Golden Ghost (11 page)

Sam watched Gram stir together powdered sugar
and milk in a pottery mixing bowl. Next, she added vanilla flavoring to a frosting for the cake she'd slipped into the oven. As she watched, Sam decided she'd be smart to second Dad's compliments to Brynna. If her new stepmother felt good about herself, it might even keep her out of Sam's bedroom.

 

One of the few good things about the house's only telephone being in the kitchen was that Sam could wash dishes as she talked with Jen.

Gram went outside to blanket Sweetheart and Sam had the kitchen to herself. By the time she'd finished the dinner plates, she'd told Jen everything Brynna had said about validating the identity of Golden Rose.

“He might try to claim the horse for himself,” Sam told Jen.

“Oh, Sam, you're getting as paranoid as I am. He's got his choice of, like, thirty-eight horses on this ranch. You know he's not going to do that.”

“I
don't
know that,” Sam said, but she didn't add that Jen only thought she did because of her crush on him.

“In any case, Brynna's right,” Jen agreed, then her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know where to look for that stuff, but I'm going to need some help.”

“What kind of help?” Sam asked suspiciously. She kept her voice down, because she heard Gram's steps on the front porch.

“Tomorrow when you come over, I want you to distract my mom, while I get in this drawer where they keep important documents.”

“Why do I have to distract her?” Sam asked quietly.

“Because, as I've said about a million times, I want this to be a surprise.” Jen pronounced the last few words carefully, as if Sam was a little slow. Then, Jen's tone turned chipper. “C'mon, be a buddy. Just do it.”

Sam pulled the stopper from the kitchen sink. The suds spun into a vortex that sucked them down the drain.

“I'll do it,” Sam said, finally. “But I've got a bad feeling about this.”

“About what, dear?” Gram said as she came back inside.

“Yeah,” said a second, deeper voice. “About what?”

S
am hung up the phone and turned to face Gram and Jake, with what she hoped wasn't a phony smile.

“About the other kids in my small group in history,” she said quickly. She dried her hands, then went over to her seat at the table and plopped down. “Some of them are real slackers.”

Jake gave a short laugh. He wasn't fooled one bit, but Gram just smiled.

“I'll leave you to your studies,” she said, “but when the timer goes off for that cake, could you either call me or slap some of that icing on while it's still hot?”

“Sure,” Sam said.

Jake stayed next to the front door until Gram had left the kitchen for the living room. Absently, as if he were thinking of something else, he rubbed his leg where it had been broken.

When he noticed her watching, Jake dropped his
backpack to the floor, walked to a chair, turned it around, and straddled it so he was facing her.

“What was Ryan doing out there?” he asked.

It was the last thing she'd expected.

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“Are you protecting him?”

“From what? You?”

His mouth opened in what looked like the start of a snarl, then he looked down at his hands, refusing to take the bait.

“Why are you trying to get me off the subject? Do you like him or something?”

“Me?” Sam knew her screech carried into the other room, but she didn't care. “The day I like a Slocum, you can—” She tried to think of a suitable punishment for being so dumb. “You can have me locked up in a home for the criminally stupid.”

“So, what was he doing out there?” Jake insisted.

“Ask Jen, she's the one with the crush on him,” Sam said.

That stopped Jake. He even looked surprised.

Though Sam felt ashamed for tossing her best friend out there to lead Jake off the track, she knew Jen would prefer that over telling him the truth.

Jake's surprise passed as quickly as Sam's instant of guilt. His arms hung over the chair back and his eyelids drooped in why-should-I-care laziness.

“I saw your horse,” he said then.

There was no question in Sam's mind. Jake didn't
mean Ace. He meant the Phantom.

“Where did you see him? When?”

This time Jake didn't tease her. “Sniffing around Aspen Creek yesterday.”

Aspen Creek was only a few miles away. If you rode along the ridge behind River Bend Ranch and Three Ponies Ranch, then went downhill and northwest, you'd come to the spot.

Sam couldn't think of Aspen Creek without picturing Moon, the Phantom's night-black son. After his sire had banished him from the herd, Moon had lived along Aspen Creek, sharing his territory with a variety of companions—a cougar, a Shetland pony, and finally a fleet mare he'd stolen from the Phantom's herd.

“Was he alone?” Sam asked.

Jake nodded.

“I saw him yesterday on War Drum Flats,” Sam said. “Why do you think he's alone?”

“Could be he came back after the lead mare,” Jake said, giving a faint nod toward his home ranch.

“Or…?” Sam encouraged him. Jake had the best horse sense of anyone she knew.

“Or he's on the prowl for another one.” Jake shrugged. “Maybe there's some physical barrier between him and his herd. I'm not gonna guess.” Then, when Sam didn't nag him to speculate, he said, “You want to take him home, see if his herd's waiting for him?”

