Gift Horse (9 page)

“Turns out you're some slick horse trader, Samantha,” Dad said. He pushed back the brim of his Stetson and smiled. “Because you've already got a buyer for this one.”

S
am tried to speak, but her lungs burned with words she didn't dare say.

I won't let him go! I have to keep him here! How can you be so happy?

Another, quieter voice whispered,
I want the Phantom to meet him
. Some instinct told her the two horses would get along. For one crazy minute, she even dreamed of releasing Tinkerbell to run wild with the Phantom's herd.

But she didn't utter a single syllable. Silence expanded and filled the barn.

Jake blurred, but she still saw the way he was rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. Her eyes had no reason to fill with tears. Her lips parted, trembling,
as she tried to make an excuse. She couldn't.

When Jake touched his hat brim and left the barn, she felt ashamed and immature. Jake hated to see her cry. If he thought she needed his help, nothing would keep him from staying beside her.

But Jake was leaving. That meant he didn't think the situation was worth her tears.

“This is what you wanted, right?” Dad asked, when Jake was gone.

“I—I—” Sam tried and still couldn't answer in anything but a stupid whimpering voice.

Dad's smile drooped and the cheer in his blue eyes faded. “You said you wanted to rescue this horse and find him a good home.”

“Is it a good home?” Sam managed. It was the wrong thing to say. Dad would never sell a horse to someone he didn't trust. Her question was an insult.

“Samantha,” he said, “there's just no pleasin' you.”

“Dad!” Sam caught his arm before he could leave.

Dad let her stop him. He didn't look angry, just exasperated. She released her grip on his sleeve and took a deep breath.

“It's just…I'm getting attached to him already. I know I'm not supposed to and I know you warned me not to do it. But he's really a great horse. I didn't expect him to leave so soon.”

“You're better off that he is,” Dad said. “You can't adopt every stray that comes along.”

“I know. And I really am glad he'll have someone
to look after him.” Sam stared at Tinkerbell.

The draft horse was completely unaware that his future had changed. He only cared about finding the little bits of bran mash that had fallen into the straw. His big velvety lips sorted through his bedding, snorting every now and then as he searched.

Suddenly Sam got up the nerve to ask, “Who wants him?”

“I was down at the bank this afternoon and happened to see Mr. Martinez sittin' there behind his desk.”

Mr. Martinez was a bank officer in Darton. He loved horses and rode every chance he got. He was especially fond of unusual horses, which was why he'd bought Teddy Bear, a young, curly Bashkir gelding.

“I asked him how Teddy Bear was doin'…” Dad began.

After he'd gotten Teddy Bear home, Mr. Martinez had discovered the horse played pranks. And tricks that might have been cute when he was a colt weren't safe once Teddy Bear was grown. So Jake had schooled him to become a well-behaved saddle horse.

“And how he was doing in this cold weather.”

“With that Bashkir coat, I bet he's fine,” Sam said.

“And you'd be right. He's livin' with some other horses in a pasture Martinez owns in Alkali. We got to talkin' and he told me he was looking for a big horse, maybe a Lippizaner, to add to his herd.” Dad stopped and shook his head. “That man has some
expensive hobbies, but it's all to your good.

“I told him about your arrangement with Duke Fairchild. I'd barely finished when he, Martinez that is, just up and offered to buy—” Dad broke off, clearly as uncomfortable with the big mustang's name as Jake was, “—him, sight unseen.”

“Mr. Martinez trusts you,” Sam said.

Dad shrugged one shoulder. “He said that if he could have the loan of our topless trailer, he'd drive out here tomorrow morning and load him up.”

Sam couldn't help sucking in her breath. But she'd be a fool to protest, so she didn't.

“Since it was such a sudden decision,” Dad went on, “I told him to keep his money for a week or two, see how things work out.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

She ignored the part of her heart that was clamoring for the arrangement to fail. This time last week, Tinkerbell had been abused and neglected, slated for slaughter.

If Brynna hadn't sent her to the Mineral Auction yards, no one would have noticed the calculating eyes of Baldy Harris. Mr. Martinez's wide open pasture would be paradise compared to the Dagdown stock-yards.

