Mountain Mare

by Terri Farley

  This was no lie, Sam thought. Mrs. Allen’s ranch land bordered some of Slocum’s and he would have paid plenty for it.

  Taking her silence as victory, Slocum quit pretending he was actually concerned. “You won’t feel like such hot stuff when that old lady’s in the poorhouse,” he called after her.

  She should have kept walking, but she didn’t. Sam stopped, hands on hips, and turned to face him.

  “Mr. Slocum, don’t talk to me anymore, please. I don’t know why you’re so mad, but—”

  She’d given him time to catch up. He was only a few feet away when he said, “Aren’t you listenin’, girl? You’re ruining my reputation. I want to be on the board of the rodeo association, and reputation counts.”

  Linc slammed his fist into his opposite palm and the action must have shown him how crazy he was acting, because his expression turned sad.

  “Look at what you’ve done to Ryan,” Linc said sorrowfully. “Caused him three brushes with the police.”

  “What?” Sam’s voice soared.

  Ryan Slocum, Linc’s son, had only been in Nevada a few months since leaving England, where he’d lived with his mother.

  “First you told the sheriff about the Kenworthy palomino,” Linc said quietly. “Then there was that hermit on the mountain you got Ryan involved with, and that whole uproar over our colt.”

  Our colt. Sam didn’t remind Linc he’d promised Shy Boots, the colt his Appaloosa mare Hotspot had foaled, to her. And she’d had nothing to do with Ryan arranging Shy Boots’ disappearance. Ryan had done it because he thought Linc was going to have the colt destroyed.

  Linc could blame himself for forming such bad relationships with his children. She didn’t feel a bit sorry for him, but she couldn’t imagine how to put her feelings into words that were even half polite.

  Luckily, she didn’t have to do it.

  “Sam!” Jen shouted as she jogged toward Sam. Jen’s face was flushed from the heat and her blond braids bounced.

  Jen to the rescue, Sam thought. She laughed out loud in relief. Leaving Linc Slocum behind, Sam walked determinedly toward her friend.

  Chapter Eight

  “What did he want?” Jen asked. As they jogged side by side toward the arena, Jen held up crossed fingers. “Maybe he was the reason you had to go to the first aid station? I hope.”

  Sometimes Sam scolded Jen for her sarcasm. Not today.

  “No such luck,” Sam said. “He wanted to tell me I was giving him a bad reputation.”

  Jen stopped so suddenly that Sam jogged on past her.

  “What?” Jen yelped. “You’re giving him—” Jen beat the air with both hands, as if the air were full of bees, and her cheeks turned red. “Is he insane? Oh yeah, I forgot. Of course he is, but I can’t believe he actually convinced someone to call you on the loudspeaker for that slice of baloney!”

  Sam laughed until Jen’s anger faded into a smile.

  “You are the best friend,” Sam said, and as she did, she realized she really should talk with Jen about the offer to buy Ace.

  “Yes, I am the best friend. One of a kind, thank goodness,” Jen bragged. “If there were two of us, we’d take that jerk down for you.”

  “Someday,” Sam promised, and then she gave Jen a good-natured shove to keep moving. There was no time to talk seriously right now. “But it wasn’t him paging me. It was Brynna. She’s the one who picked up the girl who rolled her truck.”

  “Wow,” Jen said. “Living proof a biologist can be brave. I guess I’ll have to be a mathematician.”

  “Jen! You’re brave. You were just offering to beat up Linc.”

  “Only if I had a clone.”

  They were almost to the arena when Hal Ryden came striding toward them.

  On the trail, he’d seemed mostly cowboy. Now he had the manner of the businessman he was.

  “Girls, the rodeo vet’s willing to take a look at that mare, but he’s on a dead run. The standards are tight for watching over the stock and he’s not quite sure when he’ll get to the arena to check her over. Since my guys need to get ready for the show—”

  “We can hang out with the mare until the vet gets there,” Sam finished.

  She couldn’t wait to get a closer look at the mare and try to start unraveling her mystery.

  “Atta girl,” Hal said. He gave her a pat on the back that was more suitable for a horse, but Sam stayed on her feet as Hal continued. “Feel free to stick her in one of my stalls. That’s if he gives her a clean bill of health.”

