by Terri Farley
Jake rubbed the inky forehead beneath her forelock. He fondled her silken black ears, stroked her long neck as he eased the rope around it and knotted it into a bowline.
All the time he was touching the filly, he spoke to her. Could Jake actually speak some Shoshone? Whatever he was saying, the filly understood every word.
Woodsmoke and bacon scented the morning air as they neared camp. Sam rode Chip. Jake led the pinto.
Although Sam and Jake savored the aromas and the crackle of a cookfire, the filly didn’t. She braced her legs, ready to bolt.
“Here, now, girl, is that any way to act?” Jake chided. “It may not smell good to you, but I can’t think of anything better.”
He made her walk a few more steps before stopping.
“Why don’t you go on into camp and bring me back a plate,” he pretended to talk to the filly, though his words were for Sam. “I’ll stay here with Star.”
Sam felt her eyebrows rise at the name. It was sort of odd, since the filly had a white blaze on her forehead, not a star.
Mac welcomed Sam and told her to help herself to breakfast, but he hugged Chip and instantly began unsaddling him.
Sam stared at the food Mac had prepared, then looked at her watch for what must have been the hundredth time since yesterday. It was Saturday morning.
She and Chip and Jake had worked all night, but they’d caught the filly without hurt or harm, and almost without fear.
Yawning and slow, Sam prepared two plates and walked back to the clearing where Jake stood with the filly.
The pinto saw Sam and stumbled. One ear cupped toward Jake and the other swiveled toward Sam.
“It’s okay, girl,” Sam told her, but the filly disagreed.
Eyes wide, she swung her head from side to side. Was there just too much to be afraid of? Was she looking for something? Whatever concerned the filly, she didn’t budge from her place close to Jake.
“No horse,” he murmured to Sam. “You’re off Chip and she doesn’t recognize you.”
Sam put Jake’s plate down on a log that had been arranged here to make a trailside seat. Then, she backed away.
Her plate wobbled in her hand as she yawned yet again.
“Go take a nap, Brat. We can do without you for a little while.”
Sam started to protest, then changed her mind.
As if he’d been expecting her, Mac held back the tent flap as she staggered back into camp.
“Just a few minutes,” Sam said, as she crawled into her sleeping bag. “Just a few.”
When Ace knocked the tent down, Sam woke in a tangle of nylon. It only took a few seconds to remember where she was and why.
Crawling out, she caught Ace’s halter and stood.
She could see the water from here. A wooden canoe carried two fishermen to the middle of Monument Lake. A hot-pink kayak skimmed the water’s surface, with only the dip, drip sound of the paddle to mark its passing.
The smell of piñon pines mixed with the cookfire’s embers. She was alone with the horses. Chip dozed in a rope corral with one side down.
“Bad horse,” Sam scolded Ace as she gave him a kiss on the nose. “Did you get bored?”
Sam repaired the corral, keeping Ace outside. Chip didn’t even open his eyes.
Although every move caused a twinge of stiffness and pain, Sam saddled and bridled Ace, then grabbed a cold biscuit from a tin pan Mac had left on the wood table.
She started to mount up. Stepping into the stirrup was no big deal, but when she started to throw her leg over, she gasped.
Eight days. Eight days left and already it hurt to get into the saddle. She did it anyway and rode Ace toward the murmur of voices.
Sam could hardly believe what she saw when she got there.
Jake held a halter rope while he skimmed his hands over the filly’s white back.
Each time he reached her flank, she flattened her ears and raised a hind hoof in warning.
Each time, he returned to pet her head and neck and start all over again.
“She’s wearing a bridle,” Sam said in amazement. “I miss everything.”
“Not quite everything,” Mac said. “He hasn’t mounted her yet.”
“I hope not,” Sam said. “You’re not going to, are you?” she asked Jake. “Not today.”
“I’m not sure,” Jake said. His eyes were red-veined from lack of sleep, but he looked happy. “Right now, I’m working on touch and—”
Distracted, he’d grazed the filly’s haunch once more. She crouched back, positioning herself to strike with her front feet.
