by Terri Farley
Brynna nodded, apparently pleased with Sam’s explanation, but Amelia was still skeptical and Crystal was surprised.
“You don’t sound that sad about it,” Crystal said.
Sam sighed. There was no point in talking about the number of times the stallion had bruised her heart by ignoring her, or acting like the wild thing he was.
“If he acted like a pet,” Sam said, “he couldn’t protect his mares and foals. Whenever he’s trusted humans, they’ve tried to take away his freedom.”
As Gram leaned from the door and told them to hurry and wash up or their fruit salads would be too warm to eat, Amelia grabbed Sam’s sleeve.
“What I have to tell you can’t wait anymore.”
“Oh, I forgot,” Sam said. “Sorry.”
“I used my parents’ credit card to make a bid on Jinx.”
“What?” Sam’s mind spun. She must be talking about the claiming race, but Amelia hadn’t left the ranch except to go to the emergency room yesterday.
“On my cell phone, the day I found the flier about the race. It had all the rules and registration information and a direct number to that YRA organization. So I, uh, put a bid on Jinx. What am I going to do?”
“Right now,” Sam said, “you’re going to be thankful I can’t think hard and strangle you at the same time.”
After lunch, Brynna watched the girls take turns riding Popcorn in the round pen while Dad helped Sam work with Jinx.
“If I don’t like the way things go, I reserve the right to change my mind,” he told Sam, but after watching the horse make three quarter-mile sprints with Sam aboard, he shook his head.
“Don’t see the problem. Whatever was wrong with him, you seem to have—” Dad stopped. “That sounds a mite too optimistic, doesn’t it?”
Sam laughed. “No, I think he’s a good horse.”
“Good and smart are two different things.”
“Dad!” Sam said. Even though she should be used to it by now, she hated it when Dad treated horses like animals.
“Whatever made him balk that way is still in his narrow cayuse head,” Dad said, rubbing the grulla’s face with affection. “He can’t know it’s over with. Anything could stir it up all over again.”
“Shall we keep doing this until he balks?” Sam asked.
“No point in it,” Dad said. “When something triggers that fear, he’ll stop. Until then, all you can do is be real nice to this fella, so maybe he’ll forget.”
Sam returned to help Brynna instruct the girls, just as they took a lemonade break.
“So what do you think?” Amelia said under her breath as Brynna talked with Crystal about her promise to her father.
“You don’t have a pasture for Jinx, do you?” Sam asked. “At your house in New Mexico?”
“Rub it in,” Amelia’s tone was mean. “Just because you have acres and acres of pasture and range.”
Sam waited until Amelia stopped, then said, “I didn’t have a horse when I lived in San Francisco. I know it’s frustrating.”
“I have a yard. It’s not real big, but it’s fenced,” Amelia said.
“Would Jinx be happy there?” Sam asked.
Amelia glared at Sam. Then she turned to Jinx and rubbed her hands over the gelding’s smooth neck.
“Of course he wouldn’t,” she admitted. “And now, while my parents are actually thinking I might turn back into an okay kid—I mean, they might even let me take riding lessons again—it’s a dumb time to charge a thousand dollars on their credit card.”
“A thousand dollars!” Sam hissed, hoping Brynna wouldn’t hear. “The minimum bid is just five hundred.”
“I wanted to make sure I had the highest bid,” Amelia admitted.
Sam’s breath caught in her throat. If Amelia’s bid stood, maybe Linc Slocum’s offer wouldn’t be the highest. Then he couldn’t claim Jinx. But what Amelia had done was against the law.
Good luck. Bad luck. Did the seesawing never stop?
“You’ve got to do what you think is best,” Sam managed to say, but she didn’t think her own words would come back to haunt her so soon.
Sam was alone in the house when the telephone rang.
Dad, Brynna, and Gram had taken the girls on a late night hike up to the top of the ridge to look at constellations.
Although Crystal complained that it was a lame and nerdy thing to do, Sam could tell she was excited about walking through the wilds by starlight.
