Firefly (4 page)

S
am swallowed hard.

She'd talked with Gabe once. He'd been lying in a hospital bed, legs paralyzed by an accident that had happened a few days before the fire that had temporarily deafened the Phantom and burned Pirate. For some reason—maybe because Sam had been in an accident, too—Mrs. Allen had encouraged Gabe to call Sam.

She didn't remember much of the conversation, except that he'd made a dark joke. When she'd asked “What's up?”, he'd answered “Not me.”

She'd told him about the Phantom's deafness, too, and Gabe had told her he would let the stallion make up his own mind about returning to the wild. At the
time, the suggestion had sounded insane. But that's just what Sam had done.

Maybe Gabe had an instinct for horses like she did. If only Mrs. Allen would accept the colt, Gabe might be able to help it recover. After all, they had a few things in common. The yearling had been a strong runner and a leader of other colts before the accident. Gabe was an athlete who'd made the varsity soccer team when he was only a freshman.

Sam's mind veered to school. With the beginning of classes just weeks away, Gabe had to be scared. Unless his condition had changed a lot, he might not be able to walk down the halls of his high school again, let alone play soccer.

“Taking care of her grandson's more important than the colt. Even I know that,” Sam admitted. “But I can't believe they're letting him come here. When I got hurt, Dad sent me to San Francisco.”

Two years ago, medical care in this part of Nevada had been hours away. Any complications could have killed her.

“He's told me how awful that was,” Brynna said.

Awful?
Dad sure hadn't acted like he felt that way. Sam remembered begging to stay home. Dad had refused, looking harsh and stubborn.

“First he lost Louise. Then he had to be separated from you. He told me”—Brynna paused and her voice softened—“that 'til then, he hadn't known a heart could break twice. But the doctors told him
head injuries were risky, and you'd be safer in San Francisco, where you were minutes away from a hospital, instead of hours.”

Sam didn't know what to say. She couldn't imagine Dad saying his heart had broken twice. And yet, he must have.

Brynna filled the silence with a sigh.

“So, thinking of that,” Sam said, “aren't you kind of surprised they'd let Gabriel come here? I know things are better now, with the Angel Flight helicopter and stuff, but Mrs. Allen's ranch is even farther from town than River Bend.”

Brynna shrugged. “Apparently the doctors agreed. I don't know the details, but Trudy said she'd promised him a trip out here before school started, and he wasn't about to let her back down from their deal.”

Wait a minute,
Sam thought. If the deal was the one she knew about and they still planned to go along with it, they were all crazy.

When Gabe had lain unconscious in the hospital, Mrs. Allen had flown to Denver to be with him. Sam had filled in as house, dog, and horse sitter and Mrs. Allen had called to check on things. Then, she'd told Sam she wanted to get Gabe up on a horse this summer, “no matter what.”

Later, Mrs. Allen had amended that statement by saying they had plenty of time to teach Gabe to ride. Could he be holding his grandmother to her earlier promise?

Maybe, she thought, but why would his doctors go along?

“Has his condition improved a whole lot?” Sam asked.

“I don't know anything,” Brynna said. She fanned herself with a couple of sheets of paper, probably the fax from HARP. “Except that we'd better get home and have some lunch before I faint.”

Instantly Sam's knees straightened. She stood and her arms reached out to steady Brynna.

“Get off me,” Brynna said, half laughing as she shrugged out of Sam's grip. “It's too hot for hugs.”

“I'm not hugging you,” Sam snapped, embarrassed as she realized that Brynna had been exaggerating, like everyone did.

She'd imagined Brynna pitching off the porch, face first to the ground, hurting herself and the baby she carried.

“Why did you say that? My heart is pounding like…”

Sam guessed Brynna must have seen past her rudeness to her concern, because she gave a sympathetic smile. “Sorry. It's just a figure of speech. I'm fine, just extra hungry since I'm eating for two.”

Sam smiled as Brynna meant her to, but she didn't stop thinking of Pirate all the way home.

 

Lunch was finished. Sam, Dad, and Gram were still sitting at the kitchen table in the breeze from the
ceiling fan, putting off the time when they'd have to continue their outside work.

