The Challenger (12 page)

T
he piebald pony, with his large, irregular patches of black and white, was easy to follow through the dusk. He required no herding as he wended his way home. He moved at a trot where the trail was rough and rocked into a bound-for-home lope where the path was smooth.

Once the pony was back in the pasture, Sam and Jen faced the others.

“Good job, girls,” Mrs. Coley called as she walked down the path from the mansion. Rachel followed a few haughty steps behind.

“Just in time, too.” Lila rubbed her arms against the evening chill as she looked toward the road.

Sam knew Gram would arrive any minute to pick her up, but she didn't want to leave things unfinished.

“Jen,” she said quietly, “do you think there's a chance your mom would let you skip school and go look for that pony in the morning?”

Apparently she hadn't been quiet enough, because Rachel made a mocking moan and rolled her eyes skyward. Even worse, Jen's mom had heard.

“Samantha Forster!” Lila Kenworthy sounded shocked.

Sam sucked in a breath. “I know it's not a great idea, and I never cut school, but what about that pony?”

Lila sighed and said, “I know he's not suited to spending a night on the range, but he'll live.”

Looking through her fringe of wheat-colored hair, Lila Kenworthy appeared determined. Sam was glad when Jen took over negotiations.

“It's an emergency,” Jen insisted. “Here's what we could do. Early tomorrow morning, before school, Sam leaves from River Bend, I leave from here, and we trap the pony between us.”

Mrs. Coley looked half convinced, but Jen's mom wasn't.

“No,” Lila said flatly. “There's a reason the hunting hours for cougars start a half hour before dawn.”

Mrs. Coley shook her head, going over to Lila's side. “Girls, it's just too dangerous.”

“Don't even worry about it,” Rachel said, waving one hand. “There's no rush. My dad won't be home for days, and it's not like he'd notice one of them is missing.”

Sam's anger boiled inside her. Rachel couldn't imagine the pony being attacked and killed. She only
saw the inconvenience of going after him.

“When Jed comes back from the airport, I'll explain what's happened,” Lila said. Her eyes slid toward Rachel.

Of course, she didn't take the hint. Rachel had put the pony in danger, but it didn't occur to her that she should confess.

At the sound of approaching tires, Sam turned. Gram was coming, and that gave her an idea.

“I'll tell my dad, too,” Sam said, and suddenly her spirits lifted. “This is a slack time for the cowboys, and I bet they wouldn't mind looking for the pony.”

As if to contradict Sam, a gust of icy wind sliced through the evening, making them shiver.

“Stand out here if you like,” Rachel said, “but I'm going indoors where it's warm.”

“What about your new horse?” Mrs. Coley asked quietly.

“Oh.” Rachel stared at the dark chestnut mare who'd crowded against the white fence as if trying to escape the ponies. “What about her?”

“She was living in a stall at Sterling Stables,” Sam said.

Rachel gave Jen an encouraging smile, as if she expected her to take over the chore of bedding down the mare. Jen pretended not to notice. She brushed imaginary dust from her hands, tugged at the cuffs of her sweater sleeves, then rubbed her palms together, warming them against the evening chill.

“I could lead her up to the barn, I guess.” Rachel's
tone implied this was hardly her job.

“Good idea,” Mrs. Coley said, then she turned briskly toward Sam. “You don't want to keep your grandmother waiting, honey.”

Jen walked along beside Sam as she set out for Gram's car.

“If they don't find Chipper,” Jen said, looking a little sheepish, “do you think Jake could track him?”

Jen and Jake did not have compatible personalities, but Sam knew her two best friends admired each other's skills.

Although Jen was a freshman, she was in Jake's physics class, and he grudgingly admitted her ability. Jen knew Jake's tracking skill was superb. The sheriff's department had even called on him to work with their adult experts while they tracked wild horse rustlers.

“Of course Jake would help.” Sam gave Jen a hug, climbed into Gram's car, and turned the heater all the way up.

 

As soon as Sam saw her dad, she knew her predictions had been right. He was restless and frustrated by winter's inactivity.