  “I guess no one’s reported her missing?” Jen asked.

  “Haven’t had a chance to check. If I were missing a horse, though, I’m not sure I’d call the rodeo grounds.”

  “Maybe the sheriff,” Sam mused.

  “Might be the vet can help you puzzle that out,” Hal said. “As for me, I’ve got flag girls to line up, pickup men to check with, and a whole load of broncs and bulls to pamper.” He’d taken two steps away before he turned back. “Almost forgot,” he said, pulling two tickets from his pocket. “These are for you. Best seats in the house. You’ll be right over the chutes, so you can watch the riders mount up.”

  “Thank you so much,” Sam said, then she elbowed Jen, who was staring at Hal with something like hero worship.

  “Thank you,” Jen said.

  Hal Ryden touched the brim of his hat in farewell.

  The mare wore a borrowed rope halter and she was tied just outside the arena where a dozen furled and colorful flags leaned against a fence, waiting to be carried in during the grand entry.

  Ears pricked to catch the sounds of activity all around her, the mare looked curious but not nervous. She stretched toward the knot in the lead rope, tying her to a ring, and lipped it experimentally.

  “Hey, beauty, you’re not going anywhere,” Jen said as they approached.

  The mare switched her white-gold tail and stamped, seeming only a little disappointed that her escape plan had failed.

  “She really is pretty,” Sam said.

  “Not a bit spooky, either,” Jen added.

  The mare’s wide, gentle eyes and nicker said she thought they’d brought treats.

  “What have I got for you, pretty girl?” Jen mused, digging into her pocket. “Just crumbs from the bribe I had to give to my own horse. That’s despicable, isn’t it?”

  Together Sam and Jen studied the mare, then skimmed their hands over her coat.

  “Dusty, but not dirty,” Sam observed. “And I only see one knot in her mane.”

  “She hasn’t been on the run for long,” Jen said. “And since she jilted the great Phantom, she can’t be very lonely.”

  Jen’s teasing had a little too much bite to it to be funny, Sam thought. Or maybe she was just feeling sensitive because of Linc’s accusations.

  “Am I nosy?” Sam asked suddenly.

  Jen drew a long breath. Her hands paused on the mare and she regarded Sam with an analytical look. “Define ‘nosy.’”

  “I guess that answers my question,” Sam said in a joking tone. She wove her fingers through the mare’s mane and worked to undo that single knot, trying not to pout over Linc being right.

  “I’d say you’re curious,” Jen said, “but most intelligent people are, and you’re sure not one of those girls who listens to every conversation, ready to memorize any gossip she can recycle for an audience. Like, when my parents were having problems, you didn’t pump me for details—”

  “Of course not!” Sam said.

  “See? And the HARP girls, well, because they’re ‘at risk,’ there’s lots of rumors you could spread about them, but you’re uncomfortable knowing what you’re supposed to know about them. You don’t go digging for more. I don’t call that nosy. Who said you were?”

  “Nobody,” Sam said, but she didn’t expect Jen to believe her for an instant.

  “Slocum, right?” Jen guessed.

  Sam was nodding when the vet arrived.

  “Is this our runaway?” A short, f
it man in a white straw hat and jeans bustled up, hands outstretched to examine the mare even before the rest of his body caught up.

  His conversation seemed to be aimed more at soothing the horse than drawing information from Sam and Jen.

  “Haven’t finished looking at the stock just in from the drive,” he said, coaxing the mare’s mouth open. “Usually it’s easier on them than trucking, though. With trucks, sometimes you’ll be driving along and a car pulls in front of you and wham! You’ve gotta slam on the brakes. Teeth okay,” he said and began lifting the mare’s feet for inspection. “Then, what happens when you get mothers and calves in two different trucks?”

  Sam was wondering if the vet expected an answer, when he went on.

  “You finally arrive at your destination, the pairs don’t ‘mother up,’ that’s what, and bingo! You got a leppy calf on your hands.”

  “Right,” Jen began.

  The vet looked up from the hoof he was examining and frowned at her, so she didn’t finish.

