Gift Horse (4 page)

“Think so, do ya?” Dad's tone was sarcastic, but she couldn't tell if he was amused or annoyed.

“I do,” Sam said. “It shouldn't be too hard to make him worth more than eight hundred dollars.”

“What he's worth and what you'll get could be two different things,” Dad said. “But take your best shot, honey. That's all anyone can do.”

Sam nodded, smiling as she looked across the range. The lights of River Bend Ranch glimmered in the darkness.

“Fried chicken tonight,” Dad said. His words sounded like a truce. “Your gram said she'd save us plenty of biscuits and honey, too.”

“I can hardly wait,” Sam said, and then she sighed.

Home always looked good at the end of a long day, especially when you'd won.

River Bend's lights looked brighter than usual, she realized. Was she imagining it?

Sam's thoughts slowed. Too bright. Yellow beams shone from the barn and bunkhouse, though only the porch lights should have been on.

Dad sucked in a breath.

“Guess we'd better slow down.” He downshifted and drove over the bridge at half speed. “And I wouldn't hold your breath about that fried chicken bein' hot by the time we get to it. If I'm not mistaken, every horse on the place is milling around just outside the kitchen.”

D
ad was mistaken. Not all the horses were loose in the ranch yard, but none should have been.

Gram and Brynna stood guard between the horses and the bridge.

“It looks like they're ready to wave their arms and spook them back if they try to make a break for it,” Sam said.

“Looks like it,” Dad agreed.

He slowed the truck to a crawl. The tires clunked across each board on the bridge. As the truck passed under the tall wooden rectangle marking the ranch entrance, its headlights spotlighted the horses. Ace and Sweetheart, Gram's paint mare, stood with legs braced wide apart, but Sam worried most about Ace.

Dark patches of sweat marked his glossy bay coat. His eyes glowed red in the headlights. As he turned toward the familiar sound of Dad's truck, he seemed to peer inside. Sam would bet Ace was looking for her.

Ace was her horse, and she didn't believe a better-mannered, more willing horse existed. Nothing fazed the little gelding, but now he looked more frightened than she'd seen him since a fire had broken out in the old bunkhouse last summer.

Sam leaned against her seat belt until her nose almost touched the windshield. She stared past the horses and focused on home. The white, two-story ranch house was lit so brightly, inside and out, that the green shutters and ruffled curtains showed as well as if it had been daylight.

But there was no orange glow. When she rolled down the truck window, she didn't smell smoke or hear the crackle of flames, either. Fire was unmistakable. This wasn't it, so what was going on?

Popcorn was out, too, and that was really weird. The albino mustang was only green-broke. He belonged in the ten-acre pasture. Instead, he moved in a stiff-legged walk, eyes rolling. The way he kept approaching, then shying from Gram and Brynna, told Sam he was eager to escape.

As Dad eased the truck past, Brynna gave them a worried but welcoming smile. She didn't wave and Sam knew she was trying not to make any move that
would startle the horses. In spite of that, all three snorted, wreathing their heads with their own hot breath.

Dad coasted into his usual parking place, then turned the key off. He pulled the emergency brake on slowly, instead of giving it his usual loud yank.

“Look at that,” Sam said, as she slipped out of the truck. She nodded toward the ten-acre pasture.

“Saw 'em,” Dad said.

In the big pasture—where Popcorn should have been—the other horses crowded against the fence, watching Dad. Tank's white-splotched face and Strawberry's roan one jerked skyward, but their eyes stayed fixed on Dad, acknowledging him as their leader.

“Could the mountain lion be back?” Sam whispered.

“No,” Dad said quietly. “Look at Amigo.”

Amigo belonged to Dallas, foreman of the River Bend for as long as Sam could remember. His aged sorrel gelding was the horse he'd ridden when she was a kid. Now, Amigo nickered gently, sounding as if he had things under control. Nike and Jeepers-Creepers, younger saddle horses, jostled past Tank and Strawberry until the fence creaked from the pressure of their chests.

“Get back, now,” Dad told the horses, and though they stayed close, watching him, they quit pushing.

Sam scanned the pasture again. Where was Dark
Sunshine? The buckskin mare was recovering from abuse at the hands of wild horse rustlers and she was in foal. Sam stared until her vision blurred shadows and trees into one dark mass, but still couldn't spot the mare.

“Dad,” Sam whispered urgently as they reached the front of the pasture and started toward Gram and Brynna. “Where's—”

“If you're looking for the mare, she's back in the shadows, near the run-in shed, but not under it.”

Sighing, Sam realized Dad was right. Sunny's chamois-colored coat was like candlelight in the far corner. She was safe, but even from here Sam could see she was trembling.

