Desert Dancer

by Terri Farley

  Sam woke out of a sound sleep to the knowledge someone was standing beside her bed.

  “There’s a man in the yard, walking toward the barn.”

  “Huh?” Sam sat up.

  Her room was filled with sunlight and Aunt Sue looked down at her. Sam shoved her auburn hair back from her face and rubbed her fingers on her cheeks. Did improved circulation wake you up?

  “I said…”

  “What’s he look like?” Sam swung her legs from beneath the covers.

  “He’s a young man with glasses and a very purposeful walk.”

  “Dr. Scott,” Sam said. She replaced her nightgown with jeans, a thermal undershirt and sweater, thick socks, and boots. “He’s a good guy,” she explained. “He did such a great job at a rodeo, once, that Brynna put him on retainer for Willow Springs.”

  “The place we went to get the wild horse,” Aunt Sue clarified.

  “Yeah, but everyone around here uses him when they can,” Sam said. Then she ran down the stairs, wishing Callie was here to listen to Dr. Scott’s assessment of her mare.

  “I suppose it’s futile to ask you to eat breakfast first,” Aunt Sue called after her.

  “Well.” Sam tried to be polite. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Would you be tempted by cinnamon rolls?” Aunt Sue asked as she padded after her in fuzzy pink slippers.

  “Oh yum,” Sam said. “With white icing you squeeze out of a plastic packet?”

  “None other,” Aunt Sue’s voice teased, as if baiting a trap.

  “Then I really won’t be long,” Sam said. She bolted from the house with Blaze close behind.

  The Border collie was glad to escape from the house. Aunt Sue had heard a radio report detailing the number of household pets eaten by coyotes each year. She insisted she was keeping Blaze safe, even when Sam pointed out that Blaze was a pretty big dog to be eaten and had, in fact, scared off more than his share of coyotes.

  Aunt Sue didn’t want to hear it.

  When they reached the barn door, Blaze paused. He whined, wanting to enter the barn for a look at Queen. But a familiar scent stopped him. Since Dr. Scott had given him his annual shots, Blaze had kept his distance from the young vet.

  Blaze circled twice, scratched the cold ground, then settled with a grunt.

  Dallas and Dr. Scott had turned Ace into the outside corral and improvised a squeeze chute in his pen inside the warm barn, so they could examine and doctor Queen.

  The dun’s red coat was stiff with old sweat that needed to be brushed out. It was also wet with new sweat that said she was unhappy again.

  Queen’s head turned and her dark eyes glared at Sam.

  She’d charge right at me, Sam thought, if she could get loose.

  Sam welcomed Queen’s anger. The mare looked a lot healthier than the exhausted, hurting horse she’d seen last night.

  “Mornin’,” Dallas said when Sam’s attention stayed fixed on the mare.

  “Good morning,” she said, but when she saw Dallas’s expression, she wondered if he had purposely left the “good” off his greeting.

  Dallas’s reproachful look told Sam a vet bill could have been avoided if she’d left the mustang in the pen, as he’d told her to do. Sam just knew that any minute Dallas would rattle off his “no hoof, no horse” platitude.

  “Hey there,” Dr. Scott said from where he squatted in the straw. “Sorry I’m so late, but the roads were lousy.” He glanced up, peered at Sam through his black-rimmed glasses, then returned to his examination of Queen’s hoof.

  Dr. Scott hummed some horse-soothing tune under his breath. When he began talking softly, it took Sam a few seconds to figure out he was addressing her, not singing.

  “Your message made me think we were going to lose her,” he said.

  “She was in bad shape last night,” Sam insisted. “First Jake and I thought she was freezing and then she seemed to be in a lot of pain.”

  Dr. Scott nodded. “Sometimes they can turn around real fast. She’s in good health and putting her in with other horses was a real smart move. Not that she’s healed, by any means,” Dr. Scott continued. “But a good night’s sleep with her buddy Ace seems to have improved her physical state, if not her attitude.”

  He must have touched a tender place, because the mare’s tail whistled in a horizontal swipe.

  “Jeez, girl, you can draw blood with that thing,” Dr. Scott protested.

  Queen’s lip curled in a threat, warning Dr. Scott the flick of her tail was nothing compared to the good hard bite he’d get if she could reach him.

