by Terri Farley
Sunny’s scream came once more. Sam had a hard time believing the mare was just frightened by the storm.
Sam opened the kitchen door. Blaze burst through the opening and streaked across the yard as the wind slammed the door in Sam’s face. Shouldering it open, she made it outside.
Blaze had vanished in the tossing shadows of cottonwood branches, but a volley of barks told her he had something cornered. Lights flashed on in the bunkhouse, and all three cowboys came stumbling out in stocking feet.
“What is it?” Ross shouted.
Sam thought she heard a yelp, but she wasn’t sure.
“Blaze—” she began, but the wind snatched her words away just as it had the dog’s sound.
As she started for the barn, Pepper fell into jogging steps beside her. Ross swung a flashlight’s beam over the horses in the ten-acre pasture. Their eyes glowed red and surprised, but nothing in their shuffling looked terrified. Dallas walked toward the bridge, glancing all around as he went.
Sunny’s screaming had stopped. Sam and Pepper found the mare and Tempest restless but safe inside the barn. Tempest shoved her mother with her muzzle, asking for a snack as long as she was awake.
Sunny’s eyes rolled. Her ears twitched in every direction as if she wasn’t sure where the sound that had disturbed her had come from. She stumbled away from her foal, then stopped and sniffed her all over.
A pigeon fluttered in the rafters. Dust danced in the bright overhead lights. Then, sucking sounds of the filly nursing filled the barn.
“What do you suppose that was all about?” Pepper asked.
Dallas entered the barn, still bootless, and shook his head.
“That dog’s got something going on,” Dallas said, bending to pull a sticker out of his sock.
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“Don’t know. Either he’s taken to seeing ghosts—which I doubt—or there’s something sniffing around here he don’t like. With all his comings and goings and barking in the night, though, there’s no doubt about it. Something’s up.”
Sam felt her fingernails bite into her palms, then purposely opened her fisted hands.
“Everything’s okay now, though,” Dallas said, trying to reassure her. “Might as well go back to sleep.”
Yeah, right, Sam thought as she walked back to the house. I’ve got nothing on my mind but a million secrets, including one my dog is keeping.
She paused on the front porch, putting her hands on her hips.
“Blaze!” she called into the darkness, but she didn’t see the dog again until dawn.
Sam fell asleep on the living room couch, but woke when she heard Ross leave in the old truck, bound for Alkali. The wind still blew, but she heard geese honking in the early morning, so the gusts must not be as violent as they’d been last night. Geese had to know better than to fly into a gale.
She’d already had hot chocolate and cold cereal and she was washing her dishes, wondering what she should do until Ross returned, when a scratch sounded at the door.
“Blaze!”
The dog bolted past her to his water dish, lapped until it was empty, then threw himself full length on the kitchen floor and closed his eyes.
Guessing he was still thirsty, Sam refilled his water dish.
Even as he drowsed, though, his tongue kept licking out. She bent close enough to see a small cut next to his tender nose.
“Maybe you did have something cornered,” Sam said quietly.
It wasn’t her voice that startled the dog awake—it was the phone.
The first thing Sam did was look at the kitchen clock. Seven A.M. was pretty early for phone calls.
“Please let Brynna and the baby be all right,” she whispered, then picked up the phone.
“Sam.” The whisper was so faint, Sam had to wait for it to come again before she was sure it was Ally. “Sam?”
“Are you all right?” Sam whispered back.
Then, she felt puzzled. If Ally hated her, why was she calling so early? Why did she sound so urgent?
“I’m fine, but I found out what’s going on with my dad.”
Sam sucked in a breath. Did she want to hear this? What if it was something illegal?
“It’s okay that you told Mrs. Ely,” Ally said, then, sounding embarrassed, “but, I…”
Sam waited.
“Last night when my dad fell asleep—”
“He didn’t leave?” Sam asked.
