Dark Sunshine (3 page)

He didn't, until she'd ridden Ace to the barn, stripped him of saddle and bridle, and turned both horses into the barn corral with Gram's gentle paint, Sweetheart.

Exhausted and finally drinking from her canteen, Sam watched the buckskin. Clearly, she was familiar with corrals. She didn't fling herself against the rails as some wild ones did.

Still blindfolded, the mare stood sandwiched between Ace and Sweetheart. Heedless of the hot day, the buckskin let the two horses press against her. At last, she dozed in the security of her new herd.

As Sam walked back toward the house, Jake met her halfway. She almost wished he hadn't. He wore the same lazy tomcat smile he'd taunted her with when she was a tagalong kid.

“What?” she demanded.

“Brat,” Jake began.

“Stop calling me that. And stop laughing.”

Sam tilted her canteen to take a long drink of water.

Once her mouth was full, Jake continued.

“I just can't wait to hear what Wyatt says when he finds out his daughter is a for-real horse thief.”

“I
'
M NOT A
horse thief!”

“Um-hmm,” Jake said. “That freeze brand and bandanna probably don't mean a thing. Her owner just gave her to you.”

“No,” Sam admitted. “But I didn't steal her. Exactly. If you'd seen what they were doing to her—”

“The owner was right there?” Jake's brown eyes widened. “You mean we're not talking burglary but outright robbery?”

“Of course not,” Sam said, but she wasn't sure. “I just, well, there was nothing else I could do.”

“Tell it to the judge.” Jake turned back toward the round corral.

“Hey!” Frustrated, Sam gave Jake's retreating back a flat-handed push. “You can't just walk away.”

“Bet me,” Jake said, and kept walking.

“If you opened your eyes and looked at her, you'd see that mare is starved, dehydrated, and—” Sam
searched for words to explain the horse's terror. “And she's an emotional mess.”

When he turned back around, Jake's face was shadowed by his black Stetson. “I'll help you get that rag off her head,” Jake said, but Sam could tell his sympathies were for the horse, not her.

“I don't want your help,” Sam blurted. “I want you to admit I didn't steal that mare. I rescued her.”

“Whatever,” Jake muttered. His spurs rang as he led the way back to the barn corral.

“You hate it when I'm right,” Sam taunted, but Jake didn't reply. Sometimes she thought he had a daily quota of words, and when they were used up, he just quit talking.

Jake approached the buckskin cautiously, coming through the shady barn to the corral. Sam blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the dimness, but Jake wasted no time. He set one boot on a fence rail, pushed himself up, and reached for the buckskin's head.

The mare exploded. Her piercing scream accompanied an attack. She went for Jake with such fury that one foreleg got hung by the knee over the top rail.

“It's okay, girl. It's okay,” Sam heard herself babbling, but Jake stayed quiet, dodging the mare's teeth as he freed her leg, then jumped down.

Jake would only snap at her if she asked if he was okay, so Sam watched the horse instead.

The buckskin ricocheted around the corral. She slammed against the fence, banged into Ace, bumped Sweetheart, then collided with the fence again.

The mare had been calm and napping just minutes ago. Sam could see it wasn't captivity the buckskin feared, it was people.

Jake motioned Sam outside the barn, but he kept staring back toward the mare, trying to read her mind.

“I'm calling Brynna Olson,” Sam said. Jake nodded, eyes still on the horse. “To see who adopted her and everything. And—”

Sam's heart sped up. How could she have put aside the safety of the other horses? “I'll ask her where someone would take mustangs to sell them for—” She couldn't swallow down the worry. “You know, to be made into dog food.”

“They'd take them out to the auction yards in Mineral,” Jake said. “But there's a brand inspector there. If he thinks the horses are mustangs, he won't let them go up for sale.”

“Are you sure?” Sam thought of the two mares and the beautiful black yearling.

“Yeah.” Jake sounded bored, but Sam could see he was just preoccupied, still staring at the buckskin. “When you get done, come back.”

“Why?” She'd had every intention of doing just that, but Sam didn't like Jake bossing her around.

“She might let you take that blindfold off,” he said.

Sam felt dizzy, remembering the mare's charge on the mountain, remembering she'd almost fainted from fear. But Jake never suggested she do something dangerous.

“Piece of cake,” Sam said, then hurried off to make that phone call, half hoping Gram would forbid her to leave the house.

