The Wild One

by Terri Farley

  “Only you don’t pony him, you use Ace like a Judas horse.” Brynna spoke with a kind of dread, but she understood.

  “Yes.”

  Sam had read how the BLM trapped wild horses, using a keyhole-shaped corral. The mustangs came running, herded by a helicopter, and then, at the last minute, just as the horses might sense the opening to the trap, a domestic horse, who knew a bucket of grain awaited inside, was released. As he ran for his treat, the mustangs followed and the gate closed behind them.

  “Only Ace isn’t a Judas horse,” Sam said. “He’s the Phantom’s guardian angel, because he’s going to lead him out of here.”

  “And you’ll be riding Ace,” Jake said.

  “Yeah,” she admitted.

  “That’s all fine, but let’s go back to the part where you gallop downhill in the dark and break your fool neck!” Jake kept his voice level, until he turned toward Dad. “Wyatt, are you going to let her do this?”

  “Dad, I’ll only run him there,” Sam pointed at the straight road, smoothed by car traffic. “When we reach the hillside, I won’t gallop. I’ll leave the pace up to Ace.

  “Remember what you taught me? He doesn’t want to fall. He wants to keep his four legs underneath him. Isn’t that what you’ve always said, Dad?”

  Sam crossed her arms. Dad crossed his.

  To Brynna, Dad must look more intimidating. With her hacked-off hair, black eye, sunburned arms, and legs dirty from sitting in a dusty horse corral, Sam knew she didn’t look as determined as she felt.

  But Jake knew her. He walked away, reached a hand into the horse trailer toward Ace, and left the standoff to the two Forsters.

  In the deepening dusk, Sam saw Dad shake his head.

  “You could get hurt again,” he said.

  Sam heard his fear. It made her feel selfish, but she had to do this for her horse.

  “Dad, I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to go back to the hospital or to San Francisco. I want to stay here, with you and Gram.” She looked toward the horse trailer. “And Jake. But I want to do what’s right.”

  Dad glanced through the fence rails. The stallion looked weary and harmless in the gray failing light.

  “I haven’t told you this before, Sam, but when you’re absolutely sure of something, you look a lot like your mom. She’d get convinced she knew what to do, and usually, she turned out convincing me, too. Like keeping the ranch,” Dad said quietly. “Like having a child.”

  A sweet warmth enveloped Sam. The sun had vanished behind the mountains and the sky had turned dark blue.

  “I say it’s close enough to dark,” Dad said. “Jake, bring Ace out.”

  On the high road overlooking Willow Springs, Sam crouched in the saddle while Ace danced beneath her.

  Down below, metal slammed as Brynna opened a series of interconnecting gates, funneling the stallion toward the road. At first, the Phantom was slow and cautious.

  Then he understood. His legs moved more quickly, picking up speed, trotting faster, until his hooves hammered like gunfire as he came closer and closer.

  “Now!” Jake shouted.

  Sam clapped her heels to Ace’s sides. He leaped forward as the final gate clanged open.

  “Go on, Blackie!” Dad yelled.

  Behind her, the stallion’s hooves stuttered, held and raced after them.

  Sam’s heart echoed the thunder of hoofbeats. Both horses breathed loud with excitement, and then the Phantom ran beside them, beautiful once more.

  How far left to gallop along this road? Sam knew she had to judge. A half mile? A quarter?

  The Phantom held his head high, all senses alert. Eyes wide, nostrils open, he tested the breeze for anything other than sagebrush and juniper. He could have passed them, any time, but he matched strides with Ace, loping with long-legged care, unsure of the earth beneath his hooves.

  At Thread the Needle, they slowed.

  “Take us home, Ace,” Sam said.

  She leaned back a little, balancing so Ace could pick his way down the hillside.

  The Phantom’s warm hide rubbed Sam’s leg. Even though the men with ropes had fractured her friendship with the stallion, a link remained.

  The stallion ran headlong into darkness with a girl and a small outcast mustang as his guides.

