The Challenger (9 page)

Jen fixed Sam with a strange look, then shook her head.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Nothing.” Jen rode in silence for a few steps. “Do you remember one of those days when Mrs. Coley gave us a ride home with Rachel?”

“After I got kicked off the bus,” Sam supplied. Although that memory wasn't one of her favorites, she hadn't forgotten.

“Right. Well, one of those days, Rachel told us that Ryan was the conscience of the family.”

“I remember,” Sam said, though she couldn't figure out why Jen was still frowning at her. “But I'll believe he's a great guy when I see it for myself. Two out of two members I've met from the Slocum family are creeps.”

“Whatever!” Jen shouted, suddenly angry. Popcorn's pace faltered.

“What?” Sam said, surprised by Jen's outburst.

“How can you call Rachel spoiled and creepy when you're hanging out with her?”

“Are you crazy?” Sam squawked.

Sam had to shift her attention as Ace tugged at the bit. Maybe the gelding didn't like the shouting. Maybe he thought the cattle up ahead needed herding. Either way, Sam knew if she didn't pay attention,
and quick, he might misbehave for real.

“Shhh, boy,” Sam said. As she smoothed her hand along Ace's neck, Sam realized what Jen meant.

Still, she gave her friend a minute to settle Popcorn. The albino seemed to trot on tiptoe, and his ears flicked toward Ace. If the bay was worried, he figured he should be, too. When both horses had calmed down, Sam took a deep breath.

“I'm not hanging out with Rachel,” she insisted. “I did go horse shopping with her. She wants one that'll impress Ryan.”

“So you spent the day with her,” Jen said. “And the difference between that and hanging out is…”

Sam sighed. Maybe Jen was extra sensitive because her parents were fighting. If so, Sam figured she could be extra patient.

“The difference is, although I looked at a bunch of cool horses with Rachel, I had a lousy time. I felt ugly and out of place and I couldn't
wait
to get away from her.”

Sam saw Jen hide a smug smile.

“In fact,” she continued, “I purposely got Rachel to ditch me at the Elys' place, and Gram picked me up. Driving all over the county with Rachel is torture.

“This,” Sam said as the horses swung into an easy lope, “is hanging out.”

Jen smiled, and Sam returned her attention to Ace. The bay gelding was still skittish, and Sam
became so focused on him that Jen's sudden comment puzzled her.

“This was a bad idea, after all,” Jen muttered. She hauled her reins in tight, but Popcorn bowed his neck and made a low, rumbling nicker.

When Sam looked ahead, she saw a dozen mustangs mixed among the grazing Herefords. She recognized the Phantom's tiger dun lead mare, and then she saw the silver stallion himself.

Fierce and fiery as a knight's charger, the Phantom moved down the bank of La Charla, preparing to confront another stallion.

“I
t's Yellowtail,” Sam whispered as the chestnut stallion approached from upriver.

It would be exciting to watch this confrontation between stallions, but Sam knew that if they'd kept to her plan to drop by Mrs. Allen's ranch, then cross back over the river to Aspen Creek, Popcorn wouldn't be acting as if he'd never heard of a saddle.

Jen fought to keep the white gelding under control. Finally, she turned his head toward his tail. When he got dizzy from spinning, he planted all four hooves and trembled, watching the mustangs ahead.

“Good work,” Sam said, but Jen brushed off her admiration with a shake of her head.

“Are you sure it's Yellowtail?” Jen asked. “It's been months since we saw that bachelor band.”

“It's him,” Sam said.

Flaxen mane and tail shining in the November sun, the chestnut and his two mares picked their
way toward the river.

“I've been thinking about that band a lot,” Sam added, “because Moon was with them.”

“The black horse you think is the Phantom's son?”

“Yep. He's the mustang I'm taking you to see in Aspen Creek after we visit Mrs. Allen.”

All at once Sam shivered. She shaded her eyes and scanned the surrounding terrain, looking for Moon. Aspen Creek canyon was only a few miles downriver. If Moon showed up here now, it could mean trouble. The Phantom was already insulted at Yellowtail's approach. Adding another stallion to the mix would be bad news.

But she saw no sign of the black, so Sam turned back to watch Yellowtail face the Phantom.

The silver stallion glanced at her and flicked his ears in recognition. Then he faced the intruder, and the Phantom's manner changed.