“Snakes aren’t out at this time of night, right?” Amelia asked with a slight tremble in her voice.
“Almost never,” Brynna said.
And that was when Crystal gave Amelia a hug, and when Sam decided to stay behind. She hoped the two girls would become friendly equals if she just stayed home.
“Hello?” Sam said into the phone.
“Hello, ma’am?” said an unfamiliar voice with a southern accent. “My name is Henry Fox and I’m calling to speak to a Samantha Forester.”
Even though the man had mispronounced her last name, his name was vaguely familiar and the call couldn’t be for anyone else.
“I’m Samantha Forster,” she said.
“Oh.”
Sam listened hard. Long-distance static whirred on the telephone line, but the man stayed quiet.
“Mr. Fox?” she asked.
“See, the thing is, I called to see how H. B. was doing. Silly, for an old hand like me to get attached, but I did. When I called the cafe, a waitress named Millie said the gal I wanted to talk with was Clara. And seems like Clara’s not working tonight.”
“Who’s H. B.?” Sam asked, but the man didn’t seem to hear.
“Well, this Millie said I should talk with you, seein’ as it’s about the horse, but, begging your pardon, ma’am, you sound like a kid.”
“I’m fourteen,” Sam said, but she wasn’t offended. Her mind suddenly brightened with memory.
Henry Fox was the cowboy who’d traded Jinx to Clara for a dollar and a piece of cake. He’d called to see how the horse was doing. Did that mean he wanted the grulla back?
“Are you talking about Jinx? The grulla gelding?”
“Yes ma’am, I am,” he said in a wondering tone. “But don’t tell me you’re the one’s been riding him.”
“Sure I have,” Sam said proudly.
“I never thought she’d use him with kids.” The man’s voice was so low, he might have been talking to himself. “Seemed like a shrewd old girl. Clara, that is. Jinx was just a joke name, but I never meant for H. B. to…” He cleared his throat. “Has anyone been hurt?”
For a second, Sam wondered if he’d heard about Amelia’s snakebite. Then she realized he was still talking about Jinx.
“No,” Sam said slowly. “Are you worried because of the way he balks?”
“That’s just it,” he said in a despairing tone. “After the balking comes the bucking and, well, shoot, there’s no reason not to come clean with you, I guess. Here’s the thing. H. B.—Heart Breaker, he was called—”
“Because of his brand,” Sam supplied.
“Yes, ma’am. H. B. was broke to be a bareback bronc—”
Sam gasped. She thought of the color, clamor, and crowds at rodeos. Jinx couldn’t be a rodeo bronc.
“—didn’t do good at it, ’cause he was always wanting to run,” the man continued.
“He loves to run,” Sam agreed.
“Makes me feel real downhearted when you say it that way, because he did used to love it. But see, a rodeo rider gets no points if he comes out of the chute and the bronc just runs with him. The bronc is supposed to buck. And, well, that’s why I had to take H. B. before they put him down.
“They were just amateurs, the kids who bought him from Potter to use in rodeo. Seems like even though they whipped and spurred him, trying to push him through the gallop and straight into his buck, it didn’t work.
“He gave up, though, in a way. Once you got on him, he just wouldn’t move at all.”
“Tha
t’s awful,” Sam said. “But I think he’s doing fine, now.”
Sam gave the kitchen a quick glance and listened at the open window for the sound of feet or voices. She didn’t want anyone to have heard even her half of this conversation.
“And by fine, you mean…?”
“He walks, jogs, lopes, even gallops,” Sam said.
The cowboy’s sigh was so gusty and loud, Sam could practically feel the phone shudder.
“All right, then,” he said. “All right. That’s good.”
Still, he seemed reluctant to hang up.
“I’m guessing that if you keep him away from arenas and places that bring back thoughts of the bad old days, he’ll be just fine. Good evenin’ ma’am, and good luck.”
Chapter Nineteen
Do what you think is right.
On the morning of the claiming race Sam was still trying to figure out what she thought was right.
Cross-tied in a stall at the Darton County fairgrounds, Jinx’s coat shone with a hue that made passersby stop and stare.
