Dark Sunshine (8 page)

I
N
S
AN
F
RANCISCO
, Sam had gone riding twice on rented horses. After the second time, she hadn't wanted to go again. Aunt Sue had worried that Sam was afraid of horses after the accident. Aunt Sue always worried, but she wasn't pushy about it.

“Tell me what you don't like about it,” Aunt Sue had said as they drove away from the San Francisco stable for the last time.

Sam had tried. Although she was still a little afraid of falling, Sam could push the fear aside and she told Aunt Sue so. The other part was harder to explain.

Her heart always sank at the end of a ride. Sam hated giving the horse back. She couldn't think of a word to describe the feeling.

“Greed?” Aunt Sue suggested, joking. “Disappointment?”

Together they'd tried, but couldn't come up with it.

Now, Sam didn't have to worry about that feeling.

She rode at a rocking chair lope across the range. With mustang sureness, Ace threaded between clumps of sagebrush. Over his hoofbeats, songbirds sang to the fading afternoon and Sam rode with a joy she'd longed for during those two long years in San Francisco.

To her right lay War Drum Flats and Lost Canyon. To her left, three miles past the blackberry bushes hedging the river, she'd find Three Ponies Ranch, home to Jake's family. Dead ahead, but hours away, the Calico Mountains soared purple against the blue Nevada sky.

Sam knew just where she was, and it was exactly where she wanted to be. She'd do whatever it took to keep the River Bend Ranch. If that meant working with Mikki and doing a good job so they'd win the contract for HARP, she'd cooperate.

Sam had drawn rein to watch a covey of quail rush for cover when she thought she heard someone call her name. She turned, scanned the range, and saw Dad riding Banjo toward her at a walk. Worry swept Sam, until she realized why Dad rode so slowly. Beside him on Gram's pinto, Sweetheart, rode Mikki.

With both hands clamped to the saddle horn, Mikki leaned forward until her forehead almost brushed Sweetheart's mane. Mikki might love horses—the wide smile on her face said as much—
but Sam guessed this was the first time she'd ridden one. Why wasn't Mikki in the round pen with Popcorn? Why wasn't Dad ponying Sweetheart on a lead line? Wasn't he risking a lawsuit or something by letting Mikki leave the ranch yard on horseback?

Dad knew horses better than anyone. If he thought Mikki was safe, Sam wouldn't ask. All the same, she was relieved when Dad explained.

“Jake's been called in to observe the tracking of those rustlers.”

“Wow,” Sam said. The BLM had federal experts, so this must have been Brynna's idea.

“Kind of an honor for him,” Dad said, “but it left Mikki here high and dry. I could've gone in and sat with her, but introducin' a new human to Popcorn so soon isn't fair. I decided to let her try horses from a different angle.”

Mikki glanced up. Her expression said she wanted to make a smart-mouth remark, but she was just too happy to think of one. Besides, she sat on Sweetheart as if the pinto were made of eggshell. Mikki must be worried Sweetheart would interpret any move as a command to run.

They rode together, three abreast, until Dad trotted off a short distance to check a water windmill. That's what he said, but Sam knew Dad hoped Mikki would like riding with another kid.

“This is a big deal for Jake, otherwise he wouldn't have left,” Sam said.

“I don't care.”

Sam's teeth gritted together. So, they were back to that.

“You don't care that he left?” Sam asked her. “Or that it's a big deal for him?”

“Whatever.” Mikki stared down at the reins she'd wrapped around the saddle horn. “I don't care.”

“He's a really good tracker. His grandfather—”

“Or he just thinks he is,” Mikki said.

“No, he's good,” Sam insisted. “And he doesn't just do it for pay. Once a local man tried to pay him to track a horse he'd hurt, and he offered Jake a lot of money, but Jake wouldn't do it.”

“You leave so many holes in your story, I can tell you're making it up. ‘A local man,
a
horse,
a
lot of money,'” Mikki said. “It's like a commercial on TV: ‘many doctors recommend.' Yeah, so who are they?”

Sam didn't know whether to be amused or irritated. “Well, I'm not making it up, and I'm not going to tell you who the man is, though he deserves it, but the horse is the Phantom.”

