Golden Ghost (6 page)

Today, the land of make-believe was a wonderful place to be, and Sam never wanted to leave.

W
hen Sam's lungs began to burn and her legs turned wobbly, she slowed, and the horses began drifting away.

She leaned against the corral gate, watching them go. Amigo and Strawberry returned to the far end of the pasture, Popcorn trailing a few steps behind them. Buff snorted and stamped a front hoof, and Sam wondered if he was thanking her for the workout.

Only Dark Sunshine lingered. She faced the house, pretending interest, while one ear swiveled to hear Sam catch her breath.

When Sam's breathing had returned to normal, the mare was still there.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Sam called.

The buckskin swished her glossy black tail, gave a little buck, and then trotted off to join the others.

She's happy, Sam thought. Although the mare had been neglected by her first owner and abused by her second, she was settling in at River Bend.

Suddenly Sam knew it wasn't wishful thinking to imagine Dark Sunshine's foal with the Phantom might grow to be hers. Really hers.

Sam pressed her hands over her lips to keep from yipping in delight and scaring the young mare.

If only she could stroke Dark Sunshine and speak to the colt or filly inside her, it might be like it was with human babies. In a TV documentary, she'd seen newborn babies turning away from the voices of doctors and nurses to focus on the voices they knew—those of their parents.

Even if that day was far off, Dark Sunshine had trusted Sam enough to dawdle behind the other horses. That was progress.

Sam had latched the gate behind her and she was heading for the house when Dad's truck bumped over the bridge. A glimpse of red hair told her Pepper was driving. The young River Bend cowboy braked to a stop. Both he and Ross got out. Ross slammed the door and headed for the barn, while Pepper just stood there.

He wore a heavy gray coat over a couple of other layers of clothes. Sam knew he hated the cold, but she thought something more than that hampered his movements as he approached.

“Hey Sam,” he said. His boots scuffed as if he
were dragging them to slow him down, and though his voice was cheerful, his mouth looked tight with worry. He watched the ground as he walked and his hat brim hid his eyes.

“Hey, Pepper,” she replied.

He stopped and nodded for no apparent reason. “When's Brynna comin' home? Do you know?”

According to Sam's watch, it was already three o'clock, but Brynna had left late. Besides, she didn't know Brynna's working hours yet.

“I don't,” she said. “It's her first day back at Willow Springs, and she thought there might be a lot of work stacked up.”

Sam couldn't imagine there was something Brynna could handle and Dad couldn't.

Unless it was about mustangs.

Sam had to ask. “Is it something to do with wild horses?”

Pepper exhaled. He sounded like a weary old man.

“Well, yeah,” he said. “Don't take this to heart, but I found a dead one.”

Sam's head spun.

Not the Phantom, please don't let it be him
. But then she thought of Moon, the Phantom's night-black son. And a pair of blood bays that had run with the herd since the beginning of last summer, too. She'd grieve for any dead horse.

“Do you think we should call Brynna or wait for her?” Pepper asked.

Sam couldn't focus on Brynna until she knew more.

“Which one is it?” Sam managed.

On purpose, she called the horse it, not him. And Pepper hadn't spoken, so maybe the horse was unfamiliar.

Maybe it wasn't a mustang at all. Suddenly irritated by Pepper's cowboy habit of deliberating before he spoke, she demanded, “What does it look like?”

“It's not the Phantom. That's for sure. Or that young black you took a fancy to.”

A sigh of relief rocked Sam.

“It's a paint mare, red-brown spotted,” Pepper said. He made a wide gesture over one side of his chest, showing how the horse was marked. “A young horse, probably has—uh, had, some draft blood.”

The description sounded familiar, but it wasn't one of the pintos belonging to Mrs. Allen, the lady who owned the Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary. Neither Calico nor Ginger could be mistaken for young animals.

“Died between here and Three Ponies Ranch. Jake found her, saw me and Ross comin' by, and flagged us down. Thought Brynna should be told.”

That almost guaranteed the horse was a mustang. Jake had a phenomenal memory and a great eye for detail. If the horse had belonged to a neighboring ranch, he would have recognized it. And he was right, since Brynna worked for the Bureau of Land
Management, the government agency charged with keeping an eye on all wild horses, she should be notified.