When she and Gram came shivering into the kitchen, Dad stood in front of the stove, lifting lids and poking at stew with Gram's wooden spoon.

“I hate winter, and that's the truth,” he greeted them.

Gram sighed as if she'd heard his complaint a hundred times. “Now, Wyatt, all spring, fall, and summer
you complain about long hours and backaches. You pine for the winter so you'll be able to sit by the fire and read a book.”

Wordless, Dad made room at the stove for Gram, then took a restless lap around the dining room table.

Finally, he shook his head in a self-mocking way.

“I know it. But I look at the clock, thinking this is about the time I should be riding in, rubbing down my horse before heading for the shower. Instead, I'm looking at the clock.” Dad paused, and when he pointed at the clock, Sam noticed he was still holding Gram's spoon. “And I'm wondering what's on television and calculating how long I have to wait before I can decently go to bed.”

“Go on out to the bunkhouse and harass your cowboys,” Gram suggested. “And may I please have that spoon?” She took the wooden spoon back and tsked her tongue as if Dad were still a boy.

“I don't want to play cards and tell lies with the boys. I'm past that stage of my life.”

Before Dad could think of phoning Brynna, Sam jumped in with a suggestion.

“Don't worry, Dad, I've got a real chore for you.”

“Oh, you do?” Dad looked amused. “It wouldn't have to do with wild horses, would it?”

Sam hesitated. Did the mustangs need Dad's help?

Yesterday, the Phantom's herd had been pawing the frosty grass on the other side of La Charla. The silver stallion and his mares had looked fit and strong, though she didn't know where they were wintering.

And Moon? The young black stallion might be lonely, but he'd been born and bred on the range. She thought he was safe.

“No, Dad, it's not wild horses this time,” Sam said. “It's a pony named Chipper. He belongs to the Slocums. He got out, and with this storm brewing…”

Sam didn't mention the cougar. She didn't have to.

“One of those fancy little imported ponies wouldn't stand a chance against that cat,” Dad said, disgusted.

Sam felt a surge of protectiveness, but Dad stopped her before she could defend the pony.

“I'm not blaming the pony, Sam. I blame people. Some animals—people too—just don't transplant well. They need to be protected for their own good.”

Sam saw a softening in Dad's expression and she knew he was thinking of her mother. Mom had been city-raised, but she'd fallen in love with wild Nevada.

“How did this pony get out?” he asked.

Gram finished spooning the dumplings on top of the stew, then turned to them with a humphing sound.

“Linc's out of town and his daughter charged a purebred Morgan mare—on her own credit card, I might add—to be delivered to the ranch.” Gram held up a hand against Dad's astonishment. “In the excitement of the delivery, the entire bunch of ponies escaped. Your daughter helped bring back all but one of them.”

“Gram? How did you know?” Sam was so amazed at Gram's recitation, she almost missed Dad's satisfied smile.

“Lila called while you and Jen were out chasing down the escapees,” Gram said.

“How long till dinner?” Dad asked suddenly.

“Ten minutes, more or less,” Gram said. “I'm just waiting for the dumplings to cook.”

“I think I will walk out to the bunkhouse.” Dad took his Stetson from a hook by the door and pulled it on with a contented nod. “I'll let the boys know we're going out at dawn and pen us a pony.”

 

The Phantom called at midnight.

Half asleep, Sam sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes as her heart pounded.
Was it a dream?

No. Hooves thundered on frozen ground, sounding so close she thought the stallion was in the ranch yard. He wouldn't be, though. The Phantom never crossed La Charla.

Downstairs, Blaze gave a gentle woof. Sam slid out of bed. The wooden floor sent chills through her toes and up her shins, but she stepped to the window.

A tracery of ice decorated the windowpane, inside and out. She couldn't see anything. Sam breathed on the glass, then used her palm to polish out a place to peer through.

What she saw made her wonder if she was really awake.

Like a snow sculpture come to life, the stallion floated along the riverbank.

