The Challenger (15 page)

S
am had managed to ease her aching body out of bed by noon on Sunday. Trying not to move more muscles than she had to, she dressed to go over to Jen's house.

So far, she'd managed to get her underwear and socks on, but now came her jeans. She wasn't sure she was up to the challenge.

Her muscles weren't all that had suffered. Why were her memories of yesterday afternoon so blurry?

Before she went out in public, Sam thought she should try to remember what had happened after she'd met up with Jake.

She was pretty sure that she'd called Brynna the minute she got home. She'd confessed every detail of the cougar attack, but Brynna hadn't even let her finish. She'd insisted on speaking to Jake. Then she'd talked Jake through an embarrassing evaluation of Sam's physical condition.

Jake had checked her joints, the pupils of her eyes, and a bunch of other things, then Brynna had made him promise to stay with Sam until Wyatt and Gram came home. Brynna had given Jake ten minutes to put up the horses while she kept Sam on the phone.

The good news Brynna shared was that the cougar's future might not be as bleak as Sam feared. The Division of Wildlife planned to transplant him to a remote area of the Ruby Mountains, far east of the Calicos.

After that conversation, Sam remembered eating the soup and toast Jake forced on her. Then she'd spent an hour in the bathtub. The warm water had soaked some of the soreness out of the muscles that had been smacked by the weight of the cougar.

At least, she'd
thought
they had.

Now, Sam held on to her bedpost. With one leg in her jeans, the next one should be easy, right?

What she'd really wanted yesterday was to take a nap. But Jake had made her rest on the couch, where he could shake her awake and check her pupils whenever she happened to doze.

Sam remembered Dad waking her when he returned home from Darton, to ask if she wanted Chinese food. She didn't.

A few minutes later Brynna woke her and reminded her of the final fitting of their dresses at the Kenworthys' house, just in case she'd forgotten. She had.

When the phone rang at what must have been seven o'clock, though it felt like midnight, Gram had made Sam talk to Jen. Sam had felt groggy, and probably hadn't sounded excited when Jen revealed that Ryan, Rachel's twin, had arrived at the Gold Dust Ranch and was “way cute.”

“Ta da!” Sam gave herself a fanfare as she zipped her jeans, but when her gaze shifted to the sweater waiting on her bed, she bit her lip.

“Honey, would you like some help with that?” Gram asked, poking her head around the corner of Sam's door.

“I feel like a baby. But yes, please,” Sam said.

Gram was quick and gentle, but Sam gasped at the contortions required to get the sweater on.

“I can't figure out why I'm so sore.” She groaned.

“That cougar hit you with over a hundred hungry pounds! Then he pulled you backward by your neck and you fell from the height of a horse!” Gram's hands shook as she arranged Sam's sweater. “'Sakes, Samantha, of course you're sore.”

Sam nodded, then looked in the mirror. The idea of lifting a hairbrush made her wince. Her hair didn't look too bad. Maybe she'd just leave it as it was.

“Can you come downstairs and take some aspirin?” Dad asked from the doorway.

“Sure, I can.”

“And have some breakfast before we leave for the Kenworthys',” Gram added. “If you don't feel better
after that, we're going to see the doctor.”

“But—” Sam began.

“No argument.” Dad's voice rolled behind him as he started downstairs. “And if you two get over there and need some help getting home, call me.”

“Of course, Wyatt,” Gram said, following him down the stairs.

They left Sam so she could try her legs without an audience.

Walking like she was ninety-three instead of thirteen, Sam made it to the kitchen. Hot oatmeal with brown sugar and cream slid down her abused throat and warmed her from the inside out.

“Gram, this is great.” She sighed.

She drained her orange juice glass and asked for a refill. When that was gone, Sam couldn't wait to get over to Jen's house.

 

Something was going on at the Gold Dust Ranch.

A teal-and-white-striped tent fluttered in the open area leading up to the Slocums' mansion.

“Has the circus come to town?” Sam asked.

“You might say that.” Gram parked in front of the Kenworthys' cabin, next to Brynna's white truck. “Helen said that Linc came home from New York with big plans. He's entertaining ‘investors' with a Western-style dinner in that heated tent.”