  Dr. Scott wasn’t intimidated. He stood, wiped his palms on his jeans, and turned to Dallas. “Fish oil,” he said.

  “Don’t tell me,” Dallas muttered, then jerked a thumb toward Sam.

  “Well, she’s not mine, either. But since Callie isn’t here, uh, what do you mean by saying fish oil?”

  “I want you to try that before we do any serious repair work or hoof sealing,” he said.

  “That oughta smell just dandy,” Dallas grumbled, shaking his head.

  “If it works, it’ll help maintain the moisture the hoof wall needs to be healthy,” Dr. Scott explained.

  “No hoof, no horse,” Dallas said.

  Silently, Sam congratulated herself on her prediction.

  “Like I said, she’s basically healthy, but lots of mustangs have vitamin-poor diets and they’re dehydrated for days at a time. That’s not good for the hooves. I swabbed some dirt out that was building up in that crack, too. In captivity,” Dr. Scott said, “we can probably keep this from turning into permanent lameness. Out on the range she wouldn’t have been so lucky.”

  Sam looked at the beautiful mare. Queen had lucked out. She’d already been left behind by her herd when the BLM wranglers found her. She might have found shelter from the weather, but prowling predators would have discovered her and flushed her from her hiding place.

  Fierce and smart as she was, Queen wouldn’t have been able to outrun them for long.

  “So, do you think she’ll be all right?” Sam asked.

  “Probably. There are lots of things to try, these days. Besides sealing, we can limit concussion—”

  “Keep her off it, you mean?” Sam asked. She thought of the mare’s headlong run into the darkness last night and cringed.

  “Yeah, or at least limit overuse on hard footing. Some folks put in staple kinda things or fill the crack with stuff like Super Glue for hooves….”

  “The little girl who owns her won’t be able to afford that,” Dallas grumbled.

  “But fish oil,” Dr. Scott said, smiling and holding up his index finger, “is a real bargain, and I just happen to have some in my bag.”

  “Fish oil?”

  They all turned as a pair of female voices questioned from the doorway.

  Callie and Aunt Sue stood framed in the barn door. Callie wore a pale yellow smock over jeans. She must have just come from class. Aunt Sue carried a blue pottery platter loaded with cinnamon rolls. Wisps of steam rose toward the rafters.

  “Wash my mouth out with soap,” Dr. Scott said. “I shouldn’t have said ‘fish oil’ in the vicinity of that heavenly aroma!”

  Aunt Sue laughed. She looked the same way Gram did when she fed Dr. Scott. The young vet seemed eternally hungry. Aunt Sue separated two rolls and slipped them onto a paper plate for him. Dr. Scott moaned in delight.

  Sam and Callie each took one. The rolls smelled so good, Sam took a bite and licked her fingers before saying to Callie, “Wow, you got off early.”

  Callie popped the rest of her roll in her mouth, then twisted her watch around on her wrist and shook her head. “I made good time driving out here, but it’s nearly one o’clock.”

  Aghast, Sam looked at Aunt Sue.

  “I let you sleep in a little,” Aunt Sue said, as if it weren’t a luxury.

  “So, you’re the young lady who adopted this beast?” Dr. Scott asked.

  From someone else, “beast” m
ight have sounded critical, but he so clearly liked the mare, Callie smiled.

  “Yep, she’s mine,” Callie said. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “When do you plan to move her closer to home?” Dr. Scott asked.

  Callie bit her lip. “I don’t know. I’m working on a deal with my landlord. He has a field behind his house. Nothing’s grazing in it but old, dead cars.” Callie shrugged, looking shy. “I thought if I offered to get them towed and, you know, kind of cleaned things up, he might not charge much to keep her there.”

  Dr. Scott nodded. “Sounds like a plan, but you should make it soon. Horses need a herd, even if it’s a herd of one and that one is you.” He pointed at Callie. “You’ll never make her yours by boarding her twenty miles away.”

  Callie’s lip had turned white from the pressure of her front teeth. Sam hated seeing Callie’s confidence drain away.

