Rain Dance (9 page)

I
t wasn't easy keeping a secret that felt like it might break your heart, but Sam did it.

There was no point in telling Mrs. Coley that the Phantom had returned to the ridge, Sam decided as she sat at the kitchen table sharing the tuna casserole and salad Mrs. Coley had made for them. It would only make the stallion a suspect if any domestic mares escaped to join wild herds.

So Sam didn't mention that she'd purposely spooked the wild horse she'd taught to trust her.

When Mrs. Coley walked out to the barn with Sam after they'd finished the dishes, Sam's worry only got worse.

She'd been telling Mrs. Coley about Sunny's
reaction to the telephone repairperson, and they'd decided to pamper the mare with fresh carrots and a rubdown.

Sunny greeted them with narrowed eyes and flattened ears, then rushed toward them until she crashed into the stall wall.

Mrs. Coley took a deep breath and studied the mare.

“Coddling her might be a bad idea,” Mrs. Coley said. “We should probably just leave them alone.”

Sam crossed her arms tightly at her waist, watching as Tempest ducked Sunny's swishing tail, then tried to position herself to nurse. The mare was definitely nervous. She needed time alone with her foal.

“I think you're right,” Sam agreed.

As they turned to leave the barn, Sam was planning how she'd sneak back in to sleep on the cot again tonight. Before they were in the ranch yard, Tempest squealed in pain.

Sam rushed back to the stall. At once, she saw the damp spot on the foal's satiny neck. “Sunny bit her!”

“At least she didn't break the skin,” Mrs. Coley muttered, but she was frowning.

“What should we…?”

“Give me a minute,” Mrs. Coley said, watching Sunny use her black-shaded nose to knock Tempest away.

“The mare won't let her nurse. We can't have that,” Mrs. Coley said. “Is that her green halter?”

“Yes,” Sam said faintly. “I don't remember where I left the lead rope, but I'll get another one. Dad told me what to do.”

Sam just hoped they didn't have to use the twitch.

In minutes, Sam and Mrs. Coley stood inside the stall. Sam guessed it was a good thing that Sunny seemed more intimidated than angry as she slipped the halter on.

Holding one hand right beneath the buckskin's chin, Sam faced Sunny toward her feed bin. For balance, Sam braced her feet apart, then watched while Mrs. Coley encircled Tempest's body with her arms. She did it just as Dr. Scott had, so maybe Tempest wasn't too frightened. Then Mrs. Coley stood between Tempest and Sunny, protecting the foal from a sudden charge.

“Hold on tight, Samantha,” Mrs. Coley said as she glanced over her shoulder. “There'll be no more oatmeal cookies for you if she takes a chunk out of my back.”

“I've got a pretty good grip on her,” Sam promised. “But poor Tempest. I'd feel better if she cried like a baby.”

The filly's spirit seemed to have drained away.

Struck by her mother, held helpless by a strange human, she trembled on unsteady legs, afraid to step close enough to eat. When Mrs. Coley grimaced with effort and lifted her nearer, the filly raised her head, showing her smooth throat while her nose pointed at the rafters.

“Look here, ladies,” Mrs. Coley said, frustrated. “This just won't do.”

Mrs. Coley sounded a little rough. She talked to Sunny and Tempest as she would to any stubborn animals. Sam tried not to blame her.

“Your baby loves you, Sunny,” Sam said, smoothing the buckskin's black forelock away from her eyes. “Why are you acting like this?”

“She can't help it, I guess,” Mrs. Coley said. Then, as Tempest cautiously lowered her black nose to drink, “There you go, little one.”

Sunny kicked out once, directly behind her, but that was all. After that she stood staring past Sam, as if she wished she were somewhere else while the foal nursed noisily.

From the instant Sunny had come home to River Bend Ranch, Sam had taken responsibility for her. Now, the feeling of guilt built up in Sam's chest until she felt it might pop.

“What am I doing wrong?” she asked Mrs. Coley. “I feel like I'm doing everything Dad and Dallas and Dr. Scott and the books have told me to do, but I must have skipped something.”

“It's probably not you,” Mrs. Coley said.

“Jake told me that if Tempest's not going to run wild, I should let other people be around her,” Sam confessed.

“He told me I was trying to make her like me and no one else.”

Sam had such a hard time repeating Jake's
accusation that she was surprised at Mrs. Coley's reaction.

“She's not Jake's horse. He hasn't been around Sunny as much as you have.”

