Desert Dancer (14 page)

“I know,” Quinn called. “I'll get really busy mucking out stalls. No one will come near me then, in case I ask them to help.”

“You're a pal,” Sam yelled. She gave Quinn a thumbs-up with her rope hand.

That's when Witch remembered to be crabby.

She rolled her eyes like a rowdy bronc, then spoiled the effect by sidestepping. Her sturdy black forelegs crossed one over the other in a move so graceful, it looked like ballet.

“Just wait 'til Jake sees how gorgeous I'm going to make you,” Sam cooed to the mare.

Witch's ears swiveled to catch Sam's voice and she blinked her curiosity.

Jake treated his horse with respect, but he didn't praise her prettiness or make a fuss over her. The Quarter horse kept moving forward, but Sam thought the mare wore an expression that was a lot like suspicion.

 

Sam felt a spurt of her old confidence as she rode toward home. She'd handled Ace's wildness when he
saw the Phantom. She'd ponied Witch for three miles, with no problems. Even when a covey of quail broke cover and scurried across the trail in front of them, Sam had controlled the horses.

“I bet,” she whispered to Ace, “that I can get up the nerve to go galloping before vacation is over.” Sam leaned forward and pressed her cheek to Ace's warm neck. “After all, you got knocked around by those crazy wild ones and it didn't shake your nerve a bit.”

A familiar neigh wafted up the hill just as the River Bend barn came into sight. Ace quickened his pace at Queen's greeting, but Witch turned balky.

“Come on, Witchy girl,” Sam coaxed.

The black gave a harsh snort, reminding Sam that she was a working horse. She wasn't used to being coddled and didn't appreciate baby talk. Sam mimicked Jake to make Witch feel more at home.

“Hey, knock it off,” she ordered, giving the lead rope a sharp tug. “We're almost there.”

After that, the Quarter horse cooperated, but just barely.

Sam shifted her weight back a little as the horses descended the steep trail. Down below she saw smoke curling from the ranch house chimney, and noticed Dr. Scott leaving. His truck was just bumping over the bridge, toward the highway.

They'd come down too far for her to see into the new corral, but Callie must be finished sitting with
Queen. If she'd spent this long letting the mare grow used to her, she'd done a good job.

Sam wondered what Dr. Scott thought of Callie. She remembered Rachel's acid remarks at the wedding. Rachel had condemned Callie's parents as hippies. Jen had wondered how good parents could allow their daughter to drop out of school and Jed Kenworthy, Jen's dad, had been just plain rude to Callie. And though Callie seemed to trust Sam's opinion about horses, Sam hadn't been very nice to her so far.

Would Callie confide in her, if anything had gone wrong?

Sam and the horses were almost down to level ground when Witch stopped, threw her head high as her neck would reach, and sampled the air. Her nostrils vibrated and her sniffing was noisy.

Sam checked the brush around the foot of the trail, but there was no cougar, bear, not even a skunk to cause the black mare to act so wary.

Witch uttered a loud whinny. She was answered instantly.

Queen's neigh overlapped Witch's challenge. The tiger dun sounded so angry, Sam could guess at her thoughts.

Queen, lead mare of the wildest mustang band on the range, wasn't about to let some barn-bred female defy her.

A quick check showed Sam that Callie was outside the pen. Flashes red as flame zipped around the
corral as Witch continued to taunt Queen.

Ace didn't need any directions to know his job. Even though he and Witch were buddies, he treated her like a half-grown calf who didn't want to be dragged to the branding fire. He dropped his head and plodded for the barn.

Witch outweighed Ace by so much and she pulled so hard, the little gelding was almost walking sideways. But he didn't give up.

Sam clucked to Ace in appreciation, then told him what he probably already knew. “Too many mares is never a good thing.”

S
am hustled the horses into the barn.

Ground-tying Ace, she tied Witch to a ring for grooming. She watched the mare sidle around, slamming her rump against Ace's pen.

“Just letting Sweetheart know you're here?” Sam asked the black. “I don't think she could've missed you.”