“He thinks she died of something bad,” Pepper added. “Illness or something.”

Sam was so startled, her shoulders jerked.

Illness? When Linc Slocum hatched a plan to build a resort, a super dude ranch, he'd tried to create a Western mood by putting out hay along the highway, baiting wild horses so that out-of-town investors would admire them.

Even though he'd been arrested and punished for the illegal activity, Sam had assumed a mustang had come along looking for hay, and been struck by a car. Horses didn't always look both ways before crossing a street. Especially wild horses.

The thought of illness, on the other hand, made chills race down Sam's arms. Because they lived in close communities, disease was always a threat to mustangs.

Suddenly, she remembered the horse Pepper had described.

“I hope I'm wrong,” Sam said. “But last week, when I saw the Phantom's herd, he had a new lead mare. A red-brown paint.” Sam swallowed hard. She didn't want to ask the next question. “Did this horse have a flaxen mane and tail?”

Pepper stood quietly, but not from uncertainty. He frowned and kicked his boot toe in the dirt.

He nodded. “Yep.”

So the mare had been with the Phantom's band, just days ago.

If it was something contagious…if it was deadly…Sam's mind swam with awful possibilities. Not only could disease wipe out Phantom's herd, it could infect domestic horses who'd been around them. Ace. Witch. Chocolate Chip, Quinn Ely's gelding. Queen, the red dun who'd once been the Phantom's lead mare.

Sam was so involved with thinking of domestic horses that might be in danger, she didn't notice Dad until he stood beside her.

“What kinda nightmares are you giving yourself now?” he asked.

Sam shook her head. Why should she pile her misgivings on Dad? He had little affection for the wild horses who competed with the cattle for grass. After all, cattle supported the River Bend Ranch.

“You're afraid this is one of the Phantom's band. Am I right?” He paused until Sam nodded. “We won't bury the mare until Brynna takes a look, but I'm gonna drive out and make sure she wasn't killed by that cougar. Do you want to ride out there with me?”

It was a gruesome offer, but Sam appreciated it. Dad must have stopped thinking of her as a little kid.

Of course she didn't
want
to go. She didn't want to see any dead horse, but she had to know if a disease could be spreading through the Phantom's herd.

“I'll go,” Sam said. “I think I should.”

 

Sam had no appetite for dinner that night. Her mind couldn't erase the image of the big paint mare, who'd been fierce and bossy just days ago, now dead.

“Sorry, Gram,” she said. “The chicken looks good and it smells incredible, but I don't seem to be hungry.”

Dad and Brynna were doing a better job of appreciating Gram's spicy Southwestern dinner.

“I'll have Sam's share,” Dad said.

Then Brynna chimed in. “This is wonderful, Grace. Whoever thought of combining chili peppers and chocolate was a genius. What did you say this sauce is called again?”

“
Mole
,” Gram said. “Like olé, but you add an
m
on the front.”

Good manners won out over emotions when you were an adult, Sam supposed. Although none of them discussed the dead horse at the dinner table, Sam knew they were all thinking about her.

Dr. Scott had met Brynna, Dad, Sam, and Jake at the scene of the mare's death. He said he was unable to state a cause of death without further study.

They'd have to wait to learn if Phantom and his band had been exposed to danger.

They finished the meal in silence, but no one left the table.

“How did the study session with Jake go?” Brynna asked, finally.

“Fine,” Sam said, looking down at her plate. “I'm
not as hopeless as he thought I'd be.”

“Good,” Brynna said. “And how's your room?”

“My room?” Sam made a mental tour of her bedroom. “It's the same as always.”

“Hmm,” Brynna's tone was puzzled. “I thought that since you're on vacation, you might have a little time to clean up your room.”

Va-ca-tion.
Mentally, Sam sounded the word out and defined it for Brynna. Days off weren't meant for dusting and folding and picking up.

“Maybe I'll come up tonight after dinner and give you some suggestions,” Brynna offered.

“Uh, no. That's okay,” Sam said.