It was exactly what she wanted to do. Sam stared at the kitchen clock. She'd bet that she and the stallion could find each other, right now, in the dark. Then she and Jake could lead him home. But if the stallion wanted to go home, he'd be there. Something was keeping him here.

Besides, she'd vowed never to reveal the way to the stallion's secret valley.

“I don't know why you're so stubborn about this,” Jake said. His attention wandered to Gram's pantry as Cougar came mincing out, sat, and cleaned a paw while he watched them.

“I'm not stubborn,” Sam protested.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. Then, for no reason Sam could see, he pulled off the leather string tying back his black hair.

For a minute he dangled the string for Cougar. The kitten pounced, missed, then lost interest. Jake narrowed his eyes at the kitten he'd given Sam, as if it had betrayed him. He caught his hair back, wound the leather tie round and round, then retied it with a jerk.

“I don't mean to hurt your feelings,” Sam said.

She could hear Cougar padding around under the kitchen table. Then he plopped his tiny body over the toe of her right boot.

“That's the last thing you should worry about, Brat.” Jake looked at her as if she were a child. “You want to keep your big secret? Fine. But don't fool
yourself that I can't find his hideout. I saw your goofy look when you came staggering down from the trail that comes up from Arroyo Azul. I know where we set him loose to go home. I'd have a pretty good idea where to start trackin'.”

“But you're too honorable to do it,” Sam said.

This time Jake's eyes didn't look away from hers.

As a little girl, she'd noticed what she called Jake's mustang eyes. Dark brown and full of wild thoughts, she could only guess what he'd been thinking. Even now, she wasn't sure. Was he flattered or frustrated?

Whatever Jake was thinking, the silence had lasted long enough. Sam didn't like it.

“I guess you
could
find him, if you weren't lazy,” she said.

Jake agreed, nodding. “Or maybe I don't see the point in it. The horse will either take care of himself or he won't.”

That was supposed to make her feel angry, but Sam kept her temper reined in.

“So why did you come over?” she asked. She jiggled her feet nervously, disturbing Cougar.

“Thought you'd want to know I saw him.” Jake moved his legs back, as if he'd stand. But he didn't.

“Well, thanks,” she said grudgingly.

She glanced at the clock again. It was barely eight o'clock. She could smell cinnamon, nutmeg, and raisins. Gram's spice cake was almost done. Next,
she'd get to slather it with lots of sweet, white frosting.

She heard Jake swallow. It wouldn't be polite to send him off without a slice of cake. In fact, it would be pure torture.

But she could make him work for it.

“Since you're here anyway,” Sam said, “d'you want to help me with algebra? The cake'll be done in a few minutes.”

Even though he couldn't help swinging his gaze toward the oven, Jake gave a loud, reluctant sigh.

“Guess it don't matter now,” he said. He looked up to be sure she grimaced at his grammar. “Already squandered half the night on lost causes, might as well throw away the rest of it, too.”

 

Gram insisted that Sam go to church with her in Darton the next morning.

“What about my algebra?” Sam asked. In a way, she was looking for an excuse. It was the last day of vacation. Even though she wasn't looking forward to being Jen's diversion while she searched for the papers on Golden Rose, Sam wanted to be dressed and ready to hop on Ace the instant Dad said she could ride over to the Gold Dust Ranch.

“You had a double dose of algebra yesterday. I'd like your company on the drive, and a little time in church won't do you any harm. Although,” Gram said, as Sam headed upstairs to dress, “I have been wondering if all that mumbling you do over your
math papers just might be prayer.”

After church, Sam rushed upstairs and changed into riding clothes. She was hurrying toward the barn when she saw a note left on the kitchen table. Something told her not to read it, but family law said that every member of the family could be held responsible for information on a note left in the middle of the kitchen table. So she had no choice.

The first half was printed in Dad's light, upright hand.
Sam, take Buff or Strawberry. They need work.
Beneath this, in cursive that had to be Brynna's, Sam read,
Be home by 4 & get organized for Monday. Vacation is over.

“As if I could forget,” Sam grumbled.

She didn't want to take Buff or Strawberry. Buff was sweet, but he was pudgy and slow. Silly would run him into the ground. She'd have to take Strawberry, but what a crummy compromise. Besides having the shaggy hair of a mastodon, Strawberry was cranky, especially with other mares.

Jen had gotten angry with Silly yesterday for threatening Golden Rose. Sam was pretty sure Strawberry would do no better.

On the other hand, Sam was more afraid of what Dad would do if she didn't ride one of the horses he'd told her to, than she was afraid of what Jen would do if she did.

