Wild Hearts (34 page)

“Amy,” I said, finally over my laugh-fit. “If I look bad and I even so much as
think
that you uploaded that to QuikPic . . .”

“Brie! Oh, my gosh,” Amy said. “Your mom is ready and you're making her wait.”

I tilted my head and started to yell back at Amy, but just in time remembered that I had a mustang at the end of a very short cotton rope.

Mom bent forward, her face near the camera. “These are going to look beautiful,” Mom said. “Let me know when you're ready, Brie.”

“Okay, I want to let out the rope a little so there will be a great shot of her without me being too close for good cropping.” I let out the lead rope bit by bit. “Stay there, pretty girl. Just be still.”

The filly stayed but looked at me. A brilliant white star peeked from under her forelock.

Amy clicked with her tongue a couple of times. It broke the filly's focus on me and she turned her head, looking dead on at Mom.

“That's a girl,” Amy said. “Just keep looking at us. We're almost done with you.”

“Got it,” Mom said, looking up from her camera and trading grins with Amy and me. “Nice work, girls. I've got the easy job today.”

“Please,” Amy and I said in unison.

All three of us laughed. I praised the horse, then released her to join the others. A few lifted their heads, eyes filled with curiosity.

“One at a time, guys,” I said. “You'll all get your picture taken. Don't worry.”

The familiar sound of a certain truck's engine broke the quiet of our shoot. Well before he reached the barn, Logan cut the engine. He headed toward us, waving.

It was Amy's turn to hold one of the horses. She was at the corral gate, shooing the horses back so she could step inside.

“Hi, Ms. Carter,” Logan said, smiling at my mom. He walked over to where I'd perched on the fence and ran a hand up and down my back. “Hi to you, too,” he said.

I leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. “Everything okay?” I asked him.

“Now it is,” Logan said. He didn't offer up anything else and I wasn't the type of girlfriend who always felt the need to pry info from her boyfriend. “How's the photo shoot?”

“Great,” I said, watching while Amy held a buckskin colt for Mom. “They haven't gotten scared once.”

Logan grinned. “That's good, because this place better be packed in a few weeks.”

Mom took the final two shots and we dropped Amy off at home. Logan stayed behind at Pam's to start cleaning up the barn.

Later that night, Mom and I went over the pictures and chose the best one for each horse. Then, with Amy on the phone, I navigated the website and got the pictures posted online.

It was almost two in the morning when I felt a wave of exhaustion. I sat back in my desk chair and scrolled through the website.

“‘Lost Springs Mustang Sponsorship,'” I read aloud. “‘Browse our site to learn about available horses, dates, and how you can sponsor one this summer and take your horse home next year. One hundred percent of donations goes directly to the horses—not one will ever be euthanized unless its quality of life can't be improved. We will not give up on a single horse. If one is not adoptable for whatever reason, we will continue to care for it.'” The site listed Amy's cell as the contact number and Pam's address.

On the photo gallery page, Amy had helped me set up a photo album with the photos Mom had taken. Under each photo, a couple of sentences of description told potential adopters about each horse.

“‘Santana,'” I read aloud. “‘This gentle mare stands at fifteen hands high and is five or six years old. She's halter broken, leads well, and is ready for training.'”

Amy and I hoped, with lots of people home for the summer, those people would be browsing the web and feeling like sponsoring a horse or donating to our cause.

Logging off, I flopped onto my bed. I'd just closed my eyes when my phone buzzed beside me.

“I didn't wake you, did I?” Kate asked.

“No, I just finished some work for the fundraiser,” I said.

“That's my sister,” Kate said. “Planning ahead. Good girl. I can't wait to see you.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“You need to sleep. I was just calling to say hi and that I love you,” Kate said. “I'm bringing a surprise, too.”

“Surprise? What kind of surprise?”

“Bye, Brie. Talk later,” Kate said, her tone mocking and playful.

“Kate! Wait! Tell me!” I pleaded, but the line went silent.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Don't wear the same pair of boots every day. Variety not only spices up life, it prolongs it.

That evening, tiny bugs flew toward Logan's headlights as he parked his truck on Dad's lot. Dad had called and asked me to come. We had both been quiet on the ride over.

“Call me when you're done,” Logan said, kissing me quickly. “I hope everything is okay.”

