Gypsy Gold

by Terri Farley

  “Good boy, Blaze,” she said.

  The Border collie walked so near Ace’s front hooves, the gelding could have stepped on him.

  Sam tried to be cheered by each stride Ace took away from the clearing, but dark thoughts followed her.

  Linc Slocum was worse than careless and big-headed.

  She’d seen him holding the lifeless bodies of two mother animals—first a cougar and now the coyote. Both had left young behind. The young cougar had turned dangerous. She didn’t know what would become of the coydog.

  She did know that Sheriff Ballard and Phineas Preston, the retired police officer engaged to Mrs. Allen, didn’t trust Linc. Both lawmen were working to connect him with a ring of horse rustlers.

  Shooting this coyote would be more evidence that Linc was a criminal, Sam thought. The minute they rode over the bridge to River Bend Ranch, she’d tell Dad, Gram, Brynna, and anyone else who’d listen what had happened. Then she’d call Sheriff Ballard. And Preston. She’d keep telling people until she stopped Linc Slocum.

  He won’t get away with it this time, Sam vowed. I won’t let him.

  Chapter Eight

  Sam drew in a breath of yellow leaves and damp tree bark.

  They’d progressed in silence for about twenty minutes, all eager to leave Slocum behind.

  Sam gave Ace’s warm bay neck a pat. Her movement caught Blaze’s eyes. Sam clucked her tongue at the dog and told him “Good boy” once more.

  The Border collie whined. Was he favoring his right side?

  Holding her breath, Sam watched the dog keep pace with Ace and Silly. He glanced over his shoulder at a tinkling sound from Nicolas’s wagon, then trotted on.

  Blaze looked all right. And she’d felt him all over for injuries, but what if she’d missed something? Linc had admitted he’d shot after the animals as they ran. Had one of his bullets grazed her dog?

  “Is he limping?” Nicolas called out over the sound of wagon wheels.

  “Maybe,” Sam said, flashing Nicolas a grateful look. Blaze wasn’t his dog, but he was concerned. “I was just watching him.”

  “He can ride in the wagon,” Nicolas offered. “There’s room in the back, or up here beside me.”

  Sam darted a quick look at Jen to see if her opinion of Nicolas was rising, too, but Jen looked like she was in a world of her own, staring at the trail ahead.

  “Thanks, but I don’t think he’d do it,” Sam said. “Blaze is really suspicious of moving vehicles.”

  “That’s sensible,” Nicolas said.

  “I don’t know,” Sam said, watching Blaze as he sniffed through some trailside brush. “Even if he was really hurting, I bet he wouldn’t let me wrestle him up into your wagon. He won’t get in my dad’s truck without a fight.”

  “Do you know how much I hate Champ belonging to him?” Jen blurted.

  “Yes,” Sam said. So it seemed that Jen couldn’t get the image of Linc’s palomino out of her mind. Sam explained Jen’s apparent tangent to Nicolas, telling him how Jen’s family’s ranch and palomino breeding farm had failed and Linc Slocum had appeared out of nowhere to rescue them with an offer to buy the ranch and let her family remain in the foreman’s house.

  “According to my maps, this is public land we’re traveling over,” Nicolas said, reminding them of Linc’s threat to report them as trespassers.

  “Not all of it,” Jen said, and for some reason, she suddenly looked brighter. “This area’s been resurveyed recently and there were all kinds of mistakes in the old maps.”

  “So that’s what Linc was talking about,” Sam said. “Brynna’s been studying maps lately, too.”

  Her stepmother had been staying up late and getting up early to analyze maps rolled out to cover the kitchen table. The BLM and local ranchers were revising boundaries, and it was Brynna’s job to puzzle out how the new border lines would effect Nevada’s wild horses.

  “Why do you look like that’s a good thing?” Sam asked Jen.

  “Can you guys keep a secret?” Jen asked, lowering her voice.

  “Sure,” Sam said.

  “Yes,” Nicolas answered, looking surprised.

  “Last year, remember, right after your dad and Brynna’s wedding, how my mom and I went to visit relatives in Utah?” Jen asked.

  “Yeah,” Sam said slowly.

