Gift Horse

by Terri Farley

  “Ace was acting jealous and pretending he was going to bite,” Sam said. “And the sound of the wind through the barn seemed to worry him.”

  “Why don’t you go ahead and have a talk with Ace and we’ll be along in a second,” Brynna said.

  Ace was already on alert. He’d heard the draft horse approaching and his ears were pinned back in warning.

  “You knock that off,” Sam scolded. She reached up to pet his nose and Ace pulled away. “You know I like you best.”

  Her voice might have been the whining of a bug for all the attention Ace paid her.

  “Sam, this is one nervous horse,” Brynna said. She was barely in control as she and Tinkerbell came through the barn door. His steps were each a different length and Brynna had trouble keeping up. “He’s sure Ace isn’t pretending. And if a horse this big is afraid Ace wants to take a hunk out of him, he’s probably right.

  “I think I can hold him, but if they start to go at it,” Brynna warned, “just get out of the way.”

  Sam nodded, then turned back to Ace. “You are a spoiled brat,” Sam told him, but it didn’t appear to hurt the gelding’s feelings. His little Arab-shaped face quivered from ears to muzzle as he watched the draft horse step into the box stall and sigh.

  Under the barn’s fluorescent lights, Brynna examined Tink.

  “This is the first time I’ve had a real chance to see him, Sam. You made a good decision. He was well worth saving.” Brynna’s eyes darted to one side, glancing back toward the house. Sam wondered if she was recalling the fight she’d just had with Dad.

  Sam knew things probably weren’t as bad as they felt right now. Everything wasn’t falling apart, but she wished level-headed Jen was here to tell her so.

  The cattle were scattered all over the place and they might lose some calves. Dad wanted to get rid of the Phantom’s herd. Tinkerbell wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Mr. Martinez might not want him anymore. And Dad and Brynna had had their first real fight.

  Jen’s logical mind and knowledge of animals would come in handy right now. But Brynna was the next best thing.

  “How do you think he got here?” Sam blurted. “I mean, out of one pasture and into another.”

  “Our fences are just about four feet tall,” Brynna mused.

  “Do you think he can jump that high?” Sam asked. Looking at the huge horse, it was hard to believe he could lift hundreds of pounds of bone and muscle over a four-foot fence. Twice.

  “Is there any other explanation?” Brynna asked. “Nothing else makes sense.”

  Sam felt her spirits lift, slightly. “If he could jump, it would make him a much more valuable horse. I mean, just in case Mr. Martinez doesn’t want him now.”

  Brynna stood near Tinkerbell’s head and the big brown gelding licked her palm just as he had Sam’s. “You’re pretty sweet for a fugitive,” Brynna told him.

  “How can we find out if he’s a jumper?” Sam asked.

  Her few jumps on Ace had been unintentional. The feeling had been thrilling, but half the thrill was fear.

  The idea of riding Tinkerbell, being perched nearly six feet in the air atop his back, was scary enough. She didn’t have the nerve to ride him at a jump.

  “Call Katie Sterling at Sterling Stables,” Brynna suggested. “She trains show jumpers. She’d know where to start.”

  Once, Sam had made the mistake of going horse shopping with Rachel Slocum. One of the places they’d visited had been Sterling Stables and Sam had liked Katie Sterling a lot.

  Then, Sam had a better idea.

  “Ryan Slocum,” Sam said thoughtfully.

  “That’s right!” Brynna said. “Back when Linc was trying to buy the Phantom, he told me he wanted a jumper for his son.”

  It was the perfect solution. Ryan was only a couple of miles away. The Slocums had a covered arena. And Ryan would know how to test Tinkerbell’s jumping skills.

  The only awkward part—and it was really awkward—was calling Gold Dust Ranch. What if Rachel answered the phone? The girl hated her, and Sam hadn’t made it any better when she’d been sarcastic to her this morning. Rachel had probably been gossiping about her, too. Even if Rachel didn’t say something catty or cruel when Sam called, she might not call Ryan to the phone.

  And Linc Slocum…Sam cringed. He’d think she had a crush on Ryan, and Sam couldn’t predict how he’d handle that. Would he jeer that she didn’t have a chance with a guy so far above her, socially? Or would he see Sam as a shortcut to being western—just as he did a fine horse or a trophy belt buckle? If so, he’d be yodeling his discovery all over town and Sam couldn’t stand that.