“Yeah, right.” Mikki sat back with such emphasis, Sweetheart thought she meant “Whoa,” and stopped. “Miss Olson told me that whopper, too. I may not be from around here, but I don't believe in ghost horses.”

“He's no ghost.” Sam's legs asked Ace to move at a faster walk.

Sweetheart followed without Mikki's urging. When
the pinto and her wobbly rider caught up, Sam glanced at the girl. Mikki bobbed in the saddle, blond hair blowing every which way, but Sam noticed her expression most. Mikki's pointy fox face shone with curiosity. She wanted to know more about the Phantom.

Well, Sam decided, Mikki would just have to wait.

“Jake's tracking those rustlers because they're evil. They hurt Dark Sunshine and trapped those other mustangs to sell for dog food. Right now, they probably have them hidden away, fattening them up so they'll bring more pennies per pound, but they'll kill them soon. And that trap”—Sam gestured toward Lost Canyon—“has been there a while. These are not the first horses they've slaughtered for money.”

Mikki attempted to sit straighter in the saddle and hold the saddle horn with only one hand, but she didn't sway with Sweetheart's movements. She lurched.

Putting both hands back on the horn for balance, she asked, “And you don't think Jake's tracking them to get a big reputation?”

Clearly, Mikki had already made up her mind. Sam didn't want to defend Jake. She wanted Mikki to find out for herself, but Sam wasn't that patient.

“Look,” she said, “Jake has his faults. For instance, he's obsessed with being my big brother. But he's shy, not a glory hound. He wants to lock up the bad guys. That's all.”

Mikki's face turned red. Her hands fidgeted on the reins and Sweetheart's gait turned choppy with confusion.

For the good of the horse, Sam tried to calm Mikki.

“You know, you're trying to teach Popcorn to trust you. Maybe you should learn a little something about it yourself, and admit Jake's a good guy.”

“Men are scum!” Mikki shouted, drawing Dad's attention from where he rode ahead of them.

“Not all of them,” Sam said, glad the entrance to River Bend had come into view.

“Well, my mom's married three and
they
were all scum. When Miss Olson told me HARP had men teachers, I almost didn't do it. Then, your Dad seemed sort of okay, and you weren't scared—” Mikki cut off the words. “So, isn't that enough
trust
for you?”

Sam swallowed. This conversation was too much for her to handle. Mikki should be talking to someone who knew what she was doing, like a counselor. Or Brynna.

But Sam had no choice, so she did what she'd do if Mikki was a horse. She rewarded this tiny bit of progress.

“You're right. It's trust.” She smiled and nodded toward River Bend bridge. “Speaking of trust, I think Sweetheart is starting to like you: Why don't you ride across first. The sound of their hooves on the wood
spooks horses sometimes, but I think she'll do it for you.”

Mikki crossed alone, not knowing she was more spooked by the sound than Sweetheart, who'd walked over the bridge hundreds of times.

Although Dad rode in behind them and offered to help, Mikki dismounted alone, then walked with wobbly knees to the round pen.

“Is it okay if I open the gate to check Popcorn?” she asked.

Sam glanced at Dad. He nodded.

“Go ahead,” Sam said. “And watch him when he first sees you.”

Dad stayed on Banjo. He pretended to adjust the gelding's headstall. But Sam wasn't fooled. If Popcorn made a break past Mikki, Dad and Banjo would cut him off.

Mikki emerged from the corral and slid the bolt closed on the gate, looking proud of herself for closing it the right way.

“His head went up and his ears went forward when he saw me,” Mikki reported. “He took two steps backward, but he didn't run away. Is that good?”

“In just a couple days? I think that's great,” Sam said, but there was no time left to talk. They heard the sound of tires on the desert floor as the gray van drew close, then rolled across the bridge.

Without a good-bye, Mikki trudged toward it.

Sam remembered the feeling of giving back horses at the end of a ride. She still didn't know what it was called, but it felt something like surrender.

 

If Dad hadn't driven into Alkali for two half gallons of milk, he probably would have called BLM to come get Dark Sunshine.

Left alone to feed the horses, Sam saved Ace, Sweetheart, and the buckskin for last. All three were munching the hay she'd forked to them when Sam gave in to temptation.