When Mrs. Coley met her eyes, Sam had to remind herself to close her mouth. She was that surprised.

“All I'm saying,” Mrs. Coley continued, “is this: Go ahead and listen to advice, but when it comes down to it, pay attention to your horse.”

“But I thought I was, and—”

Mrs. Coley put her hand on Sam's arm to stop her.

“Sam, we can't read horses' minds. If we could, we'd all be riding in the Olympics or winning the Kentucky Derby.”

Mrs. Coley was right, and her observation made Sam feel better. As they waited around to see how the pair went on, Sam turned on the overhead lights and showed the older woman the improvements Dad had made to the barn.

“I guess I don't have to ask the identity of your mascot,” Mrs. Coley said. She smiled at the white wooden horse on the door beam.

Sam had forgotten all about Dallas's carving, but seeing it made her smile, too.

“Dallas put him there for luck,” she said. “I guess it's working pretty well so far.”

“I don't much believe in luck so much as hard work,” Mrs. Coley said. “And I'd say these horses
have you to thank for all the good that's come to them so far.”

Seeing Sam's embarrassment, Mrs. Coley went back to admiring the overhead lights, but agreed with Sam that the mare and foal would probably feel more at ease in the soft glow of the lantern.

“I'll plan on spending the night,” Mrs. Coley said when she saw Sam yawn. “It'll be easier with two of us if we end up having to hold her for every feeding.” Mrs. Coley held her head in comic despair and laughed. “Did you know it's not unheard of for a foal to drink
fifteen
times an hour during the first week after birth? We could be mighty tired by daybreak.”

They stayed in the barn until Tempest moved toward her mother with wary steps.

Poor baby,
Sam thought, but Sunny let Tempest nurse as if the bite had never happened.

Sam threw up her hands in puzzlement and Mrs. Coley shook her head.

“That's a good sign, but we can't count on it. Let's see what your dad's got in the tack room.”

Instinctively Sam knew what Mrs. Coley wanted to find.

“If you're looking for powdered formula, it's probably in the house,” Sam said, sighing. “That's where the calf formula is, anyway.”

“Wait!” Mrs. Coley grinned as if she'd had a revelation. “We've got a better solution than that. A hundred times better!”

“We do?”

“Hotspot,” Mrs. Coley said. “The birth was tough, but that little blue blood is proving to be a good mother. And her undersized colt hardly eats anything at all. If Sunny won't feed her baby, it's possible Hotspot could take on twins.

“I'm not promising, mind you, but once when I was a girl, we had a mare who did. If I can just remember the way of it….” Mrs. Coley's expression turned thoughtful.

Sam hated the idea. She also knew that she was being ridiculously selfish.

“That is a good solution,” Sam managed, but Mrs. Coley wasn't fooled.

“I know it's not what you want,” Mrs. Coley said. “Having the foal over at Gold Dust instead of right here where you can see, hear, and touch her isn't the same.”

“It's not,” Sam said. “But it's a lot better than losing her.”

Why did everything have to be so hard? Once Tempest was born, Sam had thought the tough part was over. How could it have turned out to be the easy part?

Jealousy was ugly. Sam felt her face flush as she imagined Ryan Slocum raising the Phantom's filly.

 

Tempest's third night alive was a tense one for Sam.

They left the overhead lights on after all and Sam
slept with Mrs. Coley's cell phone, ready to call the kitchen telephone if Sunny turned mean again. She and Mrs. Coley had decided that would be quicker than Sam running to the house for help.

Every time she heard the rustle of straw, Sam jolted upright on the cot and stared into the half darkness. But the horses did fine together: dozing, waking to nurse, then sleeping again.

By morning Sam was a wreck, but the horses pranced into their pasture and played together.

Despite low-hanging clouds in every shade of gray, Sunny and Tempest knew that it was summer and they rejoiced in it. Sunny kept her strides short and Tempest stretched her legs as far as they'd reach as they circled the pasture at a walk, trot, and canter, like show horses.

Then, when her mother fell to grazing, Tempest taught herself to pull Sunny's tail.

At first, Sam gasped. What if Sunny kicked Tempest's delicate black face?

But she didn't. Sunny only moved off a step each time her filly tormented her.

“The little imp!” Mrs. Coley said, then shrugged. “If she'll put up with that, Sunny must be over her crankiness, so I'll tell you what.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“I'm going home for a nap.”

