Dark Sunshine (4 page)

Even Sam knew the girl wouldn't take the bait. Brynna had a lot to learn about kids.

“So you can talk behind my back? It's not like I can't guess what you're going to say.” Mikki slung her thumbs in her jeans pockets before facing Sam's father. “Here's the deal,
sir
.” She made the word an insult. “HARP can't place me in the California program because of my juvenile record, my
crimes
, got it?”

Mikki's head wagged a little as she talked. Her tone was sarcastic, as though trying to shock Wyatt Forster was fun.

“Shoplifting, fighting, runaway.” Mikki ticked her offenses off on three fingers. “What Ms. Olson didn't say is that HARP matches
at-risk
girls with wild horses who've been messed up.”

Sam almost nodded, and Mikki turned to her.

“Yeah, and I'm past ‘at-risk.' Everyone in the state of California has given up on me. Even my mom. She's the one who sent me to this freaking desert—”

When Mikki stopped, Brynna took over without a hint of emotion.

“Mikki is living in a group home in Darton. Although she's just eleven, she's in a program for academically talented students and she's going to middle
school there,” Brynna explained. “The situation's not as bleak as she says. HARP is a very popular program in California, and it's just getting started in Nevada.”

“Look.” Mikki's hands perched on her hips. She turned her back on Gram and Dad to face Brynna. “This perfect little family doesn't want me around. Can't you tell? And I really don't care. I only said I'd do this because I sort of like horses.”

Mikki gave a snort. Then, carefully not glancing toward Teddy as Jake led him prancing to the pasture, Mikki walked to the white BLM truck, climbed in, and slammed the door.

As soon as the kid disappeared, Brynna started talking fast.

“River Bend Ranch is the perfect place to start HARP in Nevada. You've got the round corral for starting the mustangs and girls together. And once you get the rails up on that big pasture near the barn, it will work for an arena, when they start riding. As I've, uh, explained, before.” Brynna hesitated.

The BLM woman looked from Gram, who looked excited by the idea, to Dad. His face was blank, not giving Brynna a flicker of encouragement. But she kept talking.

“And, of course, the big bunkhouse would be perfect.”

For what?
Sam wondered.

Brynna pointed to a weathered building with
broken windowpanes and a roof buckled at the peak and stripped bare of shingles by the wind. Cowboys hadn't slept there for years. Sam had heard Dallas say it was home to spiders big as lions and he wouldn't go in there without a whip and a chair.

Gram must have been thinking the same thing. When Brynna saw Gram frown, she added, “It will take some fixing up, but HARP, as I've said before”—she glanced at Dad—“pays ranchers for hosting the program if the pilot program succeeds.”

Brynna took a breath before she went on.

“And the girls would do so much better here than at the Gold Dust. Mr. Slocum's volunteered, but Sam would be a far better influence than—” Brynna gestured in the general direction of Linc Slocum's ranch, and Sam mentally filled in the blank.

Rachel
. The most popular girl at Darton High School, Rachel Slocum was beautiful, catty, and selfish. Her rich father gave her whatever she wanted. Rachel was bored by horses, and she'd scorn girls who had the bad luck not to be born wealthy and pretty.

Sam knew
that
from experience.

But wait. Sam reined in her dislike of Rachel and flashed Brynna a frown. Sam wouldn't let herself be bought out with flattery. Just because she wasn't as selfish as Rachel didn't mean she wanted the HARP program here.

Why should she share her family, horses, or Jake
with strangers? And she didn't want sly kids spying on her friendship with the Phantom.

Just thinking of the silver stallion made Sam's pulse race. He needed her help. She had to protect him from wild horse rustlers who'd kill him for dog food. She didn't have time to be a good influence on Mikki.

Get a grip
, Sam told herself. She was overreacting. Dad would never go for this idea. A proud, hardworking man who spoke only when he had to, Dad was the next thing to a hermit. He wanted nothing to do with the federal government and its programs.

Sam was about to tell Brynna to save her breath, when Dad nodded.

“Ms. Olson,” Dad said, “you've got yourself a deal.”

V
OICES SWIRLED
around Sam, discussing and planning, but she just stood there, stunned.

“River Bend Ranch will help you out. We'll see how the pilot program goes,” Dad cautioned. “No promises after that.”

“Absolutely.” Brynna nodded.

“We'd only have Mikki, to begin with, is that right?” Gram asked. “For an hour or two after school?”

“Right,” Brynna said.

“I'd like to cook for that poor little thing…”

Poor little thing?
Hadn't Gram heard the part about shoplifting and fighting?

“…get some wholesome food into her.” Gram clucked her tongue. “I suppose she'll go back to the foster home for meals, but I make nutritious after-school snacks. And then, if we get the program permanently…”

Sam's hands fisted so tightly, her fingernails bit
into her palms. The longer she let these plans roll ahead, the harder it would be to stop them.

