Gift Horse (12 page)

“Good,” Jake said gruffly as he pulled the van to a stop near the Slocums' arena. “Then you won't mind if I sit way off somewhere and don't talk to anyone. Me bein' such a disappointment, and all, I'd hate to embarrass you.”

There was too much of an audience present for Sam to grab Jake's ears and rap his head against the driver's side door, so she only muttered, “You make me crazy.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jake replied, his smile white against his dark face. Then he nodded toward Ryan and Katie Sterling, both standing nearby, and gave Sam's shoulder a push. “See ya around, Brat.”

Working alone, Sam unloaded Tinkerbell. He pranced down the ramp and surveyed Gold Dust Ranch. His ears flicked from the pony pasture to the cattle that looked like Oreos. He nickered at Hotspot, Linc Slocum's blue-blooded Appaloosa mare. Finally, he considered the people.

Ryan was already looking at him with appreciation.

“What a fine-looking fellow,” Ryan greeted Tinkerbell, then added, “Hi, Samantha.”

The gelding whuffled his lips over Ryan's coffee-brown hair before lipping his burgundy sweater.
Ryan allowed the inspection, then laughed. “Oh, we'll get along well. I'm sure of it.”

“Hi, Sam.” Katie Sterling wore an ivory-colored duster slung over her riding clothes. Though her outfit was practical and weatherproof, she managed to look like a fashion model. “We met before, when Rachel was looking for her last mount.”

“Of course,” Sam said, but when Katie met her eyes, Sam could tell they were both remembering their amazement when Rachel had bought a horse without even riding it. Appearance, not ability, had been Rachel's main concern.

Ryan had the tack ready. He'd extended the cinch and headstall on some existing gear and Tinkerbell protested neither. The English saddle was dwarfed by the gelding's mammoth stature, but Sam knew a Western saddle wouldn't look much different. Plus, it would be a disaster to use while jumping.

Sam saw no sign of the head-shyness Mr. Fairchild had mentioned. Tinkerbell mouthed the snaffle bit as if he hadn't worn one for a while, but that was all. Once he was tacked up, Tinkerbell watched Ryan with great interest.

“He looks sound,” Ryan said as he pulled on a helmet. “Let's see how he goes.”

The roofed arena had deep, soft footing from one end to the other. A few jumps were in place. Some painted rails, probably used for other jumps, were scattered around the middle of the arena.

Smooth and skillful, Ryan mounted, then took Tinkerbell around the arena.

Sam couldn't believe Tinkerbell's grace. He flowed through a walk, trot, and canter as if he'd been awaiting this for days. It was easy to forget the gelding's size.

Ryan's smile said he was just as amazed. When he brought the horse back to the side of the arena where Sam stood with Katie, his voice was filled with pleasure.

“His action is smooth. He responds to the lightest rein and he's very interested in the jumps.”

Sam almost applauded. She'd been right. Tinkerbell was no throwaway horse.

“They were going to sell him for dog food,” Sam blurted to Katie. “Can you believe it?”

“And you talked them out of it? When he could have been sold for hundreds of dollars?” Katie paused as Sam nodded. “You must be some talker.”

“Not really,” Sam said. “In fact, I'm—well, sort of afraid of, you know…”

As her voice trailed off, Sam wondered why she'd nearly confessed her fear of public speaking to Katie, when she'd only hinted at it to her friends and family.

“Don't be so humble,” Katie said, with a half smile.

“No, really,” Sam insisted.

Katie shook her head. “I've been working at the stable for years, renting stalls, selling horses, you
name it. And I'll tell you, when you can get people to part with money, you're good.”

For a minute, Sam was bewildered. She had convinced Mr. Fairchild they could earn a profit on Tinkerbell. But that was different.

“He works beautifully,” Katie said.

Sam looked back at the arena, chagrined that she'd let her attention wander from Tinkerbell.

Hands and legs quiet, Ryan walked Tinkerbell toward the poles on the ground. His bucket-sized hooves just fit between them. Next, Ryan asked Tinkerbell to reverse direction and took the gelding back through the rails at a trot and finally a canter.