“And to rescue Ryan from his evil sister?”

A far-off rumble of thunder underlined her words
and Sam slapped a hand over her lips.

“Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “That wasn't very nice.”

“No, but I do value honesty,” Mrs. Coley said. “So I won't pass that along to your gram.”

After Mrs. Coley left, Sam felt a little lonely for everyone on the cattle drive. They'd probably had their breakfast of biscuits and gravy hours ago. By now Gram had washed the dishes, broken camp, and moved on.

Dad and Luke Ely were probably riding point, at the front of a thousand cows and calves. Jake, his brothers, the cowboys, and Jen would be ranged along the sides of the big herd unless they were riding drag at the very back.

On her first and only cattle drive, Sam had discovered she liked riding in that solitary position. In spite of the dustiness, she could look at the sky, at tiny wildflowers growing through a crack in the playa, and daydream.

Cattle that had been gathered from all over the range would probably reach the higher summer pastures in a day or two if the improved weather held and Linc Slocum didn't slow them down with some scheme.

Sam stared toward the Calico Mountains. Someone who didn't know her would think it odd that she missed Ace. And Jake, but she didn't exactly miss him. She felt guilty.

Crossing her fingers, Sam hoped Jake had forgotten the bratty remarks she'd thrown at him when he'd driven out to check on her.

Why had she resisted when Jake suggested she keep Sunny in her stall until Dr. Scott had had a chance to check her? It was good advice. All the books said so. But when he'd seen her reluctance and said,
She's your horse
, she'd snapped
That's right!
like a little kid.

Worse than that, when he'd offered to help feed the animals, she'd boasted,
I can do it myself
.

Sam groaned at her childishness. Maybe he'd be too busy to remember. She hoped so, because if she needed Jake's help for anything soon, she was certain he'd enjoy reminding her.

Tempest's thudding hooves drew Sam's attention back to the small pasture. What she saw made her admire Sunny's patience more than ever.

Maybe it was the Phantom's kingly blood running through her veins that made tiny Tempest rear up to paw at her mother's back. Sam had seen young stallions in bachelor herds do that, proving dominance, but how could Tempest be telling her mother that
she
was the boss?

Embarrassed even though no one was eavesdropping on her thoughts, Sam remembered how she'd told Brynna what she wanted her to do this week. But that was different.

Sunny gave a low nicker, stepped beyond her
daughter's pawing hooves, and continued with the business of grazing.

“It's going to be a much better day than yesterday,” Sam told Blaze as the dog raised his head up under her hand for a pet.

Sam smoothed her hand over Blaze's back again and again, thinking she might saddle up Popcorn for a ride down to the river.

If Tempest and Sunny kept doing well, she might even pack a picnic lunch and a book, then spend a quiet hour reading while minnows nibbled at her toes.

Sam sighed, feeling limp with relaxation.

But Blaze growled. The fur beneath her hand stood up in warning and Sam closed her eyes. She didn't want to turn around and see who was driving over the cattle guard into River Bend Ranch.

R
achel Slocum swung her legs out of the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Her high-heeled sandals were a basket weave of thin powder blue straps completely unsuited for a ranch, but they matched her short leather skirt, handbag, and, of course, the car.

“Just a few minutes,” Rachel cautioned her twin before he even got out of the driver's side. “You promised.”

Coffee-colored curls cascaded over Rachel's shoulders and her hands perched on her hips as she surveyed River Bend Ranch. As she took in the barn and bunkhouse, corrals and pastures and the white, two-story ranch house, her lip curled in disgust.

Sam was instantly defensive. River Bend was a
real working ranch, not a hobby. Dad and Gram had labored for years to keep the cattle operation afloat. They didn't have thousands of extra dollars to spend on landscaping pastures or architecturally beautiful barns.

What was Ryan thinking to just drop in? And especially with Rachel?

Ryan had rolled back the cuffs of his tailored blue shirt. His own dark hair was mussed and when he tried to laugh at his bossy twin, his eyes showed no amusement.

With a start, Sam realized his expression reminded her of Sunny's yesterday. Ryan had had enough of his sister.

The prospect of Rachel coming up against her brother's anger made Sam happy. She shushed Blaze and went out to greet the twins.

“Hi,” Sam said, “did you come to see my new baby?”

“I can hardly wait,” Ryan said, as his eyes scanned the ranch.

