Rain Dance (10 page)

T
empest was safe, but she was also alone.

Playing in a puddle, the black filly stamped, watched the droplets sparkle around her, and looked around forlornly. Her high-pitched whinny was so desolate, it should have attracted predators. It was only luck that Popcorn had heard her first.

Tempest greeted Popcorn and Sam with a joyous whinny, then trotted toward them.

Poor baby.
Sam's heart squeezed with an old, painful memory. Just like Tempest, she'd been left behind by her mother.

Sam climbed carefully from Popcorn's back. To keep from spooking the filly, she waited. Tempest kept coming, but her steps meandered across the dirt
as she stared past Sam and Popcorn, wide-eyed.

She was probably wondering why Sunny wasn't with them, Sam decided. But the filly kept coming.

Once Sam began petting the puzzled foal, Tempest's legs folded for a nap. At least the filly didn't seem hungry. Sam didn't know what she would do when she was.

Right now, she had another problem.

“How do I get you home, baby?”

Sam had seen Dad carry calves across his saddle. Jake had done the same with Faith, Mrs. Allen's blind foal. But Popcorn was only green broke. He hadn't been ridden often by a single rider. Would he tolerate an extra burden and Tempest's long legs dangling against his shoulders?

Should she take a chance? Sam pictured herself falling with the delicate, long-legged foal.

No way. She'd rather exhaust all of them than risk such an accident. Now she had to explain that to the filly.

“Tempest, I'll help you as much as I can, but you'll have to walk out of this riverbed and a little bit farther,” she told the dozing foal.

When Tempest's long lashes remained closed against each other, Sam decided to take advantage of the foal's drowsiness.

Moving as silently as she could, Sam took the soft lead rope from her saddlebags and knotted it loosely around the filly's neck. If something startled Tempest,
Sam would have a chance to keep her under control.

“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Sam coaxed the filly. “I can't carry you, and it's not safe to stay down here.” Sam looked up the slanted banks. A sudden storm could turn this low spot into a channel. “The rain could start up again any time, little girl. A flash flood could carry all three of us away.”

It wasn't easy to get the foal up and moving, until Sam pretended to be leading Popcorn away. Tempest scrambled to her feet, then hopped sideways at the touch of the rope on her neck.

When the filly didn't fight against the restraint, Sam figured Tempest had decided it was more important to stay with the other horse.

They'd have to walk nearly five miles to arrive home. Sam remembered every awful step she'd ridden with Jake while his face turned paler and his pant leg redder from blood.

But this walk wouldn't be so bad. If the filly were in the wild, she'd have to follow the herd from one feeding ground to another.

They walked slowly and rested often. Overhead, gray clouds parted to show a bright blue sky.

Before long, the foal squeezed ahead of Popcorn and beside Sam.

She let her hand rest on the foal's soft back and didn't try to stop Tempest when she detoured to splash in puddles.

As she watched the lonely filly, Sam realized how
lucky she'd been to find her. This time Tempest had come to her out of confusion. She associated Sam with Sunny.

But Sam knew she might not be that fortunate again. Right away, she needed to forge the same bond with Tempest that she had with the Phantom.

Sam was on the verge of making a plan when Tempest raised her head to neigh, then stood listening.

When Popcorn joined the foal, neighing even louder, Sam hoped Sunny was nearby. But Popcorn held his head high for only an instant, then plodded on.

Afraid of being left behind, Tempest hurried after the albino.

Surely Dark Sunshine would answer if she heard them. But she didn't. Wondering why didn't make Sam feel better.

She watched for the Phantom, too. If Sunny had gone to join him and the stallion came to Sam, the sight of Tempest should lure the mare back.

But the sun was directly overhead now. Their shadows eddied around their feet. It must be noon. The Phantom's band would have searched out shade and water during this hot part of the day.

Sunny wouldn't have an easy time finding them unless she remembered a hiding place. That seemed unlikely, since it had been fall when Sunny had last run with the mustangs.

No hoofprints. No Sunny. No Phantom. Would Jake have better luck spotting a clue?

Just as the River Bend bridge came into view, Sam heard a car on the highway. As she watched, Mrs. Coley drove into view in Linc Slocum's champagne-colored SUV.

Mrs. Coley stopped while she was about three car lengths away so she wouldn't spook the horses.

