Dark Sunshine (15 page)

“Stop! Oh, please, Brynna, stop.”

Sam didn't want to share this moment, but she couldn't resist. The Phantom and his herd were free, but were they unharmed?

Brynna pulled to the roadside. When Sam started to open the door, Brynna put a hand on her arm.

“Your dad will kill me if I let you approach that stallion.”

“I've done it before.” Sam heard her own impatience.

“But I didn't give you permission.”

“So?” Sam's anger flared. Brynna had no right to give permission or withhold it.

“I
mean
,” Brynna corrected herself, “when you got into the Phantom's corral at Willow Springs, you sneaked.”

“And we got along fine.” Sam held her breath, hoping he wouldn't flee from the strange truck.

Brynna removed her hand from Sam's arm. “I'm not saying go ahead and I'm not watching,” she said, but Sam knew she would.

Sam took nothing with her, and she didn't close the truck door. Slow and easy, she walked away from Brynna and the truck. The horses were watching.

In the shade, only one horse moved. Her coat was the color of melted butter. Sam wanted to cheer. Dark Sunshine had found a home with the Phantom.

The buckskin mare was the only horse spooked by Sam's approach. Trying to trot, she split off from
the others, but something was terribly wrong.

The mare moved as if her legs were jointless. One leg was so stiff, the buckskin faltered sideways. When she did, Sam saw a red gash marred the mare's chest.

Sam thought of the fire, of Dark Sunshine's screams as she flung herself against the round pen rails, trying to escape. The mare's spirit had been damaged by the rustlers. Now her body was injured, too.

Dad's rules said that every person and animal on the ranch had to earn its keep. She hoped she could get close enough to help Dark Sunshine. If she were lamed beyond help, Dad would write her off as a lost cause.

The Phantom chased after the mare. He charged into the sunlight. Metal-bright glints touched each muscle as he stormed past the buckskin, toward Sam. His legs moved like liquid silver, then blurred and thundered as he came. His head swung from side to side in savage warning.

He didn't know her. Should she run back to the truck?

Sam took a step back, and the stallion slid to a stop. His neck lengthened until he stood taller than ever before. Head level, he drew a breath, and Sam saw his chest swell. His muzzle jerked upward.

Now he'll know it's me
, she thought. But he didn't.

Pacing like a lion, the stallion moved alongside Dark Sunshine. He shielded her, keeping his body between her and the humans.

It's me
, Sam wanted to shout. Would anything relieve the ache beneath her breastbone? Only a sign of recognition.
You know I won't hurt her, don't you?

The stallion caught Sam's scent. His dished Arab head swung to face her and his nostrils quivered. But the Phantom didn't nicker in greeting or come to meet her.

“Then I'll come to you, you stubborn mule,” Sam tried to joke, but she heard the quiver in her own voice. The Phantom wasn't acting like her horse.

Brynna sat within easy earshot, so Sam couldn't call out his secret name. Worse, she didn't think it would help.

Right now, he wasn't Zanzibar. He was a wild horse defending his territory. He was a stallion protecting his mate.

Suddenly, he turned. Galloping as if he'd been away too long, the stallion returned to his herd. He stopped just before he reached the cottonwoods and Sam crossed her fingers so hard they hurt.

Now, he'd come back to her. He must. Now.

But the Phantom only stood next to Dark Sunshine, trembling with jealousy.

B
ECAUSE
G
RAM AND
D
AD
had already left to pick up Brynna for Linc Slocum's Brahma-que and Sam was waiting for a ride with Jake, Sam was alone at River Bend when Rachel called.

“Samantha, this is Rachel Slocum.”

Sam's mouth opened, but no words came out. Rachel's put-on British accent was thick this afternoon, and unless she'd called to practice it, Sam couldn't imagine why she'd phoned.

They weren't friends and it didn't sound like an emergency. If Rachel hadn't said
Samantha
, Sam would have thought the rich girl had the wrong number.

