Mountain Mare

by Terri Farley

  “Speaking of drama…,” Sam teased.

  “It’s why I’m in front of the camera instead of behind it,” Lynn said with a mock bow. “Seriously, though, why should a beast that big and strong allow itself to be bossed around by someone your size? I’ll stick with my Siamese cats, thank you very much.”

  “Are you just here for the morning?” Sam asked, since Lynn Cooper clearly wasn’t following the herd on horseback.

  “No, I’ve been here from the start, but I’m strictly a motorized passenger,” Lynn said, pointing.

  Sunrise had brightened the camp, so when Sam glanced in the direction Lynn pointed, she couldn’t miss the van. Bright orange despite a layer of dust, the vehicle had WIMP WAGON painted on its side in big black letters.

  I’d walk home before I rode in that, Sam thought. Jen straightened so suddenly, the blond braids hanging over her shoulders looked like exclamation points. Sam would bet Jen felt the same.

  Lynn Cooper recognized their expressions instantly.

  “I have no pride,” she pretended to whisper. “Besides, the Wimp Wagon has a CD player, air-conditioning, and a couple of built-in cots.”

  Lynn was about to go on when a muted trill sounded from her pocket. She held a finger in front of her lips, signing the girls to hush, as she fished out her cell phone.

  “No one’s supposed to have twenty-first-century gadgets. Hal’s number-one rule. He already took Mr. Martinez’s PDA.”

  Amazed, Sam asked, “Mr. Martinez? The banker?”

  “The same,” Lynn said. “Took it away in such a nice, easygoing, for-your-own-good way, that Mr. Martinez actually thanked him for contributing to a more relaxing week!”

  She opened the small silver cell phone.

  “Hello?” Lynn said. She listened, then closed the phone with a frown. “Even though we have super high-tech equipment that costs more than I make in a month”—Lynn gestured toward the sky—“it’s undependable out here.”

  “But Hal makes an exception for you?” Sam asked.

  “Only because it’s my job. And even though Hal welcomes the publicity, he’s threatened to confiscate the phone unless I’m discreet,” Lynn said.

  The phone sounded again, and Lynn moved away, searching for better reception.

  Hissing water rose up in a steam cloud. Sam and Jen stepped away as the cook doused the campfire beside them.

  They’d talked too long, Sam thought. They were the last ones holding plates and cups. Restless hooves and a sudden cacophony of cattle said it was time to mount up.

  “Let’s go,” Sam said anxiously.

  “We’re fine,” Jen said, taking Sam’s plate and slipping it, along with hers, into a bucket of dishwater the cook had indicated. “We’re saddled up and our horses know what they’re doing.”

  Sam exhaled. Jen was right. There was no reason for this sudden surge of panic.

  “Where?” Lynn Cooper snapped.

  Sam wheeled to see the reporter frowning. Her cell phone was clamped between her ear and shoulder as she made notes on a long tablet.

  “Any injuries?” she asked. “I said—shoot, this reception’s just awful.”

  Lynn raised one hand to beckon a cameraman mingling with horses and riders.

  “I’ll catch up with you later,” Lynn said, moving toward her tent.

  “What happened?” Jen asked after Lynn had hung up.

  “Probably nothing serious. I could barely hear, but for some reason they—that was the station calling—want footage and commentary on a one-vehicle accident.”

  Lynn ducked into her tent, leaving Sam and Jen standing face to face, staring at each other.

  “One vehicle?” Sam asked. “How’s that possible?”

  “I guess someone could have run off the road, not paying attention,” Jen said. “Or, since it’s early, maybe someone drove all night and fell asleep at the wheel.”

  Sam nodded. “It’s probably no one we know,” she said, totally aware she was trying to convince herself as much as Jen was. “After all, Mrs. Allen is the worst driver in northern Nevada and she’s still out of town.”

  Jen gave a tight-lipped smile.

  Although Mrs. Allen owned the Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary and was a friend to wild horses, she was also a living example of how not to drive. Both girls agreed on that.

  “Was anyone hurt?” Hal Ryden asked as Lynn emerged with a huge purse slung over her shoulder and a black blazer in one hand.