Neck and tail arched proudly, he vibrated with fury. Maybe he couldn't believe Yellowtail had invaded this riverbank pasture.

“This isn't his usual place,” Sam said. “But he acts like it's his kingdom. Look at him.”

Though they were no closer than if they'd been seated in bleachers, watching a football game, the sound of snorting stallions made it seem a little too close.

“He acts like this is his turf, all right,” Jen murmured in agreement. “I've read that mustangs aren't
territorial, but…” Jen was still puzzling this out when the stallions bumped noses, shook their heads, then rose on their hind legs. “Oh, watch out!”

The stallions reared for only an instant. Next, they whirled and lashed out with their heels. For a few kicks, they fought as equals, but then the chestnut stumbled and the Phantom's neck curved. Mouth open, he lunged for Yellowtail's forelegs.

The chestnut regained his feet and sidestepped. Unsteady but determined, he stood between his mares and the Phantom.

“I don't think the Phantom wants Yellowtail around his herd,” Jen said. “What do you think?”

“It looks that way,” Sam agreed.

Yellowtail trotted farther off, but his thirsty mares were still headed toward the river.

With a squeal, Yellowtail blocked them.

“Isn't that just like a guy?” Jen pointed as the chestnut clacked his teeth, threatening his mares. “He's taking his embarrassment out on them.”

Sam's laugh froze as all the horses tossed their heads high and pricked their ears. A long, joyous neigh pealed through the air.

“Is that Moon?” Jen asked.

It was. The black stallion looked carefree as he leaped from the river to the bank and shook. Still wet with river water, he galloped toward the other horses. Cattle scattered as Sam worried for the young stallion. Didn't he know that both herds would reject him?

Moon approached at a weaving lope.

“He's acting like it's a game.” Sam heard her own dread.

“No,” Jen said. “I think he's unsure of how they'll treat him. He's acting like a baby, so they won't hurt him.”

If that was Moon's strategy, it didn't work.

As if they were launched by a starting gun, the two herd stallions charged. Moon stopped.

“My gosh, listen to them.” Jen gasped.

Eight galloping hooves sounded like thunder.

Moon's hesitant nicker asked a question, but no horse answered. Trying to hold his ground against the stallions' onslaught would be suicide, and finally Moon figured that out.

He wheeled away and ran. Quickly, he outdistanced the chestnut. But the Phantom was almost upon him. Father and son ran with heads level, legs reaching, and bellies low to the ground. The Phantom's white muzzle touched Moon's long black tail.

“Moon, get out of there!” Sam couldn't help calling out, though the young stallion obeyed an instinct stronger than any human voice.

He'd run away to survive, but Moon was still determined to have a herd. If he couldn't join one, he'd try to steal one. And so, black legs slanting, he veered right and raced back toward Yellowtail.

Surprised at Moon's return, the chestnut watched him flash by. But when Moon angled toward his
grazing mares, Yellowtail screamed. He lunged after the black and punished him with a savage bite.

Defeated for now, Moon ran north. As Sam and Jen watched, he splashed across the river.

The Phantom turned back to his mares, who seemed more interested in grazing than greeting their protector. He urged them away from the river, up the hill, and along a series of switchbacks to safety.

Hooves hit places where shadows had kept ice from melting. It sounded as if the horses were tramping through snow cones.

Yellowtail waited until the Phantom's herd had vanished. At last, he darted down to La Charla for water. His head dipped three times before he let the mares take his place. Then, while their muzzles were still dripping, he herded them away.

When Ace and Popcorn neighed after the wild ones, Sam felt strangely weak.

“And
that
,” Jen said with a sigh, “is why my mother is absolutely insane to want to move to the city.”

Sam found herself nodding…until Jen's words sank in.

“Your mom wants to move?” She gasped. It was hard to believe that Lila Kenworthy, a former rodeo queen and fourth-generation rancher, would consider leaving the range. “Are you serious?”

Jen moved her hand as if shooing a mosquito. “Can we please not talk about it?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, but she knew she wouldn't forget. Jen was her best friend. “But if there's anything I can do to help—”

“I'll not only let you know, I'll
make
you do it,” Jen insisted with a weak smile.

For a few minutes, Jen and Sam let their horses meander toward the cattle. Over and over, Ace and Popcorn snorted, flared their nostrils, and breathed the scents of the free mustangs.