“Samantha, did we get cut off?” Rachel sounded bored by the possibility.

“Uh, no. I'm here.”

“Good, I'm in my bedroom spa and sometimes the telephone reception is not what it should be.”

“That's a shame,” Sam said. Then another thought popped up. “Aren't you going to your father's party?”

“That's the thing.” Rachel sighed. “My father requested that I ask your family to pick up ice on your way over. We're already running short. The caterers are busy serving and the regular hands are doing—cow things.”

Sam might have laughed if she hadn't resented taking up the slack for the Slocums' hired help. Of course, there was a good way to view this. If she and Jake stopped in Alkali, they'd spend less time watching Slocum act important.

At the sound of tires crunching in the ranch yard, Sam pulled back the kitchen curtain and saw Jake arrive.

“Samantha, can you do it or not?” Rachel asked. “We'll reimburse you for the expense, of course.”

“Sure, Rachel, we can do it,” Sam said. “I hope you'll forgive us if we're a little late.” She hung up and went to answer Jake's knock.

When Sam opened the door for Jake, she was unprepared for his compliment.

“Hey, you look nice.”

“I do?” Sam considered her orange sleeveless top, white shorts, and tennis shoes. She touched her hair, then changed the subject. “How much do you want to go to this Brahma-que?”

Jake shuddered. “More than I want to pump out the septic tank. That was the choice my mom gave me.”

“But if your hostess asked you to do a favor on your way to the party,” Sam said, “how could you refuse?”

 

It turned out Jake couldn't refuse, nor could he resist buying two chocolate ice cream cones to pass the time while Clara bagged the ice and loaded it into insulated boxes.

Jake had gobbled his cone and lifted the boxes when Sam's ice cream dripped onto her shorts.

Sam gasped. It was a big blob, and there was no hiding it.

“It figures,” Jake said.

“I'll run into Clara's rest room and mop it off. Just go on to the truck. I'll be out in a minute.”

The diner's rest room was square and cramped. Because it smelled strongly of cleaning chemicals, a high window was open to the road running behind Clara's and the gas station.

Sam heard a car stop, the crunch of boots on gravel, but she didn't really listen. She didn't have time to go home and change.

Some people shouldn't wear white
, Sam thought, blotting the spot with a wet paper towel.
And I'm one of them
.

She'd just decided it was looking better when she heard the voice.

“When d'ya think you'll be back?”

Sam stopped. The male voice was so near, it surprised her. It almost sounded familiar.

“Twenty minutes out to Arroyo Azul, maybe an extra five minutes driving back with a load…”

Sam recognized the second man. It was Flick.

“That stud's been bringing his herd in at dusk since we scared him out of Lost Canyon.”

Flick's voice was low and secretive. She just knew he was talking about the Phantom.

“It doesn't look like I'll get my buckskin back from that kid, but I've got a standing ten-thousand dollar promise for the stallion. Before I leave town, I'm gonna get that dude to make good on it.”

Sam's hands were already shaking, but when he added “from that kid,” the wet paper towel fell from her fingers to the bathroom floor with a splat.

Did Flick know she'd seen him, or only that she had his horse? No matter, she decided. Arroyo Azul sliced into the mountains next to Lost Canyon. If Flick could get there in twenty minutes, Jake could make it in ten. Nothing mattered except saving the Phantom.

“Go on into Clara's,” Flick said, “and have yourself a steak dinner. Meet me here in an hour, and we'll swap the trailer onto the other truck, in case anybody sees me drive from the arroyo.

“And one more thing,” Flick added. “She should be at Slocum's, but if that BLM woman shows up, tell her what you're supposed to.”

How could Flick know where Brynna was right now? The fact that he did gave Sam chills.

“I'll tell her you've been out of the state for weeks, but I don't think she'll buy it.”

“She'll have to,” Flick said. “By the time she picks up my trail, it'll be true.”

