Moonrise (6 page)

“That's right.” Dad said it like a dare.

Sam rolled her eyes toward the kitchen ceiling. How much did she want to go on a campout with Jen? A lot. A whole lot.

Then she closed her eyes for an instant, hoping God had a sense of humor about little white lies before she met Dad's gaze.

“Great.” She smiled so wide, her cheeks plumped up. “It'll be good for me and Jake to work together before the HARP girls come next week. I can hardly wait.”

F
iguring she'd need every minute of sleep, Sam went to bed early, but excitement kept her awake.

On nights like this, she expected the Phantom to appear at the boundary of the ranch that had once been his home. But no matter how determinedly she listened, no faraway neigh floated to her. Staring from her bedroom window, she saw nothing but the La Charla's waving sheen as the river, lit by a half-moon, meandered around rocks and past cottonwood trees, heading for the bridge.

No horses, no deer, and no dangerous dogs showed themselves to her watchful eyes.

Sam climbed back into bed and pulled her covers up to her chin. She tried to get comfortable on her
back, but in the dimness of her room, the uneven plaster of her ceiling looked like running white horses. Curled on her side, she watched her bedside clock until she was convinced it had slowed to half speed.

Maybe she was too hot. She tossed off her blanket and sheet. The sudden movement summoned her cat, Cougar. With a loud meow, he leaped onto her bed, flopped down, and began kneading her knees with pricking claws.

“If you want to cuddle,” Sam told the young cat, “come up here.”

Gently she closed her hands around Cougar's soft body and lifted him. Twisting wildly, he fought loose, jumped back to the floor, and skittered out her bedroom door.

“Be that way,” Sam whispered after him, but now she was totally awake.

Sam sat up and checked the time again.

It was only ten o'clock. It was quiet downstairs, but she knew that when it was warm, Gram had trouble sleeping, too.

Dressing in lightweight sweats and tennis shoes, Sam listened for movement along the upstairs hallway. She heard Dad snoring as he did when he was really tired. But that was all.

Sam crept downstairs. The living room was dark. So was the kitchen, except for a small light over the stove.

She wasn't sneaking out. She just longed for the
warm privacy that wrapped around her when she sat at the riverside while everyone else was asleep.

Suddenly the kitchen grew even darker. Sam glanced toward the front kitchen window to see a cloud blocking the light of the moon. No big deal.

As she eased open the kitchen door, Sam heard a squeak that didn't come from the door hinge.

“Hello, dear.”

Sam caught her breath. Just as she noticed movement to her left, she remembered Gram had moved her rocking chair to the front porch for such hot nights when she couldn't sleep.

“You didn't turn on the porch light,” Sam gasped. “You surprised me.”

Gram gave a low chuckle, then asked, “Did you hear Tempest's fussing all the way up in your room or are you just psychic, like most mothers?”

Sam laughed.

She wasn't exactly Tempest's mother. Dark Sunshine did a fine job of that, but Sam had been the first human to touch the black filly on the night she was born.

“What's she doing?” Sam asked.

Gram held her index finger to her lips, shushing Sam so that she could hear the patter of small hooves circling the barn corral.

Sam listened as Tempest ran around and around. Dirt crunched as she stopped, gave a squeal-snort, then continued her race with the night.

“I wonder why she's so restless?” Sam said.

“It's a warm night. The moon's playing peekaboo with the clouds and creating strange shadows. Plus, she takes lots of naps during the day,” Gram suggested. “She's probably not sleepy.”

Sam wanted to believe Gram, but an image of leaping, snapping dogs flashed into her mind.

“You don't think—”

“—something's wrong?” Gram finished for her, then shook her head. “I've been sitting here for close to an hour and Blaze is sleeping over by the bunkhouse. One of us would have noticed.”

Sam trusted Gram's instincts. After all, Gram had grown up on River Bend Ranch. She could hear the difference between wind shaking a pinion pine and a cow brushing against that same pine to make it shiver.

“I'm going inside, but there's no reason you can't go down and check on your sassy little girl,” Gram said.

When Sam kissed Gram's cheek, Gram's powdery scent banished the nightmare flashes of dogs. Sam sighed and smiled as she set out across the ranch yard toward the corral.

The saddle horses grazed at the far end of the ten-acre pasture. There were no snorts or nickers, even from Ace, as she passed by.