Grow up
, Sam told herself. There couldn't be a better solution.

“Before we go in,” Dad said, “let's finish cleaning him up.”

It was a good idea. Not only would they remove the blood from Tinkerbell's head, but Sam knew the redness from tears would have time to fade from her eyes.

Moving slowly and quietly, Dad tied Tinkerbell once more. Sam helped him clean the dried blood from Tinkerbell's poll and brush the stiffness from his mane.

With Dad watching, she cleaned the gelding's enormous hooves.

Next, Dad dampened a sponge and watched Tinkerbell lower his head so Sam could gently wipe his eyes, inside his ears, and his nostrils.

At last, Dad unsnapped the ropes so the horse could move around the box stall as he pleased. Tinkerbell's ears pricked as he listened to the wind.

Hands on hips, Dad watched and admired him.

“He's gentler than that cat of yours, isn't he?” Dad said.

“Yeah.” Sam sighed. Then, she realized Dad had nodded toward a hay bale where Cougar sat, cleaning a tiger-striped paw.

When he felt Sam and Dad watching, the kitten stopped his licking. He stood, arched his back, and uttered a squeak that barely sounded feline.

Tinkerbell lowered his chin about a foot. Without blinking, he stared at the kitten. Then, his head sank level with his chest and finally almost to his knees. His breath stirred loose wisps of straw. Cougar squinted his eyes against the horse's faint exhalations,
but he didn't back away. He stood on the very edge of the hay bale, unafraid.

Tinkerbell didn't move. When the two animals finally touched noses, it was the kitten who rose on his hind legs, briefly pawed the air with his front paws, and bumped the horse's nose.

Dad cleared his throat loudly. Both animals turned to stare.

“Too darn cute for me,” Dad said. “Let's go eat.”

Sam scooped Cougar up and held him against her chest with one hand while the other closed Tinkerbell's stall door and bolted it.

Walking toward the house lights, she nuzzled the kitten's head.

“You could have been friends,” she whispered. “If only there'd been time.”

 

Something was definitely wrong with the animals.

Overnight, two hens flew the coop. When Sam went out to feed them breakfast, the rust-colored Rhode Island Reds' feathers were fluffed and they huddled in a corner of their pen. When she did a head count, it verified her fear that two were missing.

“No.” Sam moaned. “I don't have time to be the search party.”

Tinkerbell only had an hour or so left on River Bend Ranch. She wanted to pet him and talk with him, maybe lead him down to the river. Instead, she hunted for the hens.

She found them in the brush beyond the barn, but it took forever.

“Go on, you crazy birds,” she said, fluttering her hands to keep them moving toward their coop. “You're safer in there than you are out in the bushes.”

As they scuttled before her, Sam paused to tie her sweater around her waist. She was hungry and cranky. She'd wanted to spend all morning with Tinkerbell before Mr. Martinez arrived. But she'd done the responsible thing and probably no one would even notice.

After closing the hens into their coop again, she walked out to the barn. Food could wait. A chorus of neighs floated from the barn. Ace's was the highest, followed by Sweetheart's. Tinkerbell's neigh had a low, chuckling tone that made her smile. Dallas had already fed the horses, so the greetings were for her.

“Hey, guys!” Sam called as she came from the bright morning light into the dim barn. Of course, she greeted Ace first. His head hung over the side of his stall, bobbing so that his forelock flipped up and down, hiding, then showing, his white star. He stopped when Sam drew close and cradled his chin in her hands. She kissed his nose and whispered, “Dad wants us to help move some cattle today. You'll love it.”

Dad had said they'd leave right after Mr. Martinez came for Tinkerbell. He didn't say anything sentimental about taking her mind off her loss. As far
as Dad was concerned, she should be celebrating. She'd made a profit with no investment except a couple hours of grooming.

Sam didn't even try to feel the same way. She knew she couldn't.

