Kidnapped Colt (12 page)

“Right!” Gina said. “We describe Shy Boots and say there's a reward for his recovery. That way, if Mannix still has the colt, and he responds, the sheriff can arrest him!”

“Yeah!” Mikki said. “And we'll use my e-mail address, because he couldn't possibly know it.”

Mikki and Gina wiggled like puppies, delighted with their deceit.

“We are so sneaky,” Mikki said.

“But in a good way,” Gina shouted to Brynna as she peeked in from the kitchen.

And Sam decided that was progress, of a kind.

S
am and Blaze sat on the bridge over the La Charla River. With her cheek pressed against one wooden rail of the bridge, Sam looked down at ripples turned silver by the moon.

She'd been awake for nineteen hours, and though she was definitely tired, she was just as definitely not sleepy. The Phantom wouldn't come to the river tonight, and she was almost glad.

Glad might be the wrong word,
Sam thought, but she felt relieved.

The Phantom had not been friendly to her today. He certainly hadn't come to her like—what was it Dad had said?—a lapdog.

In fact, the Phantom hadn't indicated by even a
flick of his ear that he'd recognized her.

So she didn't have to feel guilty about him tonight. And though Hotspot must miss her foal, she'd soon find her place in the herd. She'd probably be a part of it until autumn.

Brynna had insisted there was no way BLM would finance a special gather to capture a tame horse gone astray.

We can't be running mustangs with a helicopter just because Linc Slocum wants us to,
Brynna had said.
In fact, if it turns out the horse was freed intentionally to run with the wild ones, Linc may have some penalties to pay.

Sam sighed, and Blaze, dozing next to her, opened his eyes to give her hand a lick.

The silver ripples seemed to melt and coat the entire river. Sam blinked, trying to stay awake.

Shy Boots was still lost. More than anything Sam wanted to find him. She had to think. She had to make a plan. But maybe she'd close her eyes for just a minute.

In Sam's dream, she rode the Phantom in a game they'd never played before. Three silk scarves were hidden in the desert and she had to find them.

Riding the stallion bareback, she galloped over bone-white alkali flats, hand shading her eyes against a golden glare.

An emerald-green scarf fluttered from a sagebrush. Holding a handful of the Phantom's mane in one hand, Sam leaned over to snag the scarf with her fingers.

Pink and orange like the dawn sky, the second scarf blew on the wind. Sam only had to sit straight astride the stallion for the strip of silk to twine around her brow and remain there, blowing behind as if she, too, had a mane.

The Phantom's slender legs raced miles across the desert, slanting as she searched north and south, east and west; but the last scarf could not be found.

A mirage of yellow shimmered on the horizon. As she and the Phantom drew closer, a figure waved from inside it.

“He knows where it is,” she told the Phantom, but the stallion swerved, refusing to go closer, and Sam was falling…

Her cheek hit the wooden deck of the bridge, and she woke up.

“Ow!” she said, mostly to Blaze. “Of course it couldn't be the cheek that was already hurt,” she said, rubbing her face.

The Border collie panted and cocked his head to one side, looking a little worried.

“I'm okay,” she said, rising stiffly to her knees, and then to her bare feet. “And I think I'm finally ready for bed.”

 

The HARP girls' riding lessons progressed faster than expected. By Thursday, Gina could catch Popcorn, groom him, tack him up, and ride him around the round pen alone. Mikki rode Popcorn at
a walk, jog, and lope, and Dark Sunshine had eaten a sugar cube from her hand.

But the hunt for the horse thief had fizzled, and Ryan still hadn't returned Sam's calls.

With only two days left of the HARP session, the summer heat closed around them like a fist.

The next day was the Fourth of July, but with no clues about Shy Boots's or Karl Mannix's whereabouts, and no breezes to cool them, it was hard to look forward to a day spent in the relentless sun.

At midmorning, Gina and Mikki were playing follow-the-leader again when lightning crackled across the sky, then rain pelted down.

For an hour, they tried riding in yellow slickers, but Penny bucked at the strange sound, and Popcorn balked. No matter how Gina urged him on, the albino hung his head and let raindrops drip from his white nose.

As they stripped the tack from the horses and turned them out, Jake didn't quit. He swung into Witch's saddle.

“What's he doing?” Jen asked, using wet fingers to polish the fog from her glasses.