Inch by inch, Sam climbed out of the car, and she stood for a moment before walking to the house.

“Yum,” she said, taking a breath. The crisp air held more than the scent of sagebrush. Could that be barbecuing chicken inside that tent?

“Linc told Helen he couldn't trust this dinner to local cooks, so he flew in a team of chefs. I bet that's them.” Gram nodded at a pair of white-coated men scurrying from the tent to the mansion. “Last I heard, the menu included smoked quail on nests of shoestring potatoes.”

“It smells good,” Sam admitted, but the word
investors
stuck in her mind. Linc Slocum's schemes had a way of turning sour in a hurry.

The door to the cabin swung open and Jen stood in the doorway.

“I won't give you a hug,” she said, eyeing Sam.

“She's doing fine.” Gram steadied Sam's elbow as they went inside.

The cozy living room was strewn with material and clothes and platters of food. Brynna stood in the midst of it, grinning.

“I thought that since we're an all-girl crew today,” she said, “we could test recipes as well as model clothes.”

Though she'd just finished breakfast, Sam thought it sounded like a great idea.

“Jed's out riding the fence line,” Lila said, gesturing toward the mountains. “With the gourmet hoopla outside and the pinning and primping inside, he thought he'd just be in the way.”

“Try one of these,” Brynna encouraged, holding a plate of pastries toward Sam. “Better yet, take them with you to Jen's room. She can help you try on your dress. Tell me if you like the brown sugar or blueberry tarts best.”

Jen grabbed the plate before Sam could, then guided her down the hall.

“I know how to find your room,” Sam muttered.

“I'm not going to let you fall or something,” Jen grumbled. “It's just like you to get attacked by a wild animal while I'm not around to watch.”

“Sorry,” Sam said. She knew Jen was covering her concern with sarcasm.

 

Sam struggled with her sweater. Stuck midway, looking through the burgundy knit, she recalled the last time she'd worn it. The day she'd tried to help Rachel pick a horse, the sweater had made her feel out of place. Today, Sam was surrounded by friends who cared about her, not what she was wearing. Or not wearing.

Finally free of the sweater and jeans, Sam turned toward the bridesmaid dress.

“Ouch.” Jen gasped.

“Does it look that bad?” Sam wanted to hide whatever Jen had seen, but rushing didn't seem possible.

“I don't know how you can even—” Jen broke off, shaking her head. “Sam, your neck's probably too
sore to look over your shoulder into the mirror—”

“I'm not even going to try.” Sam stepped into the dress, but she couldn't seem to lift it as far as her hips.

“I guess you're lucky his claws and teeth didn't break the skin. If they had…” Jen shook her head. “I bet you'd be in the hospital getting pumped full of antibiotics. Still, you're black-and-blue from your neck down to the backs of your knees.”

“It feels like it,” Sam said.

“Did Brynna see?” Jen asked.

“Probably. I was pretty out of it last night. The whole county could have looked and I wouldn't have noticed.”

“No wonder you're walking funny,” Jen said. “Let me help you with the dress. And tomorrow, if you go to school—”

“Of course I'm going to school!”

“Anyhow, I'll carry your backpack.”

“Thanks, Jen, you're the best.”

“Oh, yeah, right.” She shrugged off the compliment and zipped the dress. “Gosh, it looks perfect.”

As Sam faced the mirror, Jen arranged the long forest-green skirts, then stepped back.

“Can you see my bruises?” Sam asked.

Jen brushed at the back of Sam's hair, smoothing it over her nape. “Hardly. You look amazing. Let's go show the others.”

A chorus of sighs wafted their way. They entered the living room in time to see Brynna twirling the
skirt of her bridal gown.

“Wow.” Sam sighed. How could a few yards of satin and lace transform a hardworking outdoors-woman into a fairy-tale princess?

“It's not finished,” Mrs. Coley said, her arms crossed and a huge smile on her face. “But when it is, I think it will do nicely.”

“I love it!” Brynna hugged Mrs. Coley in thanks, then hurried to Sam and kissed her cheek.

“This calls for a toast,” said Lila. “I have hot apple cider on the stove.”

A knock sounded at the door before Lila took a step. It was quiet until Mrs. Coley whispered, “If it's a disaster with the investors, I'm not here.”

