The Challenger (13 page)

Gram held out an envelope. “From Mikki, it looks like.”

Sam snapped on her bedside lamp and took the letter.

“It is from her,” Sam said. Mikki hadn't written since she'd graduated from the HARP program, and Sam had never heard of Citruswood, California, but Mikki's real name was Michelle Small, and that's what it said in the return address. “I wonder why the envelope's so lumpy?”

“I'll leave you alone to solve that mystery,” Gram said.

She kissed Sam's forehead. “Are you sure you won't change your mind about going to the mall?”

“I'm sure,” Sam said. “Good night.”

She was burning with curiosity. As the door closed behind Gram, Sam had already slipped her fingertip along the envelope's flap to pop it loose.

S
am pulled her nightgown down to cover her ankles as she sat cross-legged on her patchwork quilt. She took a deep breath, then slipped the piece of blue-lined notebook paper from the envelope and unfolded it. Something fell out.

The loop was almost weightless as it hit her lap, but the light from Sam's bedside lamp made it glow like something magical.

And, in a way, it was magical.

The horsehair bracelet shone in many shades of silver. Just a few months ago, Sam had braided it from strands of the Phantom's mane. Now, she cradled it in the cup of one hand and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she kissed it for luck and slipped it over her right hand.

The bracelet warmed her wrist. Sam knew that was impossible. She stared at the bracelet. Some strands were icy white like a unicorn's horn. A few shone black
as dragons' scales. Most shimmered like melted silver, the color of the Phantom's coat by moonlight.

With her other hand, Sam turned the bracelet on her wrist. It seemed to vibrate at her touch.

Was she dreaming or hypnotizing herself?

Sam shook her head. Weird. Too weird.

To shake off the feeling, she opened the folded piece of paper and began to read Mikki's letter.

Sam read the letter over one more time before
slipping it back into its envelope, setting it on her bedside table, and turning off her lamp. She slid under the covers, but her eyes wouldn't close.

She stared at her bedroom wall. She could remember the late September afternoon she'd given the bracelet to Mikki, but she couldn't remember why.

Mikki had led Popcorn out to lure Dark Sunshine home, though the mare really wanted to return to the Phantom. Mikki's calm skill with Popcorn had soothed both horses, and later Sam had given her the bracelet. She'd told Mikki it wasn't enchanted, or anything like that, but that it stood for something.

What did it stand for? Sam rolled the silver circlet up and down her arm, thinking.

The horsehair bracelet was a bond, Sam decided. It was proof the stallion had let her stand beside him, finger-combing his mane over and over again.

Sam turned on one side and closed her eyes.

Under the covers, the horsehair prickled against her wrist. She decided the bracelet was a symbol, a lot like a wedding ring. This symbol said that she and the Phantom trusted each other.

Twice before, the Phantom had put himself between Sam and danger. Now it was her turn to help him.

If the cougar was stalking the Phantom's herd, she'd call Brynna at once.

 

The next morning, Sam stayed in bed while Gram
and Dad bustled around. She listened for the phone to ring, hoping Jake would call to tell her where to meet him.

By the time Dad and Gram drove away, he still hadn't called. Sam dressed in layers so she'd be able to peel them off as the day warmed up. Her lined leather coat would be warmest, but it looked too much like deer hide. She was not going to tempt that cougar to pounce on her.

“In fact,” Sam mumbled to herself, “I have just the thing to convince him I'm not good to eat.”

Sam dug through her bottom drawer. At last her fingers grazed a bunch of bumpy knit wool. She tugged out a hat and a long fringed scarf. Aunt Sue had knitted them several years ago. As Gram had pointed out when Sam whispered how homely they were, Aunt Sue didn't have many domestic skills, but she was still a wonderful, loving aunt.

Yes, she is,
Sam thought. The screeching orange-red was not a color found in nature. If cougars saw in color, this would assure them she wasn't prey.

Perfect
. She carried Aunt Sue's creations downstairs.

The kitchen clock said seven thirty when she stood sipping orange juice and eating the biscuits Gram had left in the oven. Jake still hadn't called.

