Dark Sunshine (11 page)

La Charla whispered to Sam. This time of year the river was low. After running over sun-warmed rocks all day, it shouldn't be too cold, even though the night air was chilly.

Sam slipped through the round pen gate and locked it behind her. Dark Sunshine gave a low whinny that probably meant “Good riddance.”

“I'll be back,” Sam called to her. “This party won't be over for hours.”

The porch light and full moon lit the path to the river. Once she reached it, Sam sat on a rock and thought of her mother doing the same.

Then, before her thoughts turned dreamy, Sam tugged off her boots. She left them on the shore. Sucking in a breath, avoiding unsteady stones, Sam waded out.

An owl hooted nearby. Up to her knees, Sam stayed on one side of a big rock streaked with quartz. It blocked the river's rills and formed a tiny pond within the river. Its surface was satiny and smooth enough to reflect the moon.

Tonight's moon wore a halo of rose-gold mist, and it floated right there at her feet.

Hadn't she read about ancient people who stared into still pools to tell the future? Sam wished she knew how. What was the meaning of a haloed moon
and a handful of stars?

Dizziness made her stumble forward. She caught herself before her knees hit the water, and she pushed herself up, planted her feet, and rubbed her eyes. The huge splash had silenced the owl. Sam was tempted to stand in the darkness, letting the murmuring waters lull her, but she was making progress with the buckskin and she needed to get back.

Drawing a deep breath, Sam tried one more time to tell her future. She looked into the pool. What she saw surprised her so much she didn't even gasp.

Another face was reflected next to hers.

T
HE
P
HANTOM GLOWED
on the river's surface. As Sam looked up from the reflection, so did he, greeting her with a nicker so quiet only his nostrils quivered.

Sam wanted to hug him. Memory promised his neck would be warm and solid in the circle of her arms, but she stayed patient.

“Zanzibar,” she whispered.

Three times the stallion bowed his head. With each nod, his forelock flipped up, sifted down. When the forelock parted the third time, his eyes shone with mischief. A second later, he splashed closer. His head snapped down, then up. If she hadn't known the game, Sam might have thought the feathery touch was a whisper of wind over her hand.

It wasn't. Years ago, Sam and the stallion had played a game she called “nibbles.” In it, the colt darted close, swung his muzzle her way, and gently
lipped her hand before trotting off, pretending it had never happened.

“You're teaching that horse to bite,” Dad had told her, but the colt never did.

Why had the Phantom remembered the game now? Why did this mighty stallion frolic around her like a dog? Flicking her hand through the air, Sam teased him, but she was also careful to dodge the stallion's rough moves. He couldn't know her skin was thinner than his hide.

As Dark Sunshine's neigh soared through the night, the stallion stopped. Head held high, he interpreted the mare's cry, then lowered his head and considered the girl before him. The Phantom had many mares, but Sam was the only human he loved.

She saw him decide to stay with her, and hoped no one woke to investigate Dark Sunshine's neighs.

Moments with the Phantom were hers alone. Sam knew he'd run at the approach of another human. He could carry himself to safety, but she didn't want anyone else to see him vanish like a ghost up the hillside.

Face it
, Sam thought,
you don't want anyone else to lay eyes on him
.

For two years, Sam and the colt had longed for each other. Once she returned, nothing could keep them apart.

Sam held out her hand, palm up. The Phantom buried his muzzle in the cup of her hand, but he
didn't continue the game. He pressed down, then drew his chin toward his chest, urging Sam to move closer. She did.

Her other hand combed through his mane. Each time her fingers hit a snag, she untangled it.

Watchfulness vibrated through the stallion, but he wanted the grooming and didn't mind the tugging of her fingers.

Since he hadn't been brushed in two and a half years, strands of mane pulled loose, and suddenly Sam had an idea.

Once before, she'd thought that what she really needed to tame Dark Sunshine was a recommendation from another wild horse. Maybe Zanzibar could give it to her.

Each time a long thread of hair worked free, Sam tucked it into her pocket. She'd braid a horsehair bracelet, a silver token to wear beside the black one she'd made from her colt's mane years ago. The untamed scent might tell Dark Sunshine that Sam could be trusted.

As she tucked more strands into her pocket, she looked down. The moon was still bouncing along the surface of the river when the image shattered.

They had company.

The click of the border collie's toenails on the bridge alerted the horse to Blaze's approach, and the stallion leaped, front feet tucked up like a carousel horse.

As the Phantom dashed to the distant shore, Sam ran for the ranch.

“Stay, Blaze, stay,” she called. She could see his silhouette on the bridge. She had to keep him from barking.

