Kidnapped Colt (4 page)

As they trudged uphill, Sam wished she'd been wearing anything but sneakers. They'd been great for working with Tempest this morning, but the smooth soles slipped as she hurried to stay beside Hotspot.

Even so, she tried to stay alert for signs of wild horses. With luck, Shy Boots' troubled nickers wouldn't draw predators.

“We've got to make him stop that,” she told Ryan.

“He's just an infant. What do you expect?” Ryan didn't sound concerned as he shifted the fencing to his other shoulder and kept walking.

“I'm not trying to be mean,” Sam said. “But every animal around here will recognize the sound of a small animal in distress. He won't be safe.”

Ryan's shoe slipped on a patch of skree. He fought for balance, managing not to drop the roll of fencing, but he sounded frustrated as he went on. “I
trust he'll be weary when we reach our destination and he'll fall asleep.”

Sam hoped Ryan was right, but she had no faith in his prediction. She had a bad feeling about this.

Secret or not, she planned to tell Dad the minute he got home.

S
weat burned Sam's eyes. She'd already pushed her shirt sleeves above her elbows and tugged her collar open. She couldn't do much else to keep cool.

We were idiots not to bring a canteen,
she thought.
No, I'm the idiot,
she corrected herself.

Ryan had been living in England, not Nevada. She couldn't expect him to be prepared, or to realize that even if he saw water, he shouldn't drink it.

Last week the box canyon had held a pool of snowmelt water that had been fine for the cattle, and it would probably be all right for the horses, but she knew humans could get all kinds of yucky intestinal sicknesses from water that wasn't freeflowing. She'd have to be totally desperate to take a drink there.

Sam was beginning to wonder if the trick she'd read about, holding a pebble in your mouth and sucking on it, really calmed your thirst, when she spotted tan cottonwood leaves standing out against the sky just beyond an outcropping of rock.

And there was the fallen tree with a black lightning scar on its trunk. She and Jen had seen it last week, just before Linc and the deerhounds exploded onto the trail.

“We're almost there,” Sam said, striding out with a spurt of energy.

Responding to Sam's voice and the scent of water, Hotspot surged ahead. Sam jogged to keep up.

The box canyon was perfect for the horses.

Ryan dropped the roll of plastic fencing and stood watching as Hotspot and Shy Boots sucked in long swallows of water from the pool.

Sam didn't join his contemplation. She started building the barrier across the mouth of the canyon. It had been easy when she and Jen worked together, but now she grappled with the fencing. Any minute Ryan should notice she needed help.

He didn't.

“This took two of us last time,” Sam hinted, but Ryan gave no sign that he heard her.

Sam sniffed and felt a twinge along her cheekbone.

This'll look great to meet the HARP girls,
she thought as the plastic fence tried to curl out of her grasp.
Maybe I'll even get a black eye
.

Time was slipping away. She had to get back to River Bend before Dad and Brynna did.

“Hey, Ryan,” Sam called. Her voice silenced the birds on the quiet hillside. “I could use some help here.”

“Sorry,” he said. Then, as she watched, he gave Shy Boots's neck a hug. “I'm just saying good-bye.”

Just saying good-bye.
Alarm tightened Sam's chest.

“Ryan, it's only going to be a few hours until you see them again.” Sam waited as Ryan pushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead. “Right?”

Ryan blushed.

Like most guys, he hid his feelings, covering his love for the horses by getting busy. He took the staple gun from Sam and held it at an awkward angle.

“Explain the way of this, if you please,” Ryan said. “And we'll be out of here.”

 

They were nearly finished.

Sam stood inside the fence, facing Ryan across it.

The horses dozed in the shade behind her. Sam held the last section of fencing taut while Ryan prepared to place the final staple.

Blinking against a dazzling sun, Sam looked past Ryan and spotted the Phantom.

He hadn't approached from the trail. His hooves hadn't disturbed a single pebble. Sam couldn't guess which instinct made her notice him, off to the left of
the faint trail leading up to Cowkiller Caldera.

The stallion hid in a tangle of juniper. Its three tallest branches speared skyward like a trident. Neck high in the brush, he would have been invisible, if the sky had been overcast. But it wasn't.

Sunlight picked out dapples that shone like silver coins on the Phantom's pale coat.

