Heartbreak Bronco (14 page)

“All right, then,” he said. “All right. That's good.”

Still, he seemed reluctant to hang up.

“I'm guessing that if you keep him away from arenas and places that bring back thoughts of the bad old days, he'll be just fine. Good evenin' ma'am, and good luck.”

D
o what you think is right.

On the morning of the claiming race Sam was still trying to figure out what she thought was right.

Cross-tied in a stall at the Darton County fairgrounds, Jinx's coat shone with a hue that made passersby stop and stare.

It seemed everyone had a different name for the coat color—steeldust, lilac dun, blue slate, silver buckskin.

Even Clara tried to come up with a perfect description.

“Looks like you took gold nuggets and lumps of sterling silver, whirled them up in a blender, and poured them all over him,” she said.

“Don't believe anyone but a cook would think of that,” Dad said to Clara. “But this gelding
is
looking mighty fine.”

“While you were off checking in, some folks who came by were disappointed that bidding closed twenty-four hours before race time,” Clara said.

“It did?” Sam asked.

“Yep, a lot of people see this as a nice chance to help YRA and get a real bargain, too,” Clara said.

From talk around the fairgrounds, Sam knew most people had come to watch their children compete in YRA-sponsored games on horseback. Still, some were hoping to claim one of the eight horses running, for a bargain price.

Sam watched Jinx's ears.

Since the fairgrounds box stall was complimentary overnight with the entry fee, she and Dad had driven the truck and horse trailer down to Darton yesterday.

Though he didn't admit it, she knew Dad had been happy to escape socializing with Amelia's and Crystal's parents. He'd been polite, shaking their hands after they'd arrived, but then he'd turned shy and silent. Sam was sorry to miss the girls' rides on Popcorn. Still, after she'd talked with Henry Fox, it had been more important to see Jinx's reaction to the arena before the race.

“What's Jinx think of it here?” Clara asked.

“I rode him around the arena and he was fine,”
Sam said. “The worst thing he's done is sidestep when he saw a bright yellow candy wrapper.”

“Fifteen minutes 'til race time,” Dad said, glancing at Sam's watch. “Wonder where Brynna and those folks are.”

“Sam!”

All of a sudden, she saw Amelia run a zigzag pattern through the gathering crowd. Jinx threw his head up in surprise, but didn't act scared.

So far, so good, Sam thought, as Amelia grabbed her sleeve and tugged her down to whisper in her ear.

“I got through on my cell phone yesterday just before the deadline for bids closed,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“And I withdrew my bid.”

Dizziness spun Sam's head, though she stood still. She wouldn't have to worry about an inexperienced rider like Amelia ending up with an ex-bucking horse. Without Amelia's thousand-dollar bid, though, who would claim Jinx?

“My parents were so impressed with the way I rode yesterday that I get to take riding lessons again. Gotta go,” she said. “Everyone else is waiting. Bye.”

Amelia scampered back to the others and Sam waved. Amelia's parents were small people, not much taller than their daughter, and though they looked as if they felt out of place at the YRA fun day, they also looked proud.

Crystal stood with a big man who wore a leather vest over a tee-shirt and jeans. Sam would bet he outweighed Dad two-to-one. Though his eyes were hidden by mirrored sunglasses, Sam thought Crystal's father looked proud, too.

Crystal gave Sam a small wave. She was smiling and Sam had a feeling everything would work out for both girls.

She wasn't so sure about herself.

“We'll be goin',” Dad said. “Tack up alone and have a little talk with that horse. Tell him not to do anything crazy.”

By the time Sam said, “I will,” Dad and Clara had already gone.

Almost holding her breath, Sam smoothed on a saddle blanket, then settled her saddle into place.

She'd only thought a minute before turning down Ryan Slocum's offer of a lightweight racing saddle. She was more at home riding in a Western saddle, and every bit of balance would count if Jinx reverted to his bucking horse training.

A few minutes later, Sam walked to the end of her reins and looked back at the gelding. All his tack was in place and he shone like tarnished silver.

As if he could tell her mind had wandered, Jinx strode forward and Sam stood beside him.

“You're going to be a good boy for me, aren't you, Jinx?” Sam asked, tracing her finger over the grulla's
broken heart brand. “I've never hurt you, and I promise, if the person who claims you ever does, I'll take you back.”