“But we can't stay,” Rachel repeated. Tilting her head to one side, she addressed Sam in an accusing voice, “I wanted to be at the mall when it opened, and we're already going to be late.”

“Are you going in to Crane Crossing?” Sam asked, making an effort to be polite.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Rachel replied. “My nail stylist is in Reno, not Darton, but I'm making the best
of what this backwater has to offer. All because my brother, my
twin
, places a horse above me.”

“She's wounded to the quick,” Ryan said. He strode beside Sam, leaving his sister to pick her way after them. “But only because she's chipped a fake fingernail and needs to have it replaced.”

“She's lucky to have a helpful brother,” Sam said.

“Don't forget to get the phone, Ryan,” Rachel called after them. “And—oh, please! Get this beast away.”

Sam turned to see Blaze advancing on Rachel. He wagged his tail at half-mast, willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, but barely.

“There's
saliva
on his mouth,” Rachel squealed. “Is he, like, rabid or something? This skirt is suede. He could ruin it. Samantha, call him off!”

“Here, Blaze,” Sam said. She patted her leg and the dog returned, but grudgingly. When he kept watching Rachel, Sam thought it showed good judgment.

“Here's Tempest,” she said as they reached the pasture.

“What a little beauty!” Ryan watched the black filly run a lap of her enclosure. Fluffy tail straight up in the air, she showed off her newly discovered speed.

Sunny swished her tail and stared suspiciously at the unfamiliar face peering over the fence rails. The mare tossed her head. The corners of her lips curved downward in what really looked like a frown.

Tempest cavorted in front of her mother, bumping
against her front legs, trying to draw her attention. Sunny's attention stayed focused on Ryan.

Telling Ryan she'd be right back, Sam ducked toward the barn.

“I've just got to check the bolts,” she said. “Sunny might get excited when she sees strangers, and if she slips back through her stall and out…well, this could be a mighty short visit.”

“No need to rush,” Ryan said. “I'm quite content to stand and watch.”

Once Sam returned to stand beside him, she put aside her worry. Ryan wasn't comparing River Bend with Gold Dust Ranch. Ryan loved horses—hers, his, anyone's. That made him fun to talk with, and Sam found it easy to ignore Rachel, who was standing in the shade of the barn, complaining about the heat.

“I'd love to see that other mustang, the albino,” Ryan said when Sam returned.

He pronounced it
al-bee-no
. Sam was wondering why as she showed him toward the ten-acre corral, when there was a sudden commotion from the barn.

No, no, no!

The mare and foal were loose!

Sam was running, arms waving, as Sunny burst from the dark barn with Tempest tucked against her side. For an instant, Sunny was dazzled by the sunlight. While the buckskin's hooves stuttered, Sam rushed toward her. Now, while the mare was disoriented by
the open ranch yard and strangers, was her only chance.

Sam slowed her steps, watching Sunny. From the corner of her eye, she caught Ryan moving in the opposite direction. One of them should be able to snag the mare's green halter and slow her down.

“I was almost trampled!” Rachel shrieked.

The scream acted like the siren had on the night of the fire. Then, the high-pitched sound had sent Sunny galloping toward the cattle guard, fleeing for the safety of the open range.

The mare bolted, but Sam stood her ground.

“Sunny, stop. Sunny…”

Legs braced, Sam waited for the mare to slide to a stop. In the moment the buckskin's eyes rolled, showing only white, Sam knew she wouldn't.

A half ton of horse struck Sam's shoulder, spinning her all the way around before she fell. The back of her head struck the ground. Her teeth cracked together. Sam had a sudden memory of a skull she'd held in science class. She imagined the little fissures running over the skull. She was pretty sure hers were chattering against each other from the impact.

She'd bitten her tongue, too. Her mouth was filled with blood and that was what made her jump, coughing, to her feet.

“Let's go after them,” Ryan said. His car keys jingled in his hand.

“No. Don't want to panic them,” Sam said, but her words were garbled. Feeling embarrassed, she
spat blood and shuddered. “They might come back, but I can't figure out…”

Sam stared toward the barn.

“I closed those bolts and double-checked them. You were here when I did it, right? So how did Sunny get out?”

Rachel lifted her blue suede bag higher on her shoulder. She tucked a wave of dark hair behind one ear.

“Since there's nothing to see,” Rachel said, “may we go now, Ryan.”

It wasn't a question.

Sam told herself she was being paranoid. No matter how self-centered she was, Rachel wouldn't purposely put Sunny and her new baby in danger.