Just as Sam began thinking of her walk with Tempest, the telephone rang. Brynna jumped up to answer it.

Refreshed and refueled, Brynna shifted from foot to foot, her eyes on Sam as she listened.

It must be Jen,
Sam thought. Her best friend was almost psychic about trouble, especially horse trouble. Maybe she'd have a strategy for helping Pirate.

For the hundredth time, Sam wished their house had a telephone extension in another room. What she wanted to discuss with Jen was no secret; still, she'd enjoy a little privacy.

Lots of her school friends carried cell phones, but they weren't much of a solution. Cell coverage in this part of the high desert was spotty. Brynna joked that her government-issued cell phone was mostly good as a paperweight, and really a little light for that.

“Whoever's called isn't giving Brynna a chance to get a word in edgewise,” Gram said, sipping the last of her iced tea.

That would be totally unlike Jen, Sam thought.

“Of course Wyatt wouldn't mind if you put your heads together,” Brynna said.

Sam glanced toward Dad. He gave a grunt as if he weren't so sure he liked anyone, even his wife, speaking for him. Then Brynna said, “Sam, it's Mrs. Allen.”

Brynna extended the phone and Sam scrambled up from her chair. It tipped and Sam barely caught it before it fell over.

“Careful,” Gram cautioned.

“Sorry,” she apologized, but her mind was already on the phone.

Please let Mrs. Allen have changed her mind
, she begged silently.

“Hello?”

“Oh, Samantha, I can hear the hope in your voice, and I'm not at all sure I can help, but I'll try. I've been feeling awful since Brynna called.” Mrs. Allen paused and tsked her tongue. “That poor burned little colt.”

“If you could have seen him before…” Sam said, but her voice caught.

So few people had seen him whole and healthy. Born in the secret valley, he'd learned to run on broad white alkali flats that humans avoided. He'd hardened his hooves by climbing red rock plateaus that were a test even to mustangs.

Sam felt lucky to have seen the colt before the fire had scarred him forever. No one who saw him now would know how he'd been before.

“I've been thinking, Sam, if I took that colt in—”

“Oh, Mrs. Allen!” Sam rejoiced.

“—someone would need to take care of him, and by that I do not mean you, because I know how busy you are with the HARP girls and that darling black filly, but what about your friend Jen?”

When Sam didn't answer right away, Mrs. Allen said, “But Jen helps with the HARP girls, too, doesn't she?”

“She does,” Sam said, but her mind sorted through every young rider she knew. Who could help? Someone had to.

“What about Callie, the girl who stayed with you here before?” Mrs. Allen suggested.

“She'd be perfect,” Sam said.

Callie's gentle, otherworldly approach to horses charmed them. There was no other word for it. But Callie couldn't help either.

“She's decided to go back to school and she's applying for financial aid to pay for college classes. She says it's a full-time job filling out forms and sending them in.”

“Oh, that's a shame,” Mrs. Allen said.

“I'd ask her to try to work it in anyway, but she doesn't exactly live nearby….” Sam's voice trailed off.

She glanced at the kitchen table. Dad, Brynna, and Gram were still sitting there. They listened openly, but no one offered a suggestion.

“I'm afraid I just don't know many of the local teenagers,” Mrs. Allen fussed.

“That's because there aren't many,” Sam said. “Everyone lives in Darton except for me and Jen.”

“Don't forget the Slocum twins,” Mrs. Allen said grudgingly.

“There's no way Rachel—” Sam began.

“I've heard she's not the most responsible girl,” Mrs. Allen said.

“She doesn't like horses,” Sam said. “And Ryan is pretty busy with his own colt.”

It was quiet for a minute. Sam swallowed, unsure why she didn't want to make the list of local teenagers complete. But then, she did.

“And there's the Ely brothers, of course.”

“That's it!” Mrs. Allen's outburst made Sam hold the telephone away from her ear. “Jake Ely would be perfect. He has such a touch with horses, don't you think?”

“Yes, he does,” Sam said. “But he'll be working with the HARP girls, too.”

Jake could work wonders with the colt, but Jake was saving money for college, too. Would he be willing to take time out from his duties at Three Ponies Ranch and HARP work to help an injured mustang?