  Where had he come from? Sam wondered, but Lynn didn’t look surprised.

  “I doubt it,” Lynn answered. “But if someone was, I don’t want to be dressed for the rodeo. On camera, this will strike a more somber note.” Lynn paused.

  There was a snap as she shook dust and wrinkles from the blazer.

  Sam bit her lower lip as she made sense of Lynn’s words.

  “You’ll wear black, so in case someone—”

  “Samantha,” Lynn sounded surprised and a little shaken, “all I heard was that there’s been a rollover on the highway near War Drum Flats. It’s probably no big deal.”

  Sam sucked in her breath. War Drum Flats was awfully close to home. Lynn’s words were making things worse, not better.

  “The friend who dropped us off would be about there by now,” Jen said.

  Would he? How far back would Jake have driven?

  Not that she wanted to know.

  Sam refused to ask if the rollover involved a pickup truck faded to the color of old denim. She really wished Jen had just ignored the possibility that Jake had been hurt. That’s what she was trying to do.

  When Lynn glanced at Hal Ryden with a questioning look, Jen grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed.

  I don’t want to hear this, Sam thought, but Lynn Cooper was already talking.

  “The police dispatcher did say the accident involved a horse trailer.”

  Chapter Three

  Sam’s heart was plummeting when Hal Ryden extended his palm in an abrupt “halt” gesture.

  “Girls, experts are on the scene of that accident and I need your help here,” he said as Lynn and her cameraman piled into a four-wheel-drive station wagon to leave.

  “Okay,” Sam managed.

  “It’ll take a good thirty minutes for this bunch to catch their horses, saddle, and bridle ’em,” Hal continued.

  Across the camp, the horses were in high spirits. They’d spotted the would-be riders and neighed in mock terror before racing laps around a rope corral.

  “After three days they’re gettin’ the hang of it,” Hal said, nodding toward the people who stood quietly with halters, waiting for the horses to settle down, before easing in among them.

  Ears flicking in all directions, the saddle herd pressed close together, then scattered, but their would-be riders didn’t give up.

  “Meantime, I’d like you two to scout the mountain-top trail real quick,” Hal said. “Make sure nothing up there will spook the cattle before I turn ’em loose.”

  Sam knew it didn’t take much to startle range cattle. A shout, a sudden movement, even an object out of place like an abandoned tire protruding from the sand, could frighten them.

  “It’s just a precaution,” Hal Ryden added. “These rodeo bovines are used to hearing lotsa noise—clapping, whooping, music. You name it. And my horses do fine handling ’em. That’s why inexperienced folks are required to ride one of my horses on the drive instead of bringing one of their own.”

  Good idea, Sam thought.

  “We’ll ride up there, check things out, and be back before you know it.”

  Jen’s cheery confidence kept Sam from giving Ace a melancholy hug when she stood beside him seconds later.

  Few strangers would glance at Ace and see a great horse. Just fourteen hands tall, with a freeze brand on his neck and faint bite scars on his rump, the bay mustang didn’t look like anything special.

  “You ready?” Jen called, curbing Silly’s eagerness to be off by walking her in small circles.

&nb
sp; “Just a second,” Sam told Jen.

  Pretending to adjust his headstall, Sam pushed Ace’s coarse black forelock aside and looked at the white marking beneath.

  Could you wish on the star on a horse’s forehead? Sam sighed.

  “If I could, I’d wish you weren’t such a great horse,” she whispered to him.

  Then she kissed Ace’s nose. Who cared if anyone was watching?

  The trail out of camp grew steep in a hurry, but it was easy to follow as it cut through the changing vegetation. In minutes, Sam and Jen were riding beside a mountain’s rock face. As the horses climbed higher, the air turned crisp and sweet as stream water.

  The trail was wide enough that the girls could have ridden side by side, but they didn’t. Because he was calmer, Ace led while Silly followed a few horse lengths behind.

  With only rock on her right, Sam noticed the plants clustered on the hillside to her left. Dust covered the leaves of some plant she didn’t recognize.