Hours ago, Blaze had bedded down in the bunkhouse, so he must have scratched at the door long enough that someone had gotten up to let him out. That meant one of the cowboys could be up and walking around in the darkness.

Breathless, Sam paused on the bridge and looked around. The dog seemed to be alone. He growled and bristled, staring into the night, but the Phantom had vanished.

“You crazy dog.” Sam rubbed Blaze's ears.

At her touch, he shed his fierce stare and gazed up at her, openmouthed and happy. He bounced along beside Sam until she reached the round pen. Then he sauntered to the house, climbed the front porch steps, and threw himself down to sleep.

Sam wanted to do the same. Instead, she entered the pen. Dark Sunshine moved away, but she didn't slam against the slats as she had before.

“You're not trying to ram your way out, are you, girl?” Sam leaned against the fence, then slid down until she was sitting in the dirt.

The mare watched, waiting for Sam to get up and chase her. But Sam only yawned.

“You're gonna have to get used to me like this,” she said.

Before another ten minutes passed, Sam was sound asleep.

 

Something told her not to open her eyes, not to gasp, not to jerk away from whatever was moving nearby.

Sam stayed still. It wasn't the early-morning chill that had wakened her. Sam heard snuffling and smelled the sweet dusty scent of horse. Then she felt a bump against her denim-covered hipbone.

Dark Sunshine was nuzzling her pocket.

Sam lifted her eyelids just enough to see a stretch of buckskin neck. The mare startled back a step. Her black-tinged ears tilted toward Sam, but when Sam didn't move, the mustang's muzzle returned. She was sniffing the pocket where Sam had stashed the Phantom's hair.

The nudging tickled, and finally Sam couldn't help laughing. When she did, Sunny trotted off a few steps, but she tilted her head, still looking curious.

“That's it.” Sam stood and walked toward the gate.

As she glanced back, Sam saw the mare wearing the expression she'd been waiting for. If Dark Sunshine was curious, if she didn't want Sam to leave until she'd discovered what was in her pocket, that was good.

Outside the gate, Sam didn't stop to roll the stiffness from her shoulders. She hurried toward the house, thinking of bed.

 

In the entire history of River Bend Ranch, no one had been allowed to sleep until noon, and Sam was no exception. In fact, this was one of the busiest Saturdays Sam could remember. Ross, Pepper, and Dallas had gone over early to the Gold Dust Ranch to help unload Slocum's new Brahma breeding stock.

Sam had already put in a full day of work when Brynna arrived with Mikki at two o'clock.

At the sound of the white BLM truck, Sam looked out the kitchen window. Mikki climbed out. Arms crossed, she walked a few stiff steps, as if her legs were sticks.

“Look at her,” Sam said to Gram. “She doesn't want to be here, and she sure doesn't look sorry.”

Gram didn't look up from the cheese she was shredding for that night's taco dinner. “Who should she apologize to, the horse?”

“How can you feel sorry for her, Gram? After she jerked poor Popcorn around and just”—Sam swept her hand through the air—“threw away the trust he put in her?”

Gram flashed Sam a disappointed look. “I feel sorry for her because she was scared, and she failed at something she was about to get good at, something that matters to her very much.”

“She sure doesn't act like it matters.” Sam heard her childish tone even before Gram spoke.

“Samantha, for a girl who's so good at reading animals, you are downright dense when it comes to human beings.”

“I probably am, but—” Sam stopped. She'd been about to point out Mikki's baggy jeans and frazzled blond hair, but she stopped just in time.

“You think that horse's trust has been betrayed?” Gram slammed the cheese grater on the counter. “Mikki's mother has married three men and—if Mikki's right—each time she's put the man before her child.”

Sam stared at the whitewashed kitchen ceiling, trying to keep tears from overflowing. Her own mother had died and left her behind, but not because she wanted to go.

“Honey, can't you see why Mikki doesn't show her feelings? Can't you recognize a heart that's been broken one too many times?”

Sam swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. “If Popcorn will give her a second chance, so will I,” Sam said. It was only for an hour. She could do it. “And if Popcorn is cranky, I'll help her make up with him.”

Gram put her work aside and wrapped Sam in a hug. Sam shut her eyes, enjoying the closeness Mikki would envy.

“Used to be, I could kiss the top of your head when I hugged you,” Gram said. “Now you're just getting too big.” Gram gave her a loud kiss on the
cheek. “You're a good girl, Samantha, just a little impatient. But you'll have a chance to practice: Mikki and Brynna are joining us for dinner tonight.”

 

Popcorn gave Mikki a second chance, and Sam practiced patience. Since Jake was in Darton, helping his mom with the week's shopping, Sam took over.