Could he and Witch already be here, waiting for her in the yard? Sam peered through the window at the overcast morning. They weren't.

It was nearly eight o'clock when she dialed the Elys' telephone number. She really hated doing it.
Although Mrs. Ely was one of the nicest people Sam knew, she was also her history teacher, and it felt awkward to call.

This time, she needn't have worried. Sam quit counting when the phone had rung eleven times.

Jake hadn't said exactly when he was going. Maybe he'd left really early and decided not to call her. After all, he'd already started for home when Dad told her that she could go.

Sam's thermal shirt grated the horsehair bracelet against her wrist as she put on her parka. Without a mirror to show her how silly she looked, she pulled on the neon-orange hat and wrapped the scarf around her throat.

She'd just have to find Jake out there.

Sam decided to check out Lost Canyon first. Jake didn't know how to find the Phantom's hidden valley in the Calico Mountains, so he'd probably headed this way. Besides, it was closer, and the
pogonip
wasn't as thick in this direction.

She could see through it pretty well. The frozen fog was no more than a blur before her eyes as she searched for signs of the mustangs and the cougar.

Watching Jake track was different than doing it herself. He made it look easy. So did Witch. The roached-maned mare was used to Jake's leaning low, moving from one side of the saddle to the other. Strawberry wasn't.

At first, the pink-roan mare was just glad to be on the range. Strawberry loped, neck arched, across
War Drum Flats. She responded to each stirring of Sam's legs or hands, jogging up the mustang shortcut and crowding through the tall brush. But when Sam reined her in, then leaned down to look for a cluster of hoofprints, the mare turned skittish.

“I'm not going to fall, girl,” Sam assured the mare. “And they didn't come this way, at least not lately.”

She made Strawberry stand for a minute.

First, Sam looked up. There were no cliffs overhead from which a cougar could launch himself. That was good.

Surveying the range from this height would show her Jake, if he was nearby. Wisps of fog hid some gulches, but they couldn't cloak a horse and rider. Nothing moved down there. Even the cattle were far to the north.

Jake must have ridden into Lost Canyon, expecting her to follow him. That's what she'd told Dad she'd do, and he was trusting her to keep her word.

“C'mon, girl,” Sam said, and Strawberry obeyed.

After an hour of riding, squinting into shadows, and gazing up at the tops of boulders, always alert for the cougar, Sam's shoulders ached and her hands were shaky. She looked down at her watch and couldn't believe it was only ten thirty.

The last thing she'd recognized had been the cracked rock with water seeping through it. She'd noticed it right after she entered Lost Canyon.

Sam forced Strawberry to hug the right side of the trail, since the left dropped off to thin air. It was
weird. She knew the stunning view of sandstone cliffs was out there. She should have been able to look down on the Phantom's herd, if the mustangs had returned here. But she saw only swirling fog.

Sam listened. Faintly, she heard the whisper of water. The turquoise stream was down there somewhere. She kept riding.

It was a good thing she knew where she was going. She looked up for cougars and down for tracks, but
pogonip
fog hid most everything but the trail underfoot. Even that looked eerie. Rock and dirt sparkled as if they'd been sprinkled with iridescent confetti. The sheen must have been from ice crystals, but Strawberry's footing stayed sure.

“There!” Sam said finally.

Strawberry started at the sound of her voice. Sam reined her in, rubbed the mare's neck to comfort her, then studied the ground.

Highlighted by the frost, a single set of hoofprints advanced before her. They must be from Witch. That meant Jake was just ahead of her.

Sam sighed. She hadn't realized how worried she'd been about the possibility of being all alone. Now she knew she wasn't. The tracks turned off the main trail, and she recognized the sudden slant. Here, Brynna had turned Jeep down a deer trail that led through sparse, green vegetation.

The stream sounded louder, as if it were shushing her, cautioning her to be quiet. How far ahead was Jake? She wanted to call his name, but Strawberry
was already nervous. What if her voice startled Witch into putting a foot wrong? She remembered how Jeep had stumbled, and decided not to risk it.

Before, she'd trusted Ace to navigate this path. Now, she had to trust Strawberry.