“Me, too,” I said. “He was cryptic on the phone. He just said to get over here and he wanted to talk. Thanks for the ride.” I hopped out of the truck and waved to Logan as I walked over to the silver trailer. Lights from the inside made patches of light on the grass.

I climbed the stairs and opened the door.

“Hi,” I said, tossing my purse on the sofa. “What's going on?” I asked Dad. He was bent over his computer, fingers clicking over the keyboard.

“One sec. Hold on.”

I grabbed a mint from the jar on Dad's desk. The printer whirred and shot out a couple of neon-colored pages. Dad handed me a pink one.

“What's this?” I asked, taking it from him. A huff of surprise escaped from my lips. I read the flyer from top to bottom. Twice.
Fundraiser for wild mustangs! July 29 at 8 a.m. at 4249
High Falls Road, Lost Springs.
The flyer gave the time, website address, and a phone number. The flyer's border was the pictures Mom had taken and they had been downsized and tilted to be catchy.

“You've got to start advertising now,” Dad said. “Is this flyer okay?”

“It's perfect! When did you do this?”

“I've been working on it for a couple of days. I told you I'd help, so here's the first step.”

“This is great, Dad. Thanks.” I hugged him.

“No matter what people say, I want to do this,” he said, going back to his computer.

“What're you talking about?” I put down the flyer and sank into the couch.

“Some of the guys hear things when they're at the diner or bars,” Dad said. “I guess, according to some people, if I help my daughter at all during your fundraiser, I'm doing it for my image.”

“I'm sorry, Dad,” I said. “That's not fair.”

“I don't care what those people think because they aren't important to me. You are. I care what
you
think. What you think of me as your dad.”

“I think you're doing okay,” I said, my voice soft.

The trailer was quiet except for the whirr of the printer. Dad cleared his throat.

“Did you or Logan start a press release yet?” he asked.

Reaching into my book bag, I pulled out my spiral notebook. “I tried, but the library books on publicity were confusing.”

“Then let's do it now.” He motioned me over to the computer and I pulled up an empty chair.

Dad reached for his phone and dialed Mom. “Hey, hon, Brie and I are working on her horse project. Want to come over? Good. See you in a few minutes.”

Dad and I were sitting in his office working on
my
project. That was a first. Mom pulled up a few minutes later and we studied the marketing books. We munched on Chex Mix and downed some of the Red Bulls in Dad's mini-fridge. The countdown to the event was on!

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A man on foot is not a man at all.

The next day, I straightened an already straight pillow on the couch. I was alone in the house and Mom and Dad were on their way back from the airport with Kate. I was so excited to see her that I was going stir crazy!

Tires crunched on gravel. Doors slammed and I ran from the living room and skidded to the front door.

I reached for the handle just as it started to open.

“Hi!”

“Kate!” I squealed. I threw my arms around her California-tanned body.

“Brie!” She grabbed my wrists and held me at arm's length. “You look great!”

Kate took my hand and twirled me in a circle. We laughed and squeezed hands. When she spun me back around to face her, I realized she'd changed, too. Her hair was a soft shade of honey blond, and blue contacts made her once-green eyes pop against her tan skin.

“Both my girls look beautiful,” Mom said, her smile stretching across her face. She motioned for Dad to follow her with Kate's bags and I slung my arm across my sister's waist. Kate
was wearing low-slung jeans and a preppy, but pretty, sparkly white sweater.

“You have the boyfriend glow,” Kate said, bumping me playfully with her hip. “You're going to share every little detail. I'm the press—I have to know!”

Laughing, I led her toward the guest room. “I'll tell you later,” I said. “It'll take a while.”

“I bet,” she said, quieting down as we neared the bedroom door. Mom busily directed Dad where to put Kate's bags and I had a vision of her turning down the bed and placing a mint on Kate's pillow. Mom loved it when we were all together. It was a rare occurrence these days when we weren't separated from my older sister. We were a family again and Lost Springs was home.

It didn't take long to get Kate settled. She wasn't an LA drama queen about her clothing—she was photographed in tabloids and said to have amazing taste in clothes. Kate never told her secret, though. She shopped only at thrift stores and went outside of Hollywood to a Goodwill store, where she bought designer pants for $2.99. Kate always kept an eye out for photography things, purses, and candles, for Mom and me.

With Mom and Dad safely out of hearing distance, she pulled me onto her bed and the sisterly chat-fest began. She knew bits and pieces about Logan and the mustangs from what I'd told her on the phone, but telling her in person was so much more fun.