Sam moved Ace away from the filly. Her ears flicked forward as he went and the diversion kept her from attacking.
“No more of that, now,” Jake crooned.
Drawn by his voice, the filly pressed forward until they were eye to eye. Sam couldn’t believe it.
“What if I give Ace a refresher course,” Sam said quietly. “You know, do all the things with him, that you do with her.”
“Fine,” Jake said. “But stay a little distance off, okay? If you put Ace right beside her she might think he’s her herd instead of me. We don’t have time for that.”
“Got it,” Sam said. “Now tell me about her name.”
“Ah, yes,” Mac said, and his smile seemed to fill his body as Jake explained.
“You’ll think it’s sappy,” Jake said.
“Me?” Sam asked. “I won’t, either.”
“Okay. Look down here on her chest,” Jake said.
She did, and saw dozens of silver-white flashes on the filly’s black hide.
“A star shower,” Jake said meaningfully.
Sam’s sleep-deprived mind took a minute to understand, but then she had it.
In the story Mac had told them, White Woman, who’d reached Dawnland first, had ridden a horse. Together, she and the horse had triggered a star shower that told everyone exactly where they belonged.
Was Jake hinting that the filly was helping him find where he belonged?
Jake’s glare dared Sam to say something sentimental. This time, she gave him a break.
“I like it,” Sam said simply, and Jake nodded.
For the rest of the day, they handled the horses, leading them over fallen logs and between trees whose trunks nearly touched.
Each time a horse shied, Sam and Jake turned away until the horse move forward and nudged or nuzzled to be noticed.
At last, Jake stood back at the end of the halter rope, and talked to Mac while he watched the filly.
“She’s exhausted,” Jake said. “And so am I, but I don’t want to leave her in the rope corral and I’m afraid to tie her. What would you do, Grandfather?”
A second smile crossed Mac Ely’s face, as if he saw that asking for his wisdom moved Jake another step closer to adulthood.
Mac sent Sam for Jake’s sleeping bag. When she brought it, Jake looked as if he might beat it to the ground.
With Mac on watch, the filly was tied within sight, but not reach, of Jake’s sleeping bag.
At once, the filly’s head drooped, and her eyelids closed.
“She has white lashes on one eye and black on the other,” Sam told Jake, but he was so tired, his nod put him off balance.
“She’s asleep,” he whispered a few seconds later. “I want her to rest. As soon as the moon rises, I’ll lead her back into the water and see if she’ll carry a rider.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I have one chance to get it right,” Jake said, as they finished a picnic dinner surrounded by horses.
Mac didn’t contradict Jake with words, but he lifted one shoulder as if to say the filly might allow Jake to make a mistake or two.
“After me, she knows you best,” Jake told Sam. “Will you hold the halter rope?”
Sam swallowed hard. Could she keep Star from running away if something frightened her? Sam had a mental image of the filly towing her like an upside-down water skier.
But she agreed anyway.
Jake nodded, then interlaced his fingers and turned to Mac. “What would you teach her first, Grandfather?”
Sam could tell Jake really wanted advice. She wanted to suggest he use the red hawk feather she’d given him, but he might think she was being silly and superstitious.
He knew he had no time to waste and Mac’s experience would be useful.
“You’ve already taught her to trust you. She was lonely and you became her friend. Now you must be worthy of her trust.
“Never hesitate. Never ask the horse to do what you’re scared to do. Someone must rise to the top as leader and if you won’t, the horse will.”
It was true, Sam thought. Any time her mind wandered, Ace tried to take over. The first time she’d ridden Chip, he’d tried to go after Queen his own way. Even Strawberry, a lifelong cow horse, challenged Sam’s authority.
At moonrise, they went to Monument Lake.
It seemed long ago that the Phantom had been Blackie, the colt she’d raised from birth, but Star looked just about the same age Blackie had been the day they’d led him into the river.