  Jen and her mom had left for the holidays and her dad had remained behind, because Jen’s parents had been fighting. Big time. People who knew them had feared they were on the brink of a divorce. Why would memories of that time bring a sparkle to Jen’s eyes?

  “Mom was mad when we left,” Jen explained, “and she took along some money of her own that she’d been investing since before she and Dad got married.”

  “But—” Sam interrupted.

  “It wasn’t enough to save the ranch,” Jen said. “In fact, her investments didn’t start doing well until last year, but she was thinking of buying a house up there.”

  A house? Sam shuddered. No wonder Jen had been so cranky and depressed during Dad and Brynna’s wedding.

  “But she didn’t do it. Did she?” Sam asked.

  “No, but what she did do was something that would have made Dad insane if he’d known,” Jen told her.

  “Should I be hearing this?” Nicolas wondered aloud. He shifted on the driver’s seat of the wagon and both girls laughed at his discomfort.

  “Who would you tell?” Jen asked sensibly. Then, she went on, “One of Mom’s cousins was working for a small newspaper, and got a chance to buy it, but she needed help. Financial help. So Mom loaned her some money.”

  Jen covered her mouth at her mother’s daring and Sam could see why. Ranchers depended on nature and other unpredictable factors from season to season. That was a big enough risk without loaning a relative thousands of dollars.

  “So, your mom’s kind of a gambler,” Sam joked. Maybe the thought was more amusing because it was a break from brooding over Slocum, or maybe Jen’s excitement was contagious.

  “In a good way, it turns out, because…” Jen drew out the suspense, then finished, “A national chain of newspapers wants to buy my cousin’s newspaper and they’ve offered her a million dollars for it.”

  Nicolas chuckled, but Sam could hardly catch her breath.

  “It’s in the hands of lawyers right now,” Jen said airily. “But when we get our share—”

  Sam couldn’t smother her delighted shriek. When Ace flattened his ears in irritation, she simply leaned forward and kissed his mane.

  “Nothing’s settled,” Jen cautioned, but her smile stayed in place.

  “Still,” Sam said. “Wow.”

  That explained why Jen had confronted Linc Slocum so fearlessly. Maybe the Kenworthys could stop depending on Linc Slocum for their house and every penny they spent on food, clothes, and horses.

  “Would you leave”—Nicolas gestured at the countryside—“this?”

  “No way,” Jen said. “We’d buy back our ranch. At least part of it. We hope. Then we’d get our Fire and Ice palomino breeding program up and running again and, best of all, we’d get out from under that monster’s thumb.”

  Sam took one hand from her reins and jabbed a celebrating fist skyward. She didn’t think Ace would put up with a round of applause.

  Jen sighed. Relief from telling the secret made her sink a bit in the saddle.

  “Will Linc sell?” Sam asked gently.

  Jen held up crossed fingers, but Sam’s brain had already swerved away from reality to start tallying possibilities.

  “If Linc gets in trouble for shooting the coyote, his offenses against the wild horses might resurface, and if someone digs up the shady real estate deals out of his past—remember, the ones you told me about, Jen? You said someone actually committed suicide over the scam Linc pulled?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah, I remember,” Jen said.

  “And then,” Sam said, “if he went to court as part of the horse-theft ring—”

  Sam broke off. Maybe al
l those things couldn’t come together in the same trial, but wouldn’t a judge hearing even half of that just be itching to send Slocum to jail? And with Linc Slocum jailed, the Gold Dust Ranch—

  “Sam, stop,” Jen said. “You’re about to chew a hole through your lip.”

  “I am not,” Sam said, but she touched a knuckle to her bottom lip. It was already sore because she’d been biting it as she concentrated. “Still, if there’s any justice—”

  “There’s always that big if,” Jen said.

  “We’ve got to hurry and tell Sheriff Ballard what Linc did before he reports us—”

  “I don’t think you have any reason to worry,” Nicolas broke in. “Or hurry.”

  Sam had almost forgotten he was there, but she turned to listen.

  After all, Nicolas was a college student, and as an outsider, he might be in a better position to observe.

  “Did we miss something?” Sam asked.