“I am!” Jen said. “This could be fun.”

Sam giggled and followed Jen. She didn't know whether to credit the brown sugar tarts or the friendship, but all at once she felt a whole lot better.

“Hello? Pardon me for interrupting, but I'm looking for Ms. Olson. Is she here?”

The English accent and coffee-colored hair proved the guy at the door was Ryan Slocum, Rachel's brother. Sam had to agree with Jen. So far, the male twin was a lot more appealing than the female.

He waited. Sam wondered if he thought they were both simpleminded, since neither she nor Jen had managed an answer, when Brynna came to the door.

“Yes?” In spite of her white lace gown, Brynna's tone was all business.

Ryan looked relieved. “Ah, Ms. Olson. I was told you're something of a wildlife expert.”

Brynna nodded.

“Yes, well, if you'd be kind enough to come with me, I'd like your opinion on a situation in the dining tent.” He nodded toward the billowing structure.

“I'm hopeless when it comes to food,” Brynna said, looking confused.

“Food
is
the root of the problem—however, there's something else.” He looked so perplexed, Brynna followed him outside.

Sam tucked in right behind them, holding her skirts clear of the cold ground. She should have taken time to slip on shoes, but this sounded too intriguing to miss.

Jen would have followed, too, if Lila hadn't snagged her elbow.

“The thing is,” Ryan confided to Brynna, “I'd like to set a plan in action before I notify my father.”

Ryan Slocum had his dad all sized up, Sam was thinking. But then she heard the crash of plates and a growl.

“Stay back,” Brynna said. She pulled aside the flap of the tent, then glanced at Sam. “Go get my hand-held radio from the truck.”

Although curiosity consumed her, Sam went. Every freezing-cold, bone-jarring step hurt, but she ran.

She returned, handed Brynna her radio, then edged closer to the tent. As she reached for the flap,
Sam could have sworn she heard the sound of purring.

And then Ryan moved in front of her.

“I'm not sure that gown is quite the thing for lion taming.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief. He was blocking her way. Who did he think he was?

“That lion and I have already met,” Sam assured Ryan, and while he tried to figure that out, she stepped right on by.

The cougar crouched on a linen-covered table that ran the length of the tent. Places had already been set with silver and china. Small cooked birds were centered on each plate.

Licking his whiskers and purring, the cougar made his way down the table, grabbing and swallowing with obvious pleasure.

Brynna's arm circled Sam's shoulders. To keep from disturbing the cat, she spoke next to Sam's ear.

“Division of Wildlife is on its way.”

Sam nodded, and then, at the sound of approaching footsteps, she and Brynna glanced up to see Linc Slocum puffing toward the tent.

Sam felt sick. “You won't let him—”

“—do a single thing,” Brynna promised.

Sam believed her. For a lady in a wedding dress, Brynna looked pretty tough.

As they watched from the front of the tent and the two uniformed chefs watched from the back, the
cougar edged forward without wrinkling the linen tablecloth. He lashed out a paw, swept a green salad aside, then gulped another smoked quail.

“It's sort of amazing,” Sam whispered. “Gram was right about bad deeds coming home to roost.”

Close by, Linc was yelling, while his son spoke in low, reasonable tones.

“If Linc hadn't killed that cougar's mom,” Sam continued, “I bet that cat would be up in the Calicos chasing mule deer instead of down here, wrecking Linc's party.”

The Division of Wildlife truck rattled through the iron gates and into the center of the yard. Two men in khakis climbed out of the truck. One looked at Brynna's attire in amazement, then gave her a sort of salute.

“Time for us to turn it over to the experts,” Brynna said. Then she lifted her white lace skirts and marched toward the house.

Although Sam wanted to stay and watch, she knew Brynna was right. With fewer distractions, the cougar's capture would go more smoothly and he'd be up in the Ruby Mountains even sooner.

As she and Brynna reached the Kenworthys' door, two black limousines rolled into the yard and swerved around the Division of Wildlife truck.

Sam heard Jen giggling inside the house and then she heard Linc Slocum moan. She couldn't tell what Linc said, exactly, but his son's words were crystal clear.