  Stones clattered and brush cracked up ahead.

  “Deer?” Sam asked, glancing over her shoulder at Jen.

  “Probably,” Jen answered. “I don’t think we’re high enough for mountain sheep, and if it was a cougar, we wouldn’t hear it.”

  “That’s comforting,” Sam said. Her tone was sarcastic, but her scalp tightened and chills rained down her neck as she checked the rock wall, too.

  “Sorry,” Jen apologized, wincing.

  It had been almost a year since a young cougar had attacked Sam as she rode through Lost Canyon. In nightmares, she still felt the impact against her spine and the yank as the starving cat had pulled her backward, off Strawberry, to the ground.

  But when she was awake, she was mostly over it.

  “It’s okay,” Sam said. “A cougar’s not going to be crashing through the brush.” Then, noticing Silly’s wide eyes and flaring nostrils, she added, “I guess it could be mustangs.”

  “They’re just excited,” Jen said, sounding preoccupied. “Do you think this is far enough? I mean, there’s no landslide or anything. I’m sure they can get the herd and riders through here with no trouble.”

  As Ace and Silly huffed uphill, Sam stopped watching the far peaks, still tipped with snow, and studied the terrain around them. In the underbrush she glimpsed swatches of purple and crimson, but it wasn’t until both horses stopped, nostrils quivering, that Sam recognized the wild roses and thistles.

  Pretty and unexpected, they were also sharp with thorns and stickers. She and Jen had better make sure the cattle didn’t detour for a spiny snack.

  “What is it, girl?” Jen asked her horse.

  She leaned forward and pressed her cheek against the mare’s golden neck, staring in the same direction.

  Through knees resting against her saddle, Sam felt Ace draw a deep breath. His black-tinged ears pricked forward and a shiver ran down his neck. He wasn’t winded. He was excited.

  Suddenly a nicker rang out ahead of them. The trail curved, so they couldn’t see the horse, but Ace and Silly answered before the high-pitched sound faded to an echo.

  Probably not a mustang, Sam thought. Wild horses were quieter than domesticated ones.

  “Maybe one of Mr. Ryden’s other hands rode out earlier,” Jen said in a normal tone. She gathered her reins and eased Silly past Ace. “Let’s go see.”

  Insulted that Silly had taken the lead, Ace surged after the palomino. Sam didn’t stop him.

  Ace slid to a stop just the same, when Silly ducked her head in a half buck.

  “Knock it—” Jen’s voice broke off in a gasp.

  Reining Ace over so she could see past Jen, Sam realized the trail gradually widened as it started downhill again. About a quarter mile away, a beautiful horse stood in the middle of the path. She fidgeted and tossed her head, deciding whether to come uphill and greet the horses that had returned her call.

  Alert and cautious, the mare considered the horses and riders. Her chocolate-brown coat shone with good health. Her flaxen mane hung like an ivory shawl over a neck darkened by sweat. Sam tried to guess at her breed, but couldn’t. The mare’s wide chest and sloping shoulders should make her smooth-gaited and full of stamina.

  As Sam studied the horse’s dramatic chocolate-and-cream coloring, she saw signs that the mare had traveled some distance to reach this quiet spot in the mountains.

  This was no mustang. From trimmed whiskers to gentle, interested gaze, everything said she’d been cared for, and kindly.

  “Hey, girlie,” Jen called, extending her arm, fingers loosely closed over her palm.

  The dark mare was no stranger to handheld treats, either. She started up the trail.

  A domineering snort stopped her.

  The mare wasn’t alone.

  I might have guessed, Sam thought. As the stallion stepped from the lowest curve in the road, the Phantom’s beauty turned away her irritation. Even in the watery yellow light of morning, he looked half-magical, a creature made of bone, sinew, and moonbeams.

  Sam sighed just as Jen demanded, “What’s he doing here?”

  “Like you’re surprised he found her before we did,” Sam said quietly. She hoped Jen would take the hint and keep her voice down. Each sighting of the Phantom was a gift.

