by Terri Farley
Sam felt embarrassed and confused. Anyone would have trouble mounting Tinkerbell. Even Jake.
“Hey,” she said. “I wasn’t that bad.”
She realized she would have had her hands perched on her hips if they hadn’t been full of tack.
Jake’s solemn expression vanished and he laughed.
“Settle down, Brat. You’re scarin’ the livestock,” he said, though Tinkerbell looked happy and lulled by his time in the arena. “I’m just in a lousy mood ’cause I’m fixin’ to crawl under the house when I get home.”
“All right,” Sam said with a satisfied nod.
“Now get in the truck and tighten your seat belt, ’cause we’re gonna get on outta here, pronto.”
Chapter Fourteen
Snow was swirling around the truck by the time they reached War Drum Flats. Jake turned on the truck’s windshield wipers, but he didn’t look a bit concerned. A kid who lived in northern Nevada learned to drive in snow or stayed home.
They drove in silence until Jake unexpectedly spoke up.
“That place could use some organization,” he said. “I walked around a little and there’s a barn full of empty stalls and tons of hay. Literally.”
“I bet I know why,” Sam said. “Remember that mustang baiting thing Linc got in trouble for?”
“Sure,” Jake said.
Linc Slocum’s grandiose plan for a resort called Home on the Range had led him to feed wild horses at the roadside. He’d hoped when his investors came to visit, they’d see the mustangs as authentic Western atmosphere. Luckily, the BLM had cited and penalized him before any horses were struck by cars.
Though Jake didn’t gloat, Sam could tell he felt the same way she did. Linc Slocum didn’t get in trouble for every sneaky thing he did, but at least that time he’d been caught.
Getting caught. The words shouldn’t remind her of her community service project, but they did.
“That wasn’t just curiosity, was it? Earlier, when you asked about presenting your community service project to the student council.”
“Are you psychic or something?” Sam demanded. “You read my mind way too often.”
“It’s not hard, when you’re chewing on your bottom lip and frowning.”
“No, it’s not just curiosity. I’m scared to do that presentation.” Sam felt resentment building. She hated admitting her fear. “Are you satisfied?”
“I’m gonna ignore your sarcasm. It took more guts to climb up on Tinkerbell than it will to do that presentation.”
“No way,” Sam said.
“There’s not that much to it,” Jake explained. “It’s not dangerous. I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen? You forget what you’re supposed to say? Big deal. So, bring notes. And they might not even notice if you get off track. Your audience isn’t exactly brilliant.”
“Jake! That’s not nice,” Sam scolded, but she had to admit he was making her feel more confident.
“Might not be nice, but it’s accurate. You know Rachel and Daisy.” Jake leaned a little closer to the windshield as the storm intensified. “All you need to do is make three good points. Then ask for what you want and sit down.”
Jake could be right, but she still had to come up with a dynamite project.
Sam stared out at the snowflakes. They whirled like frenzied white gnats, reminding her of the Phantom, shaking his mane free of snow. Reminding her of the hungry horses. Reminding her…
“I’ve got it!” Sam shouted.
Jake grunted and gave her a sidelong glance.
“This is perfect! Oh my gosh, why didn’t I think of this before? This will work. I know it will. Jake, I am so brilliant!” Sam folded her hands with a heavy, satisfied sigh. “Valentine’s Day is just a week off.”
“Yeah, so what?” Jake asked. “You’re makin’ me nervous, Brat.”
“So, it’ll be perfect timing. And your friend Darrell—I know just how he’ll fit in.”
“Okay, I’m not nervous anymore. Now I’m frightened.”
Sam knew she was babbling, but her mind had just conjured up a plan. If Jen and Jake thought she could do it, maybe she could.
The Have a Heart project, she’d call it. People would donate money to feed the wild horses. It would be perfect, because it would keep the horses from starving and from sharing the cattle’s fodder. And since Darrell’s community service project was recycling tires, she’d bet he could get her a bunch to use as feeding rings for the horses.
“And Linc Slocum has tons of hay and Rachel needs this project as much as I do!” Sam crowed.