Where was Jake? Sam looked over her shoulder. He had to see this. She craned her neck to look back toward the cattle truck, but he was nowhere in sight.

Ryan's admiring chuckle carried from the center of the arena, as Tinkerbell tried to jump a row of rails instead of stepping between them.

“Patience,” Ryan told the horse, and Tinkerbell's ears flicked back to listen.

“This ought to be fun,” Katie said, as Ryan positioned the horse facing a small cross-rail fence.

It couldn't be more than a foot off the ground, so Sam didn't really see how it could be much of a test, but then she watched the gelding's reaction to it.

The jump was some distance off and Ryan gave Tinkerbell plenty of time to study it. The horse shifted in eagerness. Then Ryan must have given a
signal, because Tinkerbell's dark ears flicked forward and his muscular front quarters tensed.

Sam held her breath as Tinkerbell skipped forward and popped over the fence. Ryan circled the arena and took Tinkerbell over the jump from the other direction, and then over a two-rail fence, which looked about three feet high.

“Oh, yes,” Katie Sterling said under her breath.

When Ryan brought Tinkerbell back to Sam and Katie, he was grinning and shaking his head.

“He's a natural, isn't he?” Sam asked.

“On the contrary,” Ryan said, dismounting. “Someone has worked with this horse. This is old hat to him. A green jumper will jump wide—leaving the ground early and landing well past the fence. This one,” he gave Tinkerbell a pat, “is tidy as a cat. He saves his energy for moving his rather generous body around, and keeps his jumps neat.”

Katie Sterling seemed to be waiting for something more. Her brows were arched as if she had a question.

Ryan glanced back down the arena, then looked back at Katie. “He could go much, much higher.”

Katie's hands were fisted as she said, “I can't even ask if he's for sale, because I don't need him, but—wow.”

“Actually, he might already be sold,” Sam said. “Mr. Martinez is interested.”

“Really?” Katie asked, an amused smile on her
lips. “I've seen his pasture fence. What's going to keep this big boy home if he decides he wants to go visiting?”

“He already did,” Sam admitted.

“Ha!” Katie clapped her hands and looked back at Tinkerbell. “As soon as I can think of a way to justify buying him to my dad, I'll be making an offer.”

Yes
, Sam thought. Tinkerbell had two prospective homes. Maybe he'd be all right.

Suddenly, Ryan offered Sam the reins.

“Won't you take a turn now?” he asked.

She took a deep breath. Half of her wanted to give it a try. There couldn't be a safer place than right here in this arena, but what if she fell off? It wasn't like she'd never done that before, but she didn't want Ryan and Katie as witnesses.

And what if Rachel showed up? She lived only a few steps away, and though horses bored her, tormenting Sam might make it worth the walk from her mansion to the arena.

“You know, I'd like to,” Sam said. “But Jake has to get back, and he drove us here.” She looked around quickly for Jake. It would be just like him to tell her to go ahead.

“I understand.” Ryan sounded disappointed, and his serious expression said he'd seen right through her refusal. He knew she was afraid to ride Tinkerbell.

All at once, Sam realized she didn't need Jake to
tell her to go ahead. She wanted to ride Tinkerbell. He could be sold tomorrow, and then she would have missed her chance. And if she fell—oh well, it wouldn't be the first time.

“I'll do it,” Sam said. “But don't laugh. I've never been on a horse taller than sixteen hands.”

“Great!” Ryan clapped her on the shoulder and set to work lengthening the stirrup leathers. “That's as long as they go.”

The stirrups on the English saddle looked almost delicate. The bare little bars of metal were so different from the leather-wrapped ones on a Western saddle. Besides, these were higher than her eye level. How could she ever get her boot up there?

“I don't think that's going to do it,” Sam said.

“I'll give you a leg up,” Ryan said. He moved to stand next to Tinkerbell's neck and faced Sam.