  “You can work with her here. Right now, if you want,” Sam offered. Since she could tell Aunt Sue was trying to catch her eye to reprimand her, Sam stayed focused on the vet. “Do you think we should put her back in the round pen, Dr. Scott?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that, and I’d like to see her try your new pen, here next to the barn.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to limit distractions when you work with mustangs?” Sam said, thinking about the new open-fenced pen. “You know, keep them focused on you.”

  “As a rule, that’s a good idea,” Dr. Scott agreed. “But this injury makes her feel weak and desperate. In there,” Dr. Scott said, pointing, “she’d be able to see out, and she might feel less trapped.”

  “Okay,” Callie agreed. “I’m ready to start anytime.”

  Aunt Sue’s lips parted. Sam knew she was going to refuse.

  Dr. Scott must have noticed, too.

  “Let’s start with the fish oil,” he suggested. He squinted into the depths of his vet’s bag, then plunged his hand inside.

  “That’s the end of me,” Dallas said. “Adios, you all.”

  In minutes, Callie sat sideways in the straw, rubbing a slick mixture on Queen’s hoof until it was shiny and smelly.

  Dr. Scott kept Aunt Sue in his peripheral vision. Sam could see him watching her, treating her like a head-shy horse. Little by little, he got her used to the idea of Callie touching Queen. Finally, he stretched and made another suggestion.

  “Strangely enough, I don’t have any other calls, just now,” said Dr. Scott. “I’ll be glad to stay and supervise while Callie gets the mare used to her.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Aunt Sue asked. Then she noticed Dr. Scott’s glance settle on the cinnamon rolls again.

  Since he didn’t seem bothered by the odd aroma of cinnamon mixed with fish oil, Aunt Sue extended the plate so that he could have seconds.

  “I think it’s better than good. I think it’s a spectacular idea,” Dr. Scott said.

  Then he helped himself not to a single roll, but, smiling, his fingers clamped to the blue pottery platter and he headed outside with the entire dozen.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sam stood beside Dr. Scott, watching Callie stand just inside the new pen, talking to Queen.

  Sam wondered whether the fish oil had made Queen’s hoof feel better, or if she just felt more aware. Something had changed, because the mare danced in a high-stepping trot.

  “What do you suppose?” Dr. Scott asked Sam. “That mare was ready to eat me, and she wanted a piece of you, too. But look, she’s not the least bit angry now. Nervous, sure, but she doesn’t want to hurt that girl.”

  Dr. Scott concentrated as if the two before him were part of an experiment. Every few minutes, he grunted and said, “Hmm, interesting.”

  Once Sam realized Callie was safe, she thought about Jake.

  Payback time had arrived. She’d almost forgiven Jake for pumping water all over her on Dad and Brynna’s wedding day. And for being so protective. But he’d pushed her too far last night, implying she was to blame for Queen’s escape.

  That wasn’t true and it wasn’t fair. If anyone was to blame, it was him.

  He’d been showing off by riding bareback through the sleet storm. If he’d had a saddle horn, he could have snubbed Queen alongside Tank and everything would have been just fine. He knew that, but he didn’t want to face facts. So he’d blamed her.

  Not only that; he’d refused to discuss it. Making Jake discuss anything was a chore. He was pure cowboy in that way.

  But I’m pure cowgirl, and he ought to know that by now. Sam smiled to herself. Maybe Jake needed some reminding.

  She didn’t care if he called her a brat, a troublemaker, or even a little monster, as he had once when they were practically babies and she’d hidden his boots after they’d gone wading in La Charla.

  I can take anything Jake Ely can dish out, Sam thought.

  His high and mighty ways made her itch for revenge, and it would be best to act now, before school vacation ended and Dad and Brynna came home.

  “The fewer witnesses, the better,” Sam mumbled to herself.

  “What?” Dr. Scott pried his eyes off Queen and Callie to gawk at Sam.

  “Nothing,” Sam said, then nodded toward the house. “I’ll be back.”

  The first thing she’d do was phone Quinn. If she knew Quinn, he’d be real irritated with Jake. Their dad had said Quinn should come check on Sam and Aunt Sue, but Jake had beaten him to the truck keys. So Quinn, not Jake, had shivered in the cold looking for cattle all night.

  Rivalry ran high among the seven Ely boys. As the two youngest, Jake and Quinn always fought to keep the other in last place. This time, Quinn would get some help. From her.