Sam remembered the flannel halter they’d made for Blackie, but Star seemed comfortable with the soft leather. She remembered Jake leading Blackie into the water so that she could pet him, talk with him, lean against him, then, oh so slowly, climb onto his back. Now it was her turn to hold the rope and Jake’s turn to ride.
That first ride on Blackie had been gentle and perfect. The trouble had come later, when she’d tried to ride him through a gate on a windy day and he’d felt trapped and began bucking.
Sam shook her head. Jake was a better rider than she’d ever been. Besides that, Star wasn’t Blackie.
The pinto filly made that clear right away. She refused to enter the water.
“Come on, little girl,” Sam coaxed.
The filly wouldn’t listen to sweet talk. First she flung her head high and backed away. Then, when Jake took the rope from Sam, the filly lowered her head, let her ears fall one to each side, and balked like a stubborn mule.
“I don’t think she’s going into the water,” Sam said.
For the last few hours, Jake had been mild and quiet with his horse. Now the real Jake, understanding but in charge, was back.
He looked amused as he walked the filly up and down the shore.
“Last try,” he said, leading Star toward the water again.
Her four legs braced wide as bedposts and she would not budge.
“Okay,” Jake said, and with the reins and rope in his left hand, he leaped for her back—and made it.
Star stood blinking. She’d forgotten all about the water. Something was on her back.
Jake touched her mane and petted her neck, talking. The filly swung her head around to look at Jake’s left knee. Was she thinking about taking a bite?
Apparently not, because when Jake shifted his weight and stared down the shoreline, Star took a prancing step.
With hands and voice, Jake praised her, but there was amusement in his voice.
“You’ll buck later, won’t you girl? When I least expect—”
The filly ducked her head so low, her forelock hit the shore. With a mighty shove, she kicked her back hooves skyward. Jake nearly slid down her neck before she flung herself back, rising on her hind legs to paw at the moon.
Mac clapped and uttered a shout of such delight, that Sam hazarded a glance his way. This was the challenge Jake needed, and the old man was reveling in it.
Squealing, the filly actually took a step on her back hooves. If Jake lost his grip now, the filly would be gone.
Face buried in her mane, arms clinging to her neck, knees clamped hard against her shoulders, Jake stuck on as Star lunged and twisted, then darted down the shoreline.
Her hooves cut into the mud, strewing it in her wake.
She didn’t run far. Sam saw her stop. When Jake asked her to, she turned.
Pretending she’d been insulted, the filly shook her variegated mane and trotted back to camp, following Jake’s requests as if she’d been doing it all her life.
Heaven was spring vacation with only horses on her mind, Sam decided.
It was Monday afternoon and Star hadn’t exploded again. She still shied and threatened to bolt, but she didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body.
Each day, Sam and Jake tested the horses by riding over strange footing, under low-hanging branches, along narrow trails. They had Mac wave a blanket, clang a pot lid with a metal spoon, and howl like a coyote. The horses were learning to expect anything.
Star grew calmer, but instead of becoming dependent on Jake, her wild personality showed through. Once she grabbed Ace’s tail in her teeth, gave it a yank, then walked slowly away, as if she’d had nothing to do with it.
Later the same day, she cautiously mouthed a lock of Jake’s hair. He looked surprised, but stood still, waiting to see what she did.
Star gave his hair a gentle tug. Then, when he turned laughing to face her, she swung her head away and pretended to be studying a tree.
“The spirit of the horse remains,” Mac said, “if the rider doesn’t fight to replace it with his own.”
On Tuesday, twilight had spread over the range and Jake and Mac had left Sam to pony Star back to camp. Being led by a rider on another horse was a skill Star was still learning.
All at once, Sam got the finger-down-the-spine watched feeling she’d had before.
Was there a cougar? Sam gazed up at the treetops. Here in the cottonwoods a cougar could hide, but Jake would have noticed even the faintest cat track.
Ace and Star snorted in the same instant and their necks craned toward the sound of hooves.
The Phantom trotted out of the cottonwoods. Neck arched, shoulders muscled beneath silver satin skin, he trotted directly up to Star.
