Golden Ghost

by Terri Farley

  “Between them, Grace and Wyatt could run the ranch alone.”

  “Dallas helps,” Sam put in.

  Brynna’s scowl told her she’d said exactly the wrong thing.

  “See?” Brynna demanded. “I’m useless around here.”

  This was weird. Upside-down kind of weird. Usually adults built up kids’ self-esteem, not the other way around.

  “Well, I could use your help figuring out what’s going on with the Phantom,” Sam said.

  “His lead mare, you mean?” Brynna shook her head. “I haven’t heard from the lab. It will probably be Monday before I do.”

  “Not just that. There’s this other problem.”

  “Sam, you don’t have to make up things to confide, just because I’m having a little pity party.” Brynna gave a melancholy smile. “I’ll shake it off in a minute.”

  Sam wasn’t so sure of that. In fact, she’d never really thought about the word forlorn, but she was pretty sure that was the expression Brynna was wearing.

  “This is something I really want to know,” Sam insisted. She had to be careful, though. She wouldn’t mention seeing the Phantom today, because that would lead to talking about Rose.

  “Okay then,” Brynna said, leaning forward just a bit. “Ask away.”

  “I saw Phantom last night—and not in my dreams,” Sam interrupted herself when Brynna raised an eyebrow.

  “Then where?” Brynna’s tone was definitely parental.

  “Don’t do this split-personality thing to me,” Sam said, laughing. “I don’t want you to act like my stepmother right now. May I please talk to Brynna the biologist?”

  “Don’t push it, Sam,” Brynna said, but the teasing had obviously lightened her mood.

  “Okay. I saw him again, this afternoon, between Lost Canyon and War Drum Flats. Both times, he was without his herd. Why do you suppose that is?”

  “The obvious answer is that he’s lost his herd to another stallion,” Brynna’s tone was entirely unconvinced. “But it’s winter. Stallions aren’t out sparring for harems.” Brynna’s eyes looked unfocused as she twirled the end of her ponytail, thinking. “Still, the Phantom is sort of a rogue. I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just that the usual rules don’t seem to apply to that horse.”

  Brynna was right. The Phantom wasn’t entirely wild, but he certainly wasn’t tame. Sam thought of people who had wolf dogs. Their wild and tame natures were always battling for control. Maybe that’s how it was for the Phantom.

  Would it change anything if she told Brynna about Golden Rose?

  Sam rocked back on her boot heels. Jen wouldn’t like it. This was Jen’s secret. Only she and Ryan knew about it, and though Jen hadn’t made her take a vow and sign her name in blood, she knew her friend expected that level of secrecy.

  More than anything, Jen wanted to surprise her parents.

  As she met Brynna’s eyes, Sam realized her stepmother had been studying her.

  “He doesn’t look like he’s been hurt, does he?” Brynna asked, misinterpreting Sam’s silence.

  “It’s not that,” Sam said.

  She’d bet Brynna wouldn’t tell a soul about Golden Rose. She probably wouldn’t even confide in Dad if Sam begged her not to. After all, they were building a family relationship, right?

  Besides that, Dad wasn’t much of a gossip. She couldn’t imagine him calling Jed up or moseying into Clara’s Diner to chatter about Jen’s secret.

  “If you’re having a private conversation with yourself, that’s fine,” Brynna said, “but if I can help, I will.”

  “Let me think a minute more,” Sam said.

  Sweetheart slung her head over the fence dividing her stall from Ace’s. She stretched her muzzle in what she must have known was a vain attempt to reach his new serving of hay. Then she nickered pitifully.

  Sam gave Sweetheart more hay, while, mentally, she tried to arrange her words so that she wasn’t really telling Jen’s secret.

  “How long does it take for a domestic horse to become feral?” she asked, finally.

  “I guess it would depend on the horse. Age would be a factor, and—”

  “No, I mean legally,” Sam said. “Could a horse that’s been running around loose for a couple years still be your horse?”

  “Do you mean the Phantom?” Brynna asked incredulously.