The truck slowed as Jake’s foot hesitated on the gas pedal. He frowned, then asked, “Like, for a Valentine’s Day hayride or something?”
“Of course not, Jake. Be quiet a minute and let me think.”
He obeyed, although Sam thought he might have grumbled something a few minutes before they reached home.
Jake stopped the truck. When Sam started to get out, he reached across her and locked the door.
“What?” she asked.
“Tell me what’s goin’ on before I turn you loose on the world.”
So, Sam rewound her spinning thoughts and explained. It sounded even better out loud, and apparently Jake agreed, because he wrote down Darrell’s phone number so that she could call him right away.
“It could work,” Jake admitted as they unloaded Tinkerbell.
“I know,” Sam said, dreamily.
Still walking in a cloud of ideas thicker than the falling snow, she led Tinkerbell away from the cattle truck.
“Yeah, you’re welcome!” Jake shouted after her. “Don’t mention it! No problem! Just call on me for chauffeur services any day! It’s what I live for!”
“Okay,” Sam said, then she waved and kept walking toward the barn.
This time, Ace got him.
Because Sam was preoccupied, she ignored Tinkerbell’s nervous sidestepping and crowding as they came into the barn. Ace flashed his teeth and raked them down Tinkerbell’s neck.
“No!” Sam held tight to the lead rope as Tinkerbell shied. “I’m sorry, boy.”
The attack was short-lived, but loud. Ace made all the noise, neighing and kicking his wooden stall.
Tinkerbell didn’t bolt. He walked beside her into his stall and stood shaking. His lips moved in questioning, worried movements. His glossy brown neck wrinkled as it curved to look back at Ace.
Standing on tiptoe, Sam examined the bite. Ace’s teeth hadn’t broken the skin. Thank goodness. Tinkerbell’s feelings were hurt more than his hide.
She talked to him, telling him he was a good horse, a pretty horse. She told him how proud she’d been when Ryan was riding him.
“And you were so good to me,” Sam told him. “I was perched up there like a decoration, and you could have made me look real silly. But you didn’t.”
When Tinkerbell tired of her crooning and began searching his bedding for something to eat, Sam left, bolting the stall door behind her.
Ace was still staring. Not at her, either. He held his head high, glaring past her toward Tinkerbell’s stall.
“What is your problem?” she shouted at Ace.
Her horse tossed his head in mock fear. He backed away, eyes rolling, as if she’d turned into a monster.
“You’ve had plenty of other horses to be jealous over. Popcorn, Sunny, Queen. What is it about him that makes you act crazy?”
Ace turned his tail to her. She guessed that was one way of saying he’d heard enough. The barn was cold. Snow blew through the gaps between boards in the old part of the barn and the timbers creaked. Sam rubbed her palms up and down the arms of her jacket and took a shuddering breath. She was yelling at Ace, but this was her fault. Every horseman knew it was dangerous to let your attention wander. She was just lucky her carelessness hadn’t caused Tinkerbell to suffer more.
“What was all the commotion about?” Gram asked when Sam got to the house.
Sam shook the snow from her jacket before hanging it,
then told the truth. She waited for a lecture, but Gram had something else on her mind.
“Like I said last night, seems all the animals are crazy this week. There was that hubbub Thursday with the horses running around as if the sky was falling. The chickens are acting nutty, too. ’Course, they are not the cleverest of animals,” Gram mused. “But when I drove in from church a little bit ago, Blaze was digging in my garden!”
“There’s nothing growing this time of year, is there?”
“No honey, there’s not, but I doubt Blaze knows that.” She shook her head. “He’s just not a digging dog. That makes his behavior downright unusual.”
Sam sat still for a minute and realized she hadn’t heard any footsteps on the stairs or on the floor overhead. “Where are Dad and Brynna?” she asked.
“They went into Darton to a movie,” Gram said in a wondering tone. “I can’t think when Wyatt last did that. Probably when you were little.”
