Golden Ghost

by Terri Farley

  “But you’re too honorable to do it,” Sam said.

  This time Jake’s eyes didn’t look away from hers.

  As a little girl, she’d noticed what she called Jake’s mustang eyes. Dark brown and full of wild thoughts, she could only guess what he’d been thinking. Even now, she wasn’t sure. Was he flattered or frustrated?

  Whatever Jake was thinking, the silence had lasted long enough. Sam didn’t like it.

  “I guess you could find him, if you weren’t lazy,” she said.

  Jake agreed, nodding. “Or maybe I don’t see the point in it. The horse will either take care of himself or he won’t.”

  That was supposed to make her feel angry, but Sam kept her temper reined in.

  “So why did you come over?” she asked. She jiggled her feet nervously, disturbing Cougar.

  “Thought you’d want to know I saw him.” Jake moved his legs back, as if he’d stand. But he didn’t.

  “Well, thanks,” she said grudgingly.

  She glanced at the clock again. It was barely eight o’clock. She could smell cinnamon, nutmeg, and raisins. Gram’s spice cake was almost done. Next, she’d get to slather it with lots of sweet, white frosting.

  She heard Jake swallow. It wouldn’t be polite to send him off without a slice of cake. In fact, it would be pure torture.

  But she could make him work for it.

  “Since you’re here anyway,” Sam said, “d’you want to help me with algebra? The cake’ll be done in a few minutes.”

  Even though he couldn’t help swinging his gaze toward the oven, Jake gave a loud, reluctant sigh.

  “Guess it don’t matter now,” he said. He looked up to be sure she grimaced at his grammar. “Already squandered half the night on lost causes, might as well throw away the rest of it, too.”

  Gram insisted that Sam go to church with her in Darton the next morning.

  “What about my algebra?” Sam asked. In a way, she was looking for an excuse. It was the last day of vacation. Even though she wasn’t looking forward to being Jen’s diversion while she searched for the papers on Golden Rose, Sam wanted to be dressed and ready to hop on Ace the instant Dad said she could ride over to the Gold Dust Ranch.

  “You had a double dose of algebra yesterday. I’d like your company on the drive, and a little time in church won’t do you any harm. Although,” Gram said, as Sam headed upstairs to dress, “I have been wondering if all that mumbling you do over your math papers just might be prayer.”

  After church, Sam rushed upstairs and changed into riding clothes. She was hurrying toward the barn when she saw a note left on the kitchen table. Something told her not to read it, but family law said that every member of the family could be held responsible for information on a note left in the middle of the kitchen table. So she had no choice.

  The first half was printed in Dad’s light, upright hand. Sam, take Buff or Strawberry. They need work. Beneath this, in cursive that had to be Brynna’s, Sam read, Be home by 4 & get organized for Monday. Vacation is over.

  “As if I could forget,” Sam grumbled.

  She didn’t want to take Buff or Strawberry. Buff was sweet, but he was pudgy and slow. Silly would run him into the ground. She’d have to take Strawberry, but what a crummy compromise. Besides having the shaggy hair of a mastodon, Strawberry was cranky, especially with other mares.

  Jen had gotten angry with Silly yesterday for threatening Golden Rose. Sam was pretty sure Strawberry would do no better.

  On the other hand, Sam was more afraid of what Dad would do if she didn’t ride one of the horses he’d told her to, than she was afraid of what Jen would do if she did.

  When Ace saw her, he rejoiced with a volley of neighs. When she left the barn without him, he nickered after her as if he were certain she’d be right back. After she’d caught Strawberry, he kept calling.

  Nothing startled or irritated Strawberry on the way to the Gold Dust Ranch. The mare’s swinging, ground-eating jog reminded Sam why Dad liked to use her on long trail rides.

  They reached the Gold Dust in good time, and Strawberry didn’t act up as they rode down the long entrance to Slocum’s estate, in spite of the unusual sights. She snorted at the small herd of Brahmas left over from Linc Slocum’s rodeo scheme and shied when a shaggy herd of Shetland ponies ran along their fence like a gang of ragamuffin children. But that wasn’t too bad.

