by Terri Farley
That left four horses on this side. With the buckskin across, she thought the bays might follow, but they were confused. With halting insistence, Queen moved up behind them and nipped at their tails.
If Slocum’s motorcade just stayed where it was, everything should be fine.
The three bays bolted across the asphalt, lifting their hooves high from the strange footing.
“All right.” Sam sighed, but the bay colt hesitated. It looked away from the herd, as if it heard or smelled something enticing from the direction of the ranches.
“C’mon, baby,” Sam said, clucking at him.
The bay colt startled, but in the end, it was Queen who herded him across.
As the last horse crossed to safety, she ignored the applauding onlookers and followed.
The paint mare left no questions about who was in charge. With flashing teeth and flattened ears, she swooped around the latecomers and scolded them into joining the herd.
Sam searched for the Phantom. He was still moving toward her, still more worried than she expected.
Sam heard a roar of acceleration as the cars tried to make up for the time they’d lost to the crossing mustangs.
What is the big hurry? she wondered, but she was more interested in watching the Phantom. Something was clearly wrong.
The stallion dashed toward her, the jostling herd parting around him.
Behind her, Slocum honked his horn. At first, Sam thought it was in celebration for the spontaneous rodeo witnessed by his guests. But when she twisted in the saddle, Sam felt sick.
The bay colt had turned back, and the Phantom was sprinting after him.
Chapter Nineteen
Trembling with the need to do what she’d always done, Queen started after the bay colt. Queen didn’t care that the Phantom was already on his way. She didn’t know, as Sam did, that if the colt could be rescued, the stallion would do it.
The colt would obey the Phantom, but would Queen obey her? Sam knew she could only do her best, and hope.
Sam used Chip like a cutting horse, darting back and forth, keeping Queen cut off from the road. For seconds, they were an even match. Nose to nose, both horses swung together as Queen searched for a way past the big gelding.
Afraid she’d fall, but more afraid she’d lose Queen, Sam leaned forward to grab Queen’s head-stall, and missed.
“Queen!”
Trying to stay in the saddle, Sam looked over her shoulder for the voice, then glanced back at the red tiger dun. Head on high, Queen watched Callie lope up on Ace.
“There’s my girl,” Callie crooned.
Queen didn’t go to her, but she didn’t run, either. Now, while the mare was distracted by Callie, Sam made a second attempt to snag the mare’s lead rope.
She got it.
The mare pulled back, nearly jerking Sam from the saddle. Dally! She reminded herself to wind the lead rope around her saddle horn as quickly as she could. If Jake had been able to do that, he wouldn’t have lost Queen the first time.
So, though she was off balance, she wrapped the rope around the saddle horn and the mare stopped, blowing. She didn’t look as bereft as she had a few minutes ago, though. And it was all because of Callie. The mare was irritated that she couldn’t join her herd, but her gaze kept returning to the girl with the bright yellow hair.
Sam met Callie’s eyes and gestured for her to come closer. Ace was every bit as good a cow horse as Chip. If Callie rode up and took the lead rope, it should be easier to get the mare back to River Bend.
Callie obeyed Sam’s silent summons. She took the lead rope and held tight.
Queen didn’t seem to notice. Her attention was fixed on the Phantom as he moved toward the highway.
On shaky legs, the colt faced the car. His body quivered and he was scarcely breathing by the time the Phantom reached him.
The stallion’s heavy hooves clacked on the asphalt as he approached the colt.
Seeing a second horse in his way, Slocum honked again.
Sam shuddered at Slocum’s arrogance. She could see into the car as Slocum’s form leaned forward, blowing a long maddening blast on the horn.
The sound frightened the colt toward his mother, neighing from the tight-gathered band, but the Phantom didn’t follow.
Moving with menacing slowness, the stallion squared off with Slocum’s Cadillac.
Hurry, get out of the road, Sam thought. Zanzibar, you can’t fight a car.
The stallion rose on his hind legs, a huge silver thundercloud of a horse, and Sam could tell what Slocum probably didn’t suspect. The Phantom wasn’t frightened or protective. He was furious. His neigh was the angry trumpeting of a stallion warning back a noisy intruder.
Showing off for his guests, Slocum jumped out of the Cadillac.
“Get outta here! Go on! Move it!”
Majestic and strong, acting as if he’d claimed this highway for his own, the stallion refused to move.