Sam caught her breath as Ace bolted toward her. The gelding came at such a quick trot, Sam hoped he wouldn't bowl her over. She got one hand up before he reached her.

“Hey boy,” she said, but Ace moved past her hand and thrust his muzzle against her chest, rocking her back a step. She smoothed her hand down his damp neck. The night air was so cold, she wondered why he wasn't frosted with ice crystals.

Ace shifted his weight toward her hand as she rubbed under his mane.

“What's wrong, Ace?”

In answer, he whisked his nostrils against her neck. He'd never done that before, and she didn't know what it meant. But she stood still. If Ace took
comfort in her scent, she'd let him sniff all night.

As she stood there, Sam became aware of Blaze's incessant barking from inside the bunkhouse. If the horses had been spooked by a cougar or some other animal, wouldn't Dallas have set Blaze free?

Blaze, the ranch's watchdog, was protective and territorial. If another creature crossed the boundaries of the place he considered home, Blaze forgot he was only a shaggy black-and-brown Border collie and acted as if he had the size and strength of a lion.

Dallas stood between the barn and the small pasture. He wore only a jean jacket over a white shirt, and must have been freezing.

To the left, she saw River Bend's two cowboys. They stood between the new bunkhouse and the old one, which smelled of fresh-sawed lumber and pine sawdust because it was being rebuilt. Pepper was hatless and Ross had his shirt-sleeves rolled up as if he'd been washing his hands for dinner. Together, they blocked the last avenue of escape for the horses.

So why, with five horse-savvy people standing around, hadn't the loose horses been put back where they belonged? Ace tagged along, practically walking on Sam's heels. She joined Dad as he spoke to Brynna and Gram.

“What's up?” Dad asked, quietly.

“I wish I knew,” Brynna said, shivering. Sam noticed Brynna wore only jeans and a long-sleeved tee-shirt.

Gram's pink sweater, prettier than it was warm, hung open over a denim dress. Considering Gram ordered Sam to dress warmly even on summer nights, Sam guessed that Gram and Brynna, just like Pepper and Ross, had bolted out-of-doors in a hurry.

“Seems like they all got crazy at once,” Gram said, not taking her eyes from Sweetheart and Popcorn. “You never heard such stamping and neighing.”

“We ran to the barn and when we got there, the pigeons in the rafters were swooping and circling,” Brynna said. “Just in case something was in the hayloft, we turned Ace and Sweetheart out. When we got back out here, Popcorn was bashing his chest against the fence, so we let him join the others.”

Brynna looked at Dad. She didn't ask, but her raised brows seemed to be checking to see if he thought what they'd done was a good idea. It had been risky, Sam thought, since Popcorn had been running wild just two years ago.

“He seems quiet enough, now,” Dad said, and it sounded like he approved.

Ace's chin bobbed over Sam's left shoulder as if he agreed. When she turned to rub the white star under his forelock, Sam noticed Blaze had quit barking.

As if the dog's silence signaled that everything had returned to normal, Sweetheart blew through her lips and stared toward her cozy barn.

Sam's chest swelled with eagerness to announce her deal with Mr. Fairchild. Now that she was sure
Ace and the other horses were safe, she had to tell everyone. And Jen would be next. How cool was it that she'd have another horse to work with? Tomorrow!

“Guess what—” Sam began.

“That's my good girl,” Gram crooned as she reached up to grab Sweetheart's halter. Gram's eyes shifted to Sam, but when the pinto didn't resist, Gram raised a finger, telling Sam she'd heard, but needed to keep Sweetheart moving back toward the barn.

“Grace,” Brynna called softly after Gram. “I'm going to open the bunkhouse door so Blaze can check things out.”

“Good idea. We'll go slowly,” Gram said.

Sam's eagerness to announce her news kept building as Dad rubbed the back of his neck. That gesture meant he wasn't sure what to do. In spite of her impatience, Sam smiled. Dad was so used to being in charge, he was surprised when Brynna and Gram didn't ask his advice.

“No need to let Blaze out and get the horses into a lather all over again,” Dad said. “I'll check things out.”

Chafing her hands over her sleeves, Brynna kept walking toward the bunkhouse. “I want Blaze to investigate, anyway,” she said.

“Are you telling me,” Dad asked in a joking voice, “that you trust that dog more than you do your new husband?”

“Of course not, honey,” Brynna said as she grinned and stamped her muddy shoes on the bunkhouse porch. “If you want to crawl on your belly through every inch of that barn, you go for it.”

Dad shook his head as Blaze exploded through the half-opened door, zoomed past the people and horses, then stopped and raised his nose to sniff the night air. Gradually, his head lowered and his tail swung in an embarrassed wag.

