The Challenger (11 page)

At that, Rachel gave a little flounce of temper, but still didn't speak.

Sam watched the car continue past redwood hitching posts with brass rings, straight ahead to the hump that had been bulldozed from the surrounding land so that the Slocums' home could be built on a man-made hilltop.

Even though Jen saw the white-pillared mansion every day, she stared, too.

“I never stop wondering why they thought it would be a good idea to build a replica of a Southern mansion in the middle of cowboy country.” Jen started up the path to her own one-story cabin. “Could a building be more misplaced?”

Sam gave the mansion one more look. She wondered which wing held Rachel's bedroom suite with hot tub and entertainment center, but she didn't ask
Jen. Sam was pretty sure her friend had never been invited inside.

“I think that place is perfect for Linc and Rachel,” said Sam as she followed Jen. Gram would be proud, Sam thought, that she hadn't said that the mansion looked stiff and show-offy, just like the people who lived there.

“We'll see if Ryan likes it,” Jen said. “I don't think he's ever been here.”

“But you have high hopes, don't you?” Sam asked as Jen opened the door to her house.

“I really do,” Jen admitted. “Sometimes, I can be quite optimistic.”

Inside Jen's house, a fire crackled in the fireplace and the scent of cinnamon mixed with wood smoke. Sam felt immediately at home.

“Hello, Samantha,” Lila Kenworthy said as she came slowly from the kitchen. “How was your day, Jen?”

“Fine, Mom.”

“Why don't you all come into the kitchen?” Lila had a faint Texas accent and short blond hair. Her blue eyes looked weary. “We'll have a snack while we wait for Helen.”

Maybe Lila was just tired, Sam thought as she drank the milky tea and ate the honey-spice cookies Jen's mother set before them.

“Mrs. Coley does a lot of sewing at our house because she only has one room up there,” Jen explained, nodding toward the Slocums' mansion.
“And the light in our living room is good most of the day.”

“I bet it's because the company's better,” Sam said, and felt pleased that Lila smiled. She couldn't really be thinking of moving, could she?

“Brynna won't be by until tonight,” Lila told Sam. “I guess you knew that?”

“No, but it doesn't matter. I've been seeing her plenty these days.”

Lila and Jen met each others' eyes.

“Things are going great,” Sam hurried to assure them. “I think we'll be fine.”

“All families have their problems,” Lila said. “But Brynna and Wyatt seem real happy whenever I see them together.”

When Mrs. Coley arrived, she showed Sam a copy of
Bride's
magazine and pointed to the dress Brynna wanted Sam to wear.

The floor-length gown had spaghetti straps and a snug bodice that narrowed down to a tight waist, then flowed into full skirts that would rustle when she walked.

“And because it's winter, I'll be making some kind of a little jacket to go over it. Lace probably,” Mrs. Coley said, tapping another picture. “And here's the material.” Mrs. Coley took a swath of shiny material from a pink paper bag.

“It's great,” Sam said. She could picture herself moving down a church aisle with formal grace, and she couldn't help wishing there'd be someone watch
ing and appreciating her.

Dad will,
she thought suddenly.

He might be marrying Brynna, but it would be the first time he'd see his daughter in a formal gown. If it looked anything like the photograph, Sam thought she'd look pretty enough to make him proud.

“Today, I'd like to get started pinning it on you,” Mrs. Coley said.

“Okay,” Sam said softly, wondering why this dress felt so important.

She stood with her arms out. Because Gram had sewn a lot of her clothes when she was little, Sam knew how to stand still while a tissue paper pattern of the dress was slipped over her head, then pulled and pinned into place.

Before Mrs. Coley was done pinning, Sam heard the rumbling of a truck outside. Tires crunched, gears made grinding sounds, and Sam heard lots of high-pitched neighs.

Jen's pale eyebrows arched above the frames of her glasses as Lila went to the window and pulled back the curtain to peer out.

Sam barely understood the words Mrs. Coley uttered through the straight pins clamped in her lips, but it sounded like, “What's all the ruckus?”

“It's a big horse van from”—Lila paused, then read—“Sterling Stables.”

Sam gasped.
Rachel had done it. She'd bought Mocha.

“I don't remember”—Mrs. Coley took the pins from her mouth and set them aside—“that we're
expecting any pickups or deliveries, do you, Lila?”