A laugh came from one of the men watching from outside the limousine. Another man focused a camera on Slocum’s stand-off with a wild horse.
The stallion ignored the other men, but Slocum couldn’t. He took a step toward the Phantom, waving his arms.
It was a serious mistake.
The stallion came down from his rear, steadied himself. He lowered his head in a snaking, herding motion and darted toward Slocum, mouth agape.
Slocum yelped and hopped back into his car. An instant later, Sam heard the automatic door locks clicking into place.
Sam realized she’d been holding her breath, as she finally released it.
“That’s him, isn’t it.” Callie wasn’t really asking a question. “The Phantom.”
When Sam nodded, she felt as if a spell had been broken. Few people had been so close to the great silver stallion, and Callie’s tone said she was in awe of what she’d just seen. And now, the stallion was coming closer.
Shaking his dished head as if he’d just disciplined a wayward foal, the Phantom trotted off the highway.
As he approached, he tossed his forelock from his eyes.
“Hey boy,” Sam whispered, and she could have sworn the stallion’s brown eyes shone with good humor. “Yeah, you showed him, boy. Now you’d better take your family and run for it!”
For a minute, she thought he was about to go, but a snort brought him to a stop.
Queen struck at the earth with one hoof, then gave a low nicker. It wasn’t a beseeching call, though. It sounded like a reprimand.
The stallion’s surprise was easy to read. He hadn’t recognized his lead mare, here among the domestic horses. Now his head turned to one side, unsure.
“What should I do?” Callie’s whisper was urgent.
“Hang on,” Sam said, as Chip tensed beneath the saddle. “Because here he comes.”
Majestic in every muscle, the Phantom glanced at Sam, ignored her mount, and moved closer. Queen walked to the end of her lead rope and waited for him.
The stallion and the red dun touched muzzles. Their nostrils fluttered in recognition and then the Phantom dipped his head. Queen’s lips grazed the spot between his ears, touching his tangled forelock. For an instant, both horses stood still, and then the stallion was backing. He pivoted, and bolted toward the rest of the herd.
“I guess that’s good-bye,” Sam said softly.
“She didn’t follow him,” Callie said in amazement. “She didn’t even try.”
The paint mare had already herded most of the mustangs toward the uphill path, and the Phantom trotted after them. Just before he reached the steepest part of the trail, he stopped and looked back.
He gave one long, shivering neigh.
Sam felt her heart respond. She wished she could whinny back, but then she realized the farewell wasn’t just for her.
Queen lifted her fine red-dun head and rocked toward the stallion, returning his call. She diidn’t pull against the lead rope and she didn’t sound sad.
As the Phantom galloped toward the Ca
lico Mountains, Queen leaned against Ace. She stood near enough that Callie could touch her. When the girl did, letting her hand rest light as a feather between the mare’s ears, Queen didn’t pull away.
Watching, Sam decided Queen recognized the same affection she’d shared with the stallion. She must have, because when Callie touched her, Queen closed her eyes and sighed.
Sam was still harboring serious anger toward Linc Slocum while she was cleaning Ace’s stall the next afternoon. She forked fresh straw inside, wondering if Norman White had done anything to punish Slocum.
When she heard a car approaching, she leaned her pitchfork against the barn wall. Dad and Brynna were home.
Their rental car had barely stopped when Brynna jumped out and ran laughing toward Sam.
“Oh my gosh, he did it. Norm White really did it!” Brynna said. Her red braid wagged around her shoulders until she stopped to give Sam a hug.
“Did what?” Sam asked into her new stepmother’s shoulder.
Dad was slapping Dallas on the back, smiling, and Sam’s curiosity slacked off for just a second. With everyone so happy, they might not notice Queen until Callie arrived with the horse trailer to take her to her new home.
“As we were driving in, just outside of Darton,” Brynna explained, “we noticed a man in one of those neon-orange vests people wear when they’re picking up trash for the county. Usually, you see kids doing that kind of public service work, but this looked like an adult.”
Dad stepped up to put his arm around Sam, and continue the story.
“As we pulled alongside, Brynna shouted, ‘Stop! That’s a BLM truck.’ We slowed down, and sure enough, there was Norman White, walking along the edge of the road with Linc Slocum while he picked up litter.”