And Tempest was in terrible danger. Sam couldn't stop thinking of the smoke and fire on that other night. Her heart had nearly stopped as Sunny swooped past the front bumper of the fire engine, and as the mare had passed all the other fleeing horses, she'd been certain the buckskin was never coming back.

If she ran like that now, she could leave Tempest behind. The foal would be vulnerable to weather, predators, cars…

“You stupid girl.” Ryan pronounced the words in a wondering tone. “You turned them loose.”

Sam stared at the siblings. Standing face-to-face, glaring, they might have been mirror images until Rachel lifted her chin.

Then she shrugged.

“They'll have a nice little walk,” she said, then gestured toward Sam. “She'll lasso them up, or whatever, and we'll be on our way to the mall.”

“Did it ever occur to you—” Ryan began, but then he shook his head. “No, of course it didn't. Sam, I could not be sorrier. Or more mortified. What may I do to help?”

Sam held her temples, trying to think past Rachel's act. She'd try to understand later.

Now she had to help her horses. And she had to hurry. It had started to rain again, adding more peril to the open country.

The first thing she had to do wouldn't be easy, but it had to be done. She needed Jake.

“Do you have any idea where they're herding the cattle?” Sam asked. She gestured vaguely and noticed how the rain dotted her suntanned arm. “If not, call Mrs. Coley.” Sam fished the cell phone from her pocket and handed it to Ryan. “Find out. Go there and tell Jake I need him.”

Her mind was spinning so far ahead, it was hard to speak slowly, but Ryan nodded as if he understood.

“What are you talking about?” Rachel held a hand over her head, as if it would keep the downpour from harming her hairstyle. “I know you can't possibly be suggesting…”

Rachel's jaw dropped. She stared in the direction
Sam had pointed, toward the Calico Mountains. Sam and Ryan ignored her.

“Jake can track them, if I don't find them first,” Sam said, blinking against the raindrops. “But I'm going after them on horseback, now. Just on the off chance…”

Sam felt dizzy. Multicolored dots frenzied before her eyes and her pulse pounded in her throat. That collision with Sunny and all her restless nights were catching up with her, but it really didn't matter.

Running wild, searching for a herd she'd left almost a year ago, Sunny could break a leg, or her neck. She could plummet down a muddy canyon trail.

Tempest would just stand there, waiting for her mother to get up.

Sam rubbed her eyes. She couldn't let that happen.

“I'll ride Popcorn,” Sam muttered to herself. “If any other horse can find them, it's him. They're both mustangs. They've been pasture pals from the first…”

“You're not speaking clearly,” Rachel said. “I can't hear you.”

“Ryan,” Sam said, but her eyes locked on Rachel's with such force, the rich girl took a step back. “I really appreciate your help.”

Ryan took Rachel's arm and hurried her toward the Mercedes.

“I'll have Jake here as soon as I can,” he said over his shoulder, but his grim smile also thanked Sam for not strangling his stupid sister.

 

Popcorn might have been a bloodhound in another life, Sam decided.

As soon as she'd ridden the gelding over the bridge, Sam paused. Raindrops tapped on the brim of her brown Stetson. Should she ride straight ahead and take the trail to the Phantom's hidden valley, or turn right, toward Arroyo Azul and War Drum Flats?

Popcorn swung right and burst into a lope. Milky mane blowing back, he welcomed Sam's weight as it shifted forward.

“That's good enough for me,” she said, against the albino's neck, and urged him into a gallop.

More for luck than use, Sam had packed Tempest's little halter along with Sunny's lead rope. She touched her saddlebags as if they held a magic charm.

Surefooted and swift, Popcorn took her to a place she didn't want to remember. In this sandy wash, she'd faced a flash flood and helped Jake when he'd broken his leg. But she loosened her grip on the reins and let Popcorn have his head.

The rain had slackened, and a rainbow arched through storm clouds, but Sam's spirits didn't lift.

Her shoulder ached and her head felt swollen. What lay ahead could be bad. She ordered herself to be ready for the worst.

Lightning brightened the dull, pewter sky. Thunder
rolled and Sam stiffened. This was too much like the other night.

One thousand, two thousand…

Sam quit counting. No matter how close the lightning was, no matter how worried she was, she had to find Tempest.

“I've trusted you this far,” she told Popcorn.

The mustang took the bit, determined to go on.

When Sam heard a thin, shivering neigh, she knew why.