Mountain Mare (9 page)

I
t's a joke, Sam tried to tell herself. A cliché, even.

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Gram had said just a few days ago when Dad opened the oven to look at a baking cake and burned his finger.

When Linc Slocum said it, though, Sam got chills.

And now Jen was answering Lynn's question, without knowing what Linc had muttered.

“What we did when Shy Boots was missing—” Jen paused and looked at Sam, expecting her to join in.

Sam flashed Jen a look to be quiet, hoping she didn't have to give her a kick to back it up. While Jen was trying to puzzle out Sam's frown, Lynn made things even worse.

“Who's Shy Boots?” she asked.

Finally Jen got Sam's hint.

Jen glanced back at Linc Slocum and smiled. Jen knew Linc would be able to hear. She was just including him so he wouldn't think they were gossiping.

“Shy Boots is a darling Appaloosa colt and his mother is Hotspot,” Jen told Lynn. “Hotspot belongs to Gold Dust Ranch and they were both stolen.”

Boots shuffled behind Sam. One of the men sitting with Linc tried to get a look at his face as he asked, “Is that so, Linc?”

Linc cleared his throat, stalling. Sam saw Jen's eyes blink thoughtfully behind her glasses.

Oh, no.
Jen's logical mind was reconsidering her choice of words. Technically, Ryan, Linc's son, had hidden the two horses from his father because Linc wanted to get rid of the “mongrel” foal. Later, the foal had been stolen.

“Actually—” Jen began, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Actually,” Sam cut in, “we already have a huge, gigantic, mega advantage over last time, when we were trying to find those horses,” Sam sputtered. “Because the mare's been on television!”

Jen raised her eyebrows, and her mouth twisted in a mocking grin. Even though Sam were really overdoing it, Jen went along.

“Right,” Jen said. “I bet someone's already called your station. With that mare's distinctive coloring and that trick, someone's sure to recognize her.”

“So, you're thinking,” Lynn said in a considering tone, “that the horse jumped out of someone's pasture?”

“Maybe,” Jen said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “Plus, fence posts rot, wire sags, and now and then someone leaves a gate open.”

All those ideas made sense, Sam thought as music revved up the audience for the next event. But Jen's mention of horse thieves had given Sam an idea.

While Jen told Lynn how they'd distributed flyers and checked the Internet for the missing foal, Sam decided there
could
be another explanation for a well-groomed, well-fed mare to turn up in the Pinion Pine mountains.

What if she'd been stolen?

What if the thief had been bringing her to someone who collected exotic livestock?

What if the thief was Karl Mannix and, stopping to water or exercise the mare, the thief had accidentally lost her, just as he had Hotspot?

Staring without seeing, Sam focused on the arena. Steer wrestling had begun and the announcer was attributing a missed catch to “steer snot.”

Jen heard that much, because she groaned in disgust.

Sam, however, was spinning a story that explained the mystery mare. It was improbable, maybe even far-fetched, but Karl Mannix, who hadn't yet been arrested for the theft of Hotspot and Shy Boots, could have stolen this mare elsewhere and decided to return to Gold Dust Ranch where he was sure of a sale to a man with more money than morals.

If he'd still been driving the Hummer, the arrest would have been a piece of cake, since Sheriff Ballard had made casts of the tire tracks. But a vintage Scout had been towing the trailer that had—

Wait.
A mental stop sign popped up in the middle of Sam's musing.

Diana—not Karl Mannix—had been driving the Scout.

And the trailer had been empty.

Sam shook her head.

How had she made that mental leap? She must be wearier than she'd thought. Sam glanced at her watch, then counted on her fingers. She'd been up for fifteen hours. That was why she'd jumped to a conclusion that made no sense.

“I'm going back to the studio to see if they've had any calls,” Lynn said. She half stood, then reached across to shake Jen's hand. “It's been nice meeting you, Jennifer, and if I ever need help with statistics, I'll give you a call.”

 

Since they didn't want to take a chance of being late meeting Sam's dad at Gate C, the girls slipped out of their grandstand seats before the fireworks began.