Facing into the dark barn, the mare ate. The only sign she even knew Sam was there was the occasional shivering of her skin, as if she were scaring off flies.

Maybe she and Jake and Brynna were all wrong. Maybe the mare's first family had been kind to her, and she only needed to be reminded that the human hand could comfort as well as punish. It was worth a try.

Moving by millimeters, Sam placed one foot on the lowest fence rail, then matched the other beside it. She went up one more rail and leaned out over the top rail, arm extended toward Sunshine's golden hide.

The mustang ran. Ears flat, eyes narrowed, and mouth agape, the mare rushed the fence as if it were invisible. Kicking as she went, the mare collided with the fence. The vibration knocked Sam off the other side of the corral.

Before Sam could stand, before the cloud of dirt and straw could settle, the mare threw herself at the fence again.

Don't let her get out
.

The rails held, but Sam blamed herself for being an idiot. She'd moved too fast. The mare's trust must be won minute by minute. She needed more than a clumsy reminder that some people weren't monsters.

The mare trembled as if she'd try to batter the rails down with her chest, and her silence was scarier than any scream.

This was no warning. Dark Sunshine's attack wasn't a threat. The mustang's eyes blazed with fear. Sam knew she must be careful. The mare might not be hateful, but flying hooves could kill even if they were used in self-defense.

As Sam turned her back to the corral and walked away, the mare sighed with relief.

Sam rubbed the dust from her eyelashes and stood blinking. Her hands were dirty and she'd only made it worse. Through blurry eyes, she glanced over her shoulder at the mare.

Dark Sunshine's head hung. She breathed short puffs into her hay, but she wasn't eating.

Poor girl
, Sam thought.
We'll think of something
.

Tomorrow was Thursday. She'd promised to ride up to the trap with Jen. Sam shivered. She didn't want to go back, but maybe Jen could help her find
a clue to what those men had done to hurt Dark Sunshine so much.

 

That night, Sam tossed from her back to her front, tangling her legs in the sheets. She pulled her quilt up and pushed it off.

It was only eleven o'clock, but her brain had been spinning since she'd looked into the mare's eyes. Fear mixed with bravery was a dangerous thing.

Suddenly, Sam sat up.

She knew how to help Dark Sunshine. The Phantom had given her the answer.

How could she help a mustang who only felt safe in the dark? By moonlight.

Phantom had endured terrifying hours with people, and yet he came to her by moonlight. The night he'd taken her to the valley that sheltered his herd, Sam had sat near dozens of wild horses. None had seemed afraid, though they could clearly see her in the brightness of the moon.

It could work. It
would
work!

Sam eased out of bed. Her nightgown swished around her ankles as she crept down the hall to the door of Dad's room. One wooden board creaked under her toes.

“What's wrong?” Dad's voice cut across the sound of bedsprings and his feet hitting his bedroom carpet.

His outline showed in the hall before Sam reached his door.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,” Sam managed. He'd sure scared her. Her pulse shook her whole body. “Nothing's wrong.”

“You surprised me some. That's all.” Dad's tone was calming. “Let's go into your room to talk. I don't want to wake Gram.”

Dad followed her back down the hall and switched on the light.

“I wasn't going down to the river.” Sam offered the truth as she climbed back into bed. More than once she'd been in trouble for leaving the house at midnight.

Dad nodded. Either he believed her or he was taking in her messy room. He hesitated near the chair piled with boots and jeans, then sat on the bed next to her. For a minute he surveyed the room as if he'd never seen it before.

Dad's fingers brushed the white quilt with the patchwork star, then he stared at her shelf of horse statues, wooden, glass, and plastic. His gaze touched each prancing leg and backswept tail. He studied the unicorn wallpaper just visible inside her closet, and the stack of schoolbooks and magazines about to avalanche off her bedside table.

“I don't blame you for going out there.” Dad gestured toward the river. “If I were to blame anyone”—he chuckled—“I guess it would have to be Louise.”

Sam held her breath. Louise was her mother, and Dad rarely talked about her. As a child, Sam had asked him about her mother all the time. But her questions so obviously hurt Dad, she'd finally stopped.