“You haven't met the others, have you?” Sam started talking as she approached Tinkerbell's stall. The horse stared at her with the gentle eyes of a much older animal. She couldn't help but think he was smart. Of course, if she told Jake that, he'd laugh and say she thought all horses were smart. “C'mon,” she said, taking the lead rope from its hook. “I'll have to take you out of the barn sooner or later. We might as well have some fun first.”

Tinkerbell lowered his head so that she could reach the ring of his halter. As she led him to the ten-acre pasture the other horses gathered along the fence. They looked friendlier than they had yesterday and Tinkerbell began to get excited.

Tinkerbell's stride lengthened and he broke into a trot. A trot wasn't that fast, but his legs were long and he seemed unaware of Sam's weight on the end of the rope.

Sam ran to keep up. Her right arm jerked straight up, then forward. He could dislocate it without meaning to. As her feet ran faster, her brain hoped no one was watching.

Suddenly she recognized this feeling.

She and Aunt Sue had driven to a beach south of
San Francisco several times when Sam was living there. One day she'd been waist deep in the ocean when a powerful wave rushed her off her feet and tumbled her through the nose-stinging saltwater. As it withdrew, the wave took her along. Trying to keep up with the draft horse felt just the same.

In the ocean, she'd managed to get her head up, tread water, and swim parallel to the wave's power.

Now, Sam veered left, planted her boots, braced the rope across her hips, and hung on tight.

“Easy!” she shouted, and gave the rope a jerk.

Instead of stopping, Tinkerbell swung around. Sam felt as if a bus were bearing down on her. But Tinkerbell stopped.

He faced her, blinking, and looking distressed.

Sam could almost hear him reproaching her. His expression said,
You didn't have to yell.

“I know,” Sam crooned to the big horse as she walked close and patted his shoulder. “Oh, you would have been so much fun to play with….”

Sam's voice trailed off as an unfamiliar SUV rumbled across the River Bend bridge. It was teal blue and shiny with knobby off-road tires.

Blaze ran barking out to inspect the stranger.

It must be Mr. Martinez. As he pulled up next to the front porch, Sam resolved to be neighborly and grateful.

Gram had already come out of the house to talk, when Sam drew close enough to hear what they were saying.

“It's a wonderful opportunity for me,” Mr. Martinez was saying, smiling.

His black hair shone under the winter sun and a small mustache danced on his upper lip. He was a little taller than Gram, and so lively he seemed not to stay still. His hands flew, illustrating his words. Watching him, Sam felt better. She had the feeling Tinkerbell wouldn't just be added to Mr. Martinez's herd of unusual horses. He would be appreciated.

Still, Sam wanted this parting to be over. Her throat felt tight and she didn't think she could trust her eyes to stay dry. With a flip of her wrist, she tethered Tinkerbell to a hitching ring.

“Hello, Mr. Martinez,” Sam said. She strode toward him, palm extended for a handshake. Gram's proud smile surprised her, but she kept talking. “I'm Samantha Forster.”

“Good to meet you, Samantha,” he said. “What a magnificent horse you've brought me. You were incredibly farsighted to spot his potential.”

Sam wondered what sort of potential Mr. Martinez was talking about as he approached Tinkerbell. Moving slowly and confidently, he talked to the animal and seemed delighted when the huge horse licked him.

“He's just like a big dog!”

“Well, not exactly,” Sam said. “He nearly pulled me off my feet a minute ago.”

Mr. Martinez looked at her soberly. “I won't underestimate him.”

“We were talking about his name,” Gram said.

“Yeah?” Sam cringed a little. She really hoped the banker wouldn't confuse the gelding with a new name.

Mr. Martinez echoed her thought.

“Your father tells me the horse has had lots of changes in his life. At first, I thought, hey, what's one more change? But Grace reminded me that, in the old days, a tinker was someone who went around house to house fixing things.” He gave a satisfied nod. “I like the sound of that. So, Tinker it will stay.”

Sam sighed. Everything would be all right.

But she was still sad to see him go.

Dad helped Mr. Martinez hook the trailer to his Land Rover. Brynna helped him load Tinker. Sam sat on the porch, with Blaze's head resting in her lap. She stroked the white patch on the dog's head over and over again until the trailer carried the big draft horse away, for good.