His ropey white forelock all but hid his eyes. Still, Sam knew this stallion, the most magnificent horse in the world, was watching her.

The stallion lifted his head and all at once he was crowned with a nimbus of sunlight.

She felt, rather than saw, the tremor move along his throat as he uttered a silent greeting.

Zanzibar
. Sam sent out his secret name.

The stallion's Arab-fine ears cupped forward. It was so easy to imagine he heard her thoughts.

“Sam? You look utterly transfixed,” Ryan said. “Hypnotized. What—?”

Go,
Sam thought.
Run, boy
.

How could she have forgotten Ryan had kept Golden Rose, the last of the Kenworthy palominos, for his own, until she and Jen had discovered the hidden stall in the ghost town?

Jen had forgiven him, but Sam felt wary.

Ryan's father would do anything to possess the silver stallion. If Ryan saw him and wanted him, could the Phantom outwit them both?

Sam didn't want Ryan to have even a glimpse of the Phantom.

She forced her eyes skyward. Her mind fumbled for distracting words. She must have looked panicky, not casual, because Ryan turned away in a half crouch, ready for trouble.

“Water!” Sam blurted loudly. “I feel weird. I think I need a drink of water.”

But Sam was an awful actress. And a worse liar. Besides, dust hung where the stallion had been. Anyone could see it, and Ryan did.

“What was it?” he demanded. “Tell me.”

Hotspot kept Sam from lying.

As if she'd just now caught the stallion's scent, the Appaloosa rushed forward at a trot. Snorting, she stopped beside Sam.

“A mustang,” Sam admitted. “I told you they were up here.”

Ryan looked thoughtful, not excited. Did you have to be Western born to love mustangs, to feel the vaulting excitement and a yearning to run beside them, if only in your dreams?

Sam didn't think so, but Ryan's handsome face remained blank.

Hotspot's didn't. Head leveled as if she were frozen in a gallop, the mare stared after the mustang. When Sam tried to give Hotspot a gentle pat, the mare shook her head and moved out of reach.

“It wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen,” Ryan said.

Was he talking to himself?

“What wouldn't be the worst thing?” Sam asked.

Ryan hesitated, then came out with it.

“If Hotspot were to be taken into some stallion's herd.”

Sam had just about gathered the strength to tell Ryan, again, why it was a really bad idea, when her eyes strayed to her watch.

“Oh my gosh, I've got to get back. Dad and Brynna could be there already. Ryan, help me get this stuff picked up. We're starting back. Now!”

He laughed at her order, then hurried to obey.

“It will be quicker getting back to the Jeep than it was climbing up,” Ryan promised. “I'll get you home in time, honest.”

He sounded determined, but twice as they slipped and slid back down the hillside, Sam caught Ryan looking behind them with a strangely thoughtful expression.

 

When they reached the truck, Ryan squatted behind it, trying to unhook the horse trailer from the Jeep.

“This isn't as easy as it looks,” he muttered.

“What are you doing?” Sam fidgeted, shuffling her feet in the dust as she looked down on him. When he still didn't answer, she suggested, “Just leave it on.”

Ryan shook his head. “Returning home with an empty horse trailer would make my father suspicious.”

“I don't see why,” Sam said. “You were supposed to leave Hotspot at Sterling Stables for a few days, right?”

“And then there's Boots,” Ryan said.

“You promised me you were going to talk with your father,” Sam reminded him.

“This is time well spent. We'll be faster without the trailer, and you
are
in a hurry,” Ryan said.

He might be right, but Sam couldn't shrug off her impatience, especially when he began muttering again.

“…wires go to brake lights…”

Sam's hands curled into tighter fists. Could she possibly reach home before Dad and Brynna? If not, she'd be in trouble, and she'd have an audience for it.

Jen would be there, and so would Mikki and the new HARP girl, Gina.

Oh, she'd make a great impression. She'd be late, in trouble, and—she tried an experimental smile, then gasped in pain—she'd have a black eye from Tempest's hoof.

“Just leave the trailer on,” Sam ordered.

Again, Ryan gave a stubborn shake of his head.

“That thing has beaten you. Admit it.”

“Give it a rest,” Ryan snarled. “I won't be beaten by an inanimate object.”

Could she just shove Ryan away from the trailer hitch and drag him to the driver's seat? Sam was
considering it when Ryan gave a triumphant laugh.