  “Good girl.” Sam patted the mare’s soft neck before dismounting in front of the foreman’s house where Jen lived with her parents.

  A few years ago, it had been the only house on the property. After the ranch had been sold to Slocum, though, he’d had tons of dirt hauled in and sculpted into a hill, so that his pillared mansion could look down on the rest of the ranch.

  As Sam tied Strawberry to a ring on a hitching post in front of Jen’s house, she heard hammering. She noticed a ladder then, and looked up and saw Jed Kenworthy, Jen’s dad, on the roof.

  People always said Jen’s dad and hers looked alike, but Sam couldn’t see any resemblance. Jed looked so stern, he was scary.

  Just now, he lay belly down on the slant of the roof. He wore a tool belt, but no coat.

  Sam shivered in sympathy. Last week, there’d been a terrific sleet storm and she seemed to remember something about the foreman’s house roof leaking.

  “Hi, Mr. Kenworthy,” Sam shouted in his direction.

  Jed gave no sign he heard, but working up in the wind, balanced the way he was, couldn’t be easy.

  Jen bounded out of the house dressed in jeans and a bright-orange sweatshirt with a tiger on the front.

  “For courage,” Jen said, patting the tiger.

  Although Jen looked the same as usual, Sam felt a kind of frantic energy in her friend’s greeting.

  She’s staking way too much on this horse, Sam thought as she struggled loose from Jen’s boa constrictor hug. But what could she do about it?

  “C’mon,” Jen said, towing Sam along by the arm. “But first, I need one more thing. Can I carry the key today?”

  Without asking why, Sam pulled the key from her pocket and gave it to Jen.

  “The key to my dreams.” Jen sighed.

  Before they went inside, Sam tried to talk sense to Jen, one last time.

  “Ask your dad about the bill of sale. Just tell him you’ve found the horse. He’d be so happy.”

  “No way.” Jen shook her head so hard, her braids slapped her cheeks. “They’ve been arguing about money all morning. Then, Dad decided today he had to fix the roof. Roofs don’t leak in the city, you know.”

  “Of course they—oh, I get it,” Sam said.

  “He’s so obsessed with moving, I don’t even know why he’s up there,” Jen whispered. “It’s cold and the shingles shatter with practically every nail he hammers into them.” Jen looked toward the roof. “But it’s supposed to snow again and he, uh, isn’t too thrilled about the idea of snowflakes blowing around inside the house.”

  Sam thought of Dad and Brynna, talking out a misunderstanding before it became a big problem.

  “Can’t you and your mom sit down with your dad and tell him that no matter what, living here is more important than money?”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Jen said with a humorless grin. “He won’t listen anymore. But I think I can shock him into hearing us when I bring that mare home. Today.”

  “Okay, then if we could just get Jake,” Sam suggested. “He’s the best roper—”

  “And have him take all the credit? Forget it,” Jen snapped. She drew a deep breath. “Now, here’s my plan. I tried last night, but the document drawer squeaks, so I had to give up. But today, my mom is cleaning the kitchen cabinets. She’s taken all the pots and pans out, they’re piled all over the place and she’s making an incredible racket. It’s just perfect.

  “You know where my room is,” Jen continued.

  Sam pictured it. Off the living room was a single long hall. Jen’s parents’ bedroom lay to the right and t
he bathroom on the left. The hall dead-ended into Jen’s bedroom.

  “The drawer is down low, on the left,” Jen continued. “Just before you get to my room. I have to kneel to get it open. Then I have to find the paper. So keep my mom talking for a while, got it?”

  The Kenworthys’ house usually smelled of wood smoke and cookies, but not today. The odors of furniture polish and cleaning supplies permeated a living room that was abnormally neat. No magazines lay on the coffee table. No coffee cup sat next to Jed’s chair. The coat hooks by the front door were empty. It was almost as if Jen’s mom had decided a move was inevitable, and she was already getting ready to go.

  Lila Kenworthy wore a white sweater tucked into jeans and a red bandanna tied over her hair. Shining aluminum pots were piled on the cold stove while she dusted the inside of an empty cabinet. She glanced over her shoulder, gave Sam a quick wave, and kept working.