Just the same, Tempest didn't trust the big, noisy shape. She darted to Popcorn's other side and leaned so close to the white gelding that only her slender legs were visible.

“I see you found Tempest,” Mrs. Coley called through the driver's side window. “Want me to give her a ride the rest of the way?”

As tired and battered as she was, Sam smiled. She liked the idea of loading a River Bend horse into Linc Slocum's car, but it might frighten Tempest.

Sam shook her head. “She's doing okay.”

“Is she hungry?” Mrs. Coley asked.

Sam remembered their last conversation about feeding Tempest. Making the black filly a foster foal to Hotspot was an even stronger possibility now.

“Not yet,” Sam said.

“I'll go ahead, then,” Mrs. Coley said.

She accelerated smoothly and quietly away from them and Sam felt grateful all over again that Mrs. Coley had equal shares of kindness and horse sense.

Sam clucked to Popcorn and led him on.

Once they started over the bridge, she glanced back and gasped. Pain forked through her neck tendons and
grabbed her shoulder. Who'd guess a horse as small as Dark Sunshine could inflict such damage?

Stiffly, Sam turned her entire body to look back and make sure the sound of her boots on the planks hadn't upset Tempest. The filly didn't seem to have noticed.

She was still shadowing Popcorn, whose head suddenly jerked high. Her nostrils flared open and closed and her hooves danced in a lighter pace.

“Does this smell like home, little girl?” Sam asked.

As her gaze turned from Tempest, Sam saw Popcorn watching her with analytical blue eyes.

“You look smart, boy,” she told him. “Why don't you figure out what we're going to do?”

The gelding stopped.

Sam caught her breath and waited for some kind of a response. Popcorn looked longingly down the river.

“Did you see me head down there under the willows with Sunny the other day? Or did she tell you about it?” Sam rubbed the mustang's neck. “Is that what all your calling back and forth was about?”

Popcorn didn't answer. In fact, she guessed he was bored with the conversation, because he took a long stride toward home, and towed Sam along.

 

The barn smelled weird, but Tempest didn't care.

Recognizing her stall, the filly bounded away from Sam and Popcorn and past Mrs. Coley, who stood there with a bottle.

Sam knew what Tempest was looking for and knew she wouldn't find it.

“She's not there, baby,” Sam said.

Ignoring them all, Tempest stood in the middle of the stall.

She snorted. She stamped one tiny hoof. Then Sam saw inside the filly's pink mouth as she neighed and whinnied. Her cries continued until her throat sounded sore.

Then Tempest's head drooped. She sniffed at the wheat straw, lipped it hopelessly, then noticed Mrs. Coley holding an oversized baby bottle.

Tempest shied away, but not far. Her head twitched up twice as she sniffed loudly.

“I've got a little bit of mare's milk here,” Mrs. Coley said, waggling the bottle, and Sam wasn't sure whether she was talking to her or Tempest. “Hotspot was nice enough to make the donation, but I'm afraid that while I was trying to heat it back up to body temperature, it scorched. I hope she'll drink it anyway.”

The scent must have seemed familiar. As Mrs. Coley stood still, Tempest sniffed around her and the bottle.

Mrs. Coley didn't coax the foal. She let her explore and spoke quietly to Sam. “Ryan called from my cell phone as soon as they got close enough and told me what was going on.”

Mrs. Coley met Sam's eyes with a despairing look. “I don't know when Rachel will grow up. I really
don't, but that's not important now.

“Ryan said they found your gram making camp near Black Springs—”

“Oh, good!” Sam wanted to celebrate even more loudly, but she didn't want to chance scaring Tempest.

“Luckily, it wasn't far off the road,” Mrs. Coley went on. “So they were able to drive the Mercedes straight to your gram's chuck wagon.”

Sam thought about wild Nevada and the pale-blue luxury car. Some places had rough and rutted dirt roads and others had no roads at all. Ryan had clearly cared more about his promise than his father's car.

But if Gram was already ahead of the herd, making camp, when would her message be delivered?

“Jake—” Sam began.

“Should be on his way soon. Your gram was expecting a rider in at lunchtime. She said she'd hand him a sandwich and send him back out on a fresh horse to get Jake. She told Ryan they were moving the stock through a mountain pass and he certainly couldn't take the car up there.”

Sam sighed. It could be nightfall by the time Jake got to River Bend. If so, it wouldn't make sense to start searching for Sunny until dawn. Her stomach sucked in as if it would touch her backbone.