“Got it!” he said, standing to rub greasy hands together.

He leaned his weight against the horse trailer and shoved the bolt closed, but Sam was already climbing into the Jeep and snapping her seat belt.

As soon as Ryan started the truck, Sam began formulating the script for her talk with Jen. First, she'd ask why Jen had told Ryan about the box canyon in the first place. Next, she'd ask why Jen thought the horses would be safe in the box canyon. Last, she'd recommend that Jen upgrade her taste in guys.

S
am stood by the kitchen sink, chugging down a third glass of water. Ryan had dropped her at the River Bend bridge and sped away.

Sam had missed lunch, but Gram hadn't seemed to care. She'd just looked up from pulling weeds in her garden long enough to ask, “How's that cut?”

So Sam made her own lunch, slicing a slab of wheat bread from the loaf, then smearing it with cherry jam and peanut butter. It had been a fine lunch, but it had only magnified her thirst.

“Jen's here,” Gram called from outside.

Sam peered out in time to see Silk Stockings, a palomino mare so skittish that Jen called her Silly, jog across the ranch yard.

“Yes!” Sam said to herself. This was going to work out great.

Dad and Brynna had called to say they'd been delayed at the airport. She and Jen would have time to turn Silly out into the ten-acre pasture, choose the beds they wanted in the bunkhouse before the other girls arrived, and still be able to discuss Ryan and the hidden horses.

Sam knew she'd have to be a little bit careful when they talked about Ryan. Though Jen was analytical and levelheaded regarding most subjects, she had a major crush on Ryan. That might force logic to take a backseat to affection.

“Hi!” Sam called. As she hurried outside and stepped down from the porch, the first thing she noticed was Jen's clothes.

She wasn't wearing any eye-searing neon colors.

Instead, Jen wore fresh jeans and a blue flowered shirt. Was she trying to look more adult for her first day as a HARP counselor?

As she dismounted, Jen glanced over her shoulder, and gave Sam an appraising look, too.

“You trying to look tougher than the HARP girls?” Jen asked as she tossed her reins over the hitching rail.

“No,” Sam said slowly.
Tougher?
What could Jen mean? Then, she remembered her bandaged cheek. “Oh, this? I just had a disagreement with Tempest.”

Jen gave her a half smile. “Does it hurt?”

“Not really.”

“Good thing,” Jen said, and rushed toward Sam. “This is going to be so fun!”

Jen's white-blond braids flew as she twirled Sam in a hug.

“Absolutely!” Sam answered, and when they stood back to grin at each other, she saw Jen's shirt more clearly.

It wasn't a bit grown-up.

The dark blue on Jen's pale denim shirt wasn't flowers. The pattern was made up of slogans. “Ornery cowgirl,” “Shut up and ride,” and “Bronc rider in braids.” Silhouettes of cowgirls in action were interspersed with the words.

“I love your shirt!” Sam said, turning Jen so that she could read each saying.

“This one's for you.” Jen looked down and pointed to a design near her right shoulder.

“‘Doin' the moo cow boogie,'” Sam read.

The illustration next to that one showed a cowgirl entangled in her own rope with a crazy cow bucking on the other end.

“You're funny,” Sam said, then stuck her tongue out at Jen, who knew she really needed practice at roping.

Still smiling, Jen swept the ten-acre pasture with her gaze, then leaned right and stared past Sam, toward the barn.

“Are they in there?” Jen asked quietly.

Sam didn't ask who
they
were. She knew Jen was talking about Ryan's horses.

“No,” Sam said.

“In the round pen?” Jen guessed, with a blush.

Sam hadn't meant her tone to sound as if Jen were simpleminded, but
she'd
been the one to tell Ryan about the box canyon, so she should know where the horses were.

“You girls have everything under control?” Gram asked as she came over, wiping her earth-smeared hands on her jeans.

Jen continued to look around the ranch yard. Then she began to frown.

Sam felt queasy. She'd known something wasn't right! But Gram was waiting for an answer.

“Yep, we've planned everything,” Sam said. “Since Mikki's handled Dark Sunshine before, she'll work with Jake every morning, gentling Sunny.”

“If Jake cooperates,” Jen grumbled.

“He'd better,” Sam said, “because we'll be working with Gina. I don't know how much she's ridden, but Popcorn will be nice to her.”