Gram's pinto had taken one look at Witch and headed for the outdoor portion of her stall. She was a proud old mare, but she wanted nothing to do with the clash between Witch and Queen.

Sam slipped Ace into his pen, with a promise. “I'll check your hooves in a little while, boy. Right now I'm wondering if I should cross-tie Witch while I do her beauty treatment.”

Sam decided she would. Witch was unpredictable under normal conditions. With Queen out there calling her names, there was no telling what she'd do.
And the clock was ticking. Jake could arrive any minute.

“What's happening?” Callie asked.

She'd replaced her yellow hairdresser's smock with a wool jacket. It hung open, and Sam could see Callie's peasant blouse and brass pendant. The smell of hairspray that had swirled around her had blown away on the high desert wind and so, apparently, had her hurt feelings from yesterday.

“I'm getting ready to pull a trick on Jake, and I could use your help,” Sam said. She ducked into the tack room, found a sturdy lead rope, then looked for a metal mane comb.

“I don't know.” Callie held onto the doorway and shook her head a little. “Jake Ely? Is he the kind of guy you do that to? He always seems sort of solemn and shy.”

Callie followed Sam as she came out of the tack room with supplies, then she added, “Can he take a joke?”

“No,” Sam confirmed. “He thinks he's too mature for stuff like that, but I'm going to show him otherwise.”

“Why?”

“Because he's too bossy. He thinks he always knows best, and he's wrong. He may look like a man, but he's a kid. And he makes some bad decisions, just like everybody else.”

Callie looked uneasy, but that expression was
erased by amazement as the puzzle pieces of Sam's plan came together for her.

“Is this
his
horse?” Callie's voice broke. “You don't mean you stole Jake Ely's horse?” Callie drew a breath, clearly amazed by Sam's bravery.

“I didn't steal her.” Sam searched her mind for a more accurate word. “I just picked her up for her hair appointment.”

Callie's arms crossed. “I know all about hair appointments, and they're voluntary. This customer doesn't seem happy about being here. And she looks like a no-frills kind of horse to me.”

Sam had to agree. Witch was a stocky working horse. She was beautiful, but nothing about her looked feminine.

“That's why this is going to be fun,” Sam assured her. “Besides, it's not that big a deal. He won't get too mad or anything. Really.”

Callie exhaled, slid her hand over Witch's gleaming shoulder, then shrugged. “Okay, I'm in. What do you want me to do?”

“Help me cross-tie Witch. Then look under that hay bale over there, and dig out that bag of pink ribbons.”

Witch settled down and let Sam comb her mane, divide it into half-inch sections, and tie each section with a thin ribbon.

Sam kept waiting for Callie to help, but the other girl seemed preoccupied. Each time Witch bowed her neck a little, Sam could see Callie on the other side,
pacing, biting her lip, and sawing her brass pendant back and forth on its chain.

She hadn't done that for a while, Sam thought.

At last Callie stopped, crossed her arms around herself, and stared toward the barn rafters.

“Dr. Scott doesn't think I should have adopted Queen.”

“What makes you say that?” Sam asked.

“You heard what he said about getting Queen to live with me.”

“But you have a plan for that,” Sam said. “You're going to get the landlord to share that pasture with you. She'll be right in your backyard.”

Callie's right hand covered her lips as if she were forcing herself to stay silent until Sam had finished.

“That's not all,” Callie said, as if she hadn't heard Sam's support. “After you left, he asked me when was the last time I'd ridden and what kind of experience I had with untrained horses and he started using words I didn't understand. I'm not dumb—”

“Of course you're not!” Sam protested. Her sharp tone made Witch stamp and switch her tail, so Sam lowered her voice. “He didn't mean to make you feel that way. He's a vet, though, and sometimes he talks like a textbook.”