Unaware of how any of the human words affected her, Tempest licked the bottle, then snorted.

“She's not too sure, but she is interested.” Mrs. Coley's tone went higher. Excited, she handed Sam
the bottle. “I'll leave you two alone.”

Sam held the bottle in trembling hands. She'd bottle-fed two calves—Buddy and Daisy—but this was different. She'd known the calves would leave her sooner or later. If Tempest survived, she could be Sam's for years.

“Tempest,” she called to the foal, then made a smooching sound.

The filly's black ears twitched, but she didn't recognize her name yet.

That simple thought suddenly told Sam what was missing between them. All at once, she knew what she needed to create a strong bond between her and the horse Tempest would become.

A secret name.

Sam's pulse raced. The Phantom's secret name had bound him to her after he'd gone wild, after he'd been abused, after every test of their friendship.

The link was doubly strong because no one except Jake knew the stallion had such a name, and no one could ever guess it.

Tempest licked the nipple on the baby bottle. Her eyes rounded in surprise, then she butted it with her nose.

The filly would grow up to be a smart, strong mare. Sam wanted the same bond with the Tempest that she had with her sire.

“Soon, little girl,” Sam told the filly. “I'll think of something perfect for you, very soon.”

S
am couldn't believe there'd been so much milk in the bottle. Judging by the amount smeared on each of them, Tempest hadn't had much to eat.

The foal was splattered with white gumminess. Her eyelashes were coated and so were the little whiskers on her chin. White gobs on her neck and down to the middle of her chest showed how she'd struggled in learning to suck from the bottle.

Sam didn't look much better. Spatters had dried on her arms and face. Her hands were a sticky mess.

Still, the effort had been worthwhile. Tempest was satisfied, and too tired to stand for another moment. With a loud sigh, the filly collapsed into the straw.

Sam watched the tiny rib cage rise and fall under its shiny black hide. She hoped the struggle hadn't used more calories than the foal had swallowed.

“Smells like someone burned dinner,” said a low voice from behind Sam.

She turned to see Jake silhouetted in the barn door. The fringed outline of his chinks, buckled over his jeans, showed on his legs, but his face was in shadow.

The short leather chaps proved Jake had jumped right from a horse's back into a truck, though the chink must have been uncomfortable to drive in.

Sam was so glad he'd hurried, she wanted to hug him. Instead, she fought back the urge to tell him this was no time to joke about burned milk.

“So?” Jake said, nodding toward the filly. His face looked suddenly grim, as if he'd drawn sad conclusions about the still-missing Sunny.

“I rode out on Popcorn and
he
found Tempest, but I don't know where Sunny's gone. Did Ryan tell you what happened?”

One corner of Jake's mouth moved as if he were about to grin, but he stopped. “Naw, he made Rachel tell me.”

“Good,” Sam said. She liked Ryan better because he'd forced his twin to take the blame, but it was a very small revenge, and her eyes wandered back to the foal.

“Jake, I don't think Tempest took much from the
bottle, and Mrs. Coley thinks Hotspot might take her on like a twin, but I—” Sam's voice shivered and she stopped.

Don't be a baby,
she told herself.

“Don't even say it,” Jake told her, holding up a hand.

“I know, it's just…I can't stand the idea of the Phantom's baby on Gold Dust Ranch. Linc is probably the Phantom's worst enemy. He'd probably pick earthquakes or cougars or rodeos over Slocum.”

“It probably wouldn't work anyway,” Jake said. He rubbed the back of his neck.

Sam knew he wanted her to be quiet, but her words kept tumbling out.

“This isn't how it was supposed to go. I listened to everyone—”

“Hey,” Jake interrupted. “Maybe we all shoulda kept our mouths shut. Maybe you got confused and the buckskin just—you know….”

She didn't know. She didn't have a clue what he meant, but she must have looked like she was about to burst into another rambling tirade, because he put both hands on her shoulders.

Not only did that keep Sam quiet, but she felt her eyes fill with tears. She held her eyelids as high as she could so there was no chance they'd accidentally spill. Jake could be counted on to freak out if she cried.

He squinted at her face a minute, then stepped back, hands held up as if to stop a charging bull.

“I'm warning you, Brat, get weepy and you're on your own.”

