Heartbreak Bronco (4 page)

T
he aroma of Gram's cooking wafted onto the front porch and welcomed them into the kitchen.

Crystal and Amelia would eat every meal with the family. Both looked uneasy about it, especially when Brynna disappeared upstairs, leaving Sam to introduce them to Gram.

At first, Sam couldn't figure out why the girls regarded Gram with such wariness. She wore a bright lilac apron over her jeans and blouse. Her gray hair was coiled into a smooth bun and her lined face glowed with the confidence that any problem could be cured with a good meal.

Then Sam noticed Crystal and Amelia focusing
on the heavy gunmetal-gray object Gram held in her right hand.

“What is that?” Crystal asked, nodding at the hammer-shaped implement.

Gram laughed. “I call it a tenderizer, though it probably has another name in proper cooking circles.” Gram set the utensil aside. “Looks kind of menacing, doesn't it, but it's used for pounding meat so that it's more tender when it's cooked. We're having chicken-fried steak for dinner.

“In fact, once you two have helped Sam put the leaf in the table and washed up, I'll need you, Crystal, to make sure the gravy's not lumpy and Amelia, as soon as the bread's cooled, I'd like you to slice it.”

Sam showed Amelia and Crystal how to pull each end of the kitchen table to leave a gap in the middle. Then she retrieved the polished wooden piece—Sam hoped neither girl asked why it was called a leaf—which fit between them, making the table that usually seated four big enough to accommodate six.

Sam pulled a white cloth from a drawer and flapped it over the table. Then she gathered handfuls of silverware and noticed Crystal and Amelia were just standing there, arms crossed, looking out of place.

When Amelia's hand dropped to her pocket to retrieve her cell phone, Sam handed her the silverware.

“Here,” she said. “You can set the table with these.
And Crystal,” Sam told the dark-haired girl as she took a stack of folded cloth napkins from their drawer, “why don't you put these out?”

Crystal stared at the napkins as if Sam had offered her a porcupine.

Sam tried to understand the girl's reaction. Was it reluctance to help? Or maybe, since Crystal lived alone with her father, they hadn't made a big deal of meals like Gram did.

“They're napkins,” Sam said.

“I know what they are,
cowgirl
,” Crystal snarled. “I don't live in the backwoods like some people.”

Silence filled the kitchen.

It was getting harder to be tolerant of Crystal, but Sam gave it another try.

“I'm sorry—” she began.

“Look, HARP didn't say anything about being a maid.” Crystal jerked the napkins from Sam's hand and tossed one at each place setting.

Amelia rubbed her forearms and made a fretting sound just as Brynna came back into the kitchen with Dad.

Brynna introduced Dad and snatched a raw carrot stick from those Gram had arranged on a vegetable platter.

“I heard some discussion of chores,” Brynna said. “Since Sam is assisting me in teaching you about horses, you'll help her with chores. Just about anything you're asked to do”—Brynna made eye contact
with each girl—“like feeding and watering the animals, helping with the laundry or kitchen work, Sam would do alone if you weren't here.

“Now, I'd like you to wash your hands before you help Grace with the—?” Brynna looked at Gram.

“Gravy and bread,” Gram supplied as she mounded black olives in the center of the vegetable plate.

Crystal looked ready to make another protest. Instead, she sighed, “Whatever.”

But that implied she was agreeing to the plan, and Sam could tell Crystal was not being agreeable. Brynna and Dad weren't fooled. And neither was Gram.

The minute the girls had come into the kitchen, Gram had told Crystal she'd stand at the stove to whisk gravy instead of trusting her with the bread knife.

Gram had sized up Crystal right away.

 

After the dinner dishes were washed and dried, Gram and Dad stayed in the kitchen to go over the ranch accounts, while Brynna, Sam, Amelia, and Crystal sat in the quiet living room.

“Leave the television off, please,” Brynna said when Crystal paused in front of it.

Sam sat at one end of the couch, nearly squirming in the quiet. If it had been winter, at least they'd have had the crackle of a fire in the fireplace to fill the silence.

Crystal sat in the room's largest armchair, icy-blue
eyes staring at Brynna. Amelia sat on the armchair's ottoman, chewing her already short fingernails.

Brynna sat cross-legged at the opposite end of the couch, stockinged feet pulled up as she flipped through a thick file folder.

Her ease in this awkward situation reminded Sam of how smoothly Brynna dealt with her duties as manager of the Willow Springs Wild Horse Center. Even though she had employees, adopters, a budget, government regulations, and all the controversy swirling around Nevada's wild horses to handle, Brynna loved her job.