“You know,” Sam said, “instead of riding over to Deerpath Ranch to visit Mrs. Allen, I'd like to check on Moon.”

“That was a bad bite,” Jen said, nodding.

“We have to cross back over the river, then go up the ridge.” Sam hesitated for a second. Then she told herself to stop being a sissy.

Most people lived in cougar country their whole lives and never saw one. Besides, it was still daylight. There was little chance the cougar would be out hunting.

“I am getting sort of cold, too,” Jen said. In turn, she raised her hands and blew on her knuckles.

“You'll warm right up in the canyon,” Sam said, “because of the drop in altitude.”

“Let's go,” Jen said.

They reined their horses around, crossed back over the bridge at River Bend, then headed for Aspen Creek.

 

“Are you sure we're going the right way?” Jen asked about twenty-five minutes later.

“I'm sure,” Sam said.

“The footing is awful and the horses hate it.”

Jen was right. It hadn't felt warm today, but snow was melting and the mud was thick. In some places, the horses' hooves made sucking sounds. In other places, snow looked like frosting on the top of branches, but it dripped down on the girls' hair.

“This is not warming me up, Samantha,” Jen said after a splat of slush landed on her shoulder.

“We're almost there,” Sam promised. “See up there? I remember that kind of curled-over snow-bank.”

“Popcorn is going nuts,” Jen muttered. “His skin's twitching and—”

“His eyes are rolling,” Sam finished.

Ace tensed below her. Then he stopped and refused to go on.

If he heard the same sound she did, he shouldn't worry. It was probably just more snow dripping. But all at once, Sam knew she was wrong.

About ten feet ahead, just off the trail, a cougar crouched and lapped at the snow.

Topaz.
The word popped into Sam's mind because the young cougar was exactly that golden-brown color. The tip of his tail twitched as he watched the riders, but he wasn't about to leave his find.

“Jen.” Sam barely breathed the name.

“I see it.”

The young cougar was eating a deer half buried in the snow. A patch of grass showed green near the dead deer. Could the crest of snow overhead have avalanched down as it grazed?

Sam almost had the scene figured out when Popcorn bolted. Jen's reins were tight, wrapped around her fists, but the albino seemed determined to go over backward rather than stay near the cat.

Sam couldn't take her eyes from the eating cougar, but she motioned with her head for Jen to let Popcorn go farther along the ridge, back toward River Bend.

“Come on,” Jen whispered. “You have to come with me.”

Sam shook her head and still didn't look away.

Ace was restless and worried. He wanted to follow Popcorn, but he wasn't panicked. Sam knew he'd stay, so she held up one finger, signaling she'd be there in a minute. She didn't check Jen's expression and it was probably just as well. Jen would think she was being foolhardy.

The cat left off eating to watch Popcorn go. His tail lashed in irritation. As he chewed each mouthful, he raised amber eyes to watch Sam.

What had Dad said? Cougars needed a deer a week to survive. If that was true, and the young cat could keep his cache safe from coyotes, he ought to be set for a while.

Hooves splattered in the mud behind Sam.

Popcorn had been in such a frenzy, Sam couldn't believe Jen would ride back. Behind her, Sam heard a snort.

Ace returned it and stamped a front hoof. Ahead of her, the cougar stopped eating.

There was another snort then, but it sounded lower, hoarser than Popcorn's, and Sam allowed her head to turn just a fraction of an inch.

Moon stood about three yards from Ace. He tilted his head and trotted toward the cougar.

H
issing and snarling, the cougar backed away from the horses and, reluctantly, from its food.

Ace wanted to escape the fierce, threatening sounds. Sam tensed her legs, hands, and seat, trying to keep the gelding from backing down the steep trail that descended from the ridge. It was no use. No matter what she did, Ace refused to stay near the cougar. Partly because Sam believed Ace's instincts were better than hers, she finally let him put some distance between them and the furious cat.

At last, he stopped. Though Ace continued to shift, Sam was able to look back at the two wild animals. Moon hadn't advanced a step nearer the cougar. He was being careful, but he shook his head, scattering his forelock away from his eyes.

Was it a threat?

Whatever Moon meant, the cougar didn't like it. He leaped for the icy shelf above the deer. Though
the shelf was twice as high as the roof of a car, the cat made it with ease.