Linc's glare followed them. Sam felt it between her shoulder blades. Apparently Jen did, too.

“You know he's taking it personally that we're leaving before the fireworks he paid for,” Jen muttered.

Sam nodded, but she didn't say anything until they'd left the grandstands and started toward the barns.

“He's already mad at us, but my Dad isn't,” Sam said. “And he will be, if we're late getting the horses out to Gate C. I mean, this is kind of a big favor. Dad's usually asleep by ten o'clock and up again at four.”

“My dad, too,” Jen said as they walked past uniformed Girl Scouts who were picking up litter before the rodeo grounds closed for the night. “So Linc's whole ‘you're ruining my reputation' thing is about wanting to be part of the Rodeo Association?” Jen asked.

“That's what he told me,” Sam said. “You know, he needs to grow up.” Sam looked around quickly to be sure she hadn't been overheard.

“He sure does,” Jen said, sounding grim.

Sam knew she should be quiet. It was easy for her to be mad, but Linc Slocum's attitude was even
harder for Jen to take. Linc was her dad's boss. Jen's family lived on Linc's ranch, and it had once been their own.

“Don't you think it's just like school?” Sam asked Jen. “He doesn't care about rodeo. He just wants to be part of the popular clique.”

Ace's neigh rang out from the barns. Even before she could see him, Ace had heard her coming.
Or maybe smelled her,
Sam thought. It had been a long, dusty time since last night's shower.

“There's your pal,” Jen said.

Sam smiled. She could always count on Ace to cheer her up.

They were almost at the barn when the fireworks ended.

Behind them, Sam heard parents urging cranky children toward the parking lot. Some car engines were already starting up.

“Looks like someone else came to see his horse,” Sam said.

A single figure stood spotlighted by the barn lights. It was a guy, probably a little older than Jake. He wore khaki pants and a polo shirt. He looked very preppy and out of place.

“Uh-huh,” Jen said, then she caught Sam's arm and stopped her. “Give him a minute. It sounds like he's getting all mushy with his horse, and you know he'd be embarrassed.”

The guy held out his hand for the horse to sniff.

“Hey, lass, you remember me, don't you?”

Lass?
Is that what he'd said?

Sam didn't shuffle her feet, but she leaned forward as if she could pick up his prattle to the horse more clearly. Then she recognized the horse.

“He's—” Sam began.

“Shh,” Jen said, but she'd noticed, too.

He was standing outside the chocolate mare's stall.

Jen's shushing must have carried, because the guy turned toward them.

“Pretty horses,” he called, moving down a stall to peer inside. “Are they yours?”

“A couple of them are,” Jen shouted back.

Then they started walking again.

Sam felt disappointed. “Too bad. I thought her owner had shown up.”

“Me, too,” Jen said. “Didn't I hear him right? I thought he asked if she remembered him.”

“I thought so, too,” Sam said.

At the same moment, she and Jen lengthened their strides, but they were too late to ask the guy what he'd meant.

By the time they reached the pool of light, he'd already darted around the end of the barn and blended into the crowd of rodeogoers headed for home.

 

After greeting their horses, who seemed quite at ease in their temporary homes, Sam and Jen began deciding whether they should ride Ace and Silly to Gate C instead of leading them.

“It's up to you,” Jen said. “Which do you think will keep Ace calmer?”

“I don't know. He's never acted skittish before.” Sam regarded the bay mustang. Head hanging over the stall door, he watched the crowd move past, then turned to her with ears trembling at the tips. He was asking a question, too.

“You'd have more control in the saddle,” Jen mused.

“
You'd
have more control in the saddle,” Sam said. “I'm not so sure about me. But I guess we could hope for that whole herd mentality thing and have him follow Silly.”

“Yeah, and I think people are less likely to want to come up and pet him if you're riding him,” Jen suggested.

While they saddled the horses, Sam worried about the chocolate mare.

She wasn't part of Hal's rodeo remuda, so who would take care of her? He probably had a groom come around and feed all the horses in the barn. And if there was an emergency, like a fire or an outbreak of a virus or something, they wouldn't leave her
behind. Still, she was nobody's horse, and that was kind of sad.