Sam glanced toward the white truck. Mikki still sat inside, where she couldn't hear a thing.

“Besides Rachel, Jennifer Kenworthy's over at the Gold Dust Ranch. She's the foreman's daughter,” Sam explained to Brynna. “And she's as good an influence as I am. Maybe better.”

Sam knew her desperate tone had given her away when both Gram and Dad looked disappointed.

Brynna, on the other hand, seemed interested.

“If the work with Mikki turns out well, Jen could help next summer,” Brynna said. “There's good funding for this program, enough to remodel the bunkhouse so you could host a whole group of girls. The program would pay for saddles, feed, and wages. You and Jen could be instructors.”

Brynna stopped when Dad held out his hand in a move that clearly said
Halt
. But why was he smiling?

“When do we start?” Dad asked.

“I'll have Popcorn trailered out on Monday.” Brynna looked as if she were making calculations. “If we start Mikki with him on Tuesday, that would give the horse time to settle in.”

“Popcorn?” Gram asked.

Brynna's lips firmed into a straight line before she answered. “He's an albino gelding who's been ‘shown who's boss' a few times too many. He's awfully shy, but he'll be a great match for Mikki.”

Sam didn't see the logic in the woman's remark, but she kept quiet. She'd have time to work on Dad after Brynna left.

“Tuesday, then,” Dad said, and stuck out his hand.

“Tuesday.” Brynna shook Dad's hand. “Thanks so much, Wyatt. I hope it works out for all of us.”

Not only had Brynna's brisk tone softened, but as she walked away, Dad watched her go with a small smile.

Frustrated down to her fingernails, Sam tackled her chores. She fed the dog, fed the chickens, topped off the water troughs, checked the hens' nests for eggs, then stood staring at Ace, Sweetheart, and the frightened buckskin.

She hadn't had a chance to groom Ace when she'd first ridden in. Now, she wanted to do it. She'd made a habit of pouring her troubles into Ace's attentive ears while she curried dirt and sweat from his coat. But it would be cruel to disturb the horses now. And selfish.

Sam walked into the shady barn and hung her green sweatshirt back on its nail. Selfishness. That was the feeling boiling inside her. But wasn't she allowed to be just a little stingy, when she'd just gotten her family back?

Sam sat on a hay bale. She tried not to look at the little buckskin. The mare was watching, waiting for Sam to do something scary.

Sam stared outside. The barn pasture was empty
of animals because several fence rails were down and a few were broken. The pasture reminded her of one of her worst mistakes since she'd come home and tried to fit back into ranch life.

Sam hadn't noticed the missing rails a month ago, when she'd left Buddy in that pen. While Sam was gone, the orphan calf had wandered away. Now Dad was pacing along the fence line.

He was getting ready to fix it. Not for her, but for Brynna.

Accidentally, Sam glanced at the buckskin. The mare's ears flattened against her neck and her nostrils flared.

Sam pretended to ignore the horse. She leaned back and stared into the barn's dark rafters. Overhead, a pigeon moved in its straw nest, trying to get comfy.

Sam knew how the bird felt. She was still adapting to ranch life. Gram and Dad tried to help, but each time she got used to them treating her like a child, they expected her to act like an adult.

Now Gram wanted to cook special meals for a stranger and fuss over
her
. Sam knew she sounded like a pouty little kid.

Her mind understood that Gram and Dad meant to do something good and charitable, but Sam's heart wanted to know why.

Why, why,
why
should they help this smart-mouthed kid named Mikki?

Lost in her own thoughts, Sam stopped watching Dad until he was just a few yards away. Sam shot to her feet, looking for something to do, but she didn't think fast enough.

The buckskin sucked in deep breaths, testing the air for threats.

Dad stood silhouetted against the outside brightness.

“Gram wants us to come eat some sandwiches and potato salad.”

“Okay,” Sam said. Her stomach growled and she felt lightheaded from eating nothing since last night's supper.

She knew she should politely follow her father inside and wait for her sulky mood to pass. But she didn't.

“Dad, we don't need more work around here. Especially with me at school all day.”

“Outside work will lighten up as winter comes on. The girl will only be here five or six hours a week. I can spare Jake that much.”

Jake?
Sam muffled her screech of outrage, but it echoed in her mind.

Brynna had mentioned that Sam and Jen might be teaching the girls to ride. She'd said nothing about Jake. It must be Dad's idea, and that troubled Sam.

Sam tried to squash her jealousy. After all, Jake had taught
her
the patient Indian ways of working with horses. She couldn't imagine a better technique
for soothing the hurts of horses and humans. Still…

“Jake, huh? I guess you don't agree with Brynna that I could handle it?”

Dad said nothing. His silence hurt.

“Just when I think you have faith in me, you expect me to fail.”