Sam gazed up. “That's what you think,” she muttered.

Fingers reaching, she snagged the reins, but barely. She should have a firm grip on them before she vaulted into the saddle. Otherwise, if Tinkerbell took off during her awkward mount, she wouldn't be going with him.

“You can do it,” Katie encouraged. “You've got the reins, so just face the horse's shoulder, put your hand on his neck, or”—she laughed—“as high as you can reach. Then, you should put your other hand on the pommel….”

“Just give me your left leg,” Ryan said quietly as Katie continued her instructions.

With his own left leg bent and his hands cupped, Ryan boosted Sam as she sprang toward the saddle and suddenly, she was up!

The view from Tinkerbell's back was amazing. She looked down on Ryan's chocolate hair as if she'd climbed up into stadium bleachers, but she didn't feel the least bit unsteady.

“Don't look down,” Katie joked. “Isn't that what they tell tightrope walkers?”

Sam laughed and patted Tinkerbell's satiny neck as Ryan adjusted the stirrups once more. She took up reins that were different from her Western reins. Instead of being split into two slick leather straps, the part she held was braided and buckled together. At least if she dropped them they wouldn't end up under Tink's hooves.

She settled into the small saddle as well as she could. Tinkerbell's back was so broad, her thigh muscles pulled, then complained, as she found her stirrups.

“Ready, boy?”

Tinkerbell's ears pricked forward and he gathered himself to step out.

“Now it's up to you,” Ryan said. He swung one arm toward the arena, in invitation.

The draft horse was easy to ride. Sam smiled as she moved from a walk into a trot. Even at this
bouncy gait, one thing was sure: she wasn't going to fall off, unless she really tried.

When they moved into a lope, or a canter, as Ryan called it, Sam imagined she heard the smooth, rhythmic music of a waltz. Tinkerbell rocked so gently and gracefully, Sam realized this was why circus bare-back riders in tights and tutus performed on the backs of Percherons.

Tinkerbell's giant head bobbed as if he were keeping time. It was wonderful and fun.

When she finally drew him to a stop, Sam realized her legs weren't the only part of her that was strained from the ride. Her cheeks hurt from smiling.

She managed to dismount without her knees buckling.

As Ryan loosened Tinkerbell's girth and stripped off the English saddle, he lifted it in Sam's direction.

“Now that you know what an amazingly easy horse he is to ride, won't you take the tack along with you?”

“I guess I could borrow it,” Sam said. “Thanks.”

Sam was about to say more when Jake finally materialized.

“I'll take him, if you're going to carry that stuff,” Jake said. He snagged the lead rope from Sam's hand.

“Thanks. But Jake, did you see him? 'Bye, Ryan,” Sam said, waving as they headed for the truck. “Really, did you? The way he took those jumps
and let me canter him around. Tink's an amazing horse. I need to wear different pants if I'm going to ride him with an English saddle, though.”

Jake glanced back. Sam followed his eyes and noticed Ryan was still watching.

“All I can see you need is a mounting block,” Jake said. “A rider oughta be able to put herself in the saddle.”

Sam felt embarrassed and confused. Anyone would have trouble mounting Tinkerbell. Even Jake.

“Hey,” she said. “I wasn't that bad.”

She realized she would have had her hands perched on her hips if they hadn't been full of tack.

Jake's solemn expression vanished and he laughed.

“Settle down, Brat. You're scarin' the livestock,” he said, though Tinkerbell looked happy and lulled by his time in the arena. “I'm just in a lousy mood 'cause I'm fixin' to crawl under the house when I get home.”

“All right,” Sam said with a satisfied nod.

“Now get in the truck and tighten your seat belt, 'cause we're gonna get on outta here, pronto.”

S
now was swirling around the truck by the time they reached War Drum Flats. Jake turned on the truck's windshield wipers, but he didn't look a bit concerned. A kid who lived in northern Nevada learned to drive in snow or stayed home.

They drove in silence until Jake unexpectedly spoke up.