 

“I'll dispatch two rangers the minute we hang up. One can check out the auction yards. The other can go up by Lost Canyon and determine who's responsible.” Brynna Olson, director of Willow Springs Wild Horse Center, sounded crisp and businesslike.

She always did. Sam still had to look hard to see the kind woman inside that wrinkle-free government uniform.

Still, Brynna was awfully good at her work. With a few questions, she'd pried a lot of information from Sam's weary brain. Now, Sam could clearly picture the three men: the freckle-faced one in camouflage, the white-haired one with the buggy eyes, and the cowboy who'd flicked the black whip with such easy cruelty.

The buckskin's screams invaded the kitchen. Gram, who'd been sipping coffee and listening to Sam's conversation, frowned.

“I'll read that location back to you,” Brynna said. “Correct anything I might've taken down incorrectly.”

Brynna read Sam's description of the trail into Lost Canyon. Of course, she'd copied it perfectly.

“You've got it,” Sam said, trying to block out the commotion coming from the barn pen.

“This evening when I drive out to talk with Wyatt,” Brynna said, “I'll check the mare's freeze mark and start tracking her owner. What else should I know?”

Sam bit her lip. So far, she hadn't mentioned the Phantom or said it had been his herd driven toward the trap. The less folks thought about the stallion, the better. It couldn't possibly matter.

“They were using her as a Judas horse,” Sam blurted. “They must have turned her loose farther down the mountain, then spooked the mustangs after her. She led them right into the trap, as if she knew there'd be food there. She's half starved and dehydrated.”

“I'll send a vet.”

Suddenly there was a ringing thump outside, as if the mare were trying to kick her way out of the barn corral.

“Send a big one,” Sam said. “She's a fighter.”

 

It turned out Sam didn't have to remove the buckskin's blindfold. Sweetheart rubbed faces with her and accidentally peeled off the bandanna, and that's when the mare had gone crazy all over again.

“She's fine as long as she faces that way.” Jake
pointed. He'd been watching her the whole time Sam was on the phone. “Looking into the dark barn, she's fine. She started coming unglued when I turned on the light to get a look at her.”

Was something wrong with the buckskin's eyes? Sam had assumed the men had blindfolded the mare to make her helpless, but maybe she was extra sensitive to light. Sam knew nothing about horses' eyes, and she had no time to ask Jake before she heard riders approaching.

Dad and all three cowboys—Dallas, Pepper, and Ross—were crossing the bridge. They rode loose-jointed and tired, like men who'd already put in a full day's work.

Sam looked at her watch. She could hardly believe it was already 4
P.M.
She swallowed against the tension threatening to strangle her, but then she saw her calf, Buddy, frolic up to the gate to greet the riders. Ever since she'd been pulled from quicksand as an orphan, the calf had been peppy as a pup.

Dad stripped the saddle and bridle from Banjo and turned the horse into the big pasture. While he rinsed his hands and face at the pump, Sam remembered she hadn't brushed her hair since dawn, when she had pulled her ratty green sweatshirt over her head.

She forked fingers through her bangs and the tendrils at her temples, trying to fluff the hair flattened by her old brown cowboy hat.

Now, saddle and blanket in hand, Dad walked toward the tack room.

“Steady there.” Jake's voice was so low only the horses heard, but he was talking to Sam. “The worst thing that can happen is we give the mare to BLM.”

Jake was right, but Sam noticed he hadn't ridden home for dinner. Suspense had its claws in him, too. He wanted to hear what Dad and Brynna said about this frightened animal.

“What do we have here?” Dad asked.

Sam listened for judgment in his voice, but heard only curiosity about the golden tan mare who refused to look at him.

As Sam began to explain, Brynna arrived. So did the vet. Gram walked down from the house, too, and all three cowboys put off dinner to see what was causing the excitement.

Sam supposed she did a fine job of explaining. After all, no one could contradict her except Ace or the rustlers, and one seemed as likely as the other. But Sam was distracted.

Not by Dad, who stood expressionless as a tree trunk. Not by Brynna, who took notes like a newspaper reporter. Sam wasn't distracted by the vet, who said he wouldn't sedate the mare for an exam now, since he'd have to tranquilize her again tomorrow when BLM moved her to Willow Springs.

Sam was distracted by the girl who'd arrived with Brynna. The BLM woman was so caught up in
identifying the mare, she'd forgotten to introduce the girl who'd come in the white government truck along with her.

The girl had a pointy fox face and wispy blond hair, and though she couldn't be more than twelve years old, she was what Aunt Sue would call a “tough cookie.” Hands on hips, eyelids slack with boredom, she looked at those around her—Sam included—as if they were barely smart enough to breathe.

