Dawn Runner (5 page)

“Jen—”

“Plus, he didn't abandon me after Sky went psycho in that race….”

Sam blinked. How could Jen think that counted in Ryan's favor? It was what any friend—no, what any
decent human
—would do!

“And when I was in the hospital, he brought me roses.”

Sam stared at the kitchen ceiling and counted to ten. By the time she finished, it sounded as if Jen had finally run down.

“I know he did. He was great while you were in the hospital,” Sam said. “He's not a bad guy, and I think he's really…grown up while he's been here.”

Sam thought she'd chosen her words well,
because Jen was quiet, as if she didn't hear anything to contradict.

“Sorry I went off on you,” Jen said, finally. “It's not like you're going to steal my boyfriend. In the first place, you've made it quite apparent that Ryan's not your type.”

“I have a type?” Sam blurted and for some reason, the question sent Jen into a gale of giggles and Sam couldn't help but join in.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Jen said finally. “Don't do that. It kills my ribs.”

Even though Sam had no idea what had made her friend laugh, it was wonderful to hear her do it. And she couldn't bring up Pam now, just in case her paranoia over Jen's jealousy came true.

Tomorrow would be soon enough.

G
alloping hooves hammered in Sam's dream. She woke slowly, opening her eyes to her own dark bedroom where the sound of hooves made no sense.

I was dreaming,
she thought.

Falling asleep had been hard because she couldn't stop picturing Hotspot, Shy Boots, the Phantom, Roman, and—what was that sound?

Sam rolled on her side and faced her bedroom window. White curtains stirred in a cool breeze. She pulled up a blanket she'd tossed away in the night. The coziness should have made her sleepy, but it didn't.

She sat up on the edge of her bed, wide awake. She stared so hard she felt her eyelashes touch the skin beneath her eyebrows. She listened so intently,
she thought she could hear blood whooshing through her own veins.

There. Four hoofbeats, four more, and four more. They struck so close together, they could have come from several horses, not just one.

With one long step, Sam made it to her window in time to see a single horse running along the far bank of the La Charla River.

Was it a paint? Before she knew, the horse vanished upstream. But there'd been a flash of white. Not silver, so it wasn't her stallion. Still, something told Sam to go take a look.

It had run with the smooth, collected gait of a trained horse, but she hadn't recognized it. Even half awake and blinking the sleep from her eyes, Sam knew it wasn't Jake's Shooting Star or one of Mrs. Allen's old mares. Sweetheart was River Bend's only paint, and she lived in town now, being ridden by children as a therapy horse.

Maybe the horse was running with the Phantom's band, Sam thought as she tiptoed down the stairs. Maybe the whole herd was out there and she could just smooch to Hotspot and deliver her to Ryan. But she had to hurry.

Sam didn't change out of the huge T-shirt she'd worn to bed as a nightgown, but she pulled jeans on under it and slipped her feet into a pair of sandals.

She tiptoed down the stairs, hoping the sandals wouldn't slap her heels.

Dad might have heard her anyway. He was an awfully light sleeper, but she didn't hear the bedsprings shift or the floor overhead creak.

Her mind kept replaying those hoofbeats. They'd sounded too close to the ranch to have come from a mustang. The Phantom might wade into the middle of the La Charla, himself, but he didn't allow his herd to cross from the wild side of the river to the banks on the River Bend side.

Sam was almost down the stairs when the grandfather clock's chimes made her gasp and nearly trip.

Keep going
, she told herself.

Four o'clock. It was so late, it was early. She might not have time to go back to sleep after she checked out this horse. Could she make it through a school day on two hours' less sleep than usual?

She'd have to do it. For a chance to see the Phantom, she'd skip sleep for ten nights!

Cougar was nowhere around, but Blaze whined when Sam shut him inside the house. She felt sorry for him, but she didn't take time to apologize. She'd already wasted too much time getting outside.

A hen fluttered in the chicken coop as Sam passed it. A coyote yapped from the ridge as she crossed the ranch yard and noticed the dark shapes of horses watching her from the pasture.

The galloping horse was probably gone by now. She'd spent five stupid minutes getting this far. She should have rushed faster.

Sam had already reached the center of the bridge when she saw she was wrong.

The horse was still there, and it wasn't alone.

The charcoal-gray sky showed a pale orange smear just over the mountains. By the faint light, Sam made out a running horse with white smudges. It was no paint, she realized. It was an Appaloosa. Hotspot.