“That place could use some organization,” he said. “I walked around a little and there's a barn full of empty stalls and tons of hay. Literally.”

“I bet I know why,” Sam said. “Remember that mustang baiting thing Linc got in trouble for?”

“Sure,” Jake said.

Linc Slocum's grandiose plan for a resort called
Home on the Range had led him to feed wild horses at the roadside. He'd hoped when his investors came to visit, they'd see the mustangs as authentic Western atmosphere. Luckily, the BLM had cited and penalized him before any horses were struck by cars.

Though Jake didn't gloat, Sam could tell he felt the same way she did. Linc Slocum didn't get in trouble for every sneaky thing he did, but at least that time he'd been caught.

Getting caught
. The words shouldn't remind her of her community service project, but they did.

“That wasn't just curiosity, was it? Earlier, when you asked about presenting your community service project to the student council.”

“Are you psychic or something?” Sam demanded. “You read my mind way too often.”

“It's not hard, when you're chewing on your bottom lip and frowning.”

“No, it's not just curiosity. I'm scared to do that presentation.” Sam felt resentment building. She hated admitting her fear. “Are you satisfied?”

“I'm gonna ignore your sarcasm. It took more guts to climb up on Tinkerbell than it will to do that presentation.”

“No way,” Sam said.

“There's not that much to it,” Jake explained. “It's not dangerous. I mean, what's the worst thing that could happen? You forget what you're supposed to say? Big deal. So, bring notes. And they might not
even notice if you get off track. Your audience isn't exactly brilliant.”

“Jake! That's not nice,” Sam scolded, but she had to admit he was making her feel more confident.

“Might not be nice, but it's accurate. You know Rachel and Daisy.” Jake leaned a little closer to the windshield as the storm intensified. “All you need to do is make three good points. Then ask for what you want and sit down.”

Jake could be right, but she still had to come up with a dynamite project.

Sam stared out at the snowflakes. They whirled like frenzied white gnats, reminding her of the Phantom, shaking his mane free of snow. Reminding her of the hungry horses. Reminding her…

“I've got it!” Sam shouted.

Jake grunted and gave her a sidelong glance.

“This is perfect! Oh my gosh, why didn't I think of this before? This will work. I know it will. Jake, I am so brilliant!” Sam folded her hands with a heavy, satisfied sigh. “Valentine's Day is just a week off.”

“Yeah, so what?” Jake asked. “You're makin' me nervous, Brat.”

“So, it'll be perfect timing. And your friend Darrell—I know just how he'll fit in.”

“Okay, I'm not nervous anymore. Now I'm frightened.”

Sam knew she was babbling, but her mind had just conjured up a plan. If Jen and Jake thought she
could do it, maybe she could.

The Have a Heart project, she'd call it. People would donate money to feed the wild horses. It would be perfect, because it would keep the horses from starving
and
from sharing the cattle's fodder. And since Darrell's community service project was recycling tires, she'd bet he could get her a bunch to use as feeding rings for the horses.

“And Linc Slocum has tons of hay and Rachel needs this project as much as I do!” Sam crowed.

The truck slowed as Jake's foot hesitated on the gas pedal. He frowned, then asked, “Like, for a Valentine's Day hayride or something?”

“Of course not, Jake. Be quiet a minute and let me think.”

He obeyed, although Sam thought he might have grumbled something a few minutes before they reached home.

Jake stopped the truck. When Sam started to get out, he reached across her and locked the door.

“What?” she asked.

“Tell me what's goin' on before I turn you loose on the world.”

So, Sam rewound her spinning thoughts and explained. It sounded even better out loud, and apparently Jake agreed, because he wrote down Darrell's phone number so that she could call him right away.

“It could work,” Jake admitted as they unloaded Tinkerbell.

“I know,” Sam said, dreamily.

Still walking in a cloud of ideas thicker than the falling snow, she led Tinkerbell away from the cattle truck.

“Yeah, you're welcome!” Jake shouted after her. “Don't mention it! No problem! Just call on me for chauffeur services any day! It's what I live for!”