  “There’s a saying attributed to Napoleon,” Nicolas began.

  “Who conquered most of the civilized world of his time,” Jen said to Sam.

  With a wave of her hand, Sam brushed away Jen’s explanation. She had heard of Napoleon.

  Sam twisted in the saddle to face Nicolas and said, “Tell me.”

  “It’s something like, ‘Never interrupt your enemy while he’s making a mistake.’” Nicolas paused to let the words sink in and both girls smiled.

  “I love that,” Jen said.

  “Me too, and Linc’s always making mistakes,” Sam said.

  “Let him make this one,” Nicolas suggested. “Don’t race to report him. That way he’ll be making himself look bad, by admitting to the sheriff that he shot the coyote. Then you two can step up as concerned citizens who just happened to have witnessed his crime.”

  “What are you studying in college?” Jen asked Nicolas.

  “Pre-law,” Nicolas confessed. He shrugged as if he didn’t want them to think he was showing off. “My grandfather claims he’s never met a gypsy lawyer, though I’m sure he’s wrong.”

  “Perfect,” Jen said, with a contented sigh. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lace kept calling for the dun colt.

  Every few minutes, Sam heard the vardo’s wheels crunch to a stop. Then, after a moment spent sniffing the air and listening, the mare would cast her neigh out in another direction.

  The colt must have heard the plaintive sound, but maybe he was too frightened to return, or perhaps he’d lost his way.

  As Sam, Jen, and Nicolas drew closer to River Bend Ranch, wind scuttled leaves ahead of them. Yesterday’s summery mood faded.

  Tomorrow was a school holiday. Nevada Day, they called it, in honor of the day Nevada had been admitted to the United States. No matter how often their parents and teachers told them otherwise, lots of Nevada children thought their day off, which usually coincided with Halloween, had been declared so that they could recover from a late night of candy and excitement.

  Sam was glad tomorrow was a holiday. She’d have time to begin her campaign to see that Slocum got what he deserved.

  But after Nevada Day came Thanksgiving, then Christmas, and though the excitement of holidays and a new baby lay ahead, she also felt melancholy. There’d be fewer days to ride and, most likely, she’d see the Phantom far less once he and his herd holed up in their hidden valley for the winter.

  Wait a minute, Sam thought. In her mental list of holidays, she’d missed something. Nevada Day and Halloween, Thanksgiving, then wasn’t there another holiday? Schools didn’t get a break on Columbus Day, so that meant…

  “I missed Jake’s birthday!” Sam gasped suddenly.

  “By like a month,” Jen said.

  “Who’s Jake?” Nicolas asked, but Sam barely heard him.

  Jen’s words reminded Sam of her own birthday party. When Jake had said the big box full of film for her camera wasn’t what he wanted to give her, but it had been the only thing he could think of, Jen had been her usual sarcastic self, wondering aloud where Sam had gotten the idea she could have a birthday every year.

  She’d known Jake all her life, and though they didn’t make a huge deal of each other’s birthdays, they always gave each other something. When Jake had been recovering from the horseback accident that had broken his leg, she’d given him a beautiful leather headstall for Witch and a book about Native American trackers. Even when they’d been little kids, she’d given him a bunch of carrots for his pony.

  This was the first time she’d completely forgotten.

  But why hadn’t someone reminded her? Like Gram. Or Jen. Sam reined in her impulse to blame someone else. That wouldn’t help, and besides, she was fourteen years old. She knew how to use a calendar.

  “I didn’t even give him a card!” Sam mumbled. “How stupid can I be?”

  “Don’t panic, Sam,” Jen said.

  “Hey, if I’d missed your birthday—”

  “I would have reminded you with merciless harassment.”

  “Exactly. But Jake just let it go,” Sam moaned.

  “He might not even have noticed,” Jen said.

  Yeah, right, Sam thought.

  “Who’s Jake?” Nicolas asked again.

  The breath Sam drew to tell him puffed right back out of her as Ace’s sudden stop jerked her forward against the saddle horn.

  Her bay gelding threw his head so high, she couldn’t gaze through the frame of his ears in the direction he was staring. He gave a shrill neigh. Then, as he bobbed his head, and his black mane slapped his neck, Sam saw the dark figure riding their way.