  “No.” Sam’s frustration built. Brynna knew darn well she wanted the Phantom to run free forever. “Look, if I tell you something, can you not tell anyone?”

  “If it puts you in danger—”

  “It’s nothing like that. It’s not even about me.”

  “Give it a try,” Brynna said, “but I’m not making any promises.”

  “Jen and I found a horse that’s probably the Kenworthys’ missing palomino. Her name is Golden Rose and she’s been gone for two years.”

  Great. Just spill the whole thing, Sam scolded herself.

  “Really.” Brynna didn’t say it like a question at all.

  “Yeah. She’s been loose a couple years and I’m wondering if the Kenworthys can still claim her.”

  “I’ll call Jed—” Brynna began.

  “No, no, no! That’s the worst thing you could do. Jen wants it to be a surprise.”

  Brynna looked disapproving, but she answered Sam’s question just the same. “My best advice would be for her to locate the bill of sale, or registration papers, something with an exact description of the horse. After this long, she’d better be prepared just in case someone contests ownership. For instance if someone”—Brynna didn’t name Slocum, but Sam knew it was just the sort of thing he’d do—“talked the sheriff into making an inquiry or tried to claim her.”

  That sounded sensible, and not too hard.

  Since she’d told Brynna everything else, Sam added, “The mare came from Mexico. She’s a Moorish palomino and she was supposed to be the cornerstone of their palomino breeding program.”

  “She sounds valuable, and though I’m not familiar with Mexican horse registries,” Brynna admitted, “I wouldn’t be surprised if the mare has a lip tattoo or a small breed mark, like a brand.”

  “She might. I’ve only seen her from a distance,” Sam said, but she wanted to rush into the house and call Jen.

  Brynna’s hint that Linc Slocum might get in the middle of this worried Sam. Ryan Slocum seemed nice, but Sam still didn’t trust him. He’d been riding up to Nugget, caring for Golden Rose. Anyone could tell he’d planned to gentle the mare and keep her.

  If Ryan was anything like his sister and father, he’d find an underhanded way to claim Golden Rose. Jen needed to find a document proving the mare was the Kenworthys’ property, right now.

  “Are you shivering or fidgeting?” Brynna asked.

  “It is getting pretty cold,” Sam said. “Let’s go in.”

  “Great,” Brynna said morosely. “I can hardly wait to watch Grace cook.”

  Gram’s lasagna filled the kitchen with the aroma of oregano and cheese.

  Gram pulled the big casserole dish from the oven, then slipped a square cake pan inside and adjusted the temperature. Next, Sam noticed Gram asked for Brynna’s help tossing a green salad. It was a simple, no-talent job. Sam knew this because it was usually hers.

  Brynna did it, but she didn’t exactly rejoice at Gram’s faith in her culinary skills. As they sat eating, Sam felt tension coursing among the adults. They were all so polite, it was creepy.

  Sam tore her slice of garlic bread in half, thinking of how she’d asked for Brynna’s help out in the barn. She didn’t regret it, but what if Brynna took her on as a project?

  Sam tore her bread into quarters. If Brynna decided stepmothering was the one thing she could do right around here, she could become a pest.

  Wind whistled around the house and the windows shook a little in their frames. It was the next-to-the-last night of winter vacation and the truth was, she wouldn’t mind spending it anywhere but here.

  Sam thought it might not be so ba
d sleeping in the barn with Ace. Curling up in that deep straw would be cozy. She’d read that in the old days, sheiks let their children sleep in their tents with their heads pillowed on the bellies of their Arabian warhorses.

  She thought of Ace and smiled. If he wasn’t a restless sleeper—

  “You want to do what?” Dad asked suddenly.

  Sam jumped. She hadn’t mumbled something aloud, had she? Then she realized Dad was talking to Brynna.

  Brynna was pretending she’d said something normal, but Sam didn’t think so. Not when Gram was giving lots of thought to rearranging her silverware and Dad was holding his pasta-loaded fork in midair.

  “I’m good at polishing boots,” Brynna said, taking a sip of her milk. “I offered to polish yours. What’s the big deal?”