“Well then…” Brynna's voice trailed off. She leaned back in her chair, surveyed the kitchen, then perked up. “Since Sam wants to clean her room alone after dinner—”

“Wait,” Sam said. “I didn't say—”

“—I'll help you clean the kitchen, Grace. How would that be?”

To judge by her expression, Gram was no more thrilled by Brynna's offer of help than Sam had been, but she was more polite.

“There's not much to do, dear,” Gram said. Then she shot a quick glance at Dad and turned back to Brynna with a smile. “But thank you. I'd love some company.”

“Great,” Brynna said. “I'll just go upstairs and change out of my uniform. I'll be right back.”

As Brynna sprinted up the stairs, Dad spread his hands wide. His sheepish smile included Sam and Gram.

“I think she's just figuring out where she fits in,” he said.

“That's to be expected,” Gram said.

After Gram was so generous, Sam couldn't very well complain. Still, math and room cleaning were two things she hated. Brynna had insisted she review math every day and now she had to clean her room, too.

Sam tried to be understanding. Her life at River Bend hadn't changed that much. It was still home. Brynna, on the other hand, had left a cozy apartment, where she could do whatever she wanted, any time of the day or night. Now, she was surrounded by people and she had to consider what they thought and wanted every minute she was home.

Sam crossed her arms and cinched them tight against her body. She'd be nice, but she was drawing the line now. Extra algebra and after-dinner housework were the limit. The best she could do was keep quiet. She would, but only because Brynna loved mustangs.

 

An hour later, Sam had dusted the shelves that held her collection of glass horses. That didn't take long, but arranging the horses into little herds and family groups did. Next, she made her bed so that all of the blankets were on top of the mattress instead of
draped across the floor. After that, she stacked her horse magazines inside a big plastic box that Gram had bought to fit under her bed.

Now, Sam stood with her hands on her hips, wondering what else would fit in that box and slide out of sight. Stray socks didn't seem like a good choice, but they were the only things she could see that would fit.

The telephone's ring sounded downstairs in the kitchen. When Gram called up that it was Jen, Sam felt rescued. Besides, Jen was probably the only one who'd understand how she felt about the mare's death.

She was also relieved to see that Gram, Dad, and Brynna were in the living room, watching a special on television. That meant she'd have some privacy while she talked with Jen.

“Hi,” she began. “I'm so scared for the Phantom! One of the mares that's been running with his herd was found dead. She might have had a contagious disease—”

Jen didn't gasp. She didn't ask why. She didn't even seem to hear.

“I got my parents talking about Golden Rose,” Jen said. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, so Sam guessed Jed and Lila were nearby. “It was actually the most the two of them have talked together for weeks.”

“That's great,” Sam said. Her news could wait,
she guessed, but Jen shouldn't have just ignored it.

“Yeah, they said one of the things that made her unusual was a ‘double mane factor' in her breeding. She was supposed to have a big bushy mane and a full tail. Lots fuller than most light-colored horses, 'cause, you know, a lot of them have sort of wispy-thin manes and tails.”

“Cool,” Sam said. And it was, but didn't Jen care about the Phantom?

“You know how Sundance is a sort of orange-gold palomino? Mom and Dad planned to breed a fancy style of palomino they'd call Fire and Ice. Get it? The body would be flame colored and the mane silvery white like ice.”

“That sounds great. I bet it would have attracted a lot of people. And with that double-mane factor—”

“Right. But I didn't tell them I've found her, not yet. What I want to do is catch her and just lead her in. Surprise them, you know?”

“Did you get any hints on how to tell if it's really her? I mean, it probably is, because we would have heard if anyone else was missing a horse—”

“Not just any horse—”

“But she could be a mustang.”

“You must be joking.” Jen's tone was scornful. “Did you see her conformation? Remember, we're talking about centuries of careful matches, not random crossbreeding like horses on the range. And when she peered around the corner of that building
at us? She looked really smart.”

Sam realized her fingers had curled tighter and tighter around the telephone receiver. Not only had Jen ignored Sam's awful news, she'd just insulted the conformation, good looks, and intelligence of wild horses.