  Jen really did have a crush on Ryan and she’d probably welcome an excuse to talk with him, but Sam was pretty sure Jen wouldn’t feel comfortable just wandering up to the mansion from the foreman’s house to tell Ryan that Sam wanted him to call.

  “Call Helen Coley,” Brynna said.

  “Huh?” Sam snapped out of staring at the barn wall. Brynna must have been watching and reading her mind. “Mrs. Coley?”

  Helen Coley was the Slocums’ housekeeper. She was also a talented seamstress and a great admirer of wild horses.

  “Sure,” Brynna said. “When she was working on my wedding gown, she gave me the phone number for her private line.”

  “If I told her about Tinkerbell—”

  “I know she’d get Ryan to call you,” Brynna finished.

  Sam glanced at her watch. It was early enough that they might be able to work something out for tomorrow. Tomorrow was Sunday and she did have homework, but Tinkerbell’s safety was more important.

  “Come up with any ideas for your community service project?” Brynna asked suddenly.

  “No,” Sam said. “And Mrs. Santos wants me to work on it with Rachel Slocum.”

  Brynna took a deep breath. “You two don’t have a lot in common, but I’m sure you can come up with something great.” Brynna’s face took on an impish look and she lowered her voice to a whisper. “With her money and your imagination…”

  Sam laughed. Brynna was really nice, and she was fun. For a minute, Sam wanted to tell Brynna that the real problem wasn’t selecting a topic; it was making a presentation to the student council.

  But Brynna would probably dismiss her problem as nerves. And nerves seemed like a frivolous, silly concern compared to calves that might freeze, horses that might starve, and a fresh disagreement with Dad.

  Besides, Brynna might not understand. She did lots of public speaking in her job. She’d even flown to Washington, D.C. to present the mustangs’ cause to a Senate subcommittee.

  I might be able to do that, it suddenly occurred to Sam.

  Standing in front of the student council, talking to those popular kids, might not be so terrifying if she were explaining something she cared about.

  “What I’d really like to do is something for the wild horses,” Sam suggested.

  Brynna paused in her inspection of Tinkerbell and her blue eyes focused on Sam. “You’re not worrying about what your Dad was saying, are you?” she asked.

  It was quiet for a minute. Sam heard only the rustling of hooves in the straw as she thought about what Dad had said.

  He hadn’t meant that remark about shooting the horses. She knew that for sure. Dad was frustrated because he felt helpless. Everything he cared about—his work, his home, his ability to live the life he loved—was tied up with those cattle, and he thought the horses were endangering them.

  Tinkerbell tensed, then stared at the barn door as if he expected company. Sam shook off her trance.

  “I am sort of worried,” Sam admitted. “I mean, I saw the horses going after our hay and I don’t blame Dad for being mad, but I don’t blame the horses, either. They’re hungry.”

  Brynna gave a heartfelt sigh. “So are the coyotes, cougars, and bobcats. That’s what makes it dangerous for the horses, especially the mares in foal. It’s tough for them to slog through deep snow and the predators know it.
<
br />   “Some won’t make it,” Brynna continued. “It’s a hard life being a wild animal, taking shelter from storms under trees, against rocks. Even when the weather is clear, this is a searching time for the mustangs,” she said. “Winter has lasted for months and spring hasn’t begun to green things up yet. In a lot of places, it’s so cold they can’t paw through to the remaining grass. We used to do hay drops,” Brynna said wistfully.

  Sam imagined airplanes flying above the snowy range, then opening some kind of doors in the bellies of the aircraft. Instead of dropping bombs, they’d drop golden, life-giving hay.

  “Wow, that’s a great idea. They’d have hay of their own and the ranchers wouldn’t be mad at them. Why did you stop?”

  “Money,” Brynna said. “BLM is a federal bureau and the current administration in Washington has cut funds for wildlife. They’re just not a priority.”

  Brynna closed the door to Tinkerbell’s box stall and started out of the barn. Sam walked beside her, thinking.

  “A lot of people like wild horses,” Sam insisted. “Even people who live far away—in Florida, Virginia, Canada—you know, all over the place. Wouldn’t they help the horses if they could?”