  A warm updraft of wind brought the green scent of the river. The lights of River Bend ranch were no more than a mile away, when the stallion surged ahead.

  He left her.

  Silent, except for night wind rushing through his mane and tail, the stallion ran, stretching so his belly brushed the ground.

  Carefully, Sam drew rein. Ace slowed. They couldn’t catch the stallion. The little gelding didn’t try. His home was a place among fences, with plenty of water, and a snug, straw-deep stall when the snows came.

  The Phantom crashed into the river. Waves surged for the shore.

  At the water’s edge, she slid from Ace’s back and left him ground-tied as she waded in up to her knees, watching the stallion go.

  He gained the other shore and shook the water from his coat. Moonlight turned the droplets into silver dust.

  The Phantom whirled, sighting everything around him, assuring himself of safety. Then, he made a graceful leap toward the mountains and freedom.

  With each of the stallion’s steps Sam felt reality settle around her. Her horse was gone for good.

  Summer’s magic had ended with Jake’s anger, Slocum’s threats, and a wild stallion running. Between now and September, she had an unfamiliar school, with Slocum’s snobbish children, left to dread.

  And then Ace snorted and stared into a darkness with only a twinkling of starlight to show the stallion swinging a wide turn back.

  Sam ran, splashing through the river shallows. The current held her back, warning her the water flow was too strong to test. She couldn’t go to him, and the stallion had turned too wary to come to her.

  He stopped, knee-deep in silver water. His reflection wavered on the rills and ripples. Since they were alone, Sam shouted.

  “Zanzibar!”

  The stallion rose into the air, rearing as if his forelegs reached for the moon. Sam understood his neigh as if he’d spoken. From the wild side of the river, the Phantom promised to return.

  Acknowledgments

  Many people helped turn Phantom Stallion from a dream into a book. Dawn Lappin, Linda Dufurrena, C.J. Hadley, Maxine Shane, Tom Seley, and Bryan Fuell provided inspiration and expertise. Karen Solem, Julia Richardson, Elise Howard, Abby McAden, and Amanda Maciel “saw” my phantom stallion and believed in him. Chris Platt was my tireless critique partner. C.C. Ramirez shared her library skills at a moment’s notice. Dave Moore, editor deluxe, gave me assignments that made me saddle sore and happy. Most of all, I’m thankful for Kate, Matt, and Cory, who gave me their patience, laughter, and love.

  I hope Adalaide Bland’s angel is smiling. Like all good teachers, she knew drawing horses on homework wouldn’t keep me from learning.

  About the Author

  Terri Farley has always loved horses. She left Los Angeles for the cowgirl state of Nevada after earning degrees in English and Journalism. Now she rides the range researching books and magazine articles on the West’s people and animals—especially Nevada’s controversial wild horses. She lives in a one-hundred-year-old house with her husband, children, and way too many pets.

  Visit www.phantomstallion.com.

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  Read all the books about the

  Phantom Stallion

  1

  THE WILD ONE

  2

  MUSTANG MOON

  3

  DARK SUNSHINE

  4

  THE RENEGADE

  5

  FREE AGAIN

  6

  THE CHALLENGER

  7

  DESERT DANCER

  8

  GOLDEN GHOST

  9r />
  GIFT HORSE

  10

  RED FEATHER FILLY

  11

  UNTAMED

  12

  RAIN DANCE

  13

  HEARTBREAK BRONCO

  14

  MOONRISE

  15

  KIDNAPPED COLT

  16

  THE WILDEST HEART

  17

  MOUNTAIN MARE

  18

  FIREFLY

  19

  SECRET STAR

  20

  BLUE WINGS

  21

  DAWN RUNNER

  22

  WILD HONEY

  23

  GYPSY GOLD

  24

  RUN AWAY HOME

  Credits

  Cover art © 2002 by Greg Call

  Copyright

  PHANTOM STALLION #1: THE WILD ONE. Copyright © 2002 by Terri Sprenger-Farley. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  EPub © Edition FEBRUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780061888397

  Version 09282012

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