But Dark Sunshine heard her quiet steps and gave a low, inquiring whinny.

“Just me, Sunny.”

The mare stamped, then rubbed against the corral fence.

Sunny sounded peaceful tonight. Sam didn't think the mare would try to push past her as she entered the corral. Just the same, Sam decided to go into the barn and through the stall that opened into the corral. Sunny's mustang heart still longed for the open range.

When she first stepped into the corral, Sam was surprised by the buckskin's greeting. Sunny trotted to meet her, then rubbed her forelock against Sam's chest so hard that she stumbled back a step.

“What are you girls doing tonight?”

The mustang's ears twitched at the puff of Sam's human breath, but she didn't seem to mind. Cautiously and gently, Sam slipped her fingers beneath Sunny's black mane and stroked her buckskin neck.

Tempest raised her forefeet off the ground a few inches and gave a tiny snort. Abruptly Sunny's head swung to consider her foal.

“You're just amazed anyone would want to pet your mom instead of you, aren't you?” Sam asked the filly.

Tempest answered by slipping past her mother to rub her muzzle on Sam's cheek.

“Is that a kiss, pretty girl?” Sam crooned to the filly.

Tempest's brown eyes caught the faint light from the stars overhead. She didn't step away when Sam
gently hugged her neck.

Gratitude glowed in Sam's heart. No one had a better life than she did.

“You're soft as velvet,” Sam told the filly, but when Tempest suddenly stiffened against her, she knew why.

Something had moved on the hillside.

Sunny stared into the darkness.

Inch by inch, Sam lifted her arms from Tempest and strained her eyes until they felt hot from trying to see beyond the fence.

While Sam searched the night, Tempest rocketed into her circling gallop once more.

Was it a survival response? Generations of mustangs had run from sounds in the night. Maybe Tempest did the same.

Once, on the stormy night of Tempest's birth, the Phantom had descended the path from the ridge. But Sam really didn't think he'd do it again. For his own safety, she had whirled her arms and yelled to drive him away.

But
something
was up there now.

And Gram had gone back into the house.

Whatever it was, Sam knew she was out here with it alone.

Dark Sunshine gave a snort of recognition. She saw whatever it was and moved to confront it.

The next time Tempest raced past, Sunny clacked her teeth in warning. Tempest slid to a stop and scampered a few steps off. Out of reach, she bucked in
defiance. Only when Sunny threatened a real bite did Tempest tuck close to her mother's body.

There! The dark shape was no creation of moonshine and shadows. It was much larger than a dog; Sam was certain it was a horse.

Suddenly Sam saw him.

The mustang stood halfway down the ridge, just where the Phantom had watched on that stormy night. In profile his mane moved like a flame. His head was dished like a hot-blooded Arabian. His legs were long and sculpted for speed. It must be the Phantom.

But then, as the clouds parted, Sam saw that the wild horse was black.

“New Moon,” she whispered.

Sunny saw him, too, and issued a ringing neigh. Sam stumbled as the buckskin's shoulder grazed her, but she got her hands down in time to catch herself and push back up to her feet.

Sunny raced toward the far fence, veered right just before colliding with it, then whirled back to challenge the stallion.

He answered with a coaxing nicker. Sam didn't have to be a horse to understand that New Moon had just told Sunny not to be so mean.

Sam froze. If the breeze shifted, Moon would catch her scent and probably gallop away. He had no bond with her as the Phantom did.

Dark Sunshine had drawn him to River Bend
Ranch, but she wasn't interested in eloping. Did she remember him as a young upstart who'd been banished from the Phantom's band?

Sam saw no movement behind the young stallion. Linc had claimed he'd seen a black stallion with two fine mares, but Moon seemed to be alone. If Moon didn't yet have a herd of his own, he might be here to start one.

Moon's single step forward crossed an invisible boundary. Sunny bolted forward against the fence, then wheeled and lashed out with her heels.

Sam winced. Sunny was only trying to drive Moon away, but nothing good could come out of splintering that fence.

What if the stallion jumped over the lower rails and drove her out with hooves and teeth? Sunny might change her mind and go with him. At the very least, Sam knew she'd be responsible for fixing the broken fence rails.

Then Tempest whinnied and changed everything.

Moon's voice rang in a commanding neigh. Sunny swerved away from the fence, head lowered.

Oh no
, Sam thought. The buckskin mare had made a submissive move no stallion could miss.