Oh, no. Sam jerked the lead rope, pulling the filly’s head around. Star planted her feet more firmly. Sam knew the filly was stubborn enough to resist.
Ace danced in place, eager to greet the stallion who’d been his herd leader. Sam sat into him, reminding Ace she needed his help.
“You’ve got plenty of mares.” She scolded the Phantom, although her hopes weren’t high that he’d listen. “Leave Star alone.”
The stallion’s ears flicked in her direction, but that was all. He and Star were locked in a stare.
The filly quit balking. She pranced and played, throwing herself to the end of the rope, trying to go with the stallion as he backed away. Sam’s grip started to slip and she used both hands on the rope, hoping she could keep Ace steady with her knees.
And then Star lunged.
“No!” Sam shouted. She fought being jerked out of the saddle, but she’d have to choose. Hold the rope or grab the saddle horn.
If she let Star go, Jake would never forgive her.
“Jake!” Sam shouted. If the Phantom saw other humans, maybe he’d go. “Jake!”
Sam’s shouts were all the excuse Star needed. She reared high on her hind legs, and Ace backed out of her way.
Sam’s grip on the rope loosened as Star pulled it across her palm in searing, hot pain. No matter how she tried, Sam couldn’t hold on.
She’d lost the rope, but the filly was still there.
Breathing hard, Sam tried to think. The rope trailed behind the filly, but Star was still playing. She didn’t know she was free.
“Get her, Ace,” Sam told him. “Cut her out.”
The filly was no steer, and there was no herd to separate her from, but Ace knew what to do.
His body settled lower to the ground. Sam let her reins go slack, and he slipped between the stallion and Star. Even though it was dangerous to turn his back on the Phantom, the gelding obeyed.
He wouldn’t let Star past. He blocked her like he would a cranky cow. As Sam watched, the filly stayed centered between Ace’s ears. He had no intention of letting Star get away.
&nb
sp; Suddenly, Star gave up.
She swished her tail and nickered. I was just having fun, the filly seemed to say, and now she was ready to go back to the rope corral.
Sam sighed. Everything was going to be all right.
But the Phantom wasn’t giving up. With flattened ears, the stallion brushed past Ace and shoved the filly with his head.
He wasn’t playing games. He’d decided Star was his. When she hesitated, he gave her a bite on the rump. She squealed and bolted.
“No!” Sam shouted again. She waved her hand in the Phantom’s face.
He was blind to her. It was spring and he had to gather as many mares as he could to build up his herd against other stallions’ raids.
Ace sensed the Phantom’s mood change. He scrambled to avoid the stallion’s slashing hooves.
Ace knew he was losing, but he wasn’t stupid. He let the stallion have Star, then turned and sprinted, trying to cut her off once more.
But Star was running scared. As the stallion herded, nipped, and whinnied behind her, her long white legs reached out. She galloped in the direction he herded.
Sam heard shouting behind her, but she kept after the two horses.
Cutting through the trees and brush, they spotted a wilderness camper. He waved, but Sam ignored him. If she lost Star, Jake would hate her. He’d think she’d allowed the Phantom to do as he pleased. He’d never believe the truth.
Out of the narrow neck of the tribal lands she chased the horses. Ace lined out like a greyhound, unused to losing the animal he was trying to cut out.
Past hills that looked like crumpled pink paper they ran, and suddenly Sam recognized the terrain.
What had Mac said? Or was it Jake? A finger of the tribal lands extended between Lost Canyon and Arroyo Azul.
“Go, boy!” Sam leaned low on Ace’s neck, letting his black mane whip her eyes. If the stallion got the filly into Arroyo Azul, he’d take her down the secret tunnel that led to his valley. She’d be lost to Jake, forever.
“Careful, boy, careful,” Sam whispered to Ace.
They’d been following Star and the Phantom for what seemed like hours. Sam didn’t risk a minute looking at her watch. It didn’t matter; she’d follow as long as she could hear them picking their path through sagebrush, between boulders.