  Brynna’s voice held steady, but when she looked up, her blue eyes were bloodshot and confused. Dad noticed as soon as Sam did.

  “Why don’t you take the night off, instead,” he suggested. “Go upstairs and take a bubble bath or something.”

  Sam’s spine flattened against the back of her chair. Never had Dad made such a suggestion. As far as she knew, Dad had never even heard of bubble baths.

  “I wish you’d tell me to—” Sam started and finished in the same breath. Dad’s glare said the only bubble bath she was going to get was from the elbows down, when she did the dishes.

  It was a great offer, so why was Brynna pushing back from the table, rising slowly, moving in absolute slow motion?

  Sam’s stomach sucked in. She didn’t like the feel of this evening. Not one bit. It was a relief when Dad and Brynna excused themselves to go upstairs.

  They didn’t make it that far, though.

  Even though they were in the other room and Sam and Gram remained at the dinner table, their conversation was loud enough to hear.

  “Around here, there’s nothing you need me for. I can’t do anything useful,” she began.

  “Not true, B.,” Dad said gently. “I just don’t think you can do everything. We stay home, and you go to work at Willow Springs. You’re doing your part. A part no one else can do and we don’t want you to change.”

  As it grew quiet in the living room, a cascade of questions tumbled through Sam’s mind. When had Dad started calling Brynna “B.”? Had he ever sounded so gentle and supportive before? Should she tell Brynna that she certainly didn’t want her to change?

  Sam jumped when Gram reached over to touch her arm.

  “Something for you to remember, Samantha Anne, when you get married,” Gram said quietly. “Start off in the way you mean to go on.”

  Do what? Gram didn’t explain, but as she cleared the table, Sam decided she understood. Dad wanted his marriage to be based on what was real. Instead of allowing Brynna to be sad with her wrong assumptions, Dad had just flat-out told her they all liked her the way she was.

  Sam watched Gram stir together powdered sugar and milk in a pottery mixing bowl. Next, she added vanilla flavoring to a frosting for the cake she’d slipped into the oven. As she watched, Sam decided she’d be smart to second Dad’s compliments to Brynna. If her new stepmother felt good about herself, it might even keep her out of Sam’s bedroom.

  One of the few good things about the house’s only telephone being in the kitchen was that Sam could wash dishes as she talked with Jen.

  Gram went outside to blanket Sweetheart and Sam had the kitchen to herself. By the time she’d finished the dinner plates, she’d told Jen everything Brynna had said about validating the identity of Golden Rose.

  “He might try to claim the horse for himself,” Sam told Jen.

  “Oh, Sam, you’re getting as paranoid as I am. He’s got his choice of, like, thirty-eight horses on this ranch. You know he’s not going to do that.”

  “I don’t know that,” Sam said, but she didn’t add that Jen only thought she did because of her crush on him.

  “In any case, Brynna’s right,” Jen agreed, then her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know where to look for that stuff, but I’m going to need some help.”

  “What kind of help?” Sam asked suspiciously. She kept her voice down, because she heard Gram’s steps on the front porch.

  “Tomorrow when you come over, I want you to distract my mom, while I get in this drawer where they keep important documents.”

  “Why do I have to distract her?” Sam asked quietly.

  “Because, as I’ve said about a million times, I want this to be a surprise.” Jen pronounced the last few words carefully, as if Sam was a little slow. Then, Jen’s tone turned chipper. “C’mon, be a buddy. Just do it.”

  Sam pulled the stopper from the kitchen sink. The suds spun into a vortex that sucked them down the drain.

  “I’ll do it,” Sam said, finally. “But I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  “About what, dear?” Gram said as she came back inside.

  “Yeah,” said a second, deeper voice. “About what?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sam hung up the phone and turned to face Gram and Jake, with what she hoped wasn’t a phony smile.

  “About the other kids in my small group in history,” she said quickly. She dried her hands, then went over to her seat at the table and plopped down. “Some of them are real slackers.”

  Jake gave a short laugh. He wasn’t fooled one bit, but Gram just smiled.