Her casual authority said, loud and clear, that a couple of cranky eighth graders weren't going to get her down.

“Here's what's happening this week,” Brynna said. “It will deviate a little from what you've been led to expect, but the success of the HARP program depends on making it fit the individuals involved.”

“In other words,” Crystal said, tossing a lock of black hair back over her shoulder, “now that you've met us, you're changing everything.”

“A few things,” Brynna said. “But you're not the only factor I'm considering. We've got a new horse.”

Sam sat up straighter. They would be using Jinx, then. Great! Despite the gelding's fearsome speed, Sam wanted to ride him.

“During the six days you're here, you'll get to know your horse, learn to groom him,” Brynna
numbered the first two tasks on her fingers: “Halter, lead, and tie on day three, saddle and bridle, and then on days five and six, we'll have you riding.”

“Which horses are we getting?” Amelia asked.

Brynna smiled. “I haven't quite decided, but let me tell you a little about each one.”

Sam snuggled back into the couch and listened. Crystal crossed one leg tightly over the other and jiggled her foot. Amelia interlocked her fingers and rocked a little.

“First, you know all these horses are here because they need a second chance, right? They were wild, then captured, then adopted by people who…” Brynna's voice trailed off.

“Got sick of them?” Crystal interrupted.

“Not exactly,” Brynna said. “They just weren't up to the challenge of a mustang.”

Crystal snorted. “Yeah, like we are.”

Sam ached to remind Crystal that
she
was a challenge and that's why she was here. But Brynna probably wouldn't like that.

“Popcorn is the white horse. The one with blue eyes like Crystal's,” Brynna began. “He's tall for a mustang and he was abused. Not on purpose, but his adopters thought the way to teach him to carry a rider was to ‘break' him, to show him who was boss. They thought horses were born to carry riders and the faster he learned how, the sooner he'd be a happy horse.”

Amelia drew in a loud breath, then blushed when
all eyes turned to her. “It's, uh,” she giggled, “sort of like parents who say ‘we're doing this for your own good.'”

“Exactly like that,” Brynna agreed.

It must have been the approval in Brynna's tone that made Crystal glare at Amelia. Just the same, Brynna kept talking.

“Anyway, after Popcorn had been shown who was boss one time too many, he became impossible to catch and his adopters returned him to the BLM.

“Penny had a similar experience. She was trained to saddle and then she developed the habit of rearing….”

As Brynna described the horse, Sam noticed the difference in the girls' reactions. Crystal fidgeted in boredom, but Amelia leaned forward, listening as if she could picture each incident.

“They hired a horse trainer, supposedly a professional,” Brynna said. “His solution was to jerk the reins tight and pull Penny over backward each time she reared. He would jump clear, of course.”

“Did that teach her?” Amelia asked, frowning.

“It hurt her. Badly,” Brynna said.

Even Crystal was paying attention now.

“Which one is she?” Crystal asked.

“The little blind sorrel,” Brynna said.

“Blind? You're not going to make one of us take her. What can a blind horse do?” Crystal rolled her eyes.

“You might be surprised.” Brynna's voice vibrated with anger.

Sam knew her stepmother loved Penny and had little patience with people who thought the mare was useless because she was blind.

Brynna went on more quickly after that, as if her patience was waning.

“And then there's Dark Sunshine, the buckskin with the foal,” Brynna said. “She was abused as well—starved, whipped, and used as bait in a trap for other wild horses.”

Amelia's pale fingers were interlaced and twitching, but she kept quiet.

“Jinx is the new horse. You saw Wyatt unloading him. He's our mystery mustang, and even though we don't know much about him yet, he carries his history with him in that freeze brand on his neck.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Crystal asked.

Brynna ignored the girl's impatience.

“The brand is made up from the Alpha Angle alphabet.” Brynna stopped and her eyes met Sam's. “It's code, sort of, and I'll let you decipher it so you can learn how old he is and where he came from.”

“He's kind of a weird color,” Amelia ventured. “What is it?”

“Grulla,” Sam answered.

“A grew-ya?” Amelia asked quietly.

“In Spanish,” Brynna began, “it means crane—”

“Like machinery or one of those gawky birds?” Crystal asked.

“The bird,” Brynna said, keeping her voice level. “Probably the blue-gray ones.”

“They're a symbol of peace, too,” Sam said. She wasn't sure why she put that in, except there was something in the neglected horse that looked like it needed a bit of peace.