  “Hal tells me you were with the drive. No accidents you saw? Hello?” He’d released the last hoof and stood looking at them, arms folded over his belt.

  “No,” Sam blurted. “Nothing went wrong with the cattle that I saw.”

  “I—” Jen started to say something, but the vet held up an index finger, then put one arm over the mare’s back and bent with the stethoscope to listen to her heart.

  “Okay, sounds good,” he murmured. Then, with his eyes unfocused, he began feeling the mare’s skin for lumps and bumps.

  “Took a tumble, did you, girl?”

  Sam and Jen looked at each other, but this time they had to answer.

  “It must have happened before she joined up with us,” Sam said, but the vet didn’t seem to hear.

  “Want to trot her away from me?” The vet jerked the lead rope loose and handed it to Jen. She jogged the mare and the vet watched. “No stiffness or lameness. That’s good. And the shape she’s in, I’ll bet she’s had her vaccinations.”

  “She fell?” Jen asked once she’d brought the mare back to him.

  “Yeah, whether you saw it or not, she’s got some bumps and scuffs consistent with a pretty good fall. Nothing that needs treatment, really, beyond washing up. You’ll take care of that, won’t you?”

  “Sure,” Sam said, but her mind raced ahead. They’d be watching the rodeo and then they’d be leaving. She’d have to ask Hal who should care for the horse. But he was already doing the mare a favor, giving her a place to stay. Sam sawed her teeth over her bottom lip. What became of lost horses? Did Sheriff Ballard have a place to board them temporarily?

  “Got a saddle bronc mare—Dixie Chick, know her?—that got her head through a fence reaching for who knows what and laid her neck wide open. Since she’d already been drawn for the event, Hal’s gotta—”

  The vet broke off as the mare nuzzled his pocket. “Nothing for you, girl,” he said kindly.

  That was twice she’d gone looking for treats, Sam thought. Maybe she was hungry.

  “No one’s turned up claiming this horse, am I right?” the vet said, giving her a clap on the shoulder as if he really had to be going.

  “Right,” Jen said. She looked a little dizzy from keeping up with the vet’s talk.

  “They will,” he said, shoving his stethoscope farther down into his medical bag.

  What if there’s a reward offered for her? Sam’s mind spun with possibilities. Of course she couldn’t collect all of it, but maybe she, Jen, and Hal could share the reward. Maybe a little extra cash would ease her guilt over not selling Ace.

  “She’s gentle and sweet,” the vet said as he buckled his bag closed, gaze still on the mare. “Easy to handle and she’s got a chip. I’d say she’s been in competition—this wide-open arena and all the activity doesn’t bother her. She’s no youngster, though. Twelve to fourteen, I’d say. Maybe somebody’s broodmare.”

  “What is she?” Jen asked.

  “Which breed, you mean? I was afraid you’d ask.” The vet blew through his lips. “I’m really more of a cattle specialist. Give me a rank bull out of Nobody, by WhotheHeckKnows, and I can figure out his great auntie, but this mare…,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll tell you, the only horse I’ve seen that reminds me of this one was ridden by an old-time movie star. Can’t remember his name, but the horse was called Coco. Darned if I can remember its bloodlines. If I ever knew.”

  With a final pat, the vet stepped away. Sam thought he already had one boot pointed toward his next assignment when he said, “I’d like to take another look at her eyes when I have time. It’s no emergency, no injury, but something’s not quite right. Tell Hal she’s got as clean a bill of health as I can give her without running blood work. He can put her in with his stock without a second thought, I’d say.”

  For the first time it occurred to Sam that Hal Ryden had risked a lot by being neighborly and allowing them to stable their horses with his. Horses carried all kinds of equine illnesses.

  Silly, Ace, or this stray mare could endanger the livestock that earned Hal’s living. A contagious disease, even if it wasn’t serious, could cost him a performance or even an entire rodeo season, and that would mean the loss of thousands of dollars.

  Once the vet had vanished, the girls took turns leading the mare to the barn. As showtime drew near, the rodeo grounds were an obstacle course. The bulls that had been eating alfalfa or resting on the ground with folded legs, stood up. They ignored their salt licks and flapped their ears at the music from the arena.