“I don't know…” Callie's voice trailed off and Witch made the only sound in the barn as she tested the strength of the crossties. “Maybe he's right.” Callie raised both hands to clasp around her pendant.
“I'm not that good a rider and I told you, I'm not what my parents call a go-getter. Maybe I've used up all my motivation, or whatever, and I'm fizzling out now.”

“How can you say that?” Sam asked. “You have your own place, your own car, and your own horse. You worked for them. You're going to school, too.”

“I know, but I didn't think this out.” Callie swallowed so hard, Sam heard her. “I'd always wanted a mustang and when I went up to Willow Springs, I planned to adopt a weanling. Babies are supposed to be easiest to gentle.”

Sam nodded, but she didn't interrupt.

“And then I saw Queen.”

Sam got chills at Callie's words. She might as well have said,
and then there was a miracle
.

“I picked her with my heart, not my head. She's an adult horse used to having her own way. Maybe she doesn't need a family the way I do.”

At last Callie looked over Witch's back at Sam, and she wore a helpless smile.

Sam met Callie's eyes. In the beginning, she'd wanted nothing more than to hear Callie surrender. But now, she couldn't let her give up. If Queen went back on the range, she'd die. And Callie was alone. She'd give Queen all the time and attention she could. Even more important was the fact that Callie already loved the mare enough to be patient and kind while Queen learned a new life.

But Sam didn't say any of that sappy stuff. Right
now, Callie needed facts to have faith in herself.

“How did it go in there?” Sam asked, nodding toward the new pen.

Callie thought a moment. “She seemed more curious than anything.”

“Good,” Sam said. “It's obvious she likes you. She wanted to chomp her teeth into me and Dr. Scott, but she just trotted around, showing off for you. At least while I was watching.” Sam thought of all the time she'd been riding over to Three Ponies Ranch and back. “She didn't ignore you after a while, did she?”

“For a few minutes, but I think she was faking,” Callie said, smiling. “Then she faced me and watched me and finally came up to within about six feet of me. But that took two hours!”

“Still, that's pretty good. This is all new for Queen. You can't give up on her.”

“I'd never give up on
her
.” Callie's voice turned high-pitched.

“Okay, put yourself in her place again,” Sam urged her. “If you give her back to BLM, they'll have to find another adopter and it probably won't be in Nevada. Picture yourself traveling cross-country in a big horse truck. You'll be crowded in with a bunch of other wild horses. How are you feeling?”

Callie sighed. “It's frightening. She doesn't know where she's going and those other mustangs are just oozing despair.”

“And if she doesn't get adopted at the new place,
because she's too wild and wants to give orders to all the other horses, they'll ship her off to one of those megapastures the government has in Ohio or”—Sam spun her hand in the air. She couldn't remember where those pastures were, but Callie's eyes were glazed with thought, so maybe it didn't matter—“or somewhere. There, the horses just stand around and graze. They're not wild anymore. They're like cattle. So, if you're Queen, how do you feel?”

“Lost.” Callie was quiet for several minutes. In the silence, Sam heard Queen circling her pen. Her hoofbeats sounded impatient, but not painful. “Even though there's plenty of grass, I'd wonder where my wide, white playas went, and how the mountains vanished and why I couldn't go splash in the river.”

Sam finished decorating Witch, while Callie stood thinking her own thoughts.

Then, Sam stared at Witch's mane. She'd been a lot more successful talking Callie out of quitting than she had been in beautifying this poor horse.

Suddenly, Callie laid her hand on Witch's rump, and crossed behind her, staying close enough that the mare couldn't launch much of a kick if she decided to lash out.

“Here, let me do this,” Callie said, in a no-nonsense manner. “Jake could pull the ribbons off those little tufts you made in thirty seconds flat.”

Callie did just that, then stood back with a fistful of ribbons.

“If you really want to make Jake nuts, let's try this,” she said.

Callie's fingers flew, but Witch seemed to enjoy the attention. She quit shifting her weight from right to left.

“There,” Callie said, hands on hips.

“You mean, abracadabra,” Sam said. “That was magic.”