“Okay,” Sam said, then she waved and kept walking toward the barn.

 

This time, Ace got him.

Because Sam was preoccupied, she ignored Tinkerbell's nervous sidestepping and crowding as they came into the barn. Ace flashed his teeth and raked them down Tinkerbell's neck.

“No!” Sam held tight to the lead rope as Tinkerbell shied. “I'm sorry, boy.”

The attack was short-lived, but loud. Ace made all the noise, neighing and kicking his wooden stall.

Tinkerbell didn't bolt. He walked beside her into his stall and stood shaking. His lips moved in questioning, worried movements. His glossy brown neck wrinkled as it curved to look back at Ace.

Standing on tiptoe, Sam examined the bite. Ace's teeth hadn't broken the skin. Thank goodness. Tinkerbell's feelings were hurt more than his hide.

She talked to him, telling him he was a good horse, a pretty horse. She told him how proud she'd been when Ryan was riding him.

“And you were so good to me,” Sam told him. “I was perched up there like a decoration, and you could have made me look real silly. But you didn't.”

When Tinkerbell tired of her crooning and began searching his bedding for something to eat, Sam left, bolting the stall door behind her.

Ace was still staring. Not at her, either. He held his head high, glaring past her toward Tinkerbell's stall.

“What is your problem?” she shouted at Ace.

Her horse tossed his head in mock fear. He backed away, eyes rolling, as if she'd turned into a monster.

“You've had plenty of other horses to be jealous over. Popcorn, Sunny, Queen. What is it about him that makes you act crazy?”

Ace turned his tail to her. She guessed that was one way of saying he'd heard enough. The barn was cold. Snow blew through the gaps between boards in the old part of the barn and the timbers creaked. Sam rubbed her palms up and down the arms of her jacket and took a shuddering breath. She was yelling at Ace, but this was her fault. Every horseman knew it was dangerous to let your attention wander. She was just lucky her carelessness hadn't caused Tinkerbell to suffer more.

“What was all the commotion about?” Gram asked when Sam got to the house.

Sam shook the snow from her jacket before
hanging it, then told the truth. She waited for a lecture, but Gram had something else on her mind.

“Like I said last night, seems all the animals are crazy this week. There was that hubbub Thursday with the horses running around as if the sky was falling. The chickens are acting nutty, too. 'Course, they are not the cleverest of animals,” Gram mused. “But when I drove in from church a little bit ago, Blaze was digging in my garden!”

“There's nothing growing this time of year, is there?”

“No honey, there's not, but I doubt Blaze knows that.” She shook her head. “He's just not a digging dog. That makes his behavior downright unusual.”

Sam sat still for a minute and realized she hadn't heard any footsteps on the stairs or on the floor overhead. “Where are Dad and Brynna?” she asked.

“They went into Darton to a movie,” Gram said in a wondering tone. “I can't think when Wyatt last did that. Probably when you were little.”

Sam felt a small twinge of jealousy. They could have waited for her. On the other hand, if they had, she wouldn't have the time to get started on her Have a Heart project and she was excited to begin.

Over a lunch of grilled peanut butter and honey sandwiches, she and Gram made lists of what she'd have to do to get things rolling before Valentine's Day.

“I'll get everything in place. Then I'll call Rachel,” Sam said.

“That's up to you, dear,” Gram said. “I've never been able to figure that girl out.”

Don't try too hard
, Sam thought. Beneath that cold, selfish exterior is a colder, even more selfish heart.

But maybe this time, since her semester grade was at stake, Rachel could work with her.

“You know what might appeal to her?” Gram asked, pointing her finger at Sam. “Do you know Lynn Cooper?”

“The television reporter?”

“Exactly. Brynna was talking about her just the other day. She's worked with Brynna on a couple stories about wild horses. Maybe she'd be interested in covering your Have a Heart idea.”

“And Rachel would love to be on television!”