“Nothing, huh?” Dad asked the dog.

Blaze panted, then looked up at Dad. The dog's mouth stretched into a wide, shame-faced grin.

“We'll go take a look around, just for fun.” Dad rumpled the dog's ears. “Sam, turn Popcorn back in with his buddies.”

Sam looked at the albino mustang, unhaltered and wandering. Did Dad think she could just reach up, grab a handful of mane, and lead him back? It was possible, but…

Dad must have noticed her dubious look, because he added, “Just open the pasture gate a foot and see if he starts to go in on his own. I think whatever happened is over.”

A low nicker rumbled from Ace's chest and he swished his tail, looking between Sam and Sweetheart.

“Go ahead, boy. You'll be fine,” Sam told him. “I need to help Popcorn.”

That was all the encouragement Ace needed. He
fell in after his stablemate, lengthening his stride to catch up.

Just as Dad had predicted, Popcorn crowded forward, ready to rejoin his adopted herd. The others didn't seem to notice he'd been gone as they sniffed between patches of ice-glazed snow, looking for grass.

Sam hurried back to the house, but Dad was so determined to discover the source of the disturbance, she didn't think it would be a good time to announce she'd acquired another horse. For a minute, she tried to find Cougar, but her kitten was in hiding. Maybe it was because Blaze was acting so weird. The dog had followed them inside and begun sniffing at the floor, then scratching it.

When Gram put dinner on the table for the second time, Sam couldn't help fidgeting. Of course it would be rude to interrupt the adults' conversation, but it was making her crazy to keep quiet.

Dad obviously didn't understand her need to tell Tinkerbell's story and reveal her good news. Over their reheated dinner, he hardly glanced her way. He just asked Brynna and Gram the same questions, repeatedly, trying to figure out what had frightened the horses.

Sam cut one bite of Swiss steak and stared at it. She just couldn't eat until she'd told the story about awful Mike and Ike, the auction, and creepy Baldy Harris. The gravy on her mashed potatoes was developing a skin. Her biscuit was hard and cold, and still
Dad was encouraging Gram and Brynna to recall anything they might have forgotten the first three times they'd told their tale.

Sam was about to explode with impatience by the time Dad said, “I guess we'll never know for sure.”

“Samantha, you must have a theory. I've never known you to be so shy—” Brynna began.

“But you've been squirming like a worm the whole time we've been talking,” Gram finished.

“I don't have a theory, but—”

“She's just ready to bust with her announcement,” Dad said.

“We're getting a new horse tomorrow!” Sam heard her voice sweep into a high-pitched squeak.

“Is that so?” Gram asked.

“You found a mustang?” Brynna turned toward Dad.

“Yes,” Sam said, not giving Dad a chance to put a negative spin on her story. “He's legal. At least, that's how it looks. The owner, who just died, had title to him. His name's Tinkerbell—the horse, not the owner….” Sam drew a deep breath and kept talking. “But the guys who owned him now were trying to sell him for meat.”

“It's ugly, but not illegal,” Brynna said, grimacing.

“So, how did we end up with the poor little thing?” Gram asked.

Dad gave a short bark of a laugh and Gram tilted her head to one side.

“He's not little,” Sam explained. “In fact, he's about seventeen hands and looks like a Percheron, or maybe a Clydesdale, but don't worry, we're not paying his feed bill and he's only going to be here four weeks.”

“Or less,” Dad reminded Sam.

“That's a mercy,” Gram said.

“And to think I sent you to the auction because I'm so sentimental about hard-luck horses,” Brynna teased Dad. “Still,” she mused, “I assume he's not here for a vacation.”

“No way,” Sam said. Although she liked watching Brynna get the better of Dad, she couldn't let her new stepmother have too much fun at his expense. “He's a gift, but just until I've polished him up and sold him. Then, I have to share the money with Mr. Fairchild at the auction yards.”

“Polish him?” Gram wondered. “What does he do? Pull?”

“I'm not sure,” Sam admitted.

“I bet he's broken to harness,” Brynna said, trying to help. “A lot of big horses are.”

“I'm not sure about that, either.”

“But he has been ridden?” Brynna inquired. She said it quietly, as if she was afraid of Sam's answer.

“We'll see tomorrow, I guess,” Sam said.

Sam welcomed the telephone's sudden ring, and she was even more relieved when Gram answered, then announced it was Jen. Her friend would understand how exciting it was going to be, working with
the big brown horse.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Gram held onto the telephone receiver, even though Sam was reaching for it. Then she talked into it again. “Jennifer, dear,” Gram said, “I'm afraid Sam will have to call you back in a little while.”