“Sunny, no!” Sam shouted. All three horses startled as if she'd wakened them from a dream.

In a blur of black, Moon shied, then leaped up the hillside.

Tempest wanted to follow.

Sam's heart fell as she realized the filly would have gone if she could have.

Tempest shouldered past Sunny and resumed her reckless race around the corral.

The front porch light flashed on in time to show Tempest running. Her head shook from side to side in frustration. More than anything, she wanted to chase after Moon and follow her half brother back to the open range.

H
ooves pounded across the ten-acre pasture.

The screen door slammed open and light feet crossed the wooden porch.

The only thing missing from this night alarm was the sound of Blaze barking.

“Was it the Phantom?” Brynna called as she hurried across the ranch yard, tying the sash on her red bathrobe.

Sam was astounded to see her. The last time there'd been a commotion like this, Dad had come running with a rifle.

Sam didn't have an instant to answer before she flattened herself against the corral fence. Dark Sunshine used nips to drive Tempest into the barn.
The mare was angry. No way did Sam want to get between her and Tempest.

At last the filly's head drooped in weariness and she obeyed. They trotted into the barn, Sunny still scolding with a clack of her teeth.

Sam followed the horses, shot the stall bolt behind them, then let herself out of the corral gate to meet Brynna.

“I can't believe Dad's not right behind you,” Sam said.

“I pulled rank and told him I was the wild horse expert.” Brynna pushed her loose hair away from her face.

“How did you know it was a—I mean, what you asked before—it wasn't the Phantom. It was Moon, the black…” Sam tried not to sputter, but thoughts pelted through her mind faster than her tongue could put them in order.

Finally, Sam shook her head and asked, “How did you know it wasn't the dogs?”

“Catch your breath,” Brynna said, resting one hand on Sam's shoulder. “Your Dad and I both knew, because we heard the stallion. He was romancing the mare, not trying to drive off wild dogs.”

That was what she'd guessed, but Sam still couldn't believe Dad hadn't come running. Brynna must have recognized her amazement.

“My claim to be the wild horse expert never would have worked if I hadn't beaten him down the
stairs,” Brynna conceded. “And the only reason I could do
that
was the stiffness from his fall. Wyatt's in a little pain.” Brynna nodded with certainty. “Not that he'll admit it, but bruises don't lie.”

“He's not hurt badly, is he?” Sam asked.

“Do you think your Gram and I would let him play the tough guy if he needed to see a doctor?”

“Not really…” Sam began.

“Not a chance.” Brynna crossed her arms and lifted her chin.

The night seemed to settle around them, and both Brynna and Sam looked toward the hillside.

“It was Moon,” Sam said.

Brynna took a deep breath, and her arms fell to her sides. “We haven't seen him for a while.”

Last fall in Arroyo Azul, Sam and Brynna had seen the young stallion battle his sire.

The challenge had been bloody and brief. The young stallion had courage but little experience. He had speed and stamina, but his sire had strength and strategy. New Moon had fled the fight and remained at Aspen Creek with only a half-grown cougar for company.

“Did he have any mares with him?” Brynna asked.

“I didn't see any,” Sam said. She was about to tell Brynna what Linc had said, when she remembered a sighting of her own. “But earlier today I saw some
horses, just barely,” she admitted, recalling her stranding in the lake on Ace. “Mostly what I saw was dust, but that's when I heard those hounds baying for the first time. That dust cloud on the hill might have been Moon with a couple of mares.”

“Last fall Jake saw him with a mare, didn't he?”

Sam considered her stepmother with admiration. When it came to wild horses, Brynna didn't miss much.

“He told me he saw Moon with a red mare,” Sam said. “The Phantom still has two blood bays in his band, but I remember a red chestnut…. Do you think he could have stolen her from the Phantom? The way they were fighting, I can't believe Moon got away with it.”

“The Phantom might have let her go. The daughters of a herd stallion are supposed to be taken into another band.”

Sam nodded. Even at this time of night, Brynna could sound like a biologist.

“In fact, there's something else we need to talk about.”

Sam's trouble radar flashed on.

Something we need to talk about
rarely meant something good.

“Okay,” Sam said.

“Now that Sunny and Tempest are locked in for the night, let's have a cup of tea before we settle down, too.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said, though she was pretty sure she was hours from settling down.