A
ce tossed his head and pricked his ears toward the entrance to River Bend Ranch. Mr. Martinez's Land Rover had pulled Tinkerbell away about ten minutes ago and Ace was anything but sad.

“So much for you picking up my mood,” Sam muttered as her horse danced, eager to get going.

“If I believed in such things, I'd say he was wishing that draft horse good riddance,” Dad said.

Sam agreed. Ace was excited. As they rode south across the bridge, his eagerness kept her too busy to brood.

“Luke says he saw five of our heifers headed toward Three Ponies,” Dad said, explaining why they were riding out. Luke Ely was Jake's father. If he'd
said the cattle wore the River Bend brand, he was probably right.

Heifers were young cows who hadn't yet calved. They could be unpredictable.

“None of 'em should calve early,” Dad added, “but you never know.”

“Why wouldn't they be with the rest of the cattle?” Sam asked. Three Ponies Ranch was in the opposite direction from the winter hayracks and water tanks.

Dad shook his head. “I can't figure it out. There's still some graze down there at the lower elevation, but this range is picked bare.”

Ace lifted his hooves as if each thud on the bridge boards were unexpected. As soon as they reached the other side and cut left, toward Three Ponies Ranch, Sam felt Ace's muscles bunch as if he'd bolt.

She moved her fingers, working the snaffle in his mouth, telling him he'd better pay attention, because she was.

Dad rode Jeepers-Creepers with a hackamore, and the horse moved in a classic cow horse jog, ignoring Ace's high spirits. Sam knew the Appaloosa's behavior had more to do with his rider than Jeep's temperament, so she sat a little deeper in her saddle, again signaling Ace to behave.

“There they are,” Dad said. “All five together. That's handy.”

Sam followed Dad's gaze.

Ace must have, too. The gelding trembled with eagerness. He might have been born a mustang, but he loved herding cattle.

Actually, he loved
chasing
cattle. When they broke from the herd, he sped to cut off every route. Eventually the cow gave up in frustration and allowed Ace to smugly escort her back to the herd.

The snow-mottled riverbank slanted down, covered in blue shadows. The heifers nosed along the slope, looking for grass that wasn't there. Ace would love charging down to retrieve them, Sam thought.

“Don't let 'em get in the river,” Dad said. “It's icy cold where it's deep, and muddy where it's not. We don't need 'em bogged in mud or up to their bellies in freezing water at this stage of pregnancy. You two head 'em off.”

Sam sent Ace after the heifers. Riding at an extended trot, she made a faint wave of her right hand. Although the heifers were still about a half-mile away, they responded, bounding up the bank and away from the river as if a monster were coming after them.

“What fun is that?” Sam yelped.

The heifers didn't even run in the opposite direction. Rolling their eyes, all five trotted in an orderly herd past Sam and Ace. Ace blew through his lips.

“I know, boy. It's pitiful how easily they gave up.”

The heifers headed toward Dad, moving in the direction of the winter pasture.

Sam gave Ace's neck a comforting pat.

“Maybe one of them will make a break for it before we get them back down by the hayracks.”

Sam made Ace wait to pursue the cattle. As soon as they passed Dad, she eased up on the reins. Ace went after them, his stride choppy and irritated. Ears up, eyes focused on the red-and-white Herefords, he fell into step with Jeepers to follow the cattle at a distance.

Dad gave her a nod. Sam knew it was the only compliment she and Ace would get. Dad wasn't surprised she'd performed the task he'd set for her. He expected her to be competent, and that was praise enough.

“The winter country isn't that far south,” Dad said, continuing the conversation where he'd left off twenty minutes ago. “Shoot, you know that. You were out there yesterday with Pepper. But there's an altitude drop once you get past Alkali and head toward Darton. That means warmer temperatures and safer calving conditions, in case some of these first-time mommas have me fooled. Down there, calves have a better chance.”

“You expect more snow, then?” Sam asked.

“Sure there'll be more snow,” he said. “A lot of our worst weather comes in February. Now, for instance, there's a string of storms supposed to be lined up one right after the other off the coast. When they make it over those mountains, it'll be tough
going for all of us. Animals and humans.”