  “They might, but the government doesn’t work that way.” Brynna shook her head. “Still, it’s worth thinking about. I wouldn’t be surprised if you came up with something.” Brynna’s arm swept around Sam’s shoulders and squeezed. “You are one smart cookie, Samantha Forster, and I’m glad to be in your family.”

  Sam was grinning as she shouted “good night” to the horses.

  Brynna turned off the barn light. They were about to walk back to the house when something made Sam stop. Just as the lights dimmed out she’d seen something out of the ordinary.

  “Wait a minute.” She walked back into the barn, flipped the light switch, and beckoned Brynna to return. “Look,” she said, pointing.

  Tinkerbell wasn’t alone in his stall.

  Cougar was with him. The tiny tiger-striped kitten was curled up, tail fluffed to cover and warm his nose, sleeping right in the middle of Tinkerbell’s broad bay back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Back inside the house, Sam scarfed down another piece of chocolate cake to fortify herself for what she had to do next. Brynna insisted Sam should call Mr. Martinez and tell him about Tinkerbell’s escape before she called Ryan.

  After her last bite, Sam stood. Still holding her empty plate, she took the dishwashing soap from its shelf.

  “You’re stalling,” Brynna said. “I’ll wash your plate while you call.”

  “I don’t know his number.”

  “We have a phone book,” Brynna told her.

  “It might be too late,” Sam said.

  “It’s perfectly appropriate to call an adult at eight o’clock on a Saturday night.”

  “But I’m kind of scared to call Mr. Martinez,” Sam protested. “I mean, Dad’s the one who made the arrangements in the first place.”

  “Sam,” Brynna said in a cautioning tone. “Remember what your Dad said about making things happen instead of just wishing they would?”

  “I heard him,” Sam said. She flipped through the phone book instead of meeting Brynna’s eyes. Even after she found Mr. Martinez’s number, she kept looking down.

  “Well, he’s right.”

  “I know.” Sam sighed heavily and began dialing.

  Mr. Martinez reported Tinkerbell had unloaded as easily as he’d loaded. He’d touched noses with Teddy Bear, then began grazing among the other horses shortly after entering the pasture.

  “All in all,” Mr. Martinez said, “I think things will work out fine.”

  Mr. Martinez’s tone was pleasant, but he was clearly puzzled by her call.

  “The thing is,” Sam said, “Tinkerbell is here.” She closed her eyes and waited.

  “There? There at River Bend?”

  “He just showed up. About an hour ago.”

  “He came on his own?” Mr. Martinez asked.

  “He must have,” Sam said. She held a hand over her closed eyes. She didn’t know exactly why. “We were pretty surprised to find him.”

  It was quiet long enough that Sam heard classical music playing at Mr. Martinez’s house. As violins soared, Sam pictured an elegant house with crystal goblets and softly glowing candles. Runaway horses probably didn’t belong in Mr. Martinez’s life.

  “That’s a long distance,” Mr. Martinez mused. “He’s safe, though?”

  Sam opened her eyes. Mr. Martinez was more concerned about Tinkerbell’s welfare than the trouble the big horse had caused. If Tinkerbell had only stayed put, Mr. Martinez would have given him the affection he deserved.

  “He’s fine,” Sam said. “Brynna and I just looked him over inch by inch.”

  “And so…” This time it was Mr. Martinez who sighed. “You are calling to see if I still want him. Is that it?”

  Sam couldn’t admit it. “I just thought you should know,” she said, instead.

  “Thank you,” he said. “This may change my decision. Of course you know that. But I’d like the chance to go out and check the pasture fence. If there was a section down, it would be natural for him to find his way back to you.”

  Sam bit her lip. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  “Do you want me to call Clara? The diner’s so close to your pasture she could go check the fence.”

  “I’ll call, Samantha. And if you’ll give me a couple days to think about it, I’ll get back to you about Tinker’s future.”

  Tinker’s future. The words had an ominous sound.

  “Okay,” Sam said. She cleared her throat, trying to cover the fear in her voice.

  “We won’t let anything awful happen to him, you and I,” Mr. Martinez promised. “Something will work out.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Martinez,” she said. “Take your time.”