Sam stared at Jake. Dressed in a dark slicker and Stetson, Jake ignored the downpour. He jogged Witch through a figure eight, slid her to a stop, then asked her to reverse the pattern.

“Sometimes even I can't figure him out,” Sam said, but she was remembering Jake's accident last autumn.

The horse who'd slipped in the mud and crushed Jake's leg had been young, but the accident could have happened to any horse. She'd bet Jake was giving Witch a little extra schooling. The next time he had to gallop her in the mud, Witch would be ready.

Sam realized she was watching a major difference between Ryan and Jake. Ryan tried to buy his way out of trouble, but Jake prepared to stand up against it.

“Tell me about the
desert
, again?” Gina asked Sam, as they carried the saddles back to the tack room.

“I already said it wasn't like the Sahara,” Sam grumbled. “But this doesn't usually happen until August.”

“I guess we can work on the computer some more,” Mikki said. “Brynna left it home again.”

“Not me,” Gina said, looking back toward the middle of the ranch yard. “I'm staying outside.”

“What for?” Mikki asked. Looking down at her boots, she tried to avoid quickly filling puddles. “Are you going swimming?”

But Sam followed Gina's gaze to Jake.

“Jake brought a baseball,” Gina said offhandedly. “He said he'd throw it around with me.”

“In this?” Mikki said. “You're crazy.”

“I was starting pitcher for my team before I quit, and I was never rained out.” Sniffing and shrugging, she added, “Maybe the coach will take me back.”

Sam bit back the encouragement she wanted to offer. It might have the opposite effect, and Gina was doing fine on her own.

The kitchen was warm. When she saw Blaze lying on the floor in front of the stove, Sam tried to remember her dream.

“Can't get him to go outside, and he's not easy to work around,” Gram said, shaking her head.

Sam stared at Blaze, and suddenly she remembered the very end of her dream. Something yellow had come toward her and the answer to some question was inside.

“I hope you girls have worked up an appetite. The power's been flickering,” Gram said, looking up at the kitchen lights overhead, “so I'm going to make an early lunch.”

The fireplace roared with golden flames. Sam warmed herself in front of it, staring toward Brynna's laptop, which sat alone, left on a chair beyond the fire's warmth.

“Want to go first?” Sam asked Jen, nodding at the computer.

“No, it's not even charged up. You'll have to plug it in over there.” Jen motioned toward the far chair.

“I've had it with the Internet,” Jen said, as she and Mikki set up a board game on the living room's big coffee table.

“Maybe he's laying low for a little while,” Mikki said. “That's what a smart thief would do.”

“Oxymoron,” Jen muttered.

“Who's a moron?” Mikki snapped.

“No, ‘smart thief' is an oxymoron,” Jen explained
as she searched in the game box for directions. “An oxymoron is a seeming contradiction”—Mikki shot Sam a despairing glance as Jen went on—“like, you can't be smart and be a thief, because thieves go to jail, and who—”

“Let's just play the game,” Mikki said.

After polishing the rain streaks from her glasses, Jen agreed.

Sam crawled on the rug to plug in the little computer, then sat in the corner chair, shivering at first, then getting more and more absorbed in her search.

Once, she glanced out the window, hoping Hotspot and Shy Boots were both someplace safe and warm. Then she returned to her research with stronger determination.

She heard Gram call out the kitchen door for Jake and Gina to come in for lunch. She heard Mikki's delight over the menu of grilled-cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, but everything seemed to be far away. Sam kept pecking at the keyboard until Gina burst into the living room.

“I've got it!” Gina shouted.

Blaze barked and frolicked around Gina as she shed her wet slicker and motioned for Sam to give over the laptop.

“I thought of something we haven't tried.”

Sam stood beside Gina as she attacked the little laptop.

“Blaze, I like you, too, but get away,” Gina said,
elbowing the Border collie's inquiring muzzle.

“I think he likes you because you smell like a wet dog,” Sam joked.

“Ha ha,” Gina said absently. “There. Remember on preview night at the carnival, how that lady said she only bought animals from
reputable
dealers? Well that must mean there are bad ones, right?”

As Gina's fingers tapped away, Sam remembered thinking the same thing herself.

“So, we're gonna search…” Gina's voice trailed off. “There's Patty's Pronto Petting Zoo. That's the lady we talked to, right? Wanna look? Oh, she posts next-day pictures from events she takes the animals to….”