Why was he there? Why was he so excited? Could the pony have joined the Phantom's wild band? Was Moon
trying once more to rejoin the herd? Did the Phantom need her?

Sam breathed on the pane again. She rubbed so hard, her fingers made the glass squeak, but the glass was still too blurry to see through clearly. She had to go out there.

Moving silently, careful not to step on the loose board that creaked in the hallway, Sam started for the stairs.

“Samantha?” Dad's no-nonsense voice stopped her.

“Yes?” she whispered.

“Are you going down for a midnight snack?”

Sam didn't want to lie. Not only was she incredibly bad at it, she was pretty sure Dad had wakened to the same sound she had.

“Yes, Dad.” Sam waited, but he didn't say anything else.

She tiptoed downstairs, grabbed an apple she didn't want from the fruit basket, and held it as she looked from the kitchen window.

The stallion had moved out of view. She might have been watching a photographic negative develop vague shapes of dark and light, picturing a bleak winter night.

She sighed. Her breath clouded the glass.

Still holding the apple, she went back upstairs.

“Sam? Just remember there's nothing that horse needs that you can give him. He was probably just saying hello.”

“Okay,” she said, but as she slid back into bed and pulled the blankets up to cover her nose, Sam knew
her father was wrong.

 

The next morning at school, she cornered Jake.

He'd just slammed his locker, given the dial a spin, and glanced up when he saw her coming.

“Don't look at me like that,” he muttered, and turned to go on his way.

“Don't make me pin you against the lockers,” Sam threatened.

Jake's jaw dropped open and he did a quick comparison of their sizes and strength. She was just over five feet tall, and Jake claimed to be six feet, one inch. She had the lean fitness of a girl who worked with horses. Jake had broad shoulders and the determined look of the youngest of seven brothers.

“If you think you can do that, you're dreaming,” he told her.

“That's what I want to talk with you about,” Sam said. “Only it wasn't a dream, exactly.”

Because they were at school, Sam didn't want to remind Jake too pointedly about his cougar dream. She watched his face to see if he understood her hint.

He did.

He leaned so close their foreheads nearly touched. “Every time I let you weasel something out of me, I'm sorry. Not everything is a sign. In fact, almost nothing is.” He straightened and continued down the hall, looking frustrated as she fell into step beside him. “So, what do you want?”

Sam told him about the lost pony.

“Yeah, so?” He tried to look bored, but Sam wasn't fooled. When she'd been a little girl, she'd called Jake's lively brown eyes “mustang eyes.” Every now and then, he couldn't hide that sparkle of interest.

“So, knowing how cute you think Rachel is—”

“You just talked yourself out of a partner,” Jake said.

Sam didn't remind him of the lingering looks he'd given Rachel, because she knew the truth. Jake thought Rachel was cute, but he didn't trust her. She also noticed he hadn't walked away.

“Jen's parents won't let her go with me for some reason—”

“Common sense would be my guess,” Jake grumbled.

“—so if the cowboys from River Bend haven't found the pony by the time I get home, you could go looking with me.”

“I'm your second choice, is what you're saying.”

“Yeah, but you're a decent tracker,” Sam teased.

As the bell rang, hurrying them toward class, Jake gave in.

“I'll go, but I'm doing it for the pony,” he said.

“Not for Rachel?”

“Not for you. I'm only bringing you along for cougar bait.”

“Ha ha,” Sam said, but she didn't think Jake was a bit funny.

T
hey found Chipper at Aspen Creek. Like a small shadow, he stood next to Moon, nosing at soggy leaves.

The shaggy Shetland lifted his head, gave a high-pitched nicker, then a snort. Moon returned the snort, but he didn't share Chipper's excitement. For every step Sam and Jake rode closer, Moon backed a step.

“He
is
a beauty,” Jake said.

He'd said the same thing when they'd seen the young mustang before. Sam turned to look at Jake. The longing in his eyes surprised her.

“This time he's not gonna run.” Jake kept his voice low as they rode closer. “You're not gonna leave your little buddy, are you, Moon?”