The young mare galloped with head high, drinking in the scent of dewy sagebrush and dawn. Born to run, she dashed effortlessly along the river, about a half mile in one direction, before wheeling to run back the other way.

Sam searched for the Phantom, but didn't see him.

Still, Hotspot wasn't alone.

Three, no, four horses moved in silhouette beyond the young mare.

They'd come here with Hotspot, but they stood apart from her. They were like fingers and a thumb, she decided. Connected, but while the other four horses pressed together, Hotspot split off alone.

That was how Hotspot had acted when the wild herd had lived at Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary, after the fire. With the Phantom injured and distracted, the wild herd had scattered into small family groups, but Hotspot had hovered between the wild mustangs and those who lived in the sanctuary. Now, she was still unsure of her place.

And the other horses were clearly unsure of her,
too. After all, what did she add to the herd? She had speed, but not sense. She knew how to step primly past irrigation sprinklers or accidentally dropped curry combs, but would she recognize the scent of saddle leather or the crunch of tires on sand as threats?

Probably not, Sam thought, and right then, Hotspot caught sight of her and slid to a stop.

The Appaloosa directed her full attention at Sam. Chocolate ears and nose pointed straight at her. Hotspot swished her tail and began dancing restlessly in place, but her gaze never wavered.

Sam imagined the mare was deciding whether she should stay on the fringes of the herd, or cross over the river and return to civilization and her foal.

If Hotspot was curious and uncertain about Sam, the wild horses weren't. They knew exactly what she represented.

Danger.

Even though they treated Hotspot as an outsider, the other horses swept her into the safety of the herd. But as the others fled toward the mountains, Hotspot veered off again.

The biggest of the four other horses broke away after her. It was hard to tell in the half light, but Sam was pretty sure it was the honey-brown mare, the Phantom's lead mare, that darted after Hotspot, quick as Ace after a naughty calf.

Hotspot refused to go along. She pretended to
obey when the mare flattened her ears, but then she dawdled, making the lead mare backtrack to round her up. When the big mare bumped shoulders with Hotspot, the Appaloosa gave a halfhearted rear.

She just doesn't know the order of things,
Sam was thinking, when she suddenly caught a sound and movement from the corner of her eye. Like a white thundercloud rumbling down from a nook between the foothills, the Phantom descended on the other horses.

One glimpse of the impatient stallion was enough to make the four mares forget about Hotspot. Heads level, tails streaming, three set off instantly to rejoin the rest of the hidden herd. Even the lead mare was willing to leave Hotspot to her punishment.

Trotting and shaking her head, the lead mare seemed to have decided Hotspot deserved what was coming to her.

“What are you thinking?” Sam whispered toward the Appaloosa.

Giddy instead of chastened at the sight of the stallion, Hotspot cantered to meet him.

Head held high, even when he lowered his in a snaking, herding motion, Hotspot greeted him as her buddy instead of her king.

How could she have learned so little in two months?

The Phantom wasn't going to make allowances for her ignorance, either. Even though he knew Sam
presented no threat, she was a human. Hotspot should have fled as she'd been told.

Cavorting out of his path, Hotspot pranced and tossed her mane, showing the stallion he was missing all the fun. Only when his head struck out, openmouthed, and dealt her a hard bite on the rump did Hotspot give an offended squeal of understanding.

With a last glance toward Sam and River Bend Ranch, she wheeled away.

Legs flying in smooth strides, she moved up the hillside like a dark bird. She caught the other mares without even trying, then kept running until she was out of sight.

The Phantom didn't look after the wayward mare. Instead he gazed toward the bridge, toward Sam.

She held her breath.

Come to me, Zanzibar
, she thought, aiming every bit of longing toward him.
C'mon boy, please
.

When was the last time she'd seen the stallion? The last time she'd touched him? She didn't know. The silver stallion, with his drifting mane and steady stare, held her hypnotized. Sam watched with lips parted. She took shallow, silent breaths, so that even that faint sound wouldn't disturb him.

Pale and furious, he rose into a full rear. Soundlessly, his forelegs pawed the air. When he lowered to all fours, he shook his head, scolding Sam too, as if she were responsible for the Appaloosa's defiance.

“Not me,” Sam whispered to the stallion. “If it
were my choice, she'd be safe at home with her baby, not out on the range, making trouble for you.”

With a snort, the stallion settled back on his haunches, then swiveled away from her and the ranch where he'd once lived. He departed at a regal trot, leaving Sam alone in the hazy morning light.

