Secret Star (12 page)

A
cool breeze blew through the kitchen window. Sam smelled dry grass crackling under the rain.

She stood at the kitchen counter making grilled cheese sandwiches after all, thinking that there was a certain freedom to being home alone.

When the kitchen door opened, she thought for a second that it might have been snatched wide open by the wind, but it was Dad.

How could she have forgotten that he and the hands were haying? What kind of ranch kid forgot rain could damage hay, ruining an entire crop?

But Dad was grinning as the door slammed behind him.

“Got every bit of hay in before it even started
drizzling,” he boasted, “so you'd better make more of whatever it is your gonna throw in that frying pan.”

Sam pumped her fist toward the ceiling.

“That's great!” she said, then turned back to the sandwiches she was assembling. The pressure was on to make them especially good, but she smiled as she worked.

When the bread was toasted golden and the cheese was melted and gooey the way she liked it, Sam lifted the sandwiches up with a spatula and thumped them down on plates.

Dad looked more than happy with the result.

“Oh, yeah.” His voice was a ravenous rumble as he grabbed the sandwich and took a bite.

“I could cut that,” Sam offered, but Dad shook his head.

They both still stood at the counter, eating and drinking glasses of milk, when Dad asked, “How're you doing? I thought you might be a little blue over Sweetheart.”

“I'm okay now,” Sam said, sighing. “Is that why you came back early?”

“Not really,” Dad said. “I was good and sick of haying.”

“I know you hate it,” Sam said, taking a sip of milk.

“It's not all that bad,” Dad said. “Haying's like anything else. You've just gotta look at it with the
proper attitude. We've got plenty for ourselves and I'm getting a premium price for what's left from that scallywag Caleb Sawyer. Seems like he's got lots of dudes making reservations for that backcountry hunting operation of his.”

Sam shook her head.

“I know,” Dad agreed. “That's bound to cause someone trouble, but for now, it's helpin' us out. Caleb has to use hay that's certified free of noxious weeds—like ours—and haul it along with him to feed his saddle horses and pack animals. Maybe that'll slow him and his customers down enough so they don't stir up too much mischief.”

Sam smiled. She rarely heard Dad this talkative and she was really enjoying it.

“So you're all done?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, strange thing today, though, I was thinking about this medieval movie Inez and them are shootin', and thinking about what I learned in school, that during the days of the Roman legions, Julius Caesar and his sort noticed that birds followed their troop movements. All kinds of birds, but mostly scavengers,” Dad said, giving her a sideways look.

Sam recoiled and shivered a little. “Because the birds learned there'd be—”

“Yeah,” Dad said, “stuff left on the battlefields after the day was done.

“Well today, when we got close to the field where
we were finishing up haying, I noticed every telephone wire, power line, fence post and tree was covered with birds, watching and waiting.”

“Scavenger birds?” Sam asked.

“Them, and hawks, sparrows, magpies, ravens, every kinda bird you see around here. Once we'd moved through with the tractor, the small birds went after the bugs that fell out of the hay. The ravens went after the field mice from nests we'd turned over and the hawks came down after the gophers from tunnels we'd plowed up.”

“That's sad,” Sam said.

Dad nodded, but the thoughtful look on his face wasn't melancholy.

“We humans have never been too shy about takin' what we need. This time, at least we left behind a feast for the birds.”

Sam tried to agree, but when she put herself in the place of the furry creatures suddenly left homeless and out in the open, she shivered.

“I know,” Dad said, again, “here's animals who've been protected all season, just exposed like that—”

For no good reason, Sam pictured Jake, range born and bred, leaving rural Nevada for a far-off college.

“And what do you think happened next?”

“I don't know,” Sam said quickly, “what?”

“One of those little critters, some kind of rodent—I'm not sure what, it happened so fast—got
up on her hind legs, chattered at a raven, and actually bit him on the claw, right there!” Dad rubbed his index finger as he laughed. “Then the raven flew off and she went about finding her hole in the ground.”

“That's amazing,” Sam said, and her thoughts circled back to Jake again, thinking of how he'd said stubbornness and determination could take you the same place bravery did.