“Litter?” Sam yelped. She hugged herself in delight. For all the trouble Slocum had caused the mustangs, the millionaire deserved a heavy dose of humiliation.
“Norm told me that in my absence,” Brynna’s voice imitated Mr. White’s snooty tone, “he’d determined that making mustangs vulnerable to vehicular slaughter—”
“Getting hit by a car,” Dad put in.
“—certainly counted as harassment under the Free-Roaming Wild Horse and Burro Act, and he was inflicting swift punishment.”
“Yep,” Dad told them, “Linc said he didn’t mind telling me he was feeling lower than a snake’s belly in a tire track.”
They all turned as the front door opened. Blaze raced toward them and Aunt Sue was right behind.
“Sue,” Dad said in astonishment. “I hardly recognized you.”
Sam stood speechless. Aunt Sue wore jeans, a turquoise tee-shirt, and an old denim jacket of Gram’s that had been hanging on the front porch as long as Sam could remember.
“Welcome back, Wyatt, Brynna,” Aunt Sue greeted them both, and her arms moved in an unsure motion, as if she didn’t know whether to shake hands or hug.
“Aunt Sue,” Sam said finally, “what’s up with your outfit?”
“Before I lose my nerve, I want to go for a ride.” Aunt’s Sue’s words came out in a rush. “My suggestion to Callie about feeding Queen an apple was so successful—I mean, the girl literally had that mustang eating out of her hand—that I’m ready to progress one more step.”
“I remember Callie,” Brynna said slowly. “But who’s Queen?”
Sam gulped as Dad said a single word.
“Mustang?”
“I can explain everything, Dad,” Sam started.
“Later,” Aunt Sue insisted. “I’ve just had a call from a friend who will simply perish if I’m not at her New Year’s Day brunch tomorrow morning. So, I plan to hop in my minivan within the hour, but before that—”
“You want to ride Sweetheart,” Sam said, suddenly.
“Yes. I want to say good-bye to my sister,” Aunt Sue said. She looked at Dad, silently asking permission.
“It’ll take us ten minutes to get all saddled up, but I could use a ride,” Dad said.
“So could I,” Brynna said carefully. “If you don’t mind.”
“I think that would be fine,” Aunt Sue agreed.
Within minutes, Brynna had saddled a rat-tailed Appaloosa named Jeepers-Creepers. Dad was astride Nike and Ace was shifting impatiently as he waited for Sam to help Aunt Sue mount Sweetheart.
“Your left toe goes in there,” Sam said, holding the stirrup. “Now bounce a little and throw—”
Quicker than Sam could speak, Aunt Sue was in the saddle. She shifted a little, then straightened her spine and picked up her reins.
“Great!” Sam said. “How’d you know how to do that so well?”
“I didn’t bring those binoculars for show, dear,” Aunt Sue said. “Every time you mounted up, I was watching.”
There was a moment of silence once Sam was in the saddle, too.
“Louise always liked the ridge trail,” Dad said.
Sam twisted in her saddle. “I didn’t know that.”
Dad shrugged. “Said she liked keeping an eye on home, even when she was away from it.”
Sam led the way on Ace, and Sweetheart tucked right in behind her stablemate. As Sam looked back over her shoulder, she saw Brynna reach across the space between Jeepers and Nike and take Dad’s hand.
Brynna wore a sweet, satisfied smile as Dad lifted her hand and kissed it.
Sam blinked away happy tears. It was the last day of an old year that had held lots of trouble, but even more excitement and happiness.
Queen and Callie were forming their own new family. The Phantom was safe in his hidden valley with a new lead mare to help run the herd. And down here at River Bend…
Sam looked back over her shoulder at the white ranch house with green shutters, just as Dad had said her mother used to do.
She sighed and gave Ace’s smooth neck a pat. Here at River Bend, everything was going to be just fine.
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.
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Read all the books in the PHANTOM STALLION series:
1
THE WILD ONE
2
MUSTANG MOON
3
DARK SUNSHINE
4
THE RENEGADE
5
FREE AGAIN
6
THE CHALLENGER
7
DESERT DANCER
Credits
Cover art © 2003 by Greg Call
Cover © 2003 by HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
Copyright
PHANTOM STALLION #7: DESERT DANCER. Copyright © 2003 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 non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, 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.
Adobe Digital Edition February 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-188929-5
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