“Of course he will,” Gram said. “That horse pays back every moment of kindness you give him.”

“Jen and I will take turns instructing Gina. Like, Jen will tell her what to do on Popcorn, while I show her on Ace,” Sam rushed on.

“In the afternoons the girls will switch,” Jen explained. “Mikki will ride Popcorn while Jake
instructs and I'll demonstrate on Penny.”

“While they do that, Gina and I will gentle Tempest. If she's nice,” Sam added.

“Is that cheek feeling pretty sore?” Gram asked.

For a second, Sam didn't understand how Gram's question fit in. Then, she did.

“I didn't mean Tempest,” Sam told her. “Of course
she'll
be nice. I was talking about Gina!”

Gram laughed and so did Jen, but Sam could tell her friend was still eager to find out what had happened to the missing Appaloosas.

“I should have guessed that,” Gram said. “But you remember to keep that cut clean, dear.” Then she gave them each a hug, making sure her soiled gloves didn't dirty their shirts. “Good job, girls.”

“Congratulate us later,” Jen said. “It's all theory so far. Don't forget we have to get Jake to talk to the girls. And we have to keep our fingers crossed that the girls are teachable.”

“They will be,” Sam said. “At least Mikki. She's so proud to be coming back as a reward for finishing her classes, and she loves Popcorn.”

As Gram waved and returned to her garden, Jen lowered her voice near a whisper. “Where did you put them?”

“Where did you tell him to put them?”

“Here,” Jen said gesturing with one hand.

“He said you told him about the box canyon.”

“I did, but—” Behind her perfectly clean glasses,
Jen's blue eyes widened. “Don't tell me you left Hotspot and Shy Boots up there?”

“Because you
said
to—”

“I did not!”

“He said, you said—”

“Sam, you of all people know better than that!” Jen's voice soared in amazement. “Even if
I'd
suffered total brain failure,
you've
been attacked by a cougar, you know—”

“Everything all right, girls?” Gram called.

“Well, we've got to go get them,” Jen insisted. “That's all there is to it.”

“Ryan said he would, as soon as he's had it out with his dad.”

Jen sighed. “I don't know, Sam. Linc's in Winnemucca. Didn't he tell you?”

“When he gets back, Ryan's going to confront him.”

Jen's expression was a mix of skepticism and hope.

Since they'd ignored her question, Gram returned to listen. “Are you talking about the HARP girls?”

“Yeah,” Jen said. “What did she do?”

The conversation was switching around too quickly. Sam pressed the heels of her hands to her temples as she asked, “Who?”

“Gina, the other HARP girl,” Jen said, gently.

“I've already heard this sad story,” Gram said.

“She's a burglar,” Sam said, watching as Gram walked away.

“A b—” Jen's eyes widened once more. “A twelve-year-old girl burglar?”

“Yep.”

“That's like real criminal behavior.”

“Criminal,” Sam pronounced the word slowly. “Like someone who'd steal two horses?”

Jen glanced after Gram.

“It's not the same thing at all, Sam,” Jen said, once she was sure Gram was out of earshot. “Those horses belong to the Slocums. He didn't steal them. This is a family problem. I mean, my parents were talking about it before they left, wondering if Ryan would do something.”

“Well, he did,” Sam said.

“I know, and I'm proud of him,” Jen said. “In a twisted, pathetic way, it's the right thing to do.”

Sam smiled. This sounded more like Jen.

“He should have talked Linc out of this or gotten help from another adult—like your dad,” Sam said.

When Jen's hands perched on her hips, Sam knew she'd gone too far in criticizing the boy Jen liked.

“Look, Sam,” Jen said, “can you always make your dad see your point of view?”

“Of course not—”

“Neither can I, and Ryan can't, either. In fact, I think he has more trouble in that department than we do.”

Sam nodded energetically, but kept her lips pressed together.

“Still, what he did is no big deal. Neither of you did anything wrong. No one can say you did.”

Just then, Blaze crawled out from the cool shade under the bunkhouse porch. He frisked through the flock of Rhode Island Red hens, then turned toward the bridge.

His tail-wagging, open-mouthed greeting had to mean Dad and Brynna were coming.

Sam wished she were that excited to face her parents, but she wasn't.

Gram's yellow Buick bumped over the River Bend bridge, driven by Dad. Sam could see a flurry of backseat movement from here and despite her worry, she smiled. She didn't know about Gina, but she could guess Mikki would be going nuts.