  Sam hung up and left her hand on the telephone receiver.

  “Is it still Saturday night?” Sam asked as she looked up and saw Brynna studying her.

  Brynna nodded. “Feel like you’ve just run fifteen miles yourself?”

  “Kind of,” Sam admitted as she dialed Mrs. Coley’s number. “But now it should feel easy talking to Ryan.”

  Only five minutes passed between the time Sam talked with Mrs. Coley and the time Ryan Slocum called back. He sounded excited about working with a heavy hunter prospect. He’d done it before in England, riding a Friesian mare over jumps. He could barely wait to get started with Tinkerbell.

  “I’ll prepare the arena first thing and be ready as early as you can get here,” he promised. “Shall we say nine? And don’t worry about tack. I’ll cobble something together that should suit our purposes.”

  “Thanks so much,” Sam said, and hung up. Brynna had stood at her elbow listening the entire time, so Sam didn’t have to explain.

  “Great! I’ll drive you over in the morning,” Brynna said, but then her eyes widened. “One problem, though. The trailer.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sam said.

  Why had it taken them both so long to realize they had no way to transport Tinkerbell to Gold Dust Ranch? Mr. Martinez still had their open horse trailer.

  Brynna and Sam sat at the kitchen table, staring at each other.

  “For some reason, it doesn’t feel like a good idea to call him back. Mr. Martinez, I mean, while he’s still deciding about Tinkerbell,” Sam said, and Brynna nodded in understanding. “We could pony him over there,” Sam suggested.

  “Maybe.” Brynna’s voice was dubious. “If we led Tinkerbell between two horses, which ones do you think we should use? Tank and…”

  “No, it’s a dumb idea. Never mind,” Sam said. “The other horses are starting to like him, but that might be pushing them too fast.” Sam looked down at the sound of Cougar batting his paw against the edge of the kitchen door. He’d been seeking an escape route since she had brought him back inside. If they had a horse who felt the same about Tinkerbell as the kitten did, they’d
be set. But they didn’t.

  They still had no solution when Dad came home from the Kenworthys’ house. He entered talking. “Winter used to be a quiet time,” he said. “Not this year. Between the cattle and horses spread from here to breakfast and this”—Dad bent to scoop up Cougar—“feline fugitive, I don’t know what to think.”

  Dad closed the door and deposited Cougar on Sam’s lap.

  Was Dad happier or just preoccupied? When he rumpled her hair and kissed Brynna, Sam decided it didn’t matter which.

  Then, he seemed to hear the silence. “What’s wrong with you two?”

  Brynna told him their plan.

  Dad’s raised eyebrows said he thought it was a silly idea, but Brynna wore an “I-dare-you” look. Dad must have recognized it, because he offered a suggestion instead of criticism.

  “The Elys have a cattle truck that’d work. Get Jake to drive Sam over,” Dad said to Brynna, “and I might just make you a real Sunday breakfast.”

  Brynna flashed Sam a look that said she couldn’t refuse. Dad knew the family was divided on the issue of wild horses. This was his way of saying he didn’t want the disagreement to escalate into a civil war.

  But Jake and Ryan were not a good combination.

  “Call him, Sam,” Brynna urged. She dialed and handed Sam the phone. “Here.”

  Sam wanted to ask Brynna to quit rushing her into things, but the phone was already ringing. Maybe no one would be home. It was Saturday night, after all.

  The phone was still ringing at the Elys’ when Dad and Brynna left the kitchen to go watch television with Gram.

  Jake and Ryan didn’t hate each other. In fact, Ryan pretended not to notice Jake, but Jake couldn’t stand Ryan’s British accent and exacting manners.

  She was just about to hang up, when Nate, the oldest Ely brother, answered. Grudgingly, he gave the phone to Jake.

  “Jake, Tinkerbell is back. It seems like he jumped out of Mr. Martinez’s corral and ran all the way back to River Bend. We found him in the ten-acre pasture a couple hours ago.”

  “Huh,” Jake said.

  Anyone else would voice astonishment, but not Jake. Sam wasn’t surprised by his seeming acceptance of Tinkerbell’s stunt. She knew if she told Jake that it appeared Tinkerbell had sprouted wings in the vicinity of his withers, Jake would react the same way.