  “That’s Jake,” Sam said, pointing.

  Sam wondered if there was a name for this weird feeling of guilt mixed with relief.

  Probably not. Most people who were glad to see a friend hadn’t forgotten his birthday for an entire month.

  Just the same, Sam was glad to see Jake. She just wished he’d shown up sooner.

  Not that she, Jen, and Nicolas hadn’t handled Slocum just fine. She hadn’t collapsed into tears or smothered the rich rancher with his own huge hat, although the image of Slocum’s pudgy legs kicking in protest was kind of satisfying.

  Sam shook the picture from her wicked imagination.

  She’d done fine, but if Jake had been riding beside her, Slocum might have apologized instead of threatening to report her to the sheriff. Jake had a more calming effect on people than she did.

  Sam heard the gentle thud of hooves and saw Jake sway in the saddle, moving with his horse as if they were a single creature.

  A centaur, she thought, one of those mythological beasts that were half horse and half human. And if she rode every day for the rest of her life, no one would ever mistake her for one.

  “How did he get so close without any of us noticing him?” Nicolas asked.

  “It’s what he does,” Jen said sourly.

  Sam smiled. It was strange that even though he rode Witch, a big black mare, Ace hadn’t noticed Jake until he was a quarter-mile away.

  “I hope he’s a friend of yours,” Nicolas said, “because he’s got the colt with him.”

  Just then, the dun colt, which had been running in Witch’s shadow, pranced on ahead of her. Jake kept Witch at an easy lope as they followed. The black mare hovered behind the colt without hurrying him.

  “What you’re seeing is typical Jake,” Jen told Nicolas. “He has this totally annoying habit of showing up at the right place at the right time.”

  “It’s only because he’s the best tracker in the state, not because he’s psychic or anything,” Sam explained.

  “A tracker?” Nicolas asked. “Like a bounty hunter?”

  Jen gave a short laugh. “Maybe that’s a career choice he should consider.”

  Sam wondered if her two best friends’ competition would last their entire lives. Probably.

  “No, but where we’d just ride on past a patch of dirt, he looks down and reads it as if someone had scratched out a f
ive-paragraph essay with a sharp stick,” Sam explained.

  “I get it.” Nicolas stared toward the black horse and dark rider with surprised appreciation. “That’s something I should learn before my next journey. It would be useful, being out in the wilderness like I am. I haven’t had any bad experiences, but I could know what was”—Nicolas made a circular motion with his hand—“going on. I’ve been surprised a time or two and if I’d known the signs to look for, I might not have been.”

  Nicolas broke off with a short laugh. “Sorry, I was just sort of thinking out loud. I mean, a tracker probably wouldn’t have been startled when a sheepherder and his flock showed up at his campsite. I didn’t know they were coming until the guy shouted hello.”

  “You knew we were coming,” Sam said.

  “Sending two horses on ahead provided kind of a big hint,” Nicolas said.

  “You sound like you’re going to do this again,” Jen said.

  “I might,” Nicolas said, then shrugged. “A lot depends on how things go between here and Sacramento.”

  Sam saw Nicolas rub his wrist. Was it sore, or was he thinking of a watch and the time he’d waste riding to River Bend Ranch?

  With a loud snort, Witch gave in to Jake’s order to walk as the colt ran for the big paint mare.

  The staccato hammering of small hooves made Sam swallow hard. The little guy was so glad to be back where he belonged. Lace obviously felt the same way. She tossed her mane with such enthusiasm, it sounded like a flag flapping on a windy day.

  “Go ahead, girl,” Nicolas said.

  He slackened the reins so Lace could trot forward to meet the colt. Even though he wasn’t hers, the mare greeted the little dun with a nicker that tugged at Sam’s heart and made her push away the reminder that it was almost time to wean her filly Tempest.

  Jake hung back until the colt and mare quieted.

  Was he tipping his head forward that way on purpose? Did he know his face was shadowed by his black Stetson?

  He had to be curious about Nicolas, his beautiful horse, and the unusual wagon, but Jake only touched the brim of his hat in greeting and waited for someone else to say something.