The black sidled away, eyes rolling white. He tossed his head in a come-with-me gesture. From birth, Moon had learned to flee humans. Only loyalty to this new herd member had kept him here this long.

Chipper didn't grasp why Moon kept moving up
the sidehill. The pony stood firm, as if setting a good example for his cowardly friend.

“I don't know why he has to go back,” Sam whispered to Jake. “They're both happier this way.”

Jake's fingers rested on his rope. He pretended he hadn't heard her, and Sam knew it wasn't worth an argument. And she knew why.

The pony would die in the wild. Moon might be injured protecting him. Even if they joined a wild band—and it was unlikely any stallion would let Moon close to his mares—the Shetland's short legs couldn't keep pace with the fleet mustangs.

Bitterbrush rustled as Moon moved past it. His front hooves struck, one-two, one-two, in a troubled dance. He wished Chipper would come along, and he gave a low nicker to tell him so.

Forelock flipping from side to side, the pony glanced between the riders and the uneasy young stallion. He jogged toward Moon. When he'd reached him, Chipper stretched his neck up. The tall stallion lowered his head and the horses touched noses.

Sam's heart squeezed in pity.

“Let's get this done,” Jake muttered. “Head him toward me.”

Sam urged Ace forward. Moon bolted out of reach of Jake's rope, but he paused, looking confused, when the pony didn't follow.

“He doesn't belong out here, and you do,” Sam called. Moon pricked his ears to catch her voice while
his eyes shifted to watch her take his only friend.

Jake was shaking out a loop of rope. He was about to lasso Chipper.

“Do you have to put a rope on him?” Sam asked.

Just then, the two horses' voices blended in a longing neigh.

“If we want him to choose us, I do.”

Jake's rope sang out and settled gently over Chipper's neck. For an instant, the Shetland leaned back against the rope and flashed an insulted look. But when Jake wheeled Witch, the pony trotted along behind obediently.

Sam looked back. Moon moved in certain leaps up the hill, out of Aspen Creek canyon. The young stallion wouldn't endanger his freedom, even for his friend.

He's smart to see that,
Sam thought, because it never would have worked out for the two buddies. Moon had been taught to flee and Chipper had been taught to follow.

 

They decided to take Chipper to River Bend and let Jed Kenworthy come pick him up with a trailer.

“It's too long a walk for your short little legs,” Sam told Chipper.

Sam glanced down at the pony, then up to see Jake pretend his eyes hadn't been searching the terrain behind them.

“Is Moon following us?” she asked.

Jake shook his head. “No, and it's a good thing. We don't need another jug-headed mustang hanging around the ranch.”

There it was again. Yearning tinged Jake's voice when he talked about Moon.

“What if you could have him?” Sam ignored Jake's groan of disgust. “He's so eager for a herd, I bet BLM will get him in one of their gathers.”

The idea of the Phantom's son in captivity made her sick, but Jake worked magic with young horses.

“Your dad won't get another horse for us to work on till the doctor gives the okay.” Jake rubbed the leg he'd broken just a month ago.

Dad and Jake used River Bend feed and facilities to care for horses that needed schooling. Jake did the training, and when the horses were sold or returned to their owners, Dad and Jake split the money. It was a great deal for everyone, but Sam knew Dad wouldn't bring in a new horse before Jake was completely recovered.

“I'm fine,” Jake said, as if reading her mind. “I don't know what the doc's waiting for.”

“Gee, d'you think he might have lost faith in your good judgment when you cut off your own cast?” Sam said.

Jake shrugged. He wasn't the impatient type, but nothing—not pain, doctor's orders, or his furious mother—had been able to keep him out of the saddle for more than a couple of weeks.

Dad and Dallas rode in over the River Bend bridge as Sam and Jake rode in through the back pastures. They met in the middle of the ranch yard and talked while everyone except Jake unsaddled their mounts.

“Looks like you caught the little critter,” Dallas said.