Sam felt a little embarrassed, but Dad was always tolerant of her questions because of her two-year absence. Before her accident, she'd just been a little kid. Nothing about running the ranch had meant much to her.

Now, she had a lot of catching up to do and Dad was glad to help.

“Think they'll cancel school?” Sam asked hopefully.

“It's happened,” Dad said. “No telling if it will this time. Brynna was online on her computer at the office yesterday, tryin' to see when they might strike. The experts give 'em two or three days.” Dad's smile was half admiration, half confusion. “Doesn't feel to me like one will hit anytime soon, but I'm thinking with my bones.”

Cutting cross-country on horseback instead of driving the truck as they had yesterday actually seemed to make the trip to winter pasture quicker. Still, it took over an hour.

Now, two or three miles ahead, Sam could see a couple hayracks that stood about a city block apart. To Sam, the movements around them were just dark shapes of animals, but the heifers recognized their herd. As if they hadn't left of their own free will, the heifers rocked into a joyous run toward home.

“We dropped off more feed this morning,” Dad said. His stiff tone warned Sam what was coming
next. “We didn't see any horses, but Pepper said you did yesterday.”

Sam's mind raced. She couldn't think of one thing she could say that would improve Dad's prickly attitude, but she didn't want him to think she hadn't heard.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“I'm not going to have mustangs eating feed that's intended for cattle. You know that, don't you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“If a big storm sweeps in, that hay will make the difference between life and death. We all depend on those cattle to get fat, go to market, and keep this ranch afloat.”

Sam knew Dad was right, but what about the horses? She couldn't bear the thought that mustangs could starve while the cows grew fat.

As they rode, the dark shapes ahead became more distinct. Some of them were mustangs. She was sure of it. She sucked in a breath as one, surrounded by bored-looking cattle, pulled hay from the nearest rack.

At the next rack, farther on, she was pretty sure the horses and cattle were feeding together.

Oh, no
. Dad's attitude was due to get a whole lot worse, as soon as he quit lecturing her and focused on what lay ahead.

“Are you listening?” Dad asked.

“I know.”

“You know what?”

“I mean, yes,” Sam said, and her edgy tone made Dad rise in his stirrups and squint.

“They're back.” Dad shook his head. “Samantha, here's where you show what you're made of. We're going to chase those horses away from the hay and we're going to make it darned unpleasant for them, so they don't come back.”

Sam didn't ask what he meant. When he urged Jeep into a gallop, Ace followed.

Leave now
. Sam fixed her eyes on the horses, hoping they sensed her silent warning.
He won't hurt you if you go.

The mustangs' heads flew up. Hay dropped to the cold desert floor as they began backing, whirling, bumping cattle, and scattering along with them. The chaos was silent, almost like a pantomime. Only the hammering hooves of riders, bearing down on the animals, broke the winter calm.

Then Dad gave a yipping call she hadn't heard since that first cattle drive, when he was helping to turn a stampede. Did the cattle and horses mistake it for a coyote, or was it just a sound so alien that it scared them?

Sam didn't know that answer. But she did know that that stampede had been her fault, just as this confrontation was. She wasn't being paranoid. She knew it was her fault, because there stood the Phantom. And he was holding his ground.

Her moonlight-colored stallion was in disguise. Winter made him resemble a medieval unicorn. Silken hair fringed the underside of his head from chin to throat. Sunlight sparkled there as he jerked his head skyward, calling his mares to him.

Zanzibar, go!
Using the stallion's secret name, Sam sent him all the urgency her thoughts could hold, but the horse had recognized her and he felt safe.

He snorted and stamped. Ice splintered and flew like sparks from his hooves.

He lowered his head and swept his muzzle just inches from the ground. Steam jetted from his nostrils and his brown eyes peered up at her. They flashed with mischief from behind his heavy forelock.

They'd played this game when he was a colt. Blackie, she'd called him then, because he'd been night black with no socks, no star, no flash of white anywhere. The first time they'd played this game, a sweater she'd tied around her waist had loosened and dropped. With one swoop of his head and snap of his teeth, he'd plucked it from the ground and held it high.