When Ace saw her, he rejoiced with a volley of neighs. When she left the barn without him, he
nickered after her as if he were certain she'd be right back. After she'd caught Strawberry, he kept calling.

 

Nothing startled or irritated Strawberry on the way to the Gold Dust Ranch. The mare's swinging, ground-eating jog reminded Sam why Dad liked to use her on long trail rides.

They reached the Gold Dust in good time, and Strawberry didn't act up as they rode down the long entrance to Slocum's estate, in spite of the unusual sights. She snorted at the small herd of Brahmas left over from Linc Slocum's rodeo scheme and shied when a shaggy herd of Shetland ponies ran along their fence like a gang of ragamuffin children. But that wasn't too bad.

“Good girl.” Sam patted the mare's soft neck before dismounting in front of the foreman's house where Jen lived with her parents.

A few years ago, it had been the only house on the property. After the ranch had been sold to Slocum, though, he'd had tons of dirt hauled in and sculpted into a hill, so that his pillared mansion could look down on the rest of the ranch.

As Sam tied Strawberry to a ring on a hitching post in front of Jen's house, she heard hammering. She noticed a ladder then, and looked up and saw Jed Kenworthy, Jen's dad, on the roof.

People always said Jen's dad and hers looked alike, but Sam couldn't see any resemblance. Jed
looked so stern, he was scary.

Just now, he lay belly down on the slant of the roof. He wore a tool belt, but no coat.

Sam shivered in sympathy. Last week, there'd been a terrific sleet storm and she seemed to remember something about the foreman's house roof leaking.

“Hi, Mr. Kenworthy,” Sam shouted in his direction.

Jed gave no sign he heard, but working up in the wind, balanced the way he was, couldn't be easy.

Jen bounded out of the house dressed in jeans and a bright-orange sweatshirt with a tiger on the front.

“For courage,” Jen said, patting the tiger.

Although Jen looked the same as usual, Sam felt a kind of frantic energy in her friend's greeting.

She's staking way too much on this horse
, Sam thought as she struggled loose from Jen's boa constrictor hug. But what could she do about it?

“C'mon,” Jen said, towing Sam along by the arm. “But first, I need one more thing. Can I carry the key today?”

Without asking why, Sam pulled the key from her pocket and gave it to Jen.

“The key to my dreams.” Jen sighed.

Before they went inside, Sam tried to talk sense to Jen, one last time.

“Ask your dad about the bill of sale. Just tell him you've found the horse. He'd be so happy.”

“No way.” Jen shook her head so hard, her braids slapped her cheeks. “They've been arguing about money all morning. Then, Dad decided today he had to fix the roof. Roofs don't leak in the city, you know.”

“Of course they—oh, I get it,” Sam said.

“He's so obsessed with moving, I don't even know why he's up there,” Jen whispered. “It's cold and the shingles shatter with practically every nail he hammers into them.” Jen looked toward the roof. “But it's supposed to snow again and he, uh, isn't too thrilled about the idea of snowflakes blowing around inside the house.”

Sam thought of Dad and Brynna, talking out a misunderstanding before it became a big problem.

“Can't you and your mom sit down with your dad and tell him that no matter what, living here is more important than money?”

“That's easy for you to say,” Jen said with a humorless grin. “He won't listen anymore. But I think I can shock him into hearing us when I bring that mare home. Today.”

“Okay, then if we could just get Jake,” Sam suggested. “He's the best roper—”

“And have him take all the credit? Forget it,” Jen snapped. She drew a deep breath. “Now, here's my plan. I tried last night, but the document drawer squeaks, so I had to give up. But today, my mom is cleaning the kitchen cabinets. She's taken all the pots
and pans out, they're piled all over the place and she's making an incredible racket. It's just perfect.

“You know where my room is,” Jen continued.

Sam pictured it. Off the living room was a single long hall. Jen's parents' bedroom lay to the right and the bathroom on the left. The hall dead-ended into Jen's bedroom.

“The drawer is down low, on the left,” Jen continued. “Just before you get to my room. I have to kneel to get it open. Then I have to find the paper. So keep my mom talking for a while, got it?”

The Kenworthys' house usually smelled of wood smoke and cookies, but not today. The odors of furniture polish and cleaning supplies permeated a living room that was abnormally neat. No magazines lay on the coffee table. No coffee cup sat next to Jed's chair. The coat hooks by the front door were empty. It was almost as if Jen's mom had decided a move was inevitable, and she was already getting ready to go.

Lila Kenworthy wore a white sweater tucked into jeans and a red bandanna tied over her hair. Shining aluminum pots were piled on the cold stove while she dusted the inside of an empty cabinet. She glanced over her shoulder, gave Sam a quick wave, and kept working.