“No, he was here all night, but because it was so windy, he couldn’t hear me. I went through all his stuff. Like, where he empties out his pockets on top of his chest of drawers,” Ally said, sounding amazed at her own daring. “But that wasn’t where I found—wait a second. I’ve got to call you back.”
“Found what?” Sam shouted.
“Right back,” Ally promised quietly.
Sam’s mind was spinning and she hoped Ally’s father hadn’t come in and caught her telling whatever it was she’d been about to confide.
Sam grabbed the phone before the first ring ended.
“He went down to the church, just now. A branch fell in the storm and cracked one of the stained glass windows, so—”
“What did you find?” Sam demanded.
“Not drugs or anything,” Ally said with a sigh, “but out in his car, under the front seat, there was this flyer about a rooster fight. It was all misspelled and stuff. Mr. Blair would hate it….”
Ally sounded strange. Sam wondered if a person could be quietly hysterical.
“A rooster fight?” Sam repeated.
“Yes, and it had a timetable that said betting starts at ten and fights start at midnight.”
It took a few seconds for Ally’s information to sink in, but then it made complete sense. People in town were betting on the fighting roosters Darrell had discovered. He’d said some of the faces looked familiar. Although Sam didn’t want to believe it, she supposed the church choir director could be one of them.
“Sam?”
“So, you think your dad was using your money for gambling?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? Maybe he was losing, but then he turned up with all that stuff last night, like maybe he won?”
“It does make sense,” Sam confirmed.
“I’ve read it can be an addiction like drugs, haven’t you?” Ally asked.
“Yeah,” Sam said. Then, tensing because she was afraid Ally would say everything was okay again, when it clearly wasn’t, she asked, “What are you going to do?”
Ally was quiet for a few seconds, but she sounded determined when she said, “I think I should call the sheriff.”
“Do it,” Sam said. “Right now.”
She didn’t tell Ally that Sheriff Ballard would be out of the office for much of the day. That might give her an excuse not to call.
“Have you ever heard of anything like this?” Ally asked. Then, in morbid fascination, she read from the flyer, “‘Blood Fest of the Year, Saturday at midnight.’ Is that gross, or what? My dad doesn’t hate animals or anything, Sam. I just…”
“You were right, Ally, it’s probably an addiction. You’re just lucky you found out in time to do something, before he bet your car or house or—” Sam broke off.
Had she gone too far? She was talking about Ally’s father, after all. Sam closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting.
“I’ll talk to you later. I’m calling Sheriff Ballard right now.”
Sam let her breath out in a rush, then she said, “Let me give you his number. It’s sad, but I’ve got it memorized.”
Sam’s spirits lifted after that.
She helped vaccinate all the horses except Tempest. The filly would have to wait until she was six months old to receive her injection, and Sam couldn’t help thinking how unfair it was that Tempest would get her first shot at the same age she’d be taken away from her mother.
Sam tried not to imagine Jen at the parade, watching Linc do whatever skullduggery he was doing, while she was stuck at h
ome. Strawberry helped keep Sam’s mind on her work by nipping the seat of her jeans. Hard.
Once all the injections had been given, the cowboys rode out to repair a windmill that had been damaged in the wind. Ross had noticed it when he’d driven back from town, but he hadn’t paused to inspect it because he’d been carrying the chilled vaccine.
All alone again, Sam paced and flopped down on the couch to read a mystery novel. It was nice to have the leisure time to read, but Sam hated being grounded. She wanted to be out doing things, not waiting for Jen to call from Apple Mills.
And then, she did.
“I’ve only got a few minutes,” Jen said. “The horses were great during the parade, but the wind has them acting up. I’m not sure Golden Rose will load at all, so I’m staying out of Mom’s way.”
“Did anyone come meet Linc?” Sam asked.
“No,” Jen said.
“Oh, man,” Sam moaned. “I thought we’d have the whole horse theft thing wound up and I’d be off the hook with Preston, and—”
“Wait,” Jen told her. “It’s almost that good.”