Suddenly, Sam could imagine what had happened. The cougar had poised on the snowy ledge, ready to pounce on the grazing deer. Then, just as the cat pushed off for its attack, the shelf had broken and caused a small avalanche of snow that had killed the deer.

Now, white fangs gleaming, the cougar growled at Moon. When a chunk of snow fell, Moon jumped back. The move opened the bite on his haunch and fresh bleeding began.

As soon as the stallion turned back the way he'd come and trotted away, the cougar leaped down. He stood next to his meal, but his eyes followed Moon.

Though the horse had vanished, the cougar lifted his head, and Sam felt chills. Was he smelling the blood on the wind?

For a minute, she had wondered if the two lonely animals could share Aspen Creek canyon in peace.

That had been a childish hope. Predator and prey might be fascinated by one another, but they could never be friends.

Sam looked down the hillside and saw Jen and Popcorn waiting for her. When she reached them, Sam expected Jen to give her an angry lecture. She didn't. She stayed quiet, even when Sam broke the silence.

“We stayed back far enough that Ace could've
gotten us away,” Sam said.

Jen shrugged as if she didn't care, and Sam kicked herself. Jen was already upset over her parents' problems and the prospect of moving; Sam needed to cheer her up. Instead, she'd given her more to worry about.

“We'd better hurry. The sun's starting to set,” Sam said.

Jen nodded, and urged Popcorn into a jog. Ace matched the albino's pace, and the girls slowed the horses only when River Bend Ranch was in sight.

Gram was standing on the front porch watching the ridge when Sam and Jen rode into the yard.

“Looks like trouble,” Sam said under her breath.

Jen flashed her a look that said Sam would have to handle any explanations.

“You didn't go over to Trudy Allen's,” Gram said. “I called and asked her if I could borrow an egg for my cake, since the hens are edgy and laying poorly. Then, not ten minutes ago, she called back and asked if you were still coming by.”

“I'm sorry, Gram,” Sam apologized. “We were watching some wild horses and it got late, so we didn't go.”

“That doesn't explain why Jennifer is pale as milk.”

Jen's hand flew up to rub her cheek, as if she could work some color into her face.

Sam opened her mouth to answer Gram's comment, but nothing came out.

“Never mind,” Gram said. “I'd best get Jen home. Meanwhile, Samantha, you cool down both those horses. Take your time and don't let them stiffen up.”

“Gram!” Sam's voice soared with indignation. How could Gram think she'd neglect the horses?

Gram had already ducked back inside for her car keys. When she bustled back out, she kept giving orders.

“And there's no reason you can't start dinner,” she said. “Your father's eating at Brynna's, so you and I will just have soup and sandwiches.”

As Gram and Jen drove away, Blaze trotted across the ranch yard to stand beside Sam.

“What is this, Blaze?” she asked. The Border collie looked up at her. “I have to take care of both horses and make dinner. Is this punishment or does Gram just want my help?”

The little brown dots of fur over Blaze's eyes shifted up and down. Once he decided all her talking wasn't an offer of dog chow, Blaze trotted back to the house, threw himself down on a step and went to sleep.

It took Sam forever to walk both horses and brush them. Still scared, Popcorn longed to be back in the corral with his adopted herd. He was so skittish, Ace almost nipped him.

“You're getting quite the little attitude, aren't you, boy?” Sam said to Ace after she'd turned Popcorn out. “But I'll take the blame. I shouldn't have made you stay near that cougar. It's against all your
instincts and you did it just for me.”

Sam rubbed the white star on Ace's forehead. She would have kissed his nose, too, but the gelding started pulling toward the barn.

“Are you telling me I can repay your loyalty with a little grain?” Sam let the gelding tow her along to the barn. She spent extra time rubbing Ace down, too, but Gram still wasn't back by the time she finished.

Sam returned to the house. Blaze squeezed through the door beside her, followed her to the walk-in pantry, and sat down where he could watch.

“There's no dog food in here,” she warned, but Blaze's tail thumped the floor anyway.

Sam considered the canned soup. Gram hadn't said which kind she wanted.

“Tomato. Chicken noodle. Clam chowder. Cream of mushroom.” Sam read the labels to Blaze and his tail thumped some more.

In spite of the dog's appreciation, Sam didn't know which to choose. Then she looked at a shelf stacked with about a dozen cans of tuna.

Got it,
Sam thought.