“We have another mustang on the ranch, too,” Brynna said. “Sam's horse Ace. But he's not part of the HARP program.”

“Why not?” Crystal asked.

“Because his adoption, here at River Bend Ranch, has worked out like most. He's happy to be here and we're happy to have him.”

“I bet he'd run away if he had the chance,” Crystal sneered.

“Actually, he's had a few chances,” Sam admitted. “When we first got together, I fell off a lot.”

Sam didn't add that Ace had even been back to the valley of wild horses, where he'd once lived, and still returned home with her. She was the only one in the world who knew.

“As sort of a preview of what will be coming, we'll use Sam as a guinea pig,” Brynna said.

“We will?” Sam asked.

It wasn't like she couldn't do the things Brynna had described. She'd bet she could groom, halter, saddle, and bridle Ace even if she was blindfolded. But a warn
ing that she'd be “onstage” would have been nice.

“Surprise,” Crystal chirped.

Brynna ignored Crystal, but her eyes met Sam's and urged her to cooperate.

“I think it will be a good experience for all of us to see how you do with an unfamiliar horse,” Brynna said. “Dallas is working with Jinx right now, making sure he's not an outlaw.”

“Oh good, at least we'll know if he's trained to saddle.” Sam laughed, but her nerves became jittery.

She wasn't like Jake, who could stick his boot toe in the stirrup and know what to expect by the time his other leg had cleared the horse's back and he'd settled into the saddle. She just wasn't that confident.

“If you don't want to do it—” Crystal began.

At first, Sam was amazed at Crystal's understanding, but then she caught the girl's sly grin. Crystal wasn't sympathizing; she wanted Sam and Brynna to fight.

“I
do
want to do it,” Sam said.

“Sure you do,” Amelia teased, seconding Crystal's taunt.

There were only two of them, but Amelia and Crystal reminded Sam of the jeering circles of kids that tightened around fights at school, egging on the combatants.

Some people enjoyed conflict, as long as they didn't get hurt.

Sam stood.

“If you don't need me,” she told Brynna, “I'll go ask Dallas what he thinks about Jinx.”

“I'm just going to go over a few more details, Sam. We'll join you soon,” Brynna said.

“Isn't that cheating?” Crystal asked.

“Isn't what cheating?” Brynna looked puzzled.

“If Sam's, like, our role model, and we're going to have to face these horses without knowing anything about them, how come she gets to go ask Dallas—whoever he is—about the grew-ya?”

“I've just told you all you need to know about the horses,” Brynna reasoned.

Sam wished Brynna would make Crystal behave. She also wished Brynna would change her mind about exiling her to the bunkhouse with these two. In real life, she'd never choose to spend the night with them.

Most of all, Sam hoped Dallas would declare Jinx too wild to ride or sweet as a lamb, because she didn't want these girls to see her fail.

B
laze walked so close to Sam's leg, he kept bumping into her.

“Careful, boy!” Sam gasped as she tripped. The dog scuttled backward, getting clear before she fell on him.

Sam almost told Blaze to sit and stay. He'd do it, and only bark if something out of the ordinary happened. But she didn't have the heart to leave the border collie behind.

Blaze cocked one ear, waiting for her order. His tongue hung from his panting mouth and his eyes looked anxious.

“Things are a little weird today, aren't they, Blaze?”

Sam ruffled the fur on both sides of his neck, then looked at the cowboys' bunkhouse where Blaze spent half his time.

In the summer, the River Bend cowboys usually left their bunkhouse door ajar. Sometimes they'd sit on the step while Dallas played the guitar or, if his hands were sore with arthritis, they'd listen as he played the harmonica. Often the door stood open so that the evening breeze cooled them as they played cards or watched television.

Tonight the door was closed. Light came through the windows, but Pepper and Tank were shy and Dallas was in the round pen, testing Jinx. Sam had a feeling the cowboys were as unsettled as Blaze by the arrival of Crystal and Amelia.

Sam heard the jingle of spurs and slap of leather before the voice.

“I know this horse,” Dallas said as he emerged from the round pen, leading Jinx.

Before his words sunk in, Sam saw Dallas as the HARP girls would. He looked exactly as a ranch foreman should.

Gray-haired and bowlegged, Dallas had the walk of a lifelong cowboy. He rode horses, whittled bits of wood into figures, and told details about local life in a way that made them sound like legends.

Dallas had been on the ranch since Sam was born. Even though he didn't share Sam's attachment
to mustangs, most of the time he tolerated her feelings with good humor.