“We can't play, boy,” she whispered to the stallion. “Not now.”

She felt as if something heavy were crushing her chest. She knew how rare it was, to have a wild stallion for a friend. But if she played with him now, it would only make their parting worse.

Pulling her gaze away from him, Sam realized
Dad had galloped past the disturbed horses to regather the cattle. Quietly, holding Jeep to a flat-footed walk, he escorted them back to the hayracks. Maybe he'd leave the Phantom's herd alone.

“You've gotta go, boy,” Sam told the Phantom. “Now, while he's busy.”

But the stallion loved her voice.

Snowflakes floated from his mane like confetti as he left his mares to prance forward and touch noses with Ace.

He was so close. Sam's fingers trembled. She could touch him if she wanted.

But right now, he was exchanging snorts and nickers with Ace.

The two horses were friends. Once they'd been companions on the high green mesas and white desert playas. Neither had forgotten.

They were only quiet for a few seconds. The loud squeals, kicks, and nips following their greeting composed a ritual as old as horses. Because she'd felt it coming, Sam rode it out, easily.

Suddenly, the Phantom froze in place, ears pointing past her.

Leaning low on Jeep's neck, Dad galloped at the mares. He had to have done it to draw the Phantom's attention. Dad knew horses. He knew it was a challenge no stallion could ignore. The Phantom ran to meet him. Ears pinned, legs flying straight forward, then back, then straight, he closed the distance to his
mares seconds before Jeep reached them.

Head low in a snaking, herding motion, the Phantom nipped and slashed, teeth clacking, but never touching the fleeing mares. They ran for the cleft between the hills.

For one second, a dappled mare seemed to guide the others. Sam hoped the Phantom had a new lead mare. But then the mare was surrounded by the other mustangs and Sam could tell it was the stallion's fury, coming up behind, that kept them all running.

Dad didn't chase them far. No more than a quarter-mile into the chase, he turned Jeep in a slow curve to the left. The Appaloosa slowed as he approached Sam and Ace.

By the time she could see Dad's expression, Jeep had settled into a jog once more. Silently, Sam waited for Dad. As she sat there, her quiet hands and legs told Ace that everything was just fine. But her mind was a tangle of wild thoughts. The Phantom didn't know he needed her, but he did.

She thought again of the story she'd told Tinkerbell, about the lion and the mouse. She and the stallion shared a bond and he could use her help to keep his herd safe and healthy, even if he didn't know it.

But what would she say to Dad?

They were both angry. They both believed they were right. They were both stubborn. What would be the point in talking?

So they didn't.

Dad sent Jeep toward home. Head high, nostrils flared in exhilaration, Ace jogged beside him.

Sam's glance slid sideways to Dad. She wanted to believe he'd reached the same conclusion she had: there was nothing to talk about. But Dad's darkly tanned face was carved with disappointment.

Here's where you show what you're made of
, he'd said, but she hadn't ridden beside him, hadn't chased the wild horses away from the hay, hadn't chosen Dad over the Phantom.

With a squeak of leather, Dad straightened in the saddle. His mouth flattened in a hard, straight line. His chin jerked up, eyelids lowered, and Sam knew she would pay for this decision.

 

Two hours later, after they'd cooled and brushed their horses in total silence, Dad and Sam headed for the house.

“I made an early dinner,” Gram said as Sam came in ahead of Dad.

“And I,” Brynna added as she dangled a pink bakery box from its strings, “have chocolate cake from Clara's Diner.”

“I have business over at the Kenworthys',” Dad said, leaning his head in the kitchen door. Each word was quieter, as if he were reconsidering.

Maybe it was Gram's crestfallen look, or the smell of hamburgers. Maybe it was the prospect of chocolate cake. Something changed Dad's mind.

“It can wait 'til we've eaten,” he said, then climbed the stairs to wash up without another word.

“Were the cattle all right?” Gram asked, looking after him.

“Just fine,” Sam said. “We found the heifers right away and got them back to winter pasture.”