  With an easy, ambling gait, the mare approached the silver stallion. The horses’ ears flicked a message back and forth, then they both broke into a trot. A few strides later, they accelerated into a long, graceful gait just short of a gallop.

  “Listen to her,” Jen said.

  The mare’s hooves struck in a graceful four-beat rhythm. Sam heard the unfamiliar cadence even as the horses ran in step, necks aligned, so that their manes—his silver and hers white-gold—billowed back like waves.

  All at once, the Phantom’s legs reached a little farther and slanted across the mare’s path.

  “He’s trying to cut her off,” Jen muttered.

  And take her home to his hidden valley, Sam thought.

  Instead of letting herself be herded off the open path, though, the mare stopped.

  Surprised, the stallion took a few yards to slow to a walk, then arched his neck and, lifting his knees in a proud display, trotted an arc to come back and face her.

  Even from this distance, Sam could read the mare’s gentle demeanor: She stared at the Phantom with pricked ears. Then she took a step forward and touched his extended muzzle with her own.

  Sam smiled. The mare wanted to be friends, but she didn’t want to be pushed around. When he drew near enough, she gave his mane a nibble.

  “The Phantom’s got a new girlfriend,” Jen said in a singsong voice.

  To Sam, it was no joke. And Jen knew better than to tease about this. If the mare had been wild, that would be one thing. But she wasn’t.

  Once before the stallion had been accused of stealing domestic mares, but the accusation had proven false. And just last month, Linc Slocum’s mare Hotspot had joined the Phantom’s herd after she’d escaped from the thief who’d stolen her and her foal.

  Where had this glossy, stable-fed beauty come from?

  Head high, the silver stallion acted as if he deserved the affectionate nuzzling.

  Jen broke Sam’s trance by jostling her arm. The movement stirred Ace, too, and he gave a “What’s this?” snort.

  “We really should go back,” Jen said, then added, “No way, Silly.”

  Jen’s amused tone alerted Sam to the palomino’s expression. She stared spellbound at the horses on the trail below as if they were performing just for her.

  “I know,” Sam said.

  The stallion must have heard Sam’s voice, because he stepped away from the mare’s grooming nibbles and stared up the hillside. Sam didn’t move, but her heart rejoiced. Just days ago, the Phantom couldn’t have heard a thunderclap. Now he recognized her voice and stood waiting for some sign between them.

  Zanzibar. Could the stallion’s secret name float like a feather on a gust of wind, leaving her mind to drift to the wild st
allion’s? As if it could, he tossed his heavy mane back and pawed the mountain path.

  But then, it was as if Sam had vanished.

  The stallion had no more time for humans. The mare beside him must be added to his herd. Now.

  This time the stallion flattened his ears. Then he lowered his head and snaked it close to the mare’s mahogany legs, threatening to nip.

  For the first time, the mare’s ears lay back along her neck and she returned the warning with a clack of her teeth.

  Startled, the Phantom looked back over his shoulder, as if she couldn’t possibly be snapping at him.

  “We really should go, but this is too good,” Jen said, covering her lips against a laugh.

  Should Sam feel sorry for the stallion?

  No, she thought in the next instant. He’d just begun to flirt.

  Arching his neck and tucking his chin until it bumped his chest, the Phantom showed off his prance. Then, with ears still laid back, he rocked into a lope. If he could have seen the newly risen sun glinting off the dapples that glittered beneath his hide like silver coins, he would have been even more arrogant.

  “It’s not going to work,” Jen said.

  It turned out she was right.

  As soon as the Phantom lowered his head again, the mare’s ears flattened into her mane and her tail swished in irritation.

  Fed up with her stalling, the stallion tried to bully her. His silver shoulder struck her chocolate one. She gave a high-pitched squeal before kicking out a hind hoof.

  The stallion shied, then circled her at a slow trot.

  “I can hear him thinking from here,” Jen joked. “He can’t believe it. The almighty Phantom’s getting the cold shoulder.”

  Rejection didn’t sit well with the silver stallion.

  His trot lengthened, and then he was galloping, tightening his circle around the mare. She shifted and gave a nervous nicker. When he heard her uncertainty, the stallion charged.