Right now, he coaxed Jinx to stand still for a pat.

The gelding was sweated up and nervous. He rolled his brown eyes until the whites showed, but Dallas pretended nothing was wrong as he petted the grulla's neck.

“You know him?” Sam asked.

“Sure,” Dallas nodded. “Can't be another grulla with a broken heart brand on his shoulder. Brynna told me not to brush him out. She wants you to do it tomorrow in front of the girls.” Dallas shook his head and gave a disapproving frown, then added, “He used to be called Jinx.”

“He still is,” Sam said. Though it was hard to believe Dad hadn't told Dallas the gelding's name, she guessed that was an example of the differences between them. Dad and Dallas saw horses as just another part of doing ranch business.

“The Potters got him years ago. I see he's got a freeze brand, but I never knew he was a mustang. He musta been a yearling, or a little older when I first saw him,” Dallas mused.

The Potters. Sam remembered the name from before her accident. She thought they'd had a child her age, but she couldn't remember if it was a boy or girl.

“Didn't they move away?” Sam hazarded a guess.
She almost remembered a conversation with Jake in which he'd tried to fill in some of what had happened while she was in San Francisco.

“Yep. They up and sold the Happy Heart Ranch and became millionaires.”

The Happy Heart Ranch. Sam looked at the broken heart scar on the gelding's shoulder. That name explained the brand, but then she thought of a big billboard she'd seen every day from the school bus window.

“Did that have anything to do with the housing tract near Darton? Happy Heart Homes?” Sam asked, but Dallas was already nodding. “I always thought it was an embarrassing name,” Sam admitted. “But it used to be a ranch?”

“'Course.” Dallas nodded a few times, as if gathering momentum for a story. “Old man Potter was always a saving sorta guy.”

“‘Saving'? Do you mean he was stingy?” Sam asked.

“Stingy would be a compliment. Why, there was men refused to throw down their bedrolls near him on cattle drives. Afraid Potter'd steal the gold outta their teeth while they were sleeping.”

Sam laughed. “And Jinx was a cow pony on the Potter ranch?”

Dallas nodded. “Potter said he shoulda noticed the horse was a jinx right off, the way that colt acted. See,
he had a habit of playing chicken with the fence.”

Sam tried to picture that. “You mean he charged the fence and then—”

“—stopped just short of ramming into it,” Dallas confirmed.

“That doesn't sound safe,” Sam said. Wooden fences could shatter into giant splinters. “What do you suppose made him do that?”

“At first, he was probably tryin' to get up his courage to jump,” Dallas said. “And then, I expect it just got to be sort of a game.

“In fact, I remember drivin' by Potter's spread and seein' that pretty blue colt tryin' it. Made me think he'd make a good ropin' horse. You know how they skid to a stop in a cloud of dust and set back on their heels against the rope?”

Sam nodded, considering Jinx's muscular quarters.

“Did they use him as a cow pony?” she asked.

“After a while. First they kept him in a pen, hoping the swelling in his stifles would go down. He tried to charge the fences in the ranch yard, too, and some hand of Potter's got the puny-brained idea to stand on the other side of the fence and snap a bull-whip in the colt's face every time he did it.”

Sam sighed. “So did that work?”

“Sure,” Dallas said. “But I pity the fool that takes out a whip around this horse.”

“Do you think he remembers?” Sam asked.

“I'd say that's the sort of thing a horse don't forget. Hard to tell, though. Never heard stories about his breakin', so he must not have taken the saddle and bridle too hard.”

“Why did they name him Jinx? Do you remember?” Sam asked.

“Well, I don't know what he was called when he was first added to Potter's string of saddle horses, but I know one day soon after, Potter was mountin' up in the rain, and he slipped. He'd just been raising his boot toward the stirrup and his other boot slithered through the mud.”

Sam shrugged a little. That was nothing that should give the horse the designation Jinx.

“Potter tried to break his fall by stickin' out his arm, and darned if he didn't fracture his wrist, instead.” Dallas shrugged. “Claimed he never could rope after that.”

Sam sighed. Even in modern times, a rider with a rope could solve problems a rancher in a truck couldn't. He could pull a cow from a river, and move rocks or branches that had fallen in a storm and blocked a road.

“And that was just the beginning,” Dallas said. “I can't remember all of it, but you know how things seem monstrous important once folks start looking for them.”

“They seem to find what they're looking for,” Sam said, nodding. She couldn't help remembering when Rachel Slocum tried to make people at school think Sam had brain damage from her riding accident. Other students had watched her so intently,
Sam
had started wondering about herself.