For the first time since that moment on the range, the big horse swung his head around and pressed his forehead to Sam's.

“I promise,” she told him, and Jinx answered with a snort.

When the claiming race finally began, Sam felt strangely detached from the action. If Jinx bucked her off and she was injured, she'd have no one to blame but herself. She should be afraid, but she wasn't.

A gray pony named Starlight ran first, and finished the quarter-mile sprint to great applause.

“Claimed by Toni and Tara Franklin,” the announcer said, and two little girls met the pony with hugs just past the finish line.

“Tiger Prince,” the announcer boomed over the microphone as a long-legged horse with marbled orange-and-black markings stepped up to the starting line, then reared and threw his rider.

“I guess the Tiger Prince has a little more gumption than his rider figured.”

When the crowd laughed, the announcer went on making jokes at the rider's expense.

Sam felt sick. That could be her.

At last the rider, a teenage boy, caught the horse, remounted, and rode him at a fast trot across the arena and back.

Nightingale, a black horse with white stockings on both hind legs, made the best time of the day, and was claimed by a representative from Sterling Stables.

Then it was Jinx's turn.

“Come to find out,” the announcer drawled, “this horse was sold to Clara from down at the Alkali coffee shop for one dollar bill and a slice of the best pineapple upside-down cake in the world.”

The area just outside the arena was cleared for a running start. To Sam, the crowd's laughter sounded faint and far away. Only Jinx seemed real.

Sam leaned forward and whispered to him.

“This is your chance to show them who you really are, boy. Not Potter's spooky cow pony, not a failed bucking bronc, not a bad luck charm.”

She was about to give Jinx the signal to go, when he shied.

Sam swayed in the saddle, fighting the urge to grab the saddle horn as she looked all around.

A boy had dropped a bag of popcorn. That couldn't be it. Pigtailed twins were tugging each of their mother's hands. That wouldn't frighten Jinx, either.

With a snort, Jinx lifted his front hooves from the dirt and swung his head from side to side.

Tiger Prince and his rider stood yards across the fairground. No one had come forward to claim the horse. His rider was shouting at him and brandishing a riding whip.

The whip.

Jinx squealed and clacked his teeth.

Dallas had told her that even when Jinx was a yearling, he hated the whip.

Henry Fox had said they punished the bolting H. B. with a whip.

Dad had told her he thought Jinx would be fine—unless something triggered a fearful memory.

Tension made each of the grulla's legs straighten and plant. He wasn't going anywhere.

Sam leaned her cheek against the gelding's hot neck and stroked it with all the tenderness her fingers held.

“You're fine, boy,” she whispered. “Kindness cured all that. You don't have to remember.”

“When you're ready,” boomed the announcer.

“You're a good horse Jinx,” Sam made one last try to convince him. “Let's show 'em all!”

Sam clapped her heels against him and Jinx was off.

As if he'd raced every day of his life, he bounded from a standstill to a run.

Sam moved forward. After three strides, Jinx's gait was smooth, effortless, the ground-eating gallop of a mustang running the range for the sheer joy of feeling his muscles lengthen and bunch.

They reached the far end of the arena and swung a turn so quick it tore tears from Sam's eyes. Then they were stampeding back and the finish line was coming up way too fast. Sam shifted in the saddle.

She couldn't wave away the people rushing forward to catch Jinx, for fear he'd catch the movement from the corner of one eye and stumble. So she let him run. Seeing his speed, the people scattered.

Sam closed her fingers on the reins, gradually pulling them in. Jinx slowed, still prancing as if he had energy to spare.

Chin tucked, ears pricked forward, the grulla lifted his knees and arched his neck. Was he dancing in joy? Sam crossed her fingers and hoped the horse had a reason to celebrate.

Just ahead, people lined both sides of the path back to the arena. Sam saw Dad, Brynna, and Gram. Crystal was bouncing up and down and Amelia was pulling on her mother's sleeve, pointing at Jinx and chattering.

Sam saw lots of strangers, too. What if one of them stepped forward to claim Jinx? Sam settled forward against the gelding's neck, knowing this hug might be their last.

Please let the right person win Jinx!