After a rocky start, Mikki had grown to love everything about River Bend Ranch, especially the horses.

Dad had barely stopped the car when a door burst open and Mikki emerged. She seemed to roll out and onto her feet like a stunt woman.

“Sam!” Mikki shouted, but she didn't run over to her.

Mikki whirled, arms outstretched, as if she'd hug the white house, the horses, the cottonwood trees, and the watering troughs. “Oh my gosh, this is like a dream!”

As Mikki threw back her head for a deep breath, her wispy blond hair looked like disheveled feathers.
Her arms curled around her ribs, hugging herself as if even the smell of the ranch delighted her.

“Is she crazy?” Jen asked quietly.

“Maybe,” Sam said, “but I'm the same kind of crazy. I felt just like that when I got back from San Francisco.”

Mikki burst into a run that took her halfway across the ranch yard. Then suddenly she skidded to a stop. She looked back at the girl who was just climbing out of the car.

Impatiently, Mikki rubbed her palms on her jeans and waited.

Maybe she was just being considerate of the other girl, but Sam guessed Mikki had felt suddenly self-conscious.

Maybe seeing Jen or remembering Gina reminded Mikki that she and Sam didn't know each other that well.

Despite the voice in her conscience urging her to confess the horse theft to Dad, Sam wanted Mikki to enjoy their reunion, so she resisted the urge to run over to the car while Dad was getting out.

“C'mon,” Sam said, touching Jen's arm. “You'll like Mikki—if you remember she's three years younger than we are, and she hasn't done that well in school.”

“I'm not a show-off, am I?” Jen asked.

“Of course not,” Sam said.

Jen couldn't help how smart she was, but Sam
knew from Mikki's last trip here in October that she got defensive when she didn't understand something.

Jen kept walking.

“Thanks, I won't make her feel dumb.” Jen pushed her glasses up her nose. “That's what you meant, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Sam admitted. “But in the nicest possible way.”

“I can do that,” Jen said.

Mikki was tinier than Sam remembered. Her head reached about an inch above Sam's shoulder.

Clearly uneasy, Mikki raised her chin and put her hands on her hips, but she didn't wear the “grudge against the world” glare she'd had before.

In fact, Sam thought, if she'd been in Mikki's place, she'd feel kind of cranky, too, guessing Jen probably knew the worst about her—like the fact that she'd gotten into the HARP program by being a bad kid, and she'd nearly burned down the River Bend barn with a carelessly tossed cigarette.

Now, Mikki yawned as if she didn't really care, but her eyes were wary.

“I'm so glad to see you.” Sam gave Mikki's shoulders a one-armed hug, then she turned back to Jen. “Mikki, this is Jen Kenworthy. She's a world-class rider, a future vet, and my best friend. That gorgeous palomino mare over there is hers, and both of them are going to be here all week.”

Silly turned her golden head as far from the
hitching rack as her reins would allow, then nickered.

“She's beautiful,” Mikki sighed, and Jen and Sam laughed in a shared feeling.

Someone who didn't love horses might scold Mikki for talking about Silly before acknowledging the introduction to Jen. Among the three of them, though, that made perfect sense.

“And she knows it,” Jen said as the mare shook her creamy mane and pawed with a front hoof. “Her name is Silk Stockings, but we call her Silly.” When Mikki made a despairing sound, Jen added, “Silly has a well-earned reputation for being ditzy.”

Mikki looked down, as if the mention of reputation had stirred her embarrassment.

“I don't know what anybody's told you about me, but I'm not like that anymore,” Mikki said. “This semester at school I made up all the credits I lost from cutting and stuff, and I passed all my new classes, too.”

“Sounds like you worked harder than I did,” Sam said.

“I did it so I come back here,” Mikki said, still watching Jen. “So, I don't want you thinking I'm a screwup.”

“No,
I'm
the screwup.”

Sam turned toward the voice and saw a girl who looked like a boy.

Sam took the thought back almost instantly.

A blue baseball cap hid her hair, dark glasses
covered her eyes, and a loose T-shirt nearly reached the knees of her jeans. She was thin and agile looking, too, but Gina's face was rosy and pretty.

“Hi, I'm Sam and this is my friend Jen. We—”

“
I'm
Gina Lucca.”