She wished there was a way to tell Jinx she understood.

“And then there was this pack of feral dogs harassing Potter's stock. Those dogs had already downed a calf when they got to the pasture where Jinx lived. They were about to set after the horses, but when the leader of the pack—a big black Chow with a purple tongue, as I heard it—jumped up, he hit a fence rail and flat knocked himself unconscious.”

“But wouldn't that be good luck instead of bad?” Sam asked.

“Depends on your point of view,” Dallas said. He seesawed his hand from side to side, and Jinx shied to the end of his reins.

Sam clucked her tongue quietly and walked toward Jinx with her palm held flat. The gelding raised his head, and though he didn't sniff for a familiar scent, he kept his side glance fixed on her.

“I guess the last straw was that Potter was riding Jinx on the day he got word a handful of his heifers had some bovine fever, and the entire herd would
have to be quarantined. That meant missing the best prices for his beef, and I guess he was looking for someone or something”—Dallas nodded toward Jinx—“to blame for his misfortune.”

“It didn't help cure his superstitions, when, just after he sold off Jinx, the offer came to sell his property for a subdivision with six houses per acre.”

Dallas shook his head at such claustrophobic conditions, then looked toward Darton and the remains of the Happy Heart Ranch. “Last I heard, the Potters moved to Hilo, Hawaii or some such place. I guess they're livin' in fine style.”

“Wow,” Sam said. Though she wouldn't trade River Bend Ranch for a tropical paradise, she must have sounded envious, because Dallas' stare was a reprimand.

“Too damp for my tastes,” Dallas declared.

Just then, Jinx dusted his chocolate-colored lips over Sam's extended palm.

“Good boy,” she said.

Jinx jerked back as if they'd never had their eye-to-eye moment on the range.

“I think it's cool you remember so much about him,” Sam said. “But, why do you? I mean, is it his color?”

“Grullas aren't all that common,” Dallas agreed, “though hard-luck broncs are.” He gave the gelding a resounding pat on the shoulder. The horse seemed to
like it, shifting his weight toward Dallas. “But it wasn't those things that I've been thinkin' about. What I remember best about this horse is his speed. That‘s why I figured him for some kind of Quarter Horse or Thoroughbred cross. He was the fastest horse I'd ever seen.”

“That's what I keep hearing,” Brynna said as she approached, just ahead of the HARP girls.

Sam drew a deep breath. She'd been so caught up in Dallas' recollections of Jinx, she'd forgotten her workday wasn't over.

Tonight she had to chaperone Crystal and Amelia. Of all the duties Brynna had assigned her, this made her the most uneasy.

She'd learned a lot about horses from her family, Jake, books, and experience. So she felt okay about being sort of a teacher's aide on riding and horse care.

But if you didn't count slumber parties, she'd had no experience sharing a bedroom with other girls.

Still, Brynna thought everything would work out and she'd had calm answers for each of Sam's questions.

What if they put something gross in her bed? Sam had asked just last night, on the eve of the girls' arrival.

Brynna had suggested she check her sheets before she slipped between them.

What if they waited until she was asleep and then
snuck out? Brynna had asked where she thought the girls would go. Surrounded by open range, with only cattle and wildlife as near neighbors, a city girl would probably want to stay put.

What if—?

Sam's mind was spinning so fast with last night's questions, that Brynna's approach, now, surprised her.

“Watch each step as Dallas unsaddles Jinx,” Brynna told the girls. “You'll be doing it soon.”

As Amelia and Crystal moved closer to watch, Brynna put her arm around Sam's shoulders.

“We'll see how it goes the first night,” Brynna whispered, as if she'd read Sam's mind. “If you need anything, just run over to the house. Knowing your father, his feet will be on the bedroom floor before you get the screen door open.”

Sam laughed and took a good look at Amelia and Crystal. Both girls seemed to have settled down. Crystal wasn't looking all around as if planning an escape, and Amelia's hands hung relaxed at her sides.

They watched Dallas work with Jinx as if they were memorizing his motions.

“I guess it's just because I haven't done anything like this before,” Sam said.

“And Crystal didn't get off to a smooth start with either of us,” Brynna conceded. “So don't be afraid to back out of this part of the job.”

Sam didn't like the sound of that. She wasn't a quitter.

“Sam? Really. There's a simple solution. Tomorrow night we'll trade places. You'll sleep in the house and I'll take the bunkhouse if it turns out that you can't handle it.”