“I'm not
weepy
.” Sam held her chin higher. She hated that word. “Maybe I had a little dust in my eyes.”

“I'm not buyin' that.” He pointed his hand at her like it was a revolver. “Probably didn't mean to, but if you blubber and you're not”—he looked up, trying to think of something heinous—“
bleeding,
I'm outta here.”

“Okay!” Sam snapped. “Quit wasting time giving me a list of what annoys you. Let's go find Sunny.”

“I'll need a horse.”

Sam sighed. “I just rode Popcorn ten miles. All we've got are the two oldest horses on the place.”

Sam felt disloyal describing Sweetheart and Amigo that way, but it was true. Neither horse had been ridden much, either, so they weren't in shape for a long search.

“I'll saddle them while you go…” Jake gestured vaguely toward her legs.

“Go what?”

“Change.”

Sam looked down. Her head and shoulders had throbbed so much, she hadn't noticed that her jeans were ripped from midthigh to her knee.

“Might be out after dark,” Jake said. “Could get cold.”

“I guess when Sunny ran past me—” Sam began.

“She knocked you down?” Jake's eyes widened, but instead of launching into his usual rant about
her safety, he asked, “Do I want to hear about it?”

“No. Definitely not,” Sam said, pulling the sides of the rip together. “Unless you want to see the blood you require for, uh, what was it? Blubbering?”

Jake turned his back and walked toward the tack room.

“Better hurry,” he said. “We're burnin' daylight.”

 

Sam ran upstairs without whimpering. She even shouted an explanation to Mrs. Coley as she passed.

Burning daylight. Sam sucked in a deep breath and looked at her bedroom clock. It was two o'clock. The sun didn't set until about nine. Jake must not have high hopes they'd find Sunny right away.

She peeled off her dusty, ripped jeans and sucked in her breath as she pulled loose a thread that had stuck to her skinned knee. She should clean it up and she'd probably be sorry she hadn't, but it made no sense to waste time on her silly knee when Tempest was waiting for her mother.

It could have been a lot worse
, Sam thought as she pulled open a drawer, grabbed the first jeans her fingers touched, and tugged them on.

She stopped when they hit her knee.

“Ow, ow, ow,” she moaned, then strengthened her fingers' grip on her jeans' waistband and kept edging them up.

It really hurt.

Trying to distract herself from the pain, she gazed
out her bedroom window that overlooked the ranch yard, the willows, the river…

Her hands dropped from her jeans and rose to cover her mouth. If she screamed, the horses might disappear.

In the shallows of the La Charla, closest to the ranch side of the river, Sunny and the Phantom stood head to tail like old friends, nibbling each other's manes.

One quick yank brought her jeans up. She fastened them. Instead of tugging on her boots, Sam jammed her feet into tennis shoes and double-knotted the laces. She needed to move swiftly and silently. And she really didn't need to trip.

She ran down the stairs, dodged Cougar, and waved to Mrs. Coley. There'd be time to explain later.

Jake had Sweetheart and Amigo tied at the hitching rail. He was leaning back, tightening the cinch on Amigo's saddle.

He dropped it and his hands rested on his hips, reading her expression before she stammered out a word.

“Where?” he asked.

“In the river,” Sam said as she unsnapped Sweetheart's lead rope. “On this side of the river.” She looped the rope around her waist so Sunny wouldn't notice her carrying it until she got close enough to snap it on her green halter. “Kind of by the willows,” she said over her shoulder as she ran toward the barn.

Jake kept up in spite of his clumsy boots.

“Bringin' the foal?” he asked.

Sam stopped. She faced him, trying to tell what he was thinking, but Jake's eyes told her nothing.

“Don't you think I should?” she asked.

“There's no should,” Jake said. “You know all three of those horses. Decide.”

Sam took a deep breath and exhaled.

“I say Sunny will remember she loves her baby the minute she gets a look at her.”

“Let's go,” Jake said, giving her a gentle push toward the barn.

 

Please, please, please let her still be there.

Between them, Sam and Jake got Tempest as far as the bridge. Once she was there, the filly's head lifted, testing the warm breeze off the river.

She took two steps onto the bridge. Sam walked beside her.

“This is where I stop,” Jake said.

His low voice was a whisper, but Sam whirled to stare at him.

“This is your rodeo, Brat. You'll do better on your own.”