“But Jake would be perfect, Samantha,” Mrs. Allen insisted. “Think about it. And he had the riding accident, too. I can't help thinking that another boy, a strong, athletic boy just like Gabriel, might be a help to him.”

“I don't know,” Sam said when she noticed Mrs. Allen's shift from the colt's welfare to that of her grandson. “Jake isn't the sympathetic type.”

“How can you say that?” Mrs. Allen asked. “Why, that night my little Faith was lost in the snowstorm, he brought her home over the front of his saddle.
Samantha, you must remember. You gave me that lovely photograph.”

In his leather coat and black Stetson, Jake had looked his tough, no-nonsense self as he carried the fragile, long-legged foal through the snow. Sam had to admit it was one of her favorites, too.

“I remember, but Jake's also the one who cut off his own cast before he was supposed to.”

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Allen said. “I wouldn't want him to encourage Gabriel to do anything other than what the doctors have ordered.”

It was the perfect time to ask about Gabriel's progress, but Sam couldn't.

She wanted to know. She cared about the guy she'd talked with on the phone, late that night at Mrs. Allen's house, but her throat felt swollen shut. She could barely swallow and certainly couldn't form the words she needed to ask.

He must be better or he wouldn't be coming here,
Sam told herself. And that was all she needed to know.

“I'm going upstairs for a nap.” Voice lowered, Brynna tried to be quiet, but Sam glanced over to see Brynna kiss Dad's cheek and add, “Doesn't sound like I'll miss much.”

Frustrated, Sam struck her thigh with her fist. There had to be a solution. Someone, somewhere must have the time to spend with the yearling.

“Maybe this is how things are supposed to work out,” Mrs. Allen said.

“But who'll adopt him the way he is now?” Sam asked.

“Maybe no one,” Mrs. Allen said. “Maybe the poor little fella wasn't meant to be tamed and adopted. It's unlikely he'll be put down with Brynna pulling for him, don't you think? Look at the bright side,” Mrs. Allen said. “The BLM has those pastures out in the middle of the country. He could go to one of those.”

For someone trying to be optimistic, Mrs. Allen's voice sounded forlorn.

“He's not the type to just graze his life away,” Sam said. “That's not much better than just keeping him sedated, like Dr. Scott's been doing so far.”

The rambunctious colt deserved better, Sam thought.

Gram shifted in her chair at the table, and Sam wondered why she looked so distressed. But Sam looked away when she heard Mrs. Allen take a troubled breath.

“I'll keep thinking,” Sam said, trying to reassure her. “Mrs. Allen, you're doing all you can. Your grandson needs you more than the colt does. I know that.”

“Thank you, dear,” Mrs. Allen said. “You've been a great help over the past couple weeks and I appreciate it more than you know. I hope you'll get to be great friends with Gabriel while he's here this week….”

Great friends?
Sam definitely didn't see that happening. She might have time to ride over to Mrs. Allen's house once this week, or Gram might drive
her over to visit, but “great friends” didn't happen in an hour or two.

“…call me back when you work out a plan,” Mrs. Allen concluded.

Sam blinked in surprise.
When
she worked out a plan? She appreciated Mrs. Allen's faith in her, but didn't she mean
if
?

But this was no time to dump her own doubts on Mrs. Allen, so Sam promised, “I will.”

She hung up the phone and stood with her arms crossed, wondering what to do next.

“So she has her hands full with her grandson?” Gram asked.

“He's there for only a week,” Sam explained.

Of course it had to be the week before the auction. Would it really matter to Gabriel if he came to Deerpath Ranch a week later? It would matter to Pirate. A single week of gentling could give him an edge over the other mustangs up for adoption. He'd be sweeter and more likely to get a home.

But Sam didn't say that. She knew it would sound pouty and insensitive, even though it was the truth. Instead, she told Gram about Mrs. Allen's offer: She'd let the colt stay at her ranch, but someone else would have to care for him.

“Honey,” Dad said.

Sam had almost forgotten Dad was still sitting at the kitchen table. But there he was, wearing a blue chambray shirt, long sleeved to protect him from the sun. He was drinking a cup of hot coffee, too, even
though it was a million degrees outside.