Mrs. Coley lifted the pattern off, and Sam ducked her head to avoid the pricking pins.

“No. Definitely not.” Lila's hands perched on her hips. “Jed would never schedule the arrival of a new horse when he was gone.”

“Rachel would,” Sam said.

Lila, Mrs. Coley, and Jen all turned to stare at her, in spite of the commotion outside.

“Whatever would Rachel want with a horse?” Mrs. Coley asked.

“She's been thinking about getting a Morgan mare named Mocha,” Sam answered.

“Hasn't she given up the idea of being a rodeo queen?” Lila turned to Jen.

“How would I know?” Jen snapped. “Rachel sure doesn't share her secrets with me. If Sam says Rachel wants a Morgan mare—”

Before Jen finished, the cabin door flew open so hard, it hit the wall and nearly bounced closed in Rachel's flushed and frantic face.

She was still dressed in her high-fashion clothes, but her hair wasn't sleek, and she was wobbling a little. It looked as if she'd broken the heel off one of her knee-high boots.

“You've got to help me.” Rachel gasped. “One of you who”—her hands fluttered wildly—“does horses. They got Mocha into the pen all right, but all those little ponies escaped into the mountains.”

S
am and Jen slipped past Rachel through the door and stared around the ranch yard.

Rachel couldn't possibly have lost an entire herd of ponies, could she?

A brown Morgan mare trotted up and down the front fence of the pasture that had held the ponies. It was Mocha, and she was all alone.

Mrs. Coley, Lila, Jen, and Rachel were all outside now.

“Did your father know this mare was on her way?” Lila rubbed her brow in confusion.

“No. I ordered her and I paid for her. Katie Sterling had no qualms about billing Mocha to my credit card. There weren't
any
problems.” Rachel took a long breath and added, “At first.”

As soon as Rachel was quiet, everyone else began asking questions.

“Why didn't you put the new mare in the round
pen?” “How did the ponies get loose?”

“Where did the horse van go?”

Sam couldn't tell who was asking what. Apparently, neither could Rachel, because she put her hands over her ears, then shouted, “If my dad was here, you wouldn't be ganging up on me.”

There was a moment's quiet. Then Rachel's hands fell away from her ears.

“We just want to know what happened so we can help.” Mrs. Coley kept her tone level.

Rachel looked hopefully at Sam.

“I asked before, but I guess you didn't hear me. Why didn't you have them put Mocha in the round pen by herself?” Sam asked.

“That's what that driver said, too.” Rachel's tone dismissed them both. “But Mocha is my horse, and I thought she would like being the only big horse among all those munchkins.”

Rachel nodded as if she were an expert, but Sam decided Rachel's horse psychology told more about her than it did Mocha.

“Those munchkins,” Jen said, “are registered Shetland ponies bred and raised in the Shetland Islands.”

“So they're hardy,” Mrs. Coley mused. “That's good. If this snowstorm breaks, they should be able to withstand it.”

“They're tougher, stockier, and have heavier coats
than American Shetland ponies,” Jen conceded, “but they're also smaller.”

Involuntarily, Sam looked toward the ridge.

“You're worried about that orphaned cougar, aren't you, Samantha?” Lila's voice lowered to a whisper. “That was a sorry idea from the first.”

Jen's expression flickered between anger and sympathy, then she squared her shoulders.

“Look, I don't think the ponies went far,” Jen said. “They're all tubby little guys. They like their feed. As soon as they hear me filling that manger with grain, I bet they'll come trotting back home.”

Without waiting for a second opinion, Jen headed for the barn.

“How, exactly, did this happen?” Mrs. Coley asked.

“Just the way I said!” Rachel insisted.

“I admit I'm surprised,” Lila said. “I'd heard such good things about Sterling Stables…”

Sam watched Rachel squirm as Lila continued.

“…and for that driver to just create this mess, then leave, is not reputable behavior.”

“How did the ponies escape?” Sam asked.

“The driver agreed to do what I told him, and he asked me to hold the gate open while he unloaded Mocha. And then—” Rachel shuddered. “All those furry ponies started crowding against the gate. And one of them started rubbing its little whiskery chin against my hand, and then it
nipped me!”

Rachel snatched both hands against her chest as if the terrible event had just happened again.

“So you jumped back and they all got out,” Sam said.

“The driver wanted to help catch them,” Rachel said, “but I couldn't let him.”