Sam hurried to look up the phone number for KVDV television. Before she lost her nerve, she dialed. Since it was Sunday, Lynn Cooper probably wouldn't even be in. It would be easy to leave a message.

Dialing, Sam smiled to herself. After this, she could honestly tell Rachel she'd been in touch with the media.

The reporter was in, after all.

“Lynn Cooper,” said a deep, pleasant voice.

“Oh! My name is Samantha Forster,” she began, and then stopped.

“Yes?”

“I guess I didn't expect you to answer,” she admitted.

“I'm the Sunday anchor.” The reporter sounded as if she were smiling. “What can I do for you?”

Sam explained her idea. Each time her voice trailed off, Gram pushed their list a little closer and Sam kept going.

“It sounds like my kind of story. Give me the date again.”

“Well, I don't have one yet,” Sam said. “But I can call you back.”

“Do,” the reporter said. “No guarantees, though. It will depend on whether it's a heavy news day or not.”

“Okay, thank you,” Sam said.

Didn't starving horses qualify as “heavy”? Maybe the reporter was giving her a polite brush-off.

“Breaking news—like a fire or an announcement from the governor's office—gets covered first,” Lynn Cooper explained. “If you can't reach me in the office, here's my cell phone number.” Sam wrote as the reporter recited. “But don't worry if you can't get me on it. There are black holes in cellular service throughout northern Nevada. Especially out near the Calico range. Samantha, I'd like to do the story. Wild horses coming down from the snowy mountains? If nothing else, the footage would be great. Keep in touch.”

By three o'clock, Sam had made two more important phone calls. Things were going great.

“That would expand my recycling program,”
Darrell said after Sam explained. “You see, right now, auto shops and truck stops have to pay to have tires hauled away. If I can recycle them for free, it makes everyone happy.

“Yeah,” he went on. “There's a truck stop out in Mineral with gigantic truck tires. They'll make bigger feeding rings, so more horses can gather around.”

“Thanks, Darrell.” Sam hurried to get off the phone. A thoughtful tone had crept into Darrell's voice and she didn't know what might come next.

“I'll get you all the tires you want,” Darrell said. “Under one condition.”

“What?” Sam asked carefully.

“I want to be in on the delivery,” he said.

Sam thought a minute, turning the words this way and that, but she didn't understand what Darrell meant. “Huh?” she asked.

“Here's how we'll do it. I'll get a bunch of tires out to your place and then we'll hitch them up, one right after the other behind the big new horse of yours—”

“How do you know about Tinkerbell? I've only had him a few days.”

“Darlin', I know everything!” Darrell laughed.

Darlin'?

“Darrell, maybe this is a mistake,” she began in a cautioning tone.

“Consider it a sleigh ride, sorta. Let me get a ride in one of the tires on the way out and I'll get Jake to follow us with a truck fulla hay. If there are three of
us setting things up, it'll go a lot faster. What do you say?”

Sam couldn't see any flaws in the plan. She'd get a chance to ride Tinkerbell at a slow, sedate pace. She'd have a couple extra sets of hands and, best of all, Darrell would be the one asking Jake for the favor this time. She said yes.

Next, she called Callie, a friend who'd adopted a wild horse from the Phantom's herd. Queen, a beautiful red dun, had been the Phantom's lead mare, but she'd been taken off the range with a badly cracked hoof. Queen and Callie had bonded right away and even though Callie was living on her own while she attended beauty college, she'd already managed to train the mare to lead.

When Callie heard Sam's plan to help Queen's “family,” she agreed to help and made a fund-raising suggestion of her own. “On Tuesday, my classes are over early. I could come on campus at Darton High during lunch hour and give temporary henna heart tattoos to any student who donates money to the Have a Heart project.”

“You always have good money ideas,” Sam said.

“That comes with paying your own bills,” Callie said. “And even though you're getting the first load of hay from the Slocums, what if the storms go on through spring? Hay will go up in price just when you need more of it.”

It seemed like each piece of the project had fallen
into place. Except the most important one. Now, she had to call Rachel and get the hay.