Sam sighed. For a minute, she'd hoped Gina really did have a great idea. Something obvious they'd missed. Now, she gazed at the website's photos, disheartened.

“Yeah, well, I don't think pictures of goats at Jamie Smith's fifth birthday party are really—wait! Gina, go back!”

Chills cascaded down Sam's arms. Had she really seen what she thought she had?

“Yeah, you're liking that site now that you saw some horses,” Gina joked, “but Patty's okay. I'll search for—”

“No! You have to go back!” Sam said. “In the background, I think I saw—I'm sure I saw Shy Boots.”

Gina looked up, staring at Sam with rounded eyes.

“Hurry,” Sam whispered.

Gina looked down, shaking her head.

“Probably it wasn't him,” she murmured. “Patty seemed so nice.”

“There.” Sam knelt beside Gina as the computer image materialized with infuriating slowness.

“Are you sure?” Gina asked. “It's kind of hard to see.”

“Jen! Gram!” Sam shouted to be heard above the thunderclap. “Come in here, quick!”

“We're losing it!” Gina moaned.

The living room went black, except for the crackling fireplace.

“Mercy, Samantha,” Gram said as the kitchen door swung open. “It's just a power failure, nothing to scream about.”

 

Against her best judgment, Sheriff Ballard's secretary patched Gram through to the sheriff at the fairgrounds.

“I certainly hope you saw what you think you did,” Gram said, covering the mouthpiece while she waited.

“We did, Gram. Right?” Sam looked at the other girls. They all hesitated except Gina, who gave a slight nod. “Well, I saw him. Cross my heart,” Sam crisscrossed a finger over her chest to underscore her certainty.

“Hello?” Gram said into the phone. “Heck, this is Grace Forster, and I know how busy you are. Pickpockets? In Darton County?” Gram shook her head. “I can hardly credit that, but I sure wouldn't want your job. At any rate, it's about that Appaloosa colt.”

Sam watched Gram's eyebrows climb her forehead.

“Yes, it's just that—” Gram broke off, listening.

“Try, Gram!” Sam urged her.

Rolling her eyes like a teenager, Gram plunged into the conversation one more time.

“Of course, Heck, but it seems the colt will be there at the fairgrounds tomorrow at the petting zoo.”

Sam realized she and the other three girls were crowded shoulder to shoulder. In the flickering glow from the candle Gram had lit after the power failure, with their rain-bedraggled hair, they looked a little like witches.

Finally, Gram sighed.

“I understand. Of course. You have your hands full with people who want your help. Thanks again, Sheriff.” Gram nodded and glanced up at Sam. “I'll tell her. We'll probably see you tomorrow.”

“What?” Sam asked as Gram hung up the phone and went to the stove, where the grilled-cheese sandwiches she'd made before the power failure were waiting.

“It's really quite simple,” Gram said. She put the sandwiches and bowls of cooling tomato soup on the
table. “Linc refuses to file a police report.”

“So, it's like a crime wasn't committed, even though somebody sold that colt to the petting zoo,” Jen said.

“That's about the size of it,” Gram said. “Now eat your lunch before it's stone cold. You can think at the same time.”

 

During lunch, Sam decided to give Ryan Slocum one last chance.

“You're wasting your breath,” Gina said.

“You don't know that,” Mikki snapped.

“I think he's in on it with his dad,” Gina said.

Sam was about to ask Jen what she thought of calling Ryan, but then she realized it didn't matter. She was going to call Ryan no matter what anyone said.

She drew a deep breath and punched in the telephone number.

Sam almost dropped the phone when Ryan answered.

Beside Sam, Jen looked startled, too.

“What is it?” Jen asked. “You're holding the telephone as if it just turned into a snake.”

“Ryan?” Sam asked.

“Who else would be answering my cell phone?” Ryan retorted.

“Ryan, this is Samantha. We've found your colt, but—”

“Shy Boots is supposed to be on his way to England. Where did you find him?”

“Why would he be on his way to England?” Sam asked.

“Because I'm going home.”

“You're going back to England?” Sam repeated, ducking away from Jen, who tried to grab the phone away. “Why?”

“If you will stop asking questions and answer a few—”

Ryan's arrogance worked like a match to the fuse of a firecracker.