  Sam was already gloating as she came into the house. This was going to be so much fun.

  The Christmas tree and Aunt Sue’s herbal tea scented the house as Sam came inside. Blaze circled around her legs, then jumped up, trying to lick her face.

  “Down, boy,” Sam said.

  Aunt Sue was turning the Border collie into a pest. She insisted on keeping him inside, safe from coyotes and bad weather, but Blaze wasn’t used to the confinement.

  Sam gave Blaze a scratch behind his ears, trying to tell him she knew exactly how he felt. She’d risk a bit of danger for her freedom.

  The thought stopped her.

  She didn’t want Aunt Sue shielding her from danger. The prospect of a headlong gallop, with the wind in her face and sagebrush slipping by in a gray-green blur, was magnetic. For a minute, she wasn’t worried about taking another fall.

  Sensing a change in Sam’s attitude, Blaze bumped against Sam and licked her hand.

  If Callie hadn’t been working with Queen, Sam would have freed the dog. But Blaze had shown so much interest in Queen, Sam knew he’d disrupt the bonding session.

  “A couple more days, boy,” Sam said, then almost bit her tongue.

  She was not eager for Aunt Sue to leave, and she would never try to hurt her feelings, but Aunt Sue’s protectiveness had backfired. Both she and Blaze wanted things the way they’d always been on River Bend Ranch.

  She was opening the cupboard for a dog cookie when she saw what Aunt Sue had left out for her. A pink bowl of onion dip sat on the kitchen counter, next to a basket of potato chips.

  More junk food.

  This was getting to be funny, Sam thought as she dunked a chip into the creamy dip.

  “Thanks for the dip,” Sam called into the living room where Aunt Sue was stretched out on the couch, reading a book.

  “You’re welcome. It’s not a particularly nutritious lunch, but how often do I get to spoil you?”

  Sam shook her head and crunched another salty chip. In San Francisco, they’d had some junk food, but not for every meal. It was a good thing Aunt Sue was only spoiling her for a week.

  Sam closed the door to the living room a bit before she dialed Three Ponies Ranch.

  “Hullo?” the deep voice was Quinn’s.

  Sam decided it was a good sign. Two pare
nts and seven brothers lived in that house, and the one person she wanted to talk with had answered the phone.

  She revealed her plan without any build-up.

  Quinn loved her idea.

  “You know what makes it perfect?” he asked.

  “Tell me,” Sam urged.

  “Jake’s in town with mom. Something he got for Christmas didn’t fit.”

  “Cool,” Sam said.

  “I could trailer Witch over to River Bend, but if you really wanted to make him crazy, you could ride over here, then pony her back. Make all kinds of detours on the way. He’d have to track you.”

  “Quinn, you’re a genius,” Sam said. She swallowed a giggle, hoping Aunt Sue wouldn’t ask what was going on. “See you as soon as I can get saddled up and ride over.”

  Sam had started upstairs to get her riding gloves when Aunt Sue peered over the top of her book.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  As casually as she could, Sam told Aunt Sue she needed to pick up a horse at Three Ponies Ranch. That was true. She explained the ride would take about an hour and a half, round trip. That was true, too. What she didn’t mention was the fact that she was stealing Jake’s mare, Witch.

  Acting like a horse thief, even as a joke, wasn’t the sort of thing Aunt Sue would understand.

  Sam waited for Aunt Sue’s protest, but it never came. Just when you thought you had adults figured out, they broke their pattern.

  Sam took advantage of Aunt Sue’s preoccupation. While she was still engrossed in her book, Sam escaped.

  She wished she had an accomplice. If Jen had been home, Sam would have asked her to go along. Jen would appreciate this prank, since it was aimed at Jake.

  Her two best friends didn’t get along because both thought they were pretty darn smart. They were, of course, but they couldn’t bear the idea that Sam believed they were equally smart.

  Sam didn’t disturb Callie. She slipped into the barn.

  “You’re moving all over the place, today, huh, boy?” Sam asked as she led Ace out of his pen and tied him to a ring for a good brushing.

  Dad always said you’d save time in the long run if you spent time grooming your horse. Not only did you notice any little bump or bruise before it became a problem, but grooming restored horses’ circulation, he said, and made them eager for the ride.