The vet had to detour around the girl to leave. She wouldn't step out of his path. Only Sam seemed to notice.

Was the girl Brynna's daughter? Her niece? If so, Sam pitied Brynna. The girl looked mean. Her jaw jutted out as if she held a grudge against the world.

“I think they kept her in a dark stall, long-term,” Jake suggested.

A flicker of fear lit the girl's face before she gave a forced and noisy yawn.

“It happens,” Brynna said. She gave the girl a quick glance, but gestured toward the horse. “Even a mustang gets to feeling safe when she's left undisturbed. Then, when they try to make her leave, she charges.”

“Yes, she does.” Sam could have kicked herself for saying it.

Dad and Gram turned frowns her way. Their expressions said that the hours they'd spent at her
hospital bedside, two years ago, were still fresh in their memories.

“When I opened the gate up there, she ran for it.” Sam gestured toward Lost Canyon, then made things worse by brushing off the front of her jeans. “I fell getting out of her way.”

Figuring the girl would be amused by her discomfort, Sam shot her a sidelong glance. She was wrong.

The girl wasn't listening to a word she'd said. She was watching the horses.

In the ten-acre pasture, Strawberry rolled the saddle stiffness from her back, then shot to her feet and ran with the others galloping after. It happened every evening, but you couldn't guess that by the girl's expression. For the first time, Sam thought she was seeing rapture.

If the little creep loved horses, she couldn't be all bad.

Just then, Jake leaned forward to show Brynna the bandanna the buckskin had worn, and he accidentally bumped the girl.

“Sorry,” Jake apologized.

Instead of shrugging off the encounter, the girl stepped closer, lifted her chin and shot both hands out to her sides, fingers motioning him closer.

Sam blinked. The girl was clearly saying that if Jake wanted to fight, she was ready.

Jake looked stunned. Sam watched him calculate the huge difference in their heights and weights, but he only repeated, “Sorry.”

Sam glanced at Dad to gauge his reaction to all this, and caught him looking at Brynna. Something in the tilt of Dad's head said they'd already discussed this kid. Their eyes continued the conversation and Sam felt left out.

“I forgot to introduce Mikki,” Brynna said.

“Mikki,” Gram repeated. “What a cute name.”

Gram stepped forward to take the girl's hand in both of hers, but Mikki crossed her arms and cinched them close to her body.

Sam couldn't believe someone didn't tell the girl to straighten up and apologize.

“Mikki is from Sacramento, California,” Brynna went on. “She goes by Mikki, but her full name is Michelle Small.”

The girl glared at Sam as if daring her to comment on the match between her name and her size.

“Mikki's agreed to be the first to try out the HARP program—that's the Horse and Rider Protection program—here in northern Nevada,” Brynna said.

Sam felt her lips twist in sarcasm. With Mikki's attitude, people needed protection
from
her.

“Some people who adopt mustangs just aren't suited to the chore of training them. Sometimes, they make some pretty big mistakes,” Brynna said. “When
that happens, we take the horses back and match them with girls who gentle them and make them adoptable all over again.”

Sam would have asked Brynna how they picked the girls, if Jake hadn't chosen that moment to escape.

“'Scuse me,” he mumbled. “I'm due home soon, and it'll take a while to finish up with Teddy and turn him out.”

Dad glanced toward the round corral where Jake had left the horse he was working, then nodded for Jake to go ahead.

“Bye, Jake,” Sam said. She waved, and watched Dallas, Pepper, and Ross go after him. Cowboys didn't willingly join in uncomfortable conversations. Sam was amazed Dad was still standing here.

“Teddy Bear is the nicest little horse,” Gram explained. “He's a curly Bashkir. Maybe you've seen them in magazines.”

When Gram added that, Sam realized why she'd gone off on this tangent. Once more, Mikki's face lit with that joyous look. Even though Mikki had been rude, Gram was entertaining her. Why?

“Jake's schooling Teddy for Mr. Martinez, a banker in town. He loves that horse, but he raised him from a baby and, well, spoiled him a bit. Some tricks that were cute when Teddy was a colt—like using his teeth to pull the wallet out of your back pocket—are downright dangerous now that he's an
adult horse. And when he doesn't want to be ridden?” Gram raised her eyebrows. “He just sits down like a big old dog.”

When Brynna noticed Mikki's smile, her own got bigger. “Mikki, why don't you go over and watch?”