Sam could hear the announcer's voice but not what he was saying. When Linc Slocum, huffing and red-faced, elbowed through the clapping crowd to block the path before her, Sam's spirits sank.

Please, not him.

“I've been robbed, and don't tell me you had nothing to do with this, Samantha Forster!” Linc yelled.

Sam wanted to shout for joy. If Linc was unhappy,
everything was all right.

Jinx's ears flattened. Sam gathered her reins, but the gelding still bolted forward, narrowly missing Slocum's shoulder.

“How was I supposed to know the deadline for bidding ended yesterday morning? How?” Linc roared. “Tell me that?”

“You could have read the rules like everyone else!” a small voice soared above the noisy crowd.

“Who said that!” Linc turned on his heel, but not quickly enough to see Amelia yanked back a step by her mother.

“Jinx!” Sam gasped.

As Slocum turned away, the gelding bared his teeth and would have grabbed the man's shoulder if Sam hadn't sat hard and backed the horse away.

“Get that animal under control or I'm calling the cops!” Slocum threatened.

“Already here, Linc,” Sheriff Ballard said.

Sam relaxed and she felt Jinx do the same.

The horse stopped pulling against the reins. He tossed his head one final time at Linc Slocum, then shook like a big dog.

“By rights,” Slocum said in a lecturing tone, “this animal should be mine. I was unfairly excluded from entering a bid and I want you to look into it.”

Sheriff Ballard probably sounded regretful to anyone who couldn't see his face, but Sam could. Under his sandy mustache, the sheriff grinned.

“I'm sorry, Linc, but I'm afraid that would be a conflict of interest.”

“What? You're refusing—?”

Jinx's ears flattened once more. His hindquarters shifted and his tail lashed angrily.

“Linc, I'll thank you to step back from my horse,” Sheriff Ballard said.

Grinning, Sam dismounted and handed Sheriff Ballard the reins.

Jinx looked between her and Sheriff Ballard, but the gelding didn't protest when the sheriff rubbed the broken heart brand on his shoulder.

“Congratulations,” Sam said, and she meant it.

“I'm feeling pretty lucky for a man who just won a horse named Jinx,” he said. “And I want to thank you, Samantha. Looks like you took care of mending this horse inside and out.”

Sam took a few steps back from Jinx and his new owner, and stifled a sigh just before she noticed something she'd never seen before.

If she squinted her eyes just the right way while looking at Jinx, the dark markings on his shoulders looked like a wreath of winner's roses.

 

By the time Sam and Dad started back to River Bend Ranch, dusk had colored the range many shades of blue.

Driving the Buick, Brynna and Gram had quickly outdistanced Dad's truck. Just the same, Sam's eyes
searched the blue-gray ribbon of highway unrolling ahead.

Blue-black mountains jutted up on the edge of the
playa
, like plates on a dinosaur's back. Sometime there might have been dinosaurs here. Their ancient bones must lie under the desert's crust along with those of Jake's Native American ancestors and the Phantom's forebears.

Where are you?
Sam wondered, sending her thoughts to the stallion who'd once been hers.

He must be out there. A wild white stallion had roamed this range for as long as anyone could remember, and he'd challenged Jinx just days ago.

As her eyes scanned the spaces between boulders and bushes, searching for the stallion, Sam remembered him running shoulder to shoulder with Jinx.

Each time the grulla had lengthened his strides, the Phantom had drawn ahead.

On a racetrack or in an arena, Jinx might have beaten the Phantom, but it couldn't happen on the open range.

Sam's eyes burned with searching. She rubbed them.

“Tired out?” Dad asked. With a smile, he glanced away from the road.

“A little,” Sam admitted. She sighed in weariness and told herself she wasn't going to see the Phantom tonight. She should quit fighting to stay awake.

Then, just as her eyelids drooped, she saw him.

She'd been staring far off, and he was close, only yards off the freeway, loping alone through the juniper bushes.

“Dad, stop!” Sam shouted.

No one who'd seen a wild, rough-coated mustang by day would believe a bone and blood stallion could seem a creature spun of moonbeams.

He was right there and he was amazing. She couldn't believe Dad was still driving. If he stopped, she just knew the Phantom would, too. How could he not want to see the stallion up close?