“I didn't expect it.” Dad spoke slowly. “You surprised me, sayin' BLM should send a ruined mustang and that child over to Slocum's.”

“But when BLM offered you the job tracking wild horses, you didn't do it.” Sam didn't add,
and we could have used the money
. “Why did you say yes this time?”

Dad nodded toward the buckskin mare, and even that faint movement sent her sidling away from the fence. But Dad didn't answer Sam's question. He asked one, instead.

“Why didn't you leave that mare up at Lost Canyon?”

Sam's spirits fell. She'd been so sure Dad would understand.

“She was—they had her blindfolded. She was standing in the dark, alone. I couldn't leave her there.”

“Neither could I,” Dad said.

“But, Dad—”

“That's my answer, Samantha. Chew on it.”

 

Later that evening, Jen called to explain why she'd missed their early-morning ride.

Her cold had gotten worse.

“I didn't oversleep,” Jen said, sniffing. “I was up getting dressed, but my mom heard me coughing and wouldn't let me go.”

It took Sam a second to understand, but if she took the word that sounded like
bomb
and substituted
mom
, Jen's sentence made sense.

“That's what I figured,” Sam said. “But I've got so much to tell you. And part of it involves the Phantom.”

Jen gasped. “Talk fast. Mom only gave me ten minutes. Then, I have to go back to bed.”

“Okay, but—oops.” Sam lost her grip on the phone. She was juggling the receiver as she folded laundry. “Sorry I dropped you. I think Gram and Dad are giving me time to figure out how lucky I am,” Sam told Jen.

“Lucky?”

“Lucky that I have a decent home and people who care enough about me to make me fold a mountain of laundry taller than I am,” Sam said.

When Jen made a confused sound, Sam asked, “Have you heard of the HARP program?”

“Sure. They pair juvenile delinquents with problem horses, then step back and watch to see who kills who first.”

“Jen, you're terrible.” Sam shook her head at her friend's sarcasm.

Jen's laughter provoked more coughing. When
she finally stopped, she asked, “That's the program, though, right? They have it in California and New Mexico.”

“Sort of,” Sam said. “Except Brynna Olson and Dad have worked it out so that the Nevada program's first kid—”

“Just
one
delinquent in all of Nevada? I'm not buying that.”

“—will meet the horse here. Then Jake and I will work with the kid and the horse. The mustang is an albino named Popcorn.”

When Jen made a throat-clearing sound that sounded like envy, Sam told her Brynna's plan.

“It's a government program and there's enough money set aside that if things work out with Popcorn and Mikki—that's the first girl's name—they might send more kids during the summer, and Brynna said they might need you as an instructor, too.”

“Wow.” Jen sighed. “How cool is that?”

Would Jen like the idea so much if she were sharing her own parents?

“But wait,” Jen said. “Do you really believe my mom, who home-schooled me because she didn't want me corrupted by outside influences, is going to—”

Jen's voice faded as her hand muffled the telephone mouthpiece. “Yes, Mom, I know it's been…But I feel much—” Suddenly, Jen's voice was clear. “Sam, I have to get off now.”

Disappointed that the conversation had ended so
soon, Sam teased her friend.

“Oh, that's fine. I didn't really want to tell you about the wild horse rustlers.”

“What?” Jen's squeak triggered her coughs all over again.

“And how the Phantom came to the rescue—” Sam stopped taunting Jen and bit her lip. She probably shouldn't mention the beautiful buckskin, either.

“Don't forget
anything
,” Jen whispered. “I want details.”

 

That night, Gram served up a lecture along with dinner.

“As soon as Brynna mentioned this program, I started reading up on it,” Gram said.

And how long ago was that?
Sam wondered. Gram had seemed surprised, but apparently only Sam had been kept out of the loop.

“There's not a lot of data so far, but it's working. In most other programs, seven out of ten kids are back in trouble inside of a year. With HARP, it's three out of ten.”

“If they get back in trouble,” Sam mused, “can they come back to work with the mustangs?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I was just thinking,” Sam said, remembering the joy on Mikki's face as she watched the horses gallop across their pasture. “If I were a bad kid, I might
mess up again so that I could come back and work with the horses.”

“Samantha Anne, I don't know why I try to treat you like an adult, when all you want to do is joke.” Gram whacked the wooden tongs back into the salad bowl.

She
hadn't
been joking. Sam looked to her father for help. He balanced the lettuce on his fork for a minute, studying her.

“I think she's serious,” he said.

“I am.”

“Well, all right,” Gram said. “Sometimes it's hard to tell.”

“You know what else I was wondering?” Sam asked. “Why we couldn't use that buckskin mare instead of the albino Brynna was talking about.” Sam looked from Gram to Dad.

Sam tried to imagine Mikki giving the buckskin the gentle handling she needed. She couldn't.

No, when she stared at the kitchen wall, imagining it was a movie screen, the girl she saw loving that frightened horse was herself.