As he watched Jake tether the pony to a hitching rail, Dallas swept off his hat and used his forearm to wipe his brow. It was cold, not hot, but the old foreman looked tired.

“Down by Aspen Creek,” Jake said.

“Are Pepper and Ross still out?” Sam asked.

“Naw, they took off for the holidays,” Dad said. “They'll be back for the wedding, maybe.”

Days ago, Sam had heard Dad offer the hands a vacation and heard them refuse.

“What changed their minds?” she asked.

“Your Gram convinced Pepper to call home. He left his folks in Idaho over a year ago.” Dad shrugged with an understanding look. “After he talked to his mother, he decided to go, and Ross said he'd go along, too.”

Sam was glad for Pepper, but she hoped his trip home was only a visit. They all liked the young cowboy. After Brynna had seen him work with Popcorn and Mikki, she'd hoped Dad could spare him for the HARP program. If it ever got going.

“You don't think he'll stay in Idaho, do you?” Sam asked.

“Not much chance of that,” Dallas answered. “His teeth were already chattering, thinking about the icicles that'd be hanging off his hat brim if his dad sends him out after strays.”

The men were chuckling as Sam checked Ace's feet.

“Wow, poor boy.” Sam touched a rock lodged against the wall of the gelding's hoof. She tried to pick it out with her fingers, but Ace jerked the hoof from her grasp. “Sore, huh, boy?”

Dad was beside Sam at once. He helped remove the rock, then held it up. The rock was no bigger than Sam's thumbnail, but one end was pointed.

“Ouch,” Dad said. His expression was faintly accusing as he handed it to Sam. “Surprised you didn't notice that when it went in.”

She thought over the ride out to Aspen Creek, their time with Moon, and the ride back. She shook her head.

“I don't think he reacted at all, Dad.”

“Didn't see anything from where I was sittin'.” Jake's voice was gruff as he swung back into Witch's saddle.

Even though Dad believed her, Sam was glad Jake had backed her up. From Jake, that amounted to praise, and she couldn't help smiling.

“Wish you'd been riding with us,” Dallas said to Jake.

“Yeah?”

“We were tracking that cougar till the fog came in.”

Sam stared through the ranch gates toward the range. A haze hung in the foothills leading up to the Calico Mountains.

It was probably
pogonip
. Dad said
pogonip
was a Native American word for the frozen fog that hung over Nevada's Great Basin.

This time of year,
pogonip
could hamper them for weeks. The first few days, it coated sagebrush and rocks and trees, making you think of a crystal fairyland. But later, it became a nuisance. Chores didn't stop just because you couldn't see more than a few yards ahead of your nose.

“There was a set of small tracks in with a mustang herd. We thought they might belong to him.” Dad nodded toward Chipper. “The cat tracks were on top, as if he was going along behind, hoping for a straggler.”

Sam swallowed. Dad and Dallas had to have been following the Phantom's herd. Yellowtail had two big mares, but the Phantom's herd had several foals and yearlings.

“Where were they going?” Sam asked.

Dad pointed. “Up there on those rocky shelves. With night coming on and the
pogonip,
we lost 'em.” He gave a frustrated frown. “Mighta gone on up the switchbacks into the Calicos, or taken a trail into Lost Canyon. It'd be for the best if that cat stayed up there.” He gave Sam a sympathetic smile. “Tough on
mustangs, maybe, but better than having him down by the ranches.”

Sam had to agree.

“Brynna said she was calling the Department of Wildlife, just to alert them,” Dad said.

“Might ride up there tomorrow and take a look,” Jake said, then he added, “since tomorrow's Saturday and I don't have anything else to do.”

Dad took the hint with a smile. “How long before you can work raw stock again?”

“Doc says New Year's Day, ‘if I behave myself.'”

When Jake mimicked the stern doctor, Sam laughed. Jake was so cool and responsible, it was easy to forget he was a kid, until something like this reminded her.

“Hang in there, Jake.” Dad patted Witch on the shoulder. “It'll be over before you know it.”