Sam smiled. Some little rodent had proved him right.

 

Rain had softened into a fine mist by five o'clock in the morning, when Sam stepped off the front porch. She wore boots, jeans, and a brown hooded sweatshirt over her tee-shirt.

“You should wear a slicker. That's not going to do much but soak up rain, you know,” Gram called after her.

“I think it'll stop soon,” Sam said. “Besides, we're riding in the truck.”

Gram tsked her tongue, but she didn't insist. Sam guessed that since she'd actually eaten her bowl of oatmeal, Gram chose to be satisfied with that.

Bayfire had already been loaded into the trailer, but Inez was pacing beside it and hadn't bolted the tailgate into place yet.

“Do you mind if we take Ace along?” Inez said.

Sam shot Inez a suspicious look and the trainer
held both hands up, laughing. “I've got nothing planned for him except keeping my boy company. Really, Sam, I've been thinking about it, and apparently wild horses are like flint and steel for him.”

Sam had no idea what she was talking about.

“No wait, I'll explain. You know how you can start a fire with—”

“Flint and steel,” Sam finished, nodding.

She'd actually done that in a science class and remembered the spark that set off a little pile of dryer lint they'd used for tinder. It had made a quick blaze of light. She thought of Bayfire's reaction to the Phantom yesterday. Maybe what Inez was saying made sense.

“Ace is the closest thing we have to a wild horse,” Inez added.

“That's fine, then,” Sam said, and hurried to catch Ace.

At least he was getting credit from Inez, she thought, remembering how Pepper had implied that Ace was just a dull little horse, and also how much he admired Violette. She wished Pepper was around so she could tell him that Ace was acting as an inspiration to a movie horse.

She was on her way to the tack room for a saddle and bridle when she noticed Inez shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Ace was only along for the ride, Sam thought, so she settled for the halter he was already wearing, and got ready to go.

A halo of brightness rose through the fog above Lost Canyon.

Sam leaned against the shoulder strap of her seat belt, staring through the windshield wipers that were losing the battle to swipe away the fog.

It took Sam a minute to realize the blazing movie lights were making the remote place bright as day, long before the sun rose.

Inez parked the truck. Sam climbed out and breathed in moisture. She smelled wet rocks, the moist herbal scent of sagebrush, and something cooking up ahead.

Like a gray tent, the fog muffled all sounds except for the ones within reach. As Sam and Inez backed the horses and led them toward the movie set, both animals danced on clattering hooves.

Sam's head swiveled from side to side. Her eyes strained, trying to see through the fog, searching for the Phantom. There were no mustangs in sight, but would she see the silver stallion, hiding in the frosty mist?

“I think they're just excited,” Sam said to Inez.

The trainer nodded, and Sam really felt their age difference. Inez wasn't worried. She'd worked in dozens of movies, and today was just part of her job.

“Why do they call it Lost Canyon?” Inez asked.

“You're just trying to keep me from being nervous,” Sam accused.

“Fat chance,” Inez joked. “Really, I want to know, if you can tell me.”

So Sam gave Inez the short version of the legend.

She'd just finished the sad story of blue-uniformed cavalrymen slaughtering Indian ponies to put warriors afoot, when the mourning cry of a lone coyote drifted through the fog.

The horses hesitated. Sam shivered and tried to think of something comforting to say. Inez might be the movie expert, but the range was Sam's territory, so she gave a halfhearted laugh and said, “He's out late.”

“I'm not scared,” Inez said, quickening her pace. “This old canyon will just have to wait for another day to add some tragedy to its legend,” Inez said, “because everything's going to go just fine, today.”

Sam looked up.

I'm not going up there.

It wasn't just the height that scared her or the fact that Ace wore only a halter. Ace's hooves, hardened from years of galloping over ancient lava beds, were sure-footed. He'd get her up there, but she couldn't shake memories of the cougar that had attacked her in Lost Canyon, and Flick, the horse rustler who'd threatened Jake with a rifle. She would let Inez feel confident and safe as she rode up to the waterfall, but she'd also let her ride alone.