Flick's footsteps had started away when the other man called him back.

“But if something else happens—”

“Lester, there's no trouble Dr. Winchester can't handle.”

Lester and Dr. Winchester
. Sam had more names to give Brynna. If the rangers matched the names with her descriptions, they'd come up with something. But not soon enough.

It was up to her and Jake to save the Phantom.

Sam listened as a truck door slammed, an engine started, tires grated on gravel, and then grew distant. Sam's patience almost snapped as she waited for the second set of boots to walk away. At last, they did.

Sam burst from the rest room and glanced around. She saw no one she knew, except Clara.

“Did you get that ice cream cleaned up, honey?” Clara asked.

Sam had almost forgotten, but her shorts looked pretty good. “Yes, thank you—”

“Big doin's out at the Gold Dust, I hear.” Clara paused in wiping down the counter.

“Right,” Sam said, shrugging. “Linc Slocum got some new cattle.”

Clara chuckled, but Sam didn't stay to joke about
Slocum, no matter how much fun she'd have.

“I'd better hurry and catch Jake before that ice melts.”

Sam burst through the door and ran into Jake. He staggered back a step, but she ignored his grunt of surprise.

“You'll never guess what I heard—” Sam stopped, gasping.

“And what might that be?” The man who spoke stood right behind Jake. He had a broad, freckled face she recognized.

It was Lester.

Jake gave him an irritated glance, but Sam thought fast. Giggling, she wrapped her arms around Jake's waist.

“Well, it's sort of private,” she whispered, “but I heard you only have to be sixteen to get married in Reno. Isn't that great news, honey?”

Sam hugged Jake with what she hoped was a lovesick expression. Would Lester think she looked sixteen? Would Jake understand her eyes' message:
Don't blow it, Jake
?

“I don't know if that's true.” Lester shook his head. “But good luck to you.”

Jake nodded his thanks, then swept Sam toward the truck. Sam couldn't walk fast enough to keep up. If Lester had looked back to see what a cute couple they made, he would have seen Jake shoving her along until they reached the truck.

Once inside, Jake began roaring, “What in the—?”

Sam clapped her hand over his mouth, in case Lester was still nearby, but Jake pushed her hand away and kept talking.

“Have you gone completely nuts? Do you want to start the kind of rumors that small town gossips live for?”

“Oh, Jake.” Sam closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don't have time for this. That guy”—she stabbed her finger toward Clara's diner—“is one of the rustlers. I heard him talking to Flick.”

Sam drew a deep breath as Jake settled down, frowning.

“Flick is on his way to Arroyo Azul to catch the Phantom.
That's
what I was trying to tell you.”

“Why didn't you say so, Brat?” Jake nodded toward the road out of town. A feathery trail of dust was scattering on the wind. “That's gotta be him. Let's go.”

 

Convincing Jake they should report Flick had been easy, but they didn't agree on when, so it took most of the drive to hammer out the ground rules of their ambush.

Jake wanted to drive to Slocum's, tell his dad, her dad, and Brynna, then return for a full-scale assault. Sam knew they didn't have time.

Jake wanted to go back to Alkali and phone the county sheriff. Sam knew the sheriff couldn't drive
from Darton to Arroyo Azul before Flick escaped.

After twenty minutes of explaining and arguing, Jake declared that what he wanted most was to leave her at the roadside for vultures to peck at.

“Okay, Sam, now listen. This is the last time I'm going to say this,” Jake began.

“Drive while you talk,” Sam urged.

“I
am
driving!” Jake hit the steering wheel with his palm. “When did you get to be such an expert?”

“I may not be an expert, but I can read a speedometer,” Sam insisted. “Every time you turn to yell at me, your speed drops about eight miles per hour.”

Then they were back to playing the quiet game. Sam's patience frayed first.

“Let's try this,” she said. “We'll go into Arroyo Azul and scare off the horses, then drive like crazy to get help.”