“Tell me,” Sam begged.
“Here’s what happened,” Jen said, then her tone changed completely. “Yes, ma’am, I’m afraid I am going to be on the phone for a few minutes.”
Sam listened to the drone of another voice, but she couldn’t make out the words.
“I know,” Jen said sympathetically. “That’s what people think, but you see, it’s a fallacy. Not all teenagers have cell phones. Some of us are at the mercy of the phone company. It’s true. We just carry tons of quarters and pray we’ll see a pay phone. It is hard to believe, but—you have a nice day, now!” Jen shouted, then drew in a loud breath. “Okay, where was I?”
“About to tell me what happened,” Sam reminded her.
“Sheriff Ballard was riding Jinx all around the parade route and Darrell was copying down every license number in the parking lot—”
“Darrell was there, too?” Sam couldn’t believe it. Wasn’t it bad enough that Jen had been included and she hadn’t?
“Don’t panic. He was just writing down numbers. You would’ve hated it, but then he recognized a personalized license plate he’d seen at the rooster fights—”
“You know about them?” Sam gasped. What was going on around here?
“Well, I do now,” Jen said, “and I think it’s totally disgusting. So does Sheriff Ballard, but he’s got to look up some local statutes or something to see if it’s illegal.”
“Of course it is,” Sam insisted.
“Hmm, usually I’d defer to your legal expertise, but the sheriff’s not so sure,” Jen teased. “The betting part is illegal.”
“I’m calling the Humane Society,” Sam muttered.
“Anyway—Sam, I’ve got to hurry, my mom’s looking around for me and I can only hide in this phone booth a little longer. Oxygen deprivation, you know? Plus, it smells like someone—”
“Tell me what else happened,” Sam said.
“I saw Karl Mannix! He was dressed like a street sweeper, cleaning up manure behind the horses in the parade. There were these guys in vaquero costumes riding in front of us, and then there he was, just sweeping away.”
Talk about hiding in plain sight, Sam thought. He would be invisible, doing that kind of work, but he could also be on the lookout for Linc.
“So, how did Linc and he get together?”
“They didn’t,” Jen said.
“What?”
“We talked to Linc later, and he told Sheriff Ballard that someone—not Karl Mannix—phoned him and called off the meeting, that they couldn’t go through with the transaction because he’d spotted the sheriff. The guy must have been really mad, too, because Linc looked terrified. And then, somehow, Karl slipped away and escaped without moving a vehicle from the parking lot, because they were all there, but—”
“This is terrible,” Sam moaned.
“Not really,” Jen said, “because the call to Linc was made from a cell phone with a global positioning system, and they’re tracking the guy down! How cool is that?”
“And Ballard says police work is nothing like it is on TV.”
Sam recognized the scoffing male voice instantly.
“That’s Darrell, isn’t it? Let me talk to him!”
Sam’s heart was pounding and the movie screen in her mind was painted with dripping red letters spelling out BLOOD FEST. If Darrell had already told the sheriff about the rooster fights, he could tell her where they were happening. The roosters could be rescued before they died in awful combat.
“Okay, catch you later,” Jen said. “Hey, Darrell! Come here. Some smitten gal wants to talk to you!”
“Hello, darlin’,” Darrell said.
He was so sure of himself, Sam wanted to hang up. But she didn’t. In fact, she tried her hardest to be nice. After all, he knew something she wanted to find out.
“Hello…” Sam bit her lip and managed, “dude.”
Darrell laughed at her attempt to be cool.
“I hear you’ve really been helping the sheriff,” Sam said, buttering him up. “Jen told me all about it.”
“Yeah, he’s about to mark this one ‘case closed,’ all because of me,” Darrell bragged, but Sam heard the humor in his voice.
“So, since you told him all about Fluffy’s secret, how about letting me in on it?”
“What do you mean?” Darrell asked. “You knew before anybody, except me. And Fluffy.”
“Yeah, but you never told me where they were keeping those poor roosters.”