“Couldn't?” Mrs. Coley echoed.

Rachel lifted her nose an inch toward the sky.

“You don't know how it is. People in our position are always targets for gossip. If I'd let that man stay, he would be telling everyone he came into contact with about my ‘mistake.'”

As Rachel finished, Sam turned to Lila and Mrs. Coley. Both women looked as if they were deciding whether they should lecture Rachel or laugh at her. Everyone except Rachel could see she was responsible for this disaster.

Suddenly, Sam thought she heard raindrops. Next, she saw Jen shaking a big silver grain scoop, and the pattering sound grew louder.

Five ponies, all in shades of brown, rounded the corner of the Brahma corral at a run.

“Here they come!” Lila cheered. “Good work, honey.”

Mrs. Coley hurried ahead of Jen. She flashed her arm back and forth, making Mocha shy away. Then she opened the gate so that Jen could lead the crowding, pushing ponies through.

“How many were there?” Sam asked Rachel.

“How should I know?” Rachel laughed, amazed Sam would ask her.

Frustrated, Sam looked at Jen's mother for an answer.

“Seven, I think,” Lila said. “The one piebald and the tiniest gelding aren't with this bunch.”

“Is the tiniest one a gray with a bushy mane and tail?” Sam asked.

“That sounds more like a squirrel—” Rachel began, but Lila spoke right over her.

“That's the one,” Lila said. “He's a scamp. I bet he hightailed off somewhere and only the piebald was foolish enough to go with him.”

The slam of the pasture gate made Sam turn in time to see Mocha trot up to cautiously touch noses with the ponies. As soon as she'd bolted the gate, Jen hurried back toward Sam.

“Two are still missing. If we saddle up right now, we could find them before sundown.”

“Great,” Rachel urged. “You do that.”

“May I borrow a horse?” Sam asked.

“Sure, yeah. Take any horse you want,” Rachel said.

“Wait a minute.” Lila's arms were crossed hard and her lips made a straight line.

Sam knew Lila didn't want them riding out while the cougar was roaming nearby.

“Mom, I know what you're thinking, but there's
no way in the world I'd risk Silly by getting too close to a cougar.” Jen took a deep breath, then expelled it. “Even if it was stalking the ponies.”

Lila gave a slight nod, believing her daughter.

“As long as you bring them back safely,” Rachel added.

Sam watched Rachel's fingers flutter through her hair again and again. Was Rachel so spoiled that she didn't realize her mistake might put others, especially the ponies, in danger?

As they hurried toward the barn, Sam thought of the mare she'd borrowed on the day Rachel “disappeared.” The mare had been surefooted and steady, even when the Phantom appeared.

“I don't remember her name, but there's a pinto mare with a scarred knee,” Sam began.

“Patches. She'd be good.” Jen answered automatically, but her eyes were fixed on the ground and she chewed at her bottom lip. “I'm deciding whether to take Silly, after all.”

Sam had a sensible suggestion. Shouldn't they ride the horses that had faced the cougar and the gunfire that killed her, and then carried her body home?

This would be a bad time to make Jen mad, but Sam had to risk it. “Which horses did your dad and Linc ride? Before?”

Jen answered without hesitation, “Linc rode Champ and my dad took Sundance.”

“Wow,” Sam said, surprised. She wouldn't have
guessed either horse would stay unruffled in such loud and unfamiliar circumstances.

“Yeah, the Kenworthy palominos came through,” Jen said, sarcastically.

Jen was often sarcastic, but this time Sam couldn't figure it out. When Jen spoke again, Sam decided she must have been mistaken.

“So, I'll take Silly,” Jen said. “Do you want to ride Champ?”

Sam tried to say no. She reminded herself how steady Patches had been. But then she thought of the palomino Quarter horse Linc Slocum rode with a severe bit and heavy hands. She'd love a chance to show Champ that not all riders were cruel.

Finally, she couldn't resist.

“Yes! I'd love to ride Champ! Let's go!”

The winter sky had turned gray by the time Champ and Silly were saddled. Trying to beat the invasion of dusk, Sam and Jen set out for the ridgeline at a lope.

Side by side, the two palominos surged up the path. They were always kept in the barn, blanketed, so they didn't have shaggy winter coats. Their muscles rolled under hides that shone like gold satin.