As Jake thought about it, they didn't gain on the dust from Flick's truck and trailer, but they didn't fall behind, either.

“What's wrong with that plan?” Sam asked.

“Nothing,” Jake said, finally. “But I still don't like it. I don't trust that guy. He hates me and my brothers.”

“Oh, Jake,” Sam said again.

“Don't ‘oh, Jake' me until you've been referred to as ‘your kind.' You know, like ‘your kind never…' or ‘your kind always…'”

Sam didn't ask what Jake thought Flick meant,
because Jake was driving so fast now that she had to grab the door handle to stay upright.

They were nearing War Drum Flats when Jake pointed.

“When we turn off there, we're committed. He'll know we're after him and I don't know any other way out.” Jake looked at Sam with exasperation. She knew he'd be a lot less edgy doing this with one of his brothers. “You still want to do it?”

“Of course.”

The truck sped down the road after Flick. Even from this distance, Sam saw the rustler's outline inside the truck. She wondered if he was watching in his rearview mirror. If so, what was he planning to do about them?

“What makes you think he has someone else with him?” Jake asked. “He sure looks alone.”

“He's not, though,” Sam said. “When Lester asked what Flick would do if there was trouble, Flick said there was no trouble Dr. Winchester couldn't handle.”

Jake flinched.

“Gee, Sam,” he said. “I sure wish you'd mentioned that earlier. Unless I'm mistaken, that means Flick has brought along a Winchester rifle.”

 

The last climb into Arroyo Azul had to be done on foot. Flick had abandoned his truck at the roadside, but Jake wanted to hide his. He slowed the truck to
a crawl, prepared to make a U-turn, and parked behind a stand of juniper.

This was taking way too long and Flick had a head start. Before Jake could stop her, Sam jumped out.

“No, Sam!” Jake shouted.

Sam ran up the path Flick must have taken. She knew this was a little foolhardy, but Jake would be right behind her.

The narrow path ran around the lip of the arroyo. Its steep sides had dozens of narrow rock shelves. She supposed you could reach the turquoise stream below by balancing on one shelf and stepping to another.

Sam felt dizzy as she looked over the edge. From where she stood, she could see Flick's water trap. All he had to do was get down there while the mustangs were drinking and slam the gate.

But Flick was nowhere around. What if he'd taken a shortcut and climbed down to the stream already?

When she looked up at a quick movement across the arroyo, it wasn't Flick she saw, it was the Phantom.

Halfway down to the water, on a rock shelf opposite Sam, the stallion's silver body shone against tawny sandstone. He was watchful, but Sam didn't see any mares down below.

When she'd watched the mustangs come to drink from the pond at War Drum Flats, the stallion had
run in and taken a quick sip of water before retreating to his lookout post.

If he'd done that here, Flick would have trapped him. Had Flick arrived too late, or was the Phantom still watching, unconvinced the stream was safe?

“Rachel said it was you.”

The male voice made Sam whirl around. Flick stood on the narrow path beside her. This time she recognized him.

Tall and broad-shouldered, Flick wore a fine gray Stetson. At his belt, he carried a set of piggin' strings for tying calves, and he had the attitude of a skilled buckaroo. He might have been handsome except for his cold, selfish eyes.

He was taking up too much space on this skinny path that verged on thin air.

“Rachel said
what
was me?” Sam wasn't sure how to act, but he wasn't carrying the rifle, and he'd sounded casual. Maybe she could keep him talking while Jake made his way up the path.

“When I ran into her at the mall in Darton, she remembered I'd worked for her dad. I bought her a cappuccino in a ritzy little shop and she couldn't wait to tell me the neighborhood news. Like how you'd adopted one of those range rats from BLM. She'd even heard it was a buckskin.”

Flick smirked. “Then I started rememberin' how you talked the Olson woman out of letting Slocum have that gray stud. Shoot, a girl your age shouldn't
keep sticking her nose in where it doesn't belong.”