It seemed everyone had a different name for the coat color—steeldust, lilac dun, blue slate, silver buckskin.
Even Clara tried to come up with a perfect description.
“Looks like you took gold nuggets and lumps of sterling silver, whirled them up in a blender, and poured them all over him,” she said.
“Don’t believe anyone but a cook would think of that,” Dad said to Clara. “But this gelding is looking mighty fine.”
“While you were off checking in, some folks who came by were disappointed that bidding closed twenty-four hours before race time,” Clara said.
“It did?” Sam asked.
“Yep, a lot of people see this as a nice chance to help YRA and get a real bargain, too,” Clara said.
From talk around the fairgrounds, Sam knew most people had come to watch their children compete in YRA-sponsored games on horseback. Still, some were hoping to claim one of the eight horses running, for a bargain price.
Sam watched Jinx’s ears.
Since the fairgrounds box stall was complimentary overnight with the entry fee, she and Dad had driven the truck and horse trailer down to Darton yesterday.
Though he didn’t admit it, she knew Dad had been happy to escape socializing with Amelia’s and Crystal’s parents. He’d been polite, shaking their hands after they’d arrived, but then he’d turned shy and silent. Sam was sorry to miss the girls’ rides on Popcorn. Still, after she’d talked with Henry Fox, it had been more important to see Jinx’s reaction to the arena before the race.
“What’s Jinx think of it here?” Clara asked.
“I rode him around the arena and he was fine,” Sam said. “The worst thing he’s done is sidestep when he saw a bright yellow candy wrapper.”
“Fifteen minutes ’til race time,” Dad said, glancing at Sam’s watch. “Wonder where Brynna and those folks are.”
“Sam!”
All of a sudden, she saw Amelia run a zigzag pattern through the gathering crowd. Jinx threw his head up in surprise, but didn’t act scared.
So far, so good, Sam thought, as Amelia grabbed her sleeve and tugged her down to whisper in her ear.
“I got through on my cell phone yesterday just before the deadline for bids closed,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“And I withdrew my bid.”
Dizziness spun Sam’s head, though she stood still. She wouldn’t have to worry about an inexperienced rider like Amelia ending up with an ex-bucking horse. Without Amelia’s thousand-dollar bid, though, who would claim Jinx?
“My parents were so impressed with the way I rode yesterday that I get to take riding lessons again. Gotta go,” she said. “Everyone else is waiting. Bye.”
Amelia scampered back to the others and Sam waved. Amelia’s parents were small people, not much taller than their daughter, and though they looked as if they felt out of place at the YRA fun day, they also looked proud.
Crystal stood with a big man who wore a leather vest over a tee-shirt and jeans. Sam would bet he outweighed Dad two-to-one. Though his eyes were hidden by mirrored sunglasses, Sam thought Crystal’s father looked proud, too.
Crystal gave Sam a small wave. She was smiling and Sam had a feeling everything would work out for both girls.
She wasn’t so sure about herself.
“We’ll be goin’,” Dad said. “Tack up alone and have a little talk with that horse. Tell him not to do anything crazy.”
By the time Sam said, “I will,” Dad and Clara had already gone.
Almost holding her breath, Sam smoothed on a saddle blanket, then settled her saddle into place.
She’d only thought a minute before turning down Ryan Slocum’s offer of a lightweight racing saddle. She was more at home riding in a Western saddle, and every bit of balance would count if Jinx reverted to his bucking horse training.
A few minutes later, Sam walked to the end of her reins and looked back at the gelding. All his tack was in place and he shone like tarnished silver.
As if he could tell her mind had wandered, Jinx strode forward and Sam stood beside him.
“You’re going to be a good boy for me, aren’t you, Jinx?” Sam asked, tracing her finger over the grulla’s broken heart brand. “I’ve never hurt you, and I promise, if the person who claims you ever does, I’ll take you back.”
For the first time since that moment on the range, the big horse swung his head around and pressed his forehead to Sam’s.
“I promise,” she told him, and Jinx answered with a snort.