She wanted to yell at him or strangle him or shake him until he couldn't see straight. If she went out there alone and Dark Sunshine disappeared, it would be all her fault.

But Sunny shied at the approach of any human.

Twice the Phantom had treated Jake almost like a challenger.

Yet again, Jake was right.

Before she and Tempest stepped off the bridge to the riverbank, Sam saw the two horses clearly.

The river was blue and choppy around their legs, but the horses looked peaceful. For just a minute, Sam kept her hand over Tempest's muzzle.

“Shh,” she told the foal as she watched.

White, muscular, and at least a hand taller than the buckskin mare, the Phantom reached down to give Sunny's black mane a gentle bite before moving his nose along her neck and withers. Finally he rested his head on her back.

Sunny's teeth pulled at the Phantom's mane as if she were grooming him, currying out loose hair. Next, she reached up to nibble his withers. Finally, the buckskin mare tapped her black-shaded nose against him, unable to reach high enough to rest her head on his sleek white back.

Sam felt Tempest's muzzle bob in her hand. The foal's warm breath came fast, then faster. Sam dropped her hand away as Tempest reared up on her hind legs.

Tempest's whinny shattered the river's lull. The two mustangs started apart, splashing, plunging.

Surprised, both horses would return home. The Phantom would run for the wild side of the river, but which home would Dark Sunshine choose?

Without a moment's hesitation, both horses crashed through the water. The stallion ran for his herd, milling on the far bank. Sunny moved toward her foal.

Tempest streaked along the riverbank, legs reaching and stretching, a tiny black shadow of her sire.

What if Sunny was only coming back for Tempest, only gathering her up to follow the mighty stallion across the river, to the range?

Sam's heart hammered and her arms curled around her ribs.

For a few moments, mother and foal touched noses. The buckskin whuffled her lips over Tempest's fluffy mane.

The Phantom had reached the opposite shore. He shook and a rainstorm of his own making spun around him, turning drops of river water into rainbow jewels.

Sam swallowed hard. How could the mare not go with him, not join the wild band moving, even now, toward the mountains?

But the buckskin was hesitating, moving around Tempest in aimless circles. Sam had to help her decide.

She walked down the riverbank with the same swinging stride she used when she approached the mare in the pasture.

“Sunny!” Sam called. “Hey, Sunny, what are you thinking? You silly girl. Don't ever leave me behind
to feed your baby. I'm really not very good at it. Never again, okay?”

Sunny walked three slow steps toward Sam, then stopped.

The mare gazed across the river.

The wild band of mustangs started up the hillside, led by a honey-colored mare.

Once, before he joined them, the Phantom looked back. A white foreleg struck the shore, before the stallion rose into a rear.

He's Pegasus,
Sam thought. Any minute, it seemed, he could vault away from the sand and sagebrush and fly into the blue Nevada sky.

Dark Sunshine shook her head and broke into a trot. She burst past Sam with Tempest close beside her and ran toward River Bend Ranch.

Sunny clopped over the wooden bridge and shied as she spotted Jake on the front porch, giving Sam a smiling, forceful thumbs-up.

But the buckskin ran on, ignoring the neighs from the tethered horses and Popcorn in the ten-acre pasture, to find her way into the barn.

“I cannot believe this,” Sam said to herself as she followed. “She's going home, and this is really it.”

Sam stepped through the barn door, then paused to catch her breath.

The air inside was hot and stuffy and still smelled like burned milk, but Sam was happy to be there.

Inside the open box stall, Dark Sunshine nursed
her filly, but not for long. It was a greeting, more than a meal, Sam decided as the horses milled around, sniffing the wheat grass straw.

Slowly, quietly, Sam moved to shut the stall door.

She closed herself inside with the horses and waited while Sunny nibbled her sleeve.

“Glad to see me, girl?”

The mare snorted.

“That's good enough for me,” Sam said. “But I have something special for your baby.”

For a minute, Sam held her breath. Outside, Popcorn gave another yearning whinny. Inside, pigeons fluttered on the rafters. It was time.

She bent from the waist, placed a gentle hand on Tempest's neck, and whispered into her ear.

The night-black filly shivered once. Then, as Sam repeated the word a second time, she stood still and calm. A third and final time, Sam told her the word. Nodding her head, Tempest broke free of Sam and reared on her slim hind legs, glorying in a secret name no one else would ever know.