“Tuna salad sandwiches and clam chowder go together, right?” Sam left the pantry with a can in each hand and Blaze dancing beside her. “They're both seafood.”

The phone began ringing before she'd opened either can.

“Hello?” Sam said, expecting it to be Gram.

It was Brynna. “Sam, your dad said I didn't need to call, but I had to. Nothing's wrong,” Brynna hurried on, “I just wanted to know if you've seen either of our juvenile delinquents lately.”

Sam hesitated. Of course, Brynna meant Moon and the cougar. Sam wanted to tell her everything, but how would Dad react to Brynna's side of the conversation?

Dad had said he'd give the cougar a chance. Two or three days, he'd said, if no River Bend stock was hurt. Which it hadn't been. The cougar hadn't come near the house, either. That spot on the ridge was several miles away.

“I saw them both today,” Sam said.

“Where?” Brynna asked.

“The Phantom had his herd just across the river, and Moon tried to join up.”

“I can't say he's a fast learner,” Brynna said. Then she spoke an aside to Dad, mumbling “Moon” and, “I'll tell you later.”

“He interrupted a fight, though. There's a chestnut herd stallion who used to be part of Moon's bachelor band. He and the Phantom were discussing who had grazing rights when Moon came loping in. Then they ganged up on him.”

“I don't know what the Phantom is thinking,” Brynna said. “This sparring is a spring and summer game. Once feed gets scarce, he's not going to have
the energy to do all this fighting.”

“I've been wondering about that, too,” Sam admitted. “But when he left today, he looked like he was headed back the way he usually comes in for water.”

“Good,” Brynna said. “At least he's out of that disputed area in Lost Canyon. It looks like half of Arroyo Azul is tribal land, but I'll tell you about that later.”

“Are you talking to me or my dad?” Sam asked.

“Definitely you.” Brynna sounded amused. “Wyatt left the kitchen when I said I didn't know what the Phantom was thinking.”

Sam laughed. Dad cared for every animal on River Bend and for wild animals, too, but he had no patience with anyone who attributed human qualities to them.

“And the cougar?” Brynna's voice sobered. “Wyatt said he was down by your chicken coop.”

“He's up on the ridge now, about midway between River Bend and Three Ponies,” Sam said.

“Tell me everything,” Brynna insisted.

Sam did, including her theory about how the deer had died.

“We can't assume he's hunting, then,” Brynna said. “I'm going to contact someone in the Department of Wildlife, just in case.”

“What happens then?” Sam asked.

“They can relocate nuisance animals.”

“Is he really a nuisance?”

“Not yet.” Brynna sighed. “But we need a plan in case he becomes one.”

“I'm afraid hanging around the ranches looking for food is so much easier than hunting…”

“Right,” Brynna said. “But I'll get on the phone tomorrow. Maybe in the meantime, instinct will tell him he's better off in the mountains.”

Sam felt a little better. The cougar had watched his mother for at least a year, and he had inborn instincts he couldn't ignore. He might be all right, after all.

“Okay, Sam,” Brynna said. “Your dad's making starving noises. I've got to go take a pizza out of the oven.”

“You can make pizza?” Sam asked.

“Sure, if it's take-and-bake from the deli in Darton,” Brynna said, laughing.

“That sounds good to me,” Sam said, considering the two unopened cans on the kitchen counter.

“Well, it's lucky Wyatt's not marrying me for my domestic skills. I've been living on salads and noodles for years. I can't remember the last time I made a meal that required more than one cooking utensil.”

Sam felt a little envious. Cooking whatever you wanted, whenever you liked, sounded independent and altogether fun.

She glanced at the kitchen window. It was dark. She couldn't have more than a few minutes before Gram returned.

“Ouch!” Brynna yelped, and Sam heard the slam of an oven door. “So, if your Gram mentions retiring, you'd better stock up on vitamins. Gotta go,” she said quickly.

“'Bye—and let me know what the wildlife people say, okay?”

“You bet,” Brynna answered.

As soon as Sam hung up the phone, she attacked the cans with Gram's creaky hand-held can opener. Sam preferred the electric one that Gram had stashed in some bottom cupboard, but she didn't have time to find it.

She glanced at the clock again, and then at the darkness pressing against the kitchen windows, and resisted a pinch of worry.

Sam almost hoped Gram got home and found her slacking, because she had been gone almost two hours for a half-hour trip.