  “I’m going to go change so we can go to Nugget,” Jen shouted.

  “Fine,” Lila said, but she didn’t turn around.

  Sam had no idea how she was going to talk with Lila. Actually, it didn’t look like it would be necessary. Just the same, she felt better talking.

  “The ghost town project is going really well,” Sam told Jen’s mother. “It’s kind of a cool little place. There’s an old schoolhouse, a general store, a saloon—”

  “I know.” Lila’s voice had a kind of finality that said she really didn’t want to hear any more.

  Sam heard a squeak of wood on wood. That had to be the drawer. But Lila’s head was almost inside a cabinet.

  Steps sounded on the ladder outside. Sam felt her pulse speed up. Just because he was coming down from the roof didn’t mean he was coming inside, did it?

  “Hurry up, Jen!” Sam shouted in the general direction of the hall.

  Lila looked over her shoulder with raised eyebrows.

  “Sorry,” Sam apologized. “I have to be home kind of early today, and I’m not riding Ace. I’m riding Strawberry, our old roan, and she’s cranky. I have no idea how she’s going to get along with Silly….” Samlet her voice trail off. Not only was she babbling, she’d heard the front door open. Jed stamped his feet as he came inside.

  Oh no. Oh no.

  Jed didn’t turn into the kitchen; he stalked through the living room toward the hall.

  “What in the…?” Jed roared.

  “Dad, it’s no big—” Jen’s voice drifted down the hall.

  “Lila! Lila, get in here and look at your daughter going through the cash drawer!”

  Hands clasped together as she ran, Jen’s mother hurried from the kitchen. Sam stayed where she was, listening in helpless horror.

  “Dad, no! That’s not it, I’m—”

  Tell him, Jen. Tell him. Please tell him.

  Sam recited the words silently, but she didn’t dare shout them as she wanted to.

  “I’m resigning today,” Jed shouted. “Look at what this family’s come to!”

  “Dad, I was just looking for something.” Jen’s voice was calm, as if the sudden appearance of her mother had settled her.

  “Jed, neither of us is hurting for money. We have what we need.” Lila’s voice lowered to a hiss as she said, “Maybe it’s all in your head.”

  “Maybe I’m sick of living under Slocum’s thumb!”

  “Fine.” Lila sounded almost relieved. “Then say that. Don’t say you’re doing it for us, because we love our life here.”

  Jed came pounding back through the house, ignoring his wife’s pleas. He glanced toward Sam with a cold fury that told her she’d better follow him out.

  He opened the door, then called back over his shoulder.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Jennifer.”

  “But Dad, I didn’t do anything.”

  “You caused this whole mess!”

  “I didn’t!” Jen’s voice was heartbroken, and Sam felt the injustice of Jed Kenworthy’s punishment as if it were her own.

  He slammed the door.

  “Mom? I didn’t cause it, did I?” Jen asked.

  “No, of course not. But you’d still better stay,” Lila said, wearily.

  “But I can’t. I can’t!”

  “Of course you can. Sam will finish up for you.”

  Sam’s heart leaped up. She could get Jake to help. He could track down the palomino. They could bring her back here and maybe, just maybe Jen was right. Maybe Jed’s anger would melt when he saw the golden mare.

  “Sam, don’t do it,” Jen cautioned. “Don’t do my part. Do you understand me?”

  “But I could,” Sam began, and then Jen was standing right in front of her.

  Tears ran from beneath her glasses and her face was flushed, but Jen was just as determined as she’d been all along.

  “Don’t do my part.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. “I think I’d better go, though.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Jen said.

  “Jennifer,” Lila said in a cautioning tone.

  “I don’t. I wish I could go, too,” Jen’s voice broke into sobs and she ran into her room and slammed the door.

  Sam couldn’t wait to get outside, but Lila was walking toward her.

  “I’m so sorry, Samantha,” Lila said.

  As she walked Sam to the door, Lila took a quick look around the living room and Sam remembered how Brynna’s wedding dress had been cut and pinned in this room.

  With a sad smile, it looked as if Lila was remembering the same thing.

  “It’s loud, but not hopeless,” Lila said. “Believe it or not, Jed is coming around. But what on earth was Jen looking for in there, I wonder.”