Moon's appearance and Tempest's reaction to him had Sam's mind darting all over the place. And what did Brynna want to discuss?

As she stepped onto the porch, Sam glanced back over her shoulder toward the bunkhouse. Usually this kind of excitement had Blaze bouncing around her ankles, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Five minutes later, Brynna clutched the handles of two mugs of mint tea in one hand and a honey pot in the other as she came to the kitchen table.

Sam drizzled a stream of honey into her tea, but she was watching Brynna from beneath lowered eyelashes. Absently, her stepmother braided her hair, reached the bottom of the plait and discovered she had nothing to bind it, then tossed it back over her shoulder.

Something was making Brynna uneasy. She pushed her mug aside, rested her elbows on the kitchen table, and looked into Sam's eyes.

“There's a fact of mustang life that's not pretty.”

Sam squared her shoulders. Did this have to do with the constant range battle between cattle ranchers and wild horses? Was Brynna, as a Bureau of Land Management employee, caught in the middle again?

“And since you'll be out alone in wild horse
country for a couple days,” Brynna continued, “you should know about it.”

She already knew about the food rivalry between cattle and horses. What could Brynna be talking about?

Brynna knew Sam had loved horses forever. She'd read books about them and listened in on cowboys talking of horses for most of her fourteen years.

Clearly, though, Brynna thought she was about to reveal something shocking.

“I'm ready,” Sam encouraged her.

“When stallions fight, they prove more than their dominance. They prove their right to father the next generation of colts.”

“I know,” Sam said. “I was just thinking about that. Moon lost that fight we saw in Arroyo Azul because the Phantom was stronger and smarter.”

“Right,” Brynna said. “So nothing really changed in the Phantom's herd, but it might have. If Moon had won, he would have been the new boss at a time when mares were already in foal to the Phantom.”

“So?”

“So…” Brynna stretched the word out a little longer than usual. “The new stallion would have won the right to father the next generation.”

Sam knew horses were smart, but what Brynna was saying seemed far-fetched even to her.

“Would Moon actually know that?”

“Somehow they seem to,” Brynna said. “And that's not horse-lover talk, that's science.”

Sam took a gulp of tea and waited.

“Sometimes the victorious stallion doesn't want the other stallion's foals around. He'll be rough with the mares or run them too fast, too far, causing so much stress, the mares don't give birth to the foals they're carrying.”

Sam stayed quiet, but she felt a wave of relief.

The Phantom's foals had already been born. The leggy colts and fillies were several months old. In the unlikely event that another stallion won against the Phantom, his foals should be safe.

“This time of the year,” Brynna went on, “it can get even uglier.”

“How?” Sam said impatiently. If Brynna had bad news, why didn't she just spit it out? “I'm not a little kid, you know. Just tell me.”

“A conquering stallion might kill the foals that aren't his.”

Without meaning to, Sam closed her eyes. She opened them just as quickly.

“I think maybe Jake told me that,” Sam said. “But he doesn't like mustangs as much as I do. I thought he was exaggerating.”

“He's not. Biologists used to think it was just an old cowboy story, but now there's research to prove it.”

Sam stared into her empty mug.

Stallions wouldn't kill foals out of spite or jealousy. It was Nature's way of ensuring only the strong horses reproduced. But the
why
wouldn't matter to the babies or their mothers.

Distress showed in her expression, Sam guessed, because Brynna said, “It helps me to remember that wild horses wouldn't have survived years full of snowstorms, droughts, and predators if the herds hadn't been strong.

“Wild animals didn't need us until we started messing with their environment, bringing in highways and buildings and stuff.” Brynna shrugged. “It's too late to go back, I guess, but there are some things they'll do with or without our interference. This is one of them.”

As she tried to process all Brynna had said, Sam felt tired. Not sleepy, exactly, but exhausted.

“So,” she managed, “you think I might see another stallion trying to kill the Phantom's foals?”

“No. No stallion out there can match him—”

Sam smiled, despite the somber topic. Her colt Blackie had grown up to be a king of wild horses.

“—and that's one reason I released him after he was brought in that day, last year. He's an amazing example of what mustangs can be. He's improving the herds' bloodlines. But the Phantom steals mares from other stallions.”

Brynna stared at her meaningfully.

Finally, Sam understood. She held her breath until her lungs burned beneath her ribs.

“Oh,” was the only word she could manage.

Brynna was saying the Phantom might be a killer.