 

War Drum Flats fit like a shallow bowl into the surrounding land. Sparse sage and scattered gray rocks surrounded a small desert lake. It wasn't a lush place to graze, but it was a safe place for a herd to drink its fill, then stand and enjoy cool, watery motion on run-tested legs.

No brush grew tall enough to hide humans, coyotes, or other predators bent on snatching colts, and after seeing the Phantom that morning, Sam didn't really expect to see him again in the afternoon.

Still, she watched the stairstep mesas to the east. They were shaped like stone benches, perfect perches for a sentry stallion watching others drink down below.

Nothing could approach the lake at War Drum Flats in secret.

As Sam rode Ace toward the lake, she yawned, then forced herself to be alert. She knew wild eyes watched her, but she saw no horses, only a flutter of wings as birds rose from the lake's surface to drift away like dozens of paper airplanes.

She wasn't out here to find wild horses, or Ryan.
She was looking for Pam and her mother.

“An old green truck with a brown camper, but we'll have a full base camp set up. You won't be able to miss us,” Pam had said.

Sam glanced at the watch on her right wrist.

It wasn't quite four o'clock on this day that felt like it would never end.

Her predawn encounter with the wild horses had been wonderful, and she'd earned praise from the whole family for starting coffee and breakfast before anyone else was awake.

Standing at the bus stop later, she'd seen Ryan riding out on Sky Ranger. The Thoroughbred's perfectly groomed hide had looked oiled and Ryan had posted to the gelding's trot from an English saddle. Horse and rider looked determined to get the job of finding Hotspot done in a single day.

She could have called out to him and told him what she'd seen, but she knew it wouldn't have helped. In two hours, the horses could have gone anywhere.

Besides, Ryan wouldn't welcome her interference. He only wanted to know the location of the Phantom's secret valley.

Now, Sam shrugged as she rode along. Ryan was determined to show Linc that he could catch his mare on his own. If she'd read Hotspot right, the Appaloosa would be willing to be caught.

Despite her early wakening, Sam's classes had
gone fine and after school, she'd been pleased that Mrs. Coley, Gold Dust Ranch's housekeeper, had suggested Sam ride home with her and Rachel, Ryan's twin, since Sam was taking Jen's homework to Gold Dust Ranch anyway.

Sharing the backseat with a silent Rachel made the trip interminable, but she couldn't help comparing the twins.

Both had sleek coffee-brown hair, but Ryan didn't try to hide the intelligence in his dark eyes. Rachel's eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner, rarely landed on anything long enough for Sam to read their expression.

During the ride home, she'd ignored Sam, passing the time talking on her cell phone until she lost service. She'd dropped the phone on the seat beside her and dug a second, tinier phone from her purse. When that one failed to connect as well, she'd thrown it on the floor near Sam's feet.

“One more year in this primitive, vulgar place may be more than I can stand,” Rachel had snarled.

“Brynna's always losing cell service,” Sam had sympathized. “She thinks the truck radios are more dependable than her government phone.”

Rachel hadn't said a word in return. She'd given Sam a blank, slightly resentful look. The comment was of no interest, Rachel's eyes said, and she begrudged the consumption of air used to make it.

But then, when Sam took out her literature book and began reading her homework assignment, Rachel
had crossed her arms and looked insulted.

When they'd reached Gold Dust Ranch, Rachel had flounced from the car, leaving Sam to thank Mrs. Coley.

“You're welcome, Sam,” Mrs. Coley had said with such appreciation that Sam guessed Rachel—even when she wasn't miffed—didn't show much gratitude. “I talked with your Gram earlier today at a planning meeting for the church harvest dinner, and she said to tell you she'd be along to pick you up—” Mrs. Coley glanced at her watch. “—about now. So, you'd better scurry over to the Kenworthys' place and get your visiting done fast.”

Sam had lingered by the car for a minute, searching the pastures for a sign of Hotspot, but Shy Boots and Princess Kitty grazed alone in their paddock, and Sam was pretty sure that's where Ryan would have put the Appaloosa mare if he'd found her.

Still, Sam had to ask.

“Ryan hasn't come back with Hotspot, has he?” she asked Mrs. Coley.

“I haven't seen him since early this morning. He left before breakfast—just grabbed some granola and an apple, then headed out the door. Linc had plenty to say about Ryan ‘wasting his time' instead of letting BLM bring her in, so Ryan's fighting an uphill battle, but I think this is one he can win.” Mrs. Coley had smiled, then glanced around, making sure no one stood near enough to hear. “I say it's about time he stood up to his father and proved he's a man.”