luck wherever he goes,” Dad muttered.
Together, Sam and Brynna stared at him in amazement.
“Not that I believe it,” Dad added.
“How do you think he’d react to a ham-fisted rider?” Brynna asked.
Sam’s mind replayed the moment she’d tried to force Jinx to do what she wanted. He’d almost jerked her off her feet. When she’d been sweet to him, he’d done as she asked.
“If you’re nice to him, he’s nice to you,” Sam diagnosed.
“Perfect.” Brynna nodded with satisfaction. “Wyatt, I promise I’ll find a way to pay for his feed. Just please,” she said, putting her hand on Dad’s sleeve, “please take that horse to our house.”
Chapter Five
When Dad’s truck and the horse trailer rumbled over the wooden bridge spanning the La Charla River and under the high wooden rectangle marking the ranch entrance, River Bend looked like it always did.
The two-story white house stood on the right. A grassy pasture spread over ten acres on the left and a scatter of corrals covered the area between the bridge and the barn.
But things weren’t normal. The hens were nowhere in sight. The horses in the ten-acre pasture raced along the fence, anxious and excited. Blaze, the ranch’s watchdog, stood barking in the middle of the ranch yard.
The HARP girls had already disrupted life at River Bend.
“Shall I put Jinx in the pasture?” Sam asked.
“I’ll take care of that,” Dad said. “You’d best go
meet the girls.”
“I’d rather take care of Jinx,” Sam sighed. “Horses are easier.”
Dad turned the truck key off. When he turned to her, his sun-browned face creased into a smile.
“Don’t blame you,” he said. “But you signed on to wrangle the humans.”
“I know,” Sam moaned. “Brynna told me about them last night, and I didn’t really think they’d be so bad. But if they’ve got her worried already, I don’t know if I have a chance.”
“I’m not sure she should have told you all that was a good idea,” Dad said. “You mighta formed decent opinions of these girls. Mikki turned out all right.”
“I can hardly wait to see her,” Sam agreed.
Mikki Short, the first HARP girl, had started out rough and impatient, but she’d ended up helping Popcorn make the transition from a frightened horse to a trusting one.
As a reward for passing her middle school classes and making up the credits she’d lost when she was in trouble, HARP was bringing Mikki back later this summer as a counselor‘s assistant, to work with Sam.
Both of these new girls could turn around just the way Mikki had, right?
“Brynna said it was safer for her to tell me a few things about each of the girls,” Sam said, when neither she nor Dad made a move to get out of the truck. “And we’re supposed to have ‘breakfast meetings’ and exchange information every morning before the girls get up.”
“Sounds like gossip to me,” Dad said.
Sam sort of agreed, but Brynna was the teacher. Brynna wanted Jake to be her co-teacher so he could take over when she returned to work at Willow Springs Wild Horse Center, but Jake had declined.
Despite the salary HARP offered, Jake didn’t think he was cut out for teaching.
So, Sam would act as Brynna’s student teacher by day, and at night, she’d sleep in the bunkhouse with the girls.
“She didn’t tell me a bunch of personal details,” Sam said. “Just that Crystal’s dad works in a casino in Las Vegas and she’s been in a lot of trouble since her mom died. I guess she’s done crazy stuff like jumping off a roof into the school swimming pool and stealing a car to go joyriding.”