When the claiming race finally began, Sam felt strangely detached from the action. If Jinx bucked her off and she was injured, she’d have no one to blame but herself. She should be afraid, but she wasn’t.
A gray pony named Starlight ran first, and finished the quarter-mile sprint to great applause.
“Claimed by Toni and Tara Franklin,” the announcer said, and two little girls met the pony with hugs just past the finish line.
“Tiger Prince,” the announcer boomed over the microphone as a long-legged horse with marbled orange-and-black markings stepped up to the starting line, then reared and threw his rider.
“I guess the Tiger Prince has a little more gumption than his rider figured.”
When the crowd laughed, the announcer went on making jokes at the rider’s expense.
Sam felt sick. That could be her.
At last the rider, a teenage boy, caught the horse, remounted, and rode him at a fast trot across the arena and back.
Nightingale, a black horse with white stockings on both hind legs, made the best time of the day, and was claimed by a representative from Sterling Stables.
Then it was Jinx’s turn.
“Come to find out,” the announcer drawled, “this horse was sold to Clara from down at the Alkali coffee shop for one dollar bill and a slice of the best pineapple upside-down cake in the world.”
The area just outside the arena was cleared for a running start. To Sam, the crowd’s laughter sounded faint and far away. Only Jinx seemed real.
Sam leaned forward and whispered to him.
“This is your chance to show them who you really are, boy. Not Potter’s spooky cow pony, not a failed bucking bronc, not a bad luck charm.”
She was about to give Jinx the signal to go, when he shied.
Sam swayed in the saddle, fighting the urge to grab the saddle horn as she looked all around.
A boy had dropped a bag of popcorn. That couldn’t be it. Pigtailed twins were tugging each of their mother’s hands. That wouldn’t frighten Jinx, either.
With a snort, Jinx lifted his front hooves from the dirt and swung his head from side to side.
Tiger Prince and his rider stood yards across the fairground. No one had come forward to claim the horse. His rider was shouting at him and brandishing a riding whip.
The whip.
Jinx squealed and clacked his teeth.
Dallas had told her that ev
en when Jinx was a yearling, he hated the whip.
Henry Fox had said they punished the bolting H. B. with a whip.
Dad had told her he thought Jinx would be fine—unless something triggered a fearful memory.
Tension made each of the grulla’s legs straighten and plant. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Sam leaned her cheek against the gelding’s hot neck and stroked it with all the tenderness her fingers held.
“You’re fine, boy,” she whispered. “Kindness cured all that. You don’t have to remember.”
“When you’re ready,” boomed the announcer.
“You’re a good horse Jinx,” Sam made one last try to convince him. “Let’s show ’em all!”
Sam clapped her heels against him and Jinx was off.
As if he’d raced every day of his life, he bounded from a standstill to a run.
Sam moved forward. After three strides, Jinx’s gait was smooth, effortless, the ground-eating gallop of a mustang running the range for the sheer joy of feeling his muscles lengthen and bunch.
They reached the far end of the arena and swung a turn so quick it tore tears from Sam’s eyes. Then they were stampeding back and the finish line was coming up way too fast. Sam shifted in the saddle.
She couldn’t wave away the people rushing forward to catch Jinx, for fear he’d catch the movement from the corner of one eye and stumble. So she let him run. Seeing his speed, the people scattered.
Sam closed her fingers on the reins, gradually pulling them in. Jinx slowed, still prancing as if he had energy to spare.
Chin tucked, ears pricked forward, the grulla lifted his knees and arched his neck. Was he dancing in joy? Sam crossed her fingers and hoped the horse had a reason to celebrate.
Just ahead, people lined both sides of the path back to the arena. Sam saw Dad, Brynna, and Gram. Crystal was bouncing up and down and Amelia was pulling on her mother’s sleeve, pointing at Jinx and chattering.
Sam saw lots of strangers, too. What if one of them stepped forward to claim Jinx? Sam settled forward against the gelding’s neck, knowing this hug might be their last.
Please let the right person win Jinx!