  Sam felt hot with guilt, but since Lila hadn’t asked her a direct question and since Jen was certainly listening, Sam just shrugged and slipped outside.

  Jed was up the ladder, pounding harder than before as Sam mounted Strawberry and rode away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sam and Strawberry left the Gold Dust Ranch at a gallop. After two or three minutes, Sam couldn’t stand the bite of freezing air rushing through her lungs. Then she realized she had nothing to run away from. She slowed Strawberry to a lope, a jog, and then eased her down to a walk.

  It was about time to decide where she was going, anyway.

  “Whoa, girl,” Sam said. She held Strawberry at a stop while she opened her saddlebag and pulled out the wool gloves she’d used to protect the glass lens of her flashlight. It was a tricky operation, donning gloves when her horse wanted to head for home, but it was worth it. “Oh, better. Much better.”

  If she kept Strawberry headed in this direction, she’d reach Nugget in twenty minutes or so. But the only thing left to do in Nugget—since Jen wouldn’t accept her help with Golden Rose—was draw the map. And she didn’t need to return to Nugget for that. She already had a rough sketch of the town and details showing where she’d found the artifact.

  She could draw a polished version of the map tonight, at home, after she’d reassembled the newspaper article as much as possible. If she let Strawberry have her way, they’d be home in minutes and she could finish off her homework before sundown.

  That’s what she should do. And it’s what she would have done if the Phantom hadn’t come to her for help.

  Sam looked at her watch. It was just a few minutes after noon. She wasn’t expected home until four o’clock.

  She could ride into Lost Canyon. That’s where he and the palomino had come from yesterday, after all. But she wouldn’t explore the canyon. She’d take the zigzag path down to Arroyo Azul and ride along the sand spit until she found the passageway through the mountains to the Phantom’s secret valley.

  School resumed tomorrow. Classes certainly cut into her riding time.

  Yep, she should go. Right now. But she didn’t.

  There were lots of logical reasons she should ride into Lost Canyon, and only one cowardly reason she shouldn’t. The last time she’d been there, a mountain lion had tried to kill her.

&nb
sp; But the lion was gone. And she wasn’t a coward.

  Sam turned Strawberry toward Lost Canyon. The mare showed her disagreement by giving a snort and pulling against the reins.

  Strawberry remembered. On the day of the attack, she’d been riding Strawberry.

  “All the same, we’re not going home just yet, girl.”

  With stiff steps and tossing head, Strawberry kept arguing.

  Could the mare remember exactly what had spooked her? Or was Strawberry simply responding to her rider’s nerves?

  Sam exhaled. She made her leg muscles relax and flexed her wrists, one at a time.

  “I’m sympathetic,” Sam said to the mare. “But I’m not taking no for an answer. I’m in the saddle, so I get to decide. And I decide giddyup.” She clucked and grudgingly, Strawberry broke into a jog.

  But not for long.

  The canyon was literally freezing cold and Sam had to slow Strawberry to keep her from slipping. As they walked, Sam searched for the Phantom. She listened, but she also realized she was reaching out to him in some silent, seeking way that had nothing to do with normal senses.

  He wasn’t there. She just knew she wouldn’t see the stallion in the cold and shadowed Lost Valley.

  Strawberry was hyperalert, too, but not as if she sensed other horses.

  She was scared. Her head swiveled from side to side, ears pricked forward to catch the slightest sound. Her nostrils flared, testing every gulp of air for danger.

  “Everything’s fine, girl,” Sam told her. “We’ll be out of here soon.”

  Even though the Phantom wasn’t here, Sam had to go to his secret valley. She wanted to check on the herd.

  Evidence of the cold was everywhere. Where Dark Sunshine had lapped water seeping from a crack in a rock wall, there was a sheen of ice. Snow clumped on the edges of the path where she and Jake had faced down an armed wild horse rustler. Sam tried to sort through memories other than those of the cougar.

  When she looked over the edge into the canyon yawning on her left, she didn’t take time to admire the sandstone shelves. In autumn, the canyon had reminded her of an amphitheater. Now she only searched for the path down to the river.