“I still won’t,” Darrell said. “I don’t trust you not to go do something stupid.”
“Thanks a lot,” Sam said. She blew her cheeks full of air. “Just give me a hint, and then if I figure it out, it’s not your fault.”
Darrell made a considering sound, then he gave a short bark of laughter.
“Okay, I’ve got it. I’ll give you a hint, but this is like a really hard riddle. You’ll never figure it out.”
“Tell me,” Sam said.
“Rusty old school bus,” Darrell said.
And then he hung up.
Chapter Seventeen
Sam didn’t remember where she’d read that the thing you want to do least was usually the thing you should do first, but she believed it.
She was about to follow that rule, times three.
First, she’d break her word to Dad to stay home, grounded. She really didn’t want to do that. There would be consequences and they wouldn’t be pretty. That was for sure.
Next, if she wanted to save those roosters, she had to go through Lost Canyon and into a creepy ravine, looking for a bus that was not yellow and not a school bus, despite Darrell’s hint. She didn’t know what she’d do once she found them, and that was why she had to do the third thing.
She’d made a half promise to Sheriff Ballard, and though she really didn’t want to call Preston, she knew he was the best help she could get.
Jake wouldn’t ride up there with her because it could be dangerous. Pepper, Dallas, and Ross would be the perfect companions to break up that rooster-killing bunch, but they wouldn’t defy Dad, and there’d be no question that helping Sam would be doing just that.
No, she had no choice. The man who disliked and mistrusted her was her best bet.
She couldn’t wait for Sheriff Ballard to corner Karl Mannix and start looking for something else to do, and she wasn’t foolhardy enough to go alone, but how could she allow something called “Blood Fest” to happen if she could stop it?
When she answered the phone, Mrs. Allen didn’t sound cold and distant like she had before.
“Hello, Samantha,” she said, surprised. Maybe she wasn’t angry anymore. Sam had to admit that she was glad, and maybe that was why Sam apologized again.
Then again, maybe it had something to do with Ally.
“Mrs. Allen, I know I didn’t do a very good job of apologizing before, but I understand why you told Presto
n about the Phantom’s lead mare. It was because, well, she belonged to Preston first, right?”
“Yes, dear. That is right. And don’t—how do they put it?—don’t beat yourself up over it. I understand how much you love that stallion and I know that even though people will tell you it’s too risky to love a wild thing like him, you can’t help it.”
Sam shivered at Mrs. Allen’s words, wondering where that had come from, but all she said was, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Mrs. Allen cleared her throat. “Now, did you say you were calling for Preston?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said.
Then, as Mrs. Allen’s voice faded away, Sam could have sworn she heard the old lady summoning the retired policeman with some name like Finny. But that didn’t make any sense at all.
Two hours later, Sam and Preston rode Ace and Honey side by side into Lost Canyon.
“She looks great,” Sam said, marveling at the palomino’s sun-bright coat, her rippling ivory mane and tail and a gait that said she rejoiced in her rider. “I don’t see any sign of a limp.”
Preston shook his head and clapped the mare on the neck. It was clear to see he loved the horse, but he didn’t admit it. Instead, he said, “She can use this exercise. And I’ve got a little test in mind for her.”
“What kind of test?” Sam asked.
“I heard that gray stallion, the one she ran with, haunts this canyon about this time of year.”
Sam’s mouth turned dry as cotton. It was nice that Preston had finally accepted her as a horse rescuer instead of a thief, but did he mean he was setting Honey up to choose between him and the Phantom?
“Do you really want to take the chance of her seeing him?” Sam asked. “It’s only been a few days and a herd stallion has a lot of control over his family—even the lead mare.”
“So I’ve been told,” Preston said, “but if I’m going to ride her in this territory, I’d better find out if I can trust her.”
“I don’t know,” Sam muttered, but she was also wondering how long he planned to stay in this territory. Did he plan to marry Mrs. Allen?