Witch wore a row of tiny plaits. Starting at her crest, they looped along her neck like braided satin. Between each loop, tiny bows perched like pink butterflies.

“You want to see magic?” Callie asked, digging her car keys out of her pocket. “I'm going to get in my car and vanish. There is no way in the world I want to be here when Jake sees you've made his monster mare into a lady.”

Sam walked Callie out to her car. As soon as she saw the battered silver Jeep, Sam remembered Callie had said she'd been able to get a car and pay adoption fees on Queen, by spending a check from her grandmother carefully.

“You see why it was such a bargain,” Callie said. “Remember that flash flood a few months ago?”

Sam's stomach clenched in memory. She recalled it well. She, Ace, and a small herd of cattle had been stranded on a sandspit in the middle of the raging La Charla River. She and Ace had almost drowned.

“I remember,” Sam said.

“Well, a guy in Darton drove this Jeep into a
ditch full of water. It went in nose first, and stuck. The guy got out, but the engine compartment filled with water and you see how the body got banged up.” Callie touched a dented door with affection. “But it drives great and it's only two years old.”

Sam was admiring Callie's determination when the other girl held up a finger.

“Hey, I meant to ask you when I first got here,” Callie said. “What's Mr. Slocum doing out by the highway?”

Being a selfish, irresponsible creep
, Sam thought, but she didn't say it.

“He's feeding mustangs so they'll come up to the road and look picturesque,” Sam said. “He has this idea that he's going to make a resort or something. It's a good thing most of his schemes fizzle out.”

“Oh,” Callie stretched the word out and pushed her glasses up to the top of her nose. “That makes sense. You know Mrs. Martinez? She and her husband run the bank, I think.”

“Sure,” Sam said. Mr. Martinez had boarded his curly Bashkir colt Teddy Bear at the ranch while Jake schooled him.

“Mrs. Martinez said Mr. Slocum was looking for investors for a housing development surrounding a golf course. I wonder if that could be the same thing?”

Sam's pulse pounded faster. A housing development. And this time Slocum's silly scheme had gotten as far as the bank.

“Go ahead and meditate,” Callie whispered. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Sam didn't protest that she wasn't meditating. Maybe she was. All she knew, as she watched Callie drive away, was that Linc Slocum liked the worst sort of progress.

He wanted to bring people here for Western beauty, then destroy it.

Sam sighed and thought about going inside for a snack. She wasn't ravenous, but she'd been pretty active. A cinnamon roll breakfast, followed by a chips and dip lunch wasn't the kind of diet that kept her going. Besides, she was curious to see what kind of dinner Aunt Sue had planned for tonight.

As she crossed the yard, a shower of rocks from the ridge trail made Sam glance back. And then there was a shout.

“Oh no you don't! Get back in that barn!”

Mad as he was, Jake guided Chocolate Chip down the twisting trail as if the gelding were striding on satin. But Jake
was
mad.

He hadn't taken time to change when he'd gotten back from the mall.

He wore jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and running shoes. Not boots. He hadn't even pulled on his Stetson.

Once, when she was a little girl, Sam had heard Dallas joshing with Dad. Dad had taken a spill off a new horse and Dallas had told him, “You look mad
enough to eat the devil with his horns on.”

Jake looked just that mad.

“Are you talking to me?” Sam asked innocently.

Jake shook the index finger of his right hand at her, but he was speechless.

Chip shifted beneath him. Jake's anger must be telegraphing through his knees into Quinn's horse, because the big brown gelding swung from side to side, trying to understand what Jake wanted.

Jake wanted to teach her a lesson, Sam knew, but the horse wouldn't understand that.

Sam stood with her hands on her hips, watching. It probably wasn't a good sign that Jake was riding Quinn's horse. Then again, Chip had been saddled and ready. And Witch had been missing.

Jake swung down from the moving horse in one fluid movement. He didn't look back for the ground, but he landed perfectly. Sam held her breath.

She could almost imagine heat radiating from Jake's face as he stared at her.

Then, remembering why he was here, Jake turned toward the barn.