It wasn't easy. The mare's gait had turned choppy. She took two ambling steps, then flung up her head and listened. Her ears flicked forward, to the sides, then lay flat. Next, she bounded into the middle of the trail and turned her head from side to side.

“The fog's got you worried, doesn't it, girl? I don't like it either, but it's just air and water. We're fine.”

Sam felt the saddle shift as if the mare's muscles had loosened. They moved ahead, and Sam was just wondering how close they were to the canyon floor when Strawberry lunged to the right. Sam's shoulder struck the sandstone wall beside her. Strawberry stopped and snorted.

From somewhere in the fog, a horse returned the snort.

“Jake?” Sam shivered. Her voice didn't fly out and echo. The fog formed a wall. She might have called from inside a closet.

“Okay, Strawberry. It feels like we're almost down. And there's a horse out there. Whether it's Witch or one of the mustangs, you can work by scent a lot better than I can. Finding them is up to you.”

Sam firmed her legs around the mare, asking her to step out a little faster.

Strawberry didn't have a chance to obey.

Sudden impact, like a pillowcase full of sand, struck Sam's shoulders and yanked her back over Strawberry's rump. Gasping, strangling, her throat burning, she flew into a backward somersault and rolled. The noose around her throat released, and she fell facedown on rock. She pushed herself up. The world swirled in sickening flashes of color. Wobbling on her hands and knees, she fought dizziness.

Suddenly Sam knew what had happened.
The cougar.

She forced her knees to straighten. Standing, she staggered forward and almost stepped on him.

Its mouth full of the orange-red scarf, the cat batted at his mouth with a huge paw. Hissing and growling, he fought to free his teeth from the loose knit.

As the cat shook his head and coughed, Sam heard Strawberry's hooves retreating up the path, out of the arroyo.

Don't look like prey.

Sam grabbed the sides of her unzipped parka and flapped them like giant wings.

The cat watched her. His amber eyes narrowed, then widened. He smelled like wet laundry. He panted. Tongue and teeth working at the scarf, he still studied her, gauging her strength. Beneath his hide, Sam saw the pumping of his ribs. The young cat was half starved.

If she didn't scare him away, he would eat her.

Sam growled. She jumped in place. The path was wide here, and even if she fell, it would be better than
being ripped by those fangs.

She saw those fangs now, because the cat had fought free of her scarf. With a swing of his paw, he batted the scarf away and settled into a crouch.

Don't let him see your back.
Instinct told Sam to run, but her brain insisted that was wrong.

Rush him,
her brain ordered her shaking legs.
Chase him. It's your only chance.

She did it. Hollering and running, she kicked at the cougar's curled toes. He jerked one paw back with a yowl, then turned almost into himself, tawny body bent in half.

His thick, black-tipped tail struck her shins, and suddenly he ran up the trail and was gone.

“Go! Get out of here! Bad cat!” Screaming until her throat was sore, Sam backed away from the spot where the cougar had taken its stand.

She was lucky to be alive. Holding one hand against the rock wall for support, she kept backing toward Arroyo Azul. She didn't know how to get home from the arroyo floor, but anything was better than going up.

The cougar was gone. She was sure of it, but she wouldn't go toward him, and she would not turn her back.

“He's got the hang of hunting,” she mumbled. “I don't think he'll starve. If I hadn't been wearing Aunt Sue's ugly scarf…”

Sam stopped talking to herself. That couldn't be normal. She had no one to depend on but herself.

“Get a grip,” she ordered, then closed her lips hard.

Sam's head felt so heavy, she might have been balancing a bowling ball on her weary neck.

Black dots frenzied in front of her eyes. This wasn't what Dad had meant when he'd said she should do what she knew was right.

Except…it was. She'd looked for Jake. She'd watched for the cougar. And she'd scared it away!

Shivering, she stopped to zip her parka. The only warm thing on her entire body was the wrist circled by her silver horsehair bracelet. That wasn't enough.

She touched her head. Amazingly, she still wore the odd little hat, so she stretched it to cover her ears. She wouldn't tempt hypothermia. Down in Arroyo Azul, it should get warmer.