Sam felt a small twinge of jealousy. They could have waited for her. On the other hand, if they had, she wouldn’t have the time to get started on her Have a Heart project and she was excited to begin.
Over a lunch of grilled peanut butter and honey sandwiches, she and Gram made lists of what she’d have to do to get things rolling before Valentine’s Day.
“I’ll get everything in place. Then I’ll call Rachel,” Sam said.
“That’s up to you, dear,” Gram said. “I’ve never been able to figure that girl out.”
Don’t try too hard, Sam thought. Beneath that cold, selfish exterior is a colder, even more selfish heart.
But maybe this time, since her semester grade was at stake, Rachel could work with her.
“You know what might appeal to her?” Gram asked, pointing her finger at Sam. “Do you know Lynn Cooper?”
“The television reporter?”
“Exactly. Brynna was talking about her just the other day. She’s worked with Brynna on a couple stories about wild horses. Maybe she’d be interested in covering your Have a Heart idea.”
“And Rachel would love to be on television!”
Sam hurried to look up the phone number for KVDV television. Before she lost her nerve, she dialed. Since it was Sunday, Lynn Cooper probably wouldn’t even be in. It would be easy to leave a message.
Dialing, Sam smiled to herself. After this, she could honestly tell Rachel she’d been in touch with the media.
The reporter was in, after all.
“Lynn Cooper,” said a deep, pleasant voice.
“Oh! My name is Samantha Forster,” she began, and then stopped.
“Yes?”
“I guess I didn’t expect you to answer,” she admitted.
“I’m the Sunday anchor.” The reporter sounded as if she were smiling. “What can I do for you?”
Sam explained her idea. Each time her voice trailed off, Gram pushed their list a little closer and Sam kept going.
“It sounds like my kind of story. Give me the date again.”
“Well, I don’t have one yet,” Sam said. “But I can call you back.”
“Do,” the reporter said. “No guarantees, though. It will depend on whether it’s a heavy news day or not.”
“Okay, thank you,” Sam said.
Didn’t starving horses qualify as “heavy”? Maybe the reporter was giving her a polite brush-off.
“Breaking news—like a fire or an announcement from the governor’s office—gets covered first,” Lynn Cooper explained. “If you can’t reach me in the office, here’s my cell phone number.” Sam wrote as the reporter recited. “But don’t worry if you can’t get me on it. There are black holes in cellular service throughout northern Nevada. Especially out near the Calico range. Samantha, I’d like to do the story. Wild horses coming down from the snowy mountains? If nothing else, the footage would be great. Keep in touch.”
By three o’clock, Sam had made two more important phone calls. Things were going great.
“That would expand my recycling program,” Darrell said after Sam explained. “You see, right now, auto shops and truck stops have to pay to have tires hauled away. If I can recycle them for free, it makes everyone happy.
“Yeah,” he went on. “There’s a truck stop out in Mineral with gigantic truck tires. They’ll make bigger feeding rings, so more horses can gather around.”
“Thanks, Darrell.” Sam hurried to get off the phone. A thoughtful tone had crept into Darrell’s voice and she didn’t know what might come next.
“I’ll get you all the tires you want,” Darrell said. “Under one condition.”
“What?” Sam asked carefully.
“I want to be in on the delivery,” he said.
Sam thought a minute, turning the words this way and that, but she didn’t understand what Darrell meant. “Huh?” she asked.
“Here’s how we’ll do it. I’ll get a bunch of tires out to your place and then we’ll hitch them up, one right after the other behind the big new horse of yours—”
“How do you know about Tinkerbell? I’ve only had him a few days.”
“Darlin’, I know everything!” Darrell laughed.
Darlin’?
“Darrell, maybe this is a mistake,” she began in a cautioning tone.
“Consider it a sleigh ride, sorta. Let me get a ride in one of the tires on the way out and I’ll get Jake to follow us with a truck fulla hay. If there are three of us setting things up, it’ll go a lot faster. What do you say?”
Sam couldn’t see any flaws in the plan. She’d get a chance to ride Tinkerbell at a slow, sedate pace. She’d have a couple extra sets of hands and, best of all, Darrell would be the one asking Jake for the favor this time. She said yes.