And then, the warmth and brightness of the lights, the scurry of active workers, and the smell of donuts made Sam feel safe, too.

“Does everyone wear headphones?” Sam asked as they tied the horses in a shelter then walked to the
area where Inez would be made up.

“Just about,” she said. “Keeps things running smooth. I've got to go check on a few things, so make yourself at home, just”—Inez glanced toward a woman whose copper-colored hair curved in a cap around her face—“stay clear of Candice.”

Sam noticed everyone was doing just that. Although the movie set was crowded, a space of several yards surrounded the small woman.

Sam wandered around, then noticed someone had led Bayfire into a tent. There, someone actually put some kind of horse makeup on Bayfire and adjusted a lightweight saddle on his back. She felt out of place amid the cameras and cords and high-intensity lights. People with clipboards and equipment rushed around her and there seemed to be nowhere Sam could stand without being in the way.

Dr. Scott, with his blond hair glinting and the lenses of his black-rimmed glasses shining, was a welcome sight.

Sam didn't interrupt his examination of Bayfire.

“Settle down, there,” the vet coaxed, and the stallion seemed to understand. “Just settle, boy. I'll be done with you in a minute.”

Dr. Scott listened to the stallion's heartbeat, then removed the earpieces of his stethoscope and left the instrument hanging around his neck. “Heart's going a mile a minute,” he said to himself. But then, he must have noticed Sam standing nearby, because he turned.

“Hi, Dr. Scott,” Sam said, shivering inside her wet sweatshirt.

“Hey Sam,” Dr. Scott said. “Big fun, huh?”

“For me,” she said. “I don't have to do anything but watch. Is Bayfire okay?”

“Nothing to frown about,” Dr. Scott said, patting the horse. “He's just a pretty high-strung animal.”

He was, and that probably explained his fast heartbeat, but should she tell Dr. Scott about the mustangs?

“We're ready,” Inez announced.

As the trainer took Bayfire's reins from Dr. Scott, Sam noticed Inez wore makeup and a costume that looked a lot like a monk's habit.

“What's going on with your outfit?” Sam asked, but Inez waved her hands.

“You have to see the movie,” she said. “If I stand here and explain, we'll lose this ‘mystical, magical light' and drizzle they're raving about.”

“You're really ready?” Sam asked, pulling up her hood and tying it underneath her chin. Gram had been right about his sweatshirt. She felt like she was wearing a sponge. Despite all the excitement, part of her wanted to get back in the truck and turn up the heater.

Sam glanced at the shelter where she'd tied Ace. He was staying drier than she was.

“Pretty glamorous work, isn't it?” Inez joked through chattering teeth, at the same time that she
rubbed Bayfire's neck and watched his face, as if trying to read his mind.

“At least you've only got one scene,” Sam said, though she felt a little sheepish. She'd never thought about the discomfort of shooting movies.

Suddenly, Bayfire was rearing.

Inez stepped closer to the horse, so near that Sam's old fear of hooves hitting her head made her duck.

That's stupid,
she told herself. She was yards away and Inez knew what she was doing. So did everyone else, Sam noticed, because crew members were scanning the area, looking for someone to blame.

Bayfire came back to earth with a slam of hooves, but he was still snorting and rolling his eyes.

“Easy,” Dr. Scott said, and he was moving to help Inez when a quick shake of her head warned him back.

Bayfire shuddered. For an instant, Sam thought the stallion was cold, but then his challenging neigh ripped through the chatter and banging of equipment and she knew the Phantom was back.

“Where?” Inez muttered without turning away from her horse.

But the drizzle formed a hissing gray curtain around them, making it impossible to see.

Sam swallowed. The Phantom could be on any ridge or outcropping, near or far, and Bayfire would probably smell him.

Inez held the stallion's reins, trying to coax him to follow her without jerking on his tender mouth. Bayfire lunged as if he were trying to break Inez's grip, but she managed to hold on.

“Never seen him pull this before,” said a short man with shaggy brown hair who was standing nearby.