Mounted up with ten minutes to spare, Sam and Jen started toward the gate.

Think like a horse,
Sam told herself.
A scared horse.

At first she thought Ace had recovered from his jitters. He didn't shy at a spinning pinwheel that was being brandished by toddler. He didn't mind the boy swinging his rolled rodeo program like a baseball bat. Ace didn't even notice the German shepherd in training as a companion dog. But when a water truck followed the crowd out of the rodeo grounds spraying a faint waterfall behind it to keep down the dust, Ace spotted it.

“You're not scared of that,” Sam said confidently, but she shortened her reins and firmed her legs. “Would it scare you less if you could take a good long look at it? Or should I just hurry you on?”

Ace's ears flicked back to catch Sam's voice, but his choppy stride gave her no hints. So when Jen moved Silly into a quicker walk, Sam followed. It looked like the right decision.

Ace was almost past the truck when its waterfall shut off and some pump within the truck made a sound like a low, liquid groan.

Muscles flexed in the gelding's shoulder and his forelegs left the ground as he whirled away.

This time, Sam was ready for him. He'd veered
left, so she kept him turning in that direction until he'd made a complete circle. She and Ace were both taking short breaths by the time he was facing back in the original direction.

“Follow Silly's pretty white tail,” Sam said. Even though her voice shook, she got the words out.

And Ace did just what she'd asked him to do.

They reached Gate C at 9:55. It was on the far side of the fairgrounds, and most of the cars were streaming out of Gates A and B.

Sam and Jen waited patiently. While the horses sniffed for weeds growing up through cracks in the asphalt, the girls stared wearily after red taillights that were streaming toward the town of Darton.

“Do you think someone around here owns her?” Sam said suddenly.

“The mare?” Jen asked. “I don't know, but it's only been a few hours since she was on television. Someone will turn up.”

When Sam's sigh slipped out, Jen said, “She'll be fine. No one can ignore such a cool, well-mannered horse.”

They lapsed into silence.

Could I fall asleep in the saddle?
Sam wondered.

“It's ten fifteen,” Jen said. She was staring at her watch—not annoyed, but just taken by surprise. “What do you think?”

Sam shook her head. The worry she'd been feeling
over Ace and the mare merged with this new concern.

“Dad's never late.”

“This rodeo traffic is probably slowing him down,” Jen said, but at ten thirty, when Dad still hadn't shown up, Sam knew something was wrong.

“What if I ride back to the phone booth and call?” Jen asked.

“Call who? My dad or your parents?”

“Either one,” Jen said. “It's late, but if I know my mother, she's waiting up. Not only that; she will have calculated—down to the minute—how long it should take your dad to drive from here to Gold Dust Ranch. She'll freak out if I'm not home on time. Even if she's dozed off, I know she'd rather have me wake her up than sit there fretting.”

“You're right,” Sam said, but then both horses' heads flew up from snacking.

“We can quit worrying,” Jen said as a truck pulling a Gold Dust Ranch stock trailer eased through the gate. “
My
dad's here.”

Jen sounded relieved as her father drove past them and pulled over, but the sight of Jed Kenworthy instead of her own dad made Sam even more anxious.

The truck door opened and Jed jumped down, strong and thin, but his light-brown hair looked gray under the fairground lights and the droopy corners of his eyes made him look sad.

“My dad—”

“He's fine,” Jed told Sam. His hand made a dismissing gesture as if whatever was wrong wasn't worth worrying about. “Let's get these horses loaded.”

“But what's wrong?” Sam insisted.

Impatience flickered across Jed's sun-lined face. He was a tough man. When drought and low cattle prices had forced him to sell the Diamond K Ranch to Linc Slocum, he hadn't taken his money and fled the high desert. He'd stayed as foreman on the renamed Gold Dust Ranch, and Jed had never let Linc squash his “I'm the boss” attitude.

Now he expected her to do as she was told without explanation.

Well, I have a stubborn streak, too,
Sam thought.

She stayed in the saddle, waiting, as Jen dismounted.