The busy morning had become a quiet afternoon. After Dallas, Ross, and Pepper had helped Slocum with his Brahmas they'd gone to town together. As they were backing Dallas's truck around to leave, even Blaze had jumped in the back and joined them.

Only the chickens' clucking and Dark Sunshine's lonely nickers broke the quiet.

Perfect
, Sam thought. There'd be no noise, no interruptions. Since Popcorn was alone in the barn corral, she decided to let Mikki sit with him there.

The day's heat filled the barn, magnifying the smell of the hay packed in bales to the barn's rafters. Ribbons of light fell through the roof, turning the hay golden, then rippling down to stripe Mikki as she opened the gate into Popcorn's corral.

Sam held Mikki off a minute.

“Once you get inside, just sit,” Sam said. “Remind him you're no one to be afraid of.”

Mikki's condescending laugh said Sam was wrong.

“Mikki, you can't bully half a ton of horse.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why would you want to?” Sam let the question hang between them until Mikki blew out her cheeks and shook her head, then sat.

Sam stood outside the corral.

Dark Sunshine nickered from the round pen. The slats in the fence were set so close together, the mare could barely see out. She and Jake had thought that would give the mare the closed feeling she longed for. Now, the buckskin seemed to want company. Sam would have gone to her if she hadn't been put in charge of Mikki.

Sam alternated between watching Mikki and Popcorn watch each other and trying to attract Brynna's attention. Sam had slipped the bill of sale into her pocket, but she was still deciding what to do about it. She itched to know if Brynna had more information about Dark Sunshine or the rustlers before she handed it over.

But Brynna was strolling around the ranch with Dad, pointing and gesturing. Although they never got within earshot, Sam knew Brynna was making plans for the HARP program.

The more Sam thought about it, the more she liked the idea of HARP. What she didn't like was the way Dad was smiling. If he distrusted the government and blamed BLM for the high cost of grazing, why was he strolling around grinning at Brynna Olson?

Brynna might get the wrong idea.

When Gram called from the porch that dinner
was ready, Sam felt relieved. Dad would return to acting normal as soon as they sat around the kitchen table.

“Slip on out,” Sam said to Mikki.

Popcorn followed the girl three steps toward the gate.

“I don't think he's mad at me,” Mikki said, and her face said even more. Mikki's blue eyes danced, her mouth wore a real little-kid smile, and her cheeks flushed with satisfaction. She was actually happy.

Then something made both Mikki and Sam look across the ranch yard. Near the house, Brynna patted Dad on the back. That wouldn't have been so bad if Dad hadn't stopped and faced Brynna as if she'd meant something by it.

What's going on?
Sam wondered. Whatever it was, it was
not
all business. Sam tried to make an excuse, but she couldn't say anything. If only Mikki hadn't noticed…but she had.

“Ha ha.” Mikki gave a fake laugh like a donkey's bray. “You thought your dad was so perfect.”

Too forcefully, Sam bolted the gate.

What did Dad's expression mean? Would Dad and Brynna start dating? Aunt Sue had gone out occasionally. Hair upswept and formal, she'd attended the symphony with men in stuffy-looking suits. But Dad and Brynna were looking at each other as if something had changed.

What if they fell in love? Would they marry and
expect her to make room for a stepmother? No. She'd only just come back home. Dad wouldn't shut her out of a decision that big.

Sam started back to the house without giving Mikki the satisfaction of a reply.

Still, Mikki kept talking. “Just watch. For the rest of the night, they'll have no time for either of us. First, they'll stare at each other with goo-goo eyes.” Mikki made a sappy face to demonstrate. “Then, after dinner, they'll tell us to get lost.”

Mikki sounded like a specialist on selfish adults. But the expert status didn't make her happy. Mikki's lips drooped as if her satisfied smile had never been there.

 

“Thanks so much for inviting us, Grace,” Brynna said as the five sat down for dinner.

It took Sam a second to realize Brynna was talking to Gram. Had Brynna ever called her Grace before? Was Gram part of this romantic conspiracy?

Without thinking, Sam glanced at Mikki. She turned away when Mikki flashed a told-you-so smirk.

Though she loved tacos, Sam chewed slowly, as if the tortillas were filled with sawdust.

Conversation bumped along. Gram and Brynna did most of the talking, and Brynna claimed she had no information about Dark Sunshine or the rustlers. What she
did
say was so boring, Sam nearly dug the bill of sale out of her pocket and flaunted it.

But then she'd get in trouble, and Mikki would be delighted. If there was ever a case of misery-loves-company, Mikki was it.

In fact, Sam did everything she could to avoid meeting Mikki's gloating eyes.