“They look and move alike, don't they?” Sam called to Jen.

Her friend nodded, but just as there'd been something sarcastic in Jen's tone when she talked about the Kenworthy palominos before, now her mouth
twisted in a bitter smile.

Once, the Kenworthys' ranch had been famed for its palominos, but now only four remained. Sam guessed the horses were a reminder of better times.

When the horses reached the ridge top, the girls let them rest for a minute.

“Jen, if we see the ponies, do you think we can herd them back?”

“Yeah. I think they'll be hungry and ready to get back with their pals.” Jen put Silly into a walk toward River Bend Ranch.

“I hope so,” Sam said, glancing at her watch. “And I hope they're down this way, because it's almost sundown. If they've scampered off in some other direction, they're going to be roughing it tonight.”

The girls rode along, eyes searching each clump of sagebrush, each stand of piñon pine. Except for a covey of startled quail, which ran twittering and flapping away from the horses, nothing moved.

“About five more minutes and we've got to turn around,” Jen said. “You heard me promise Mom.”

Sam nodded. At least the two ponies would have each other. Out in strange terrain, they'd be watchful and wary through the night.

Silly and Champ swung their heavy heads at the same time and looked down a ravine on their left.

Brush shook and then they saw that at least one of the ponies was safe.

The piebald pony wasn't trapped, but he was in a tight spot. His high-pitched whinny asked the big
horses to wait.

“That's right, cutie,” Jen crooned to the pony. “We're here to take you home.”

“I wonder where the other one's gone?” Sam was glad they'd found this pony, but it meant the gray was out all alone.

“I don't know. But the cougar should still be eating that deer,” Jen said. “And maybe the avalanche hit two of them. You can never tell.”

The piebald pony made a halfhearted bolt up the side of the ravine.

“C'mon, you can make it,” Jen called, but the pony shook his disheveled mane and stayed put.

“How do you want to do this?” Sam asked.

Her fingers touched the coiled rope held in a leather loop on Champ's saddle. The rope felt stiff and new, as if Linc only carried it for decoration.

“I'm a lousy roper, anyway,” Sam said. “And this rope doesn't feel like it's been used much.”

“I bet it hasn't.” Jen tilted her head thoughtfully.

One white-blond braid swung away from her shoulder and swayed like a pendulum as she considered their situation as if it were a math problem.

“Okay,” she said finally. “That pony knows me, but he has no idea who you are. So why don't you tie Champ, then climb down there, swinging the rope to spook Chipper. I'll pretend to ride away. Maybe he'll think he's being left behind with scary old you, and climb up here after us.”

Sam nodded, but she didn't like Jen's solution.
Steep downhills were her least favorite sort of riding, and she wasn't a lot more confident about doing them on foot. All she had to do was step on a loose rock and she'd go plunging headlong down the cliff.

“Okay, Champ,” Sam said, unhooking the rope from the saddle. “Enjoy your rest. I'll go get the little guy.”

The sidehill was sticky with mud, and Sam made it down without falling. It was surprisingly dark in the ravine, though it was only ten feet below the ridge trail.

Sam held an open loop in one hand and smooched to the pony as she swung the loop his way.

He stabbed at the hillside with hooves that would fit in teacups, and his small neigh made Sam feel like a bully.

“I'm doing this for your own good,” she chirped. Then, as the piebald started up, she encouraged him. “Let's go! Upsy-daisy! C'mon!” Sam jogged up behind him and the pony bolted. “You've got it. Go!”

With a grunt, he reached the ridge, leaving Sam in the dark ravine.

“I'll keep him moving.” Jen's voice floated back to Sam as she herded the pony toward home.

“Okay,” Sam yelled, but the sides of the ravine absorbed the sound. She wasn't sure Jen had heard.

All at once, Sam shivered. She looked toward the darkest part of the ravine. Something rustled in the brush.

More quail,
Sam decided. Just the same, she clam
bered back up the hill, stuck a muddy boot in Champ's stirrup, and swung up.

“If it's all the same to you, let's get out of here,” Sam said, touching her heels to the palomino's sides. He leaped after Silly and the piebald pony.

For an instant, Sam tried to look back at the bushes.

Night was falling fast, and the chasm below wouldn't reveal its secrets.

So, if a flash of fiery eyes seemed to show, deep in the ink-green bushes, it was probably just her imagination.