  The chocolate mare noticed the little tractors rolling from place to place carrying people in a hurry or towing trailers full of cedar shavings for clean bedding. She noticed, but didn’t seem to care.

  “She’s bomb-proof,” Jen said when a girl leading four sheep—for the mutton-busting competition, Jen explained—darted in front of them. “Too bad she’s not a mustang. HARP could use a horse like this.”

  HARP—or a therapy horse program, Sam thought suddenly. That would be even better than earning a reward.

  Sam’s heart thudded so hard, she was amazed Jen didn’t hear it.

  What if no owner surfaced for this horse? She’d been wandering in the mountains, after all. It would be a mercy to take her in and use her with disabled riders, wouldn’t it?

  Buying her might be a problem, except…

  If she had no owner, maybe the sheriff would just say she was free to a good home. Wasn’t that possible?

  Suddenly Sam realized Jen’s fingers were snapping in front of her face.

  “Huh?”

  “That’s not exactly the articulate response I’ve come to expect from my friend who gets A’s in English and journalism,” Jen told her. “What I was saying was, once we clean her up, let’s take a quick run through the events center. Last year they had everything a cowgirl could want.”

  Sam and Jen found a stock-washing stall near the barns. Since it was almost time for the rodeo to begin, it was vacant.

  “Who’s getting wet?” Jen asked playfully, lifting the hand shower off its hook and squirting it toward Sam.

  She danced out of the way. If they were staying at the rodeo until long after dark, she didn’t want soggy boots.

  “How about if we just tie her in there?” Sam asked, but just then the mare gave her back pocket a nudge. “Hey!”

  The mare was probably still looking for treats, but her exploration forced Sam to step in a puddle of standing water that had been left over from the last shower.

  “Good choice, girl,” Jen told the horse.

  So, since Sam was already wet, she stood in the washing stall, formed of two cinder-block walls that made a corner, and let Jen spray the mare clean.

  Delighted by the cooling spray, the mare wiggled her ears, then shook like a big dog. Soaked, Sam still couldn’t get mad at the horse.

  Back in the barn, Jen borrowed grooming tools without a qualm, and they set to work. They were burnishing the mare’s chocolate coat
when Lynn Cooper came back with her cameraman.

  “She looks great,” Lynn said. Then, as if she’d remembered she was afraid of horses, she added, “Has she bitten or kicked either of you?”

  “Nope, she’s sweet as pie,” Sam assured the reporter.

  “Are you sure she didn’t buck you into a water trough or something?” Lynn asked, looking at the drips still falling from Sam’s clothing.

  “It wasn’t exactly her fault,” Sam said.

  “Well, I brought her a treat so that she wouldn’t do something ugly to me. I saw it in the cowgirl mall,” Lynn said, gesturing toward the events center. “And it even looked delicious to me. I’ve got it in my purse, but first, I want to get your reaction to something.” Lynn’s eyes took in both girls. “What do you think of doing a short TV piece on this mystery mare?”

  “Great idea,” Jen said. “Someone’s bound to recognize her.”

  “It’s a great story, too,” Sam said. Her mind veered back to the idea of being a photojournalist. “She’s photogenic. She came out of nowhere and joined up with the herd.” Sam nodded.

  “I’d stay in the living room to watch the news if a story like that came on,” Jen said.

  “And tune in for more details the next night, I bet,” Sam teased.

  Then she saw Lynn watching her with a calculating look.

  “What?” Sam said.

  “Nothing bad,” Lynn assured her. “I don’t know much about horses, and you told me last year, when we did that earthquake story, that you were on the school newspaper. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yeah,” Sam said slowly.

  “What would you think of working with me for a couple days this week on this horse’s story?”

  Sam didn’t know what to say, but when she noticed the mare posing for the cameraman who seemed to go everywhere with Lynn, she smiled.

  “You mean investigative reporting?” Jen said. Then she elbowed Sam. “You’ve done that before. I mean, that picture you took of that stallion stealing mares when everyone else thought it was the Phantom. That was investigative reporting.”

  Jen was always trying to push her. Sam thought about Ace and his comfort zone. The little mustang wasn’t happy off the ranch and range. She wasn’t sure she could do something like this.