  “I’ll leave you to your studies,” she said, “but when the timer goes off for that cake, could you either call me or slap some of that icing on while it’s still hot?”

  “Sure,” Sam said.

  Jake stayed next to the front door until Gram had left the kitchen for the living room. Absently, as if he were thinking of something else, he rubbed his leg where it had been broken.

  When he noticed her watching, Jake dropped his backpack to the floor, walked to a chair, turned it around, and straddled it so he was facing her.

  “What was Ryan doing out there?” he asked.

  It was the last thing she’d expected.

  “Why do you care?” she asked.

  “Are you protecting him?”

  “From what? You?”

  His mouth opened in what looked like the start of a snarl, then he looked down at his hands, refusing to take the bait.

  “Why are you trying to get me off the subject? Do you like him or something?”

  “Me?” Sam knew her screech carried into the other room, but she didn’t care. “The day I like a Slocum, you can—” She tried to think of a suitable punishment for being so dumb. “You can have me locked up in a home for the criminally stupid.”

  “So, what was he doing out there?” Jake insisted.

  “Ask Jen, she’s the one with the crush on him,” Sam said.

  That stopped Jake. He even looked surprised.

  Though Sam felt ashamed for tossing her best friend out there to lead Jake off the track, she knew Jen would prefer that over telling him the truth.

  Jake’s surprise passed as quickly as Sam’s instant of guilt. His arms hung over the chair back and his eyelids drooped in why-should-I-care laziness.

  “I saw your horse,” he said then.

  There was no question in Sam’s mind. Jake didn’t mean Ace. He meant the Phantom.

  “Where did you see him? When?”

  This time Jake didn’t tease her. “Sniffing around Aspen Creek yesterday.”

  Aspen Creek was only a few miles away. If you rode along the ridge behind River Bend Ranch and Three Ponies Ranch, then went downhill and northwest, you’d come to the spot.

  Sam couldn’t think of Aspen Creek without picturing Moon, the Phantom’s night-black son. After his sire had banished him from the herd, Moon had lived along Aspen Creek, sharing his territory with a variety of companions—a cougar, a Shetland pony, and finally a fleet mare he’d stolen from the Phantom’s herd.

  “Was he alone?” Sam asked.

  Jake nodded.

  “I saw him yesterday on War Drum Flats,” Sam said. “Why
do you think he’s alone?”

  “Could be he came back after the lead mare,” Jake said, giving a faint nod toward his home ranch.

  “Or…?” Sam encouraged him. Jake had the best horse sense of anyone she knew.

  “Or he’s on the prowl for another one.” Jake shrugged. “Maybe there’s some physical barrier between him and his herd. I’m not gonna guess.” Then, when Sam didn’t nag him to speculate, he said, “You want to take him home, see if his herd’s waiting for him?”

  It was exactly what she wanted to do. Sam stared at the kitchen clock. She’d bet that she and the stallion could find each other, right now, in the dark. Then she and Jake could lead him home. But if the stallion wanted to go home, he’d be there. Something was keeping him here.

  Besides, she’d vowed never to reveal the way to the stallion’s secret valley.

  “I don’t know why you’re so stubborn about this,” Jake said. His attention wandered to Gram’s pantry as Cougar came mincing out, sat, and cleaned a paw while he watched them.

  “I’m not stubborn,” Sam protested.

  Jake rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Then, for no reason Sam could see, he pulled off the leather string tying back his black hair.

  For a minute he dangled the string for Cougar. The kitten pounced, missed, then lost interest. Jake narrowed his eyes at the kitten he’d given Sam, as if it had betrayed him. He caught his hair back, wound the leather tie round and round, then retied it with a jerk.

  “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Sam said.

  She could hear Cougar padding around under the kitchen table. Then he plopped his tiny body over the toe of her right boot.

  “That’s the last thing you should worry about, Brat.” Jake looked at her as if she were a child. “You want to keep your big secret? Fine. But don’t fool yourself that I can’t find his hideout. I saw your goofy look when you came staggering down from the trail that comes up from Arroyo Azul. I know where we set him loose to go home. I’d have a pretty good idea where to start trackin’.”