Even though Dad hadn't said or done anything sappy, Jake shifted in an embarrassed way. Then he touched his hat brim and galloped out of the yard.

“Jake Ely's a good kid,” Dallas said, looking after him.

“Yeah,” Dad agreed.

Sam liked Jake a lot, but hearing him praised made her uncomfortable. She didn't want people to expect too much of him.

Slowly, careful of his bruised hoof, Sam was leading Ace to his pen when Dad called after her.

“You can go with Jake tomorrow if you like, Sam.”

“I can?” She swung around to meet Dad's eyes. Had he become a mind reader like Jake, or had he guessed how much she wanted to ride out and check the Phantom's herd? Maybe he'd decided she was a responsible young woman. Or maybe he was giving her permission before she brewed up an excuse to ride out there on her own.

“Unless you want to go with your Gram and me to Darton, where we'll pick out something decent for me to wear to the wedding.” Dad rubbed the back of his neck.

Sam could hear the echo of Gram's voice in the
something decent
.

“I'd rather go to the dentist,” Dallas muttered.

Dad smiled in agreement. “We're going to meet Brynna for a Chinese dinner at about five.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Sam said. “But I'm not in the mood for shopping.”

Dad's gaze shifted toward the ten-acre pasture as if he were looking for something, but he'd heard her.

“Can't say I'm surprised,” he said. “Since you'll need to rest Ace, I want you to ride Strawberry. She's sound, sensible, and she doesn't like cats. She'll give you plenty of warning if one's around.”

Dad fixed her with a look that said he wasn't going to start lecturing. Sam felt proud of his faith in her.

“I'm trusting you to know what's smart and what's not, and to tell me if there's anything worth worrying about,” he said.

“I will, Dad,” Sam promised.

After the horses were bedded down, Dad, Sam, and Dallas walked up to the house together. With the other cowboys gone, Dallas had agreed to eat dinner with the family.

“Not that I'm going to make a regular thing of this,” Dallas said, stomping off his boots before they entered Gram's kitchen.

“Only if you want to,” Dad said. “I know you like your privacy.”

Inside, Gram brandished lists of stores and magazine pages showing grooms' apparel, and the look on Dallas's face said he wasn't at all sure a home-cooked dinner was worth such fuss.

Dad kept an easygoing smile in place. He was in such a good mood, Sam got ready to ask if she could have one of the Elys' kittens.

Just then, Gram asked Dad if he'd picked out a best man. Sam guessed that was the male equivalent of a maid of honor.

“Think I need one?” Dad asked. When his eyes wandered to Dallas, the old cowboy pushed away from the table, stood, and headed for the door.

“Evenin',” he said, taking his hat from the hook. And then he left.

Dad laughed, and Sam thought he was taking the same advice he'd given Jake.

Hang in there,
he'd said.
It'll be over before you know it.

 

Sam kneeled on her patchwork quilt and set her alarm clock for seven
A.M
.

That wasn't exactly sleeping in, she thought, but it made a difference that she'd have the entire day to herself. She was about to slip under the covers when Gram tapped at her door, then bustled in.

Gram wore her red corduroy robe zipped almost to her chin. The long, gray braid hanging over her shoulder made her look young. Sam was glad to see her. She thought of all the nights Gram had come into her room to tuck her in, and wondered when she had stopped.

Tonight, Gram looked like she had something on her mind.

“You're happy about the wedding, aren't you, Gram?” Sam asked, and she felt her own smile puff up her cheeks.

“I am,” Gram said, almost surprised. “I haven't seen your father this excited for a long time. I mean, he's not even fighting me about this shopping trip. That's definitely a first.”

“I think it's going to work out fine,” Sam said. Her amazement was an echo of Gram's.

A warm hug, filled with the scent of Gram's lilac bath powder, engulfed Sam. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it.

“Oh, wait,” Gram said. She drew back and pushed her hand into her bathrobe pocket. Paper rustled. “I have been so absentminded, thinking of all the wedding
details, I forgot to give you this yesterday.”