Next, she called Callie, a friend who’d adopted a wild horse from the Phantom’s herd. Queen, a beautiful red dun, had been the Phantom’s lead mare, but she’d been taken off the range with a badly cracked hoof. Queen and Callie had bonded right away and even though Callie was living on her own while she attended beauty college, she’d already managed to train the mare to lead.
When Callie heard Sam’s plan to help Queen’s “family,” she agreed to help and made a fund-raising suggestion of her own. “On Tuesday, my classes are over early. I could come on campus at Darton High during lunch hour and give temporary henna heart tattoos to any student who donates money to the Have a Heart project.”
“You always have good money ideas,” Sam said.
“That comes with paying your own bills,” Callie said. “And even though you’re getting the first load of hay from the Slocums, what if the storms go on through spring? Hay will go up in price just when you need more of it.”
It seemed like each piece of the project had fallen into place. Except the most important one. Now, she had to call Rachel and get the hay.
“It’s time,” she told Gram.
“Go get ’em, girl,” Gram encouraged her. “It will work. Rachel loves to primp and show off. She won’t be able to resist the little heart tattoos and TV coverage.”
Sam’s fingers were still crossed when Rachel answered the phone.
Sam started talking. Fast. None of this would work without the Slocums’ hay.
“Rachel, hi. This is Sam Forster. I’m sorry about our little run-in Friday, but I think I have an idea for a community service project that will get us both out of trouble with Mrs. Santos.”
Rachel was quiet for a minute, probably weighing her pride against her semester grade. “Go ahead,” she said.
Emphasizing how much fun it would be and how excited Lynn Cooper was about shooting the hay drop for television, Sam explained.
“That’s kind of cool,” Rachel said. “I’m amazed you thought of it.”
“Gee, thanks, Rachel,” Sam said, gritting her teeth.
“What’s my part?” Rachel said, sounding a little pouty.
“Besides getting the hay from your dad,” Sam said, slipping the big request in as an aside, “I think you should do public relations. Yo
u know, get the word out at school?”
“I could do that,” Rachel said. “The Valentine idea will make it fun. Maybe I should contact Lynn Cooper, again, just so she knows she’ll be dealing with me.”
“Great!” Sam said. “We’ll talk about it more at school tomorrow, but one last thing.”
“What?” Rachel asked.
Sam tried to sound casual. “Do you think you’d have time to present this before the student council?”
Say yes, say yes, say yes, Sam’s brain chanted.
“I can’t do that. I’m a member of the council, so I can’t introduce a project.”
“Can’t you abstain from the vote or something?”
“Nope, but if you want, I could get Daisy to introduce it.”
Rachel couldn’t have done a better job of convincing her to do it herself. A lot was riding on this idea and Daisy would undoubtedly mess it up.
“No, I guess I can do it.”
“Good. The next meeting’s tomorrow at lunch, but I’ll get you on the agenda.”
Sam gasped. “I don’t—you don’t—I mean, I can wait.”
“It’s no big deal,” Rachel said. “We add last-minute items all the time.”
“Okay,” Sam squeaked. While her head was spinning, Rachel kept talking.
“I said,” Rachel raised her voice, “what about the hay part? When do we need it?”
Sam exhaled. “Have Jed Kenworthy bring it over on Wednesday.”
“Okay,” Rachel said. “And Sam?”
“Yes?”
“I have these little heart stencils for my fingernails. I think they’ll set just the right tone for our project. I’d like to talk longer, but applying them could take a while.”
As Rachel hung up, Sam took a deep breath and picked up the list she’d made with Gram.
“I’m going to make some more notes for tomorrow,” Sam said.
“You’ll do fine,” Gram said. “Just relax and smile and tell them what’s on your mind.”
“I can do that,” Sam said, but as she walked up the stairs to her room, she wasn’t so sure. Going into the student council meeting tomorrow would be like striding into a lion’s den. And lions could smell fear.