Gypsy Gold (8 page)

“Silly, keep your nose to yourself,” Jen scolded.

How could Jake have known—from his position on her back—that Witch bared her teeth, ever so slightly, at the palomino? He must have sensed it, because he drew in a breath and the black mare stiffened. For a few seconds, Witch didn't move. Then, she swung her head around to look at her rider.

Jake didn't return her look. He sat loose and balanced in the saddle, reins resting in his left hand while he whispered a low and tuneless whistle.

Finally, Witch stamped a front hoof and stared past Silly as if she weren't there.

Lace's teeth chattered against her snaffle bit.

“I don't know whether she's terrified or applauding,” Nicolas joked.

“Lace is a good girl,” Sam said. “She has nothing to worry about.”

Just then, Ace tossed his head to get rid of a fly, and they laughed at his seeming agreement.

Their good moods lingered as they rode toward River Bend Ranch. Even when the thought popped
into Sam's mind that Linc Slocum could be calling the sheriff right then, she held to Nicolas's theory that when your enemy makes a mistake, it was the best you could hope for.

Sam kept her reins in her steady left hand and crossed the fingers of the right hand that hung free as she rode. With any luck at all, Sheriff Ballard would see this entire situation the same way she did.

“H
e shot Blaze's mate and he didn't even say he was sorry,” Sam told her dad. “And he kept his hand on his rifle like he might have to use it.”

“On who?” Dad interrupted.

Sam took a breath.

They stood just outside River Bend Ranch's round corral. Moos and snorts came from three restless steers inside the pen and she'd just introduced Nicolas to Dad and Dallas, the ranch foreman.

Dad had grabbed onto one detail in her description of what had happened in the clearing with Linc Slocum and he looked angry.

She couldn't help seeing Dad as Nicolas might.

Wyatt Forster was a man of medium height and
weight, but the leather chinks and sweat-streaked shirt he wore while schooling his new horse to work with cattle made him look kind of tough.

Not mean or unfriendly, though. In fact, Dad had dismounted and led Blue outside the round corral as soon as he'd sighted the vardo and the three young riders.

Dad had been holding Blue's reins in his left hand and loosening the fingertips of his right deerskin glove by tugging at them with his teeth when Sam's words sunk in.

Dad always had the solid look of a man who worked hard, but as he drew up, straightening each vertebra and squaring his shoulders, he looked like a man who didn't take kindly to someone threatening his daughter.

“I've had just about enough of this,” Dad muttered to Dallas when Sam didn't answer right away.

Dallas bumped up the brim of his hat and asked Sam, “The unlucky cuss didn't actually pull his gun on you, did he?”

“No, but—”

“He had his hand on his rifle,” Dad repeated.

Ace nudged Sam. Her horse was eager to be stripped out of his tack and released into the ten-acre pasture, but she petted his neck while she replayed the scene with Slocum in her memory. She didn't want Dad to overreact to this one detail since she had worse information to tell him.

“I couldn't read his mind, and I don't even want to,” she said, “but we were the only ones there—just me, Jen, Nicolas, Blaze, and the horses. The coyote was already dead when we got there and we saw him jam his rifle back in his scabbard.” The picture of the female coyote, with her blood-flecked muzzle and lolling tongue floated back to the surface of Sam's memory. “I don't think he could have been afraid she'd get back up, but he kept his hand on his gun.”

Dad's face darkened to a deep red, but he didn't say anything more about Linc. He turned his attention to Jen and Jake. Both straightened in their saddles.

“Since you two are still mounted up, could I ask you to let those steers out and haze 'em back across the bridge? I think me and Blue are finished with that sorta work today.”

Dad patted Blue's damp neck. The Spanish Mustang was colored in the pearly shades of the inside of a seashell, and though he had to be weary, he watched the other horses with interest.

“Sure,” Jake said. He reined Witch over to the fence and unlatched the round pen's gate so quickly, Sam thought he was trying to escape. Jen was right beside him.

Jen and Jake moved the cattle as easily as if Dad had asked them to bring him a glass of water, but Dallas's question brought Jen up short.

“You having coyote problems over at your place?” Dallas asked.

“No.” Jen's eyes followed Jake, but she held her palomino in place for a few seconds.

“Didn't think so,” Dallas said. “Grace—that's Samantha's grandma,” Dallas said, aside, to Nicolas, “has been sayin' she hasn't seen many rabbits in her garden this year. That means the coyotes are eatin' small prey, not calves and such.”

“My dad says Linc's never gonna get the idea that ‘you don't interfere with somethin' that's not botherin' you none.'”

Jen had mimicked Jed to perfection, and she took Dad's and Dallas's smiles as permission to catch up with Jake and ease the cattle onto the bridge over the La Charla River, and on toward the open range.

Sam liked the saying Jen had attributed to her dad, and she agreed that Linc didn't know how to leave well enough alone. In fact, she'd just thought of another example of it.

“Not only that; he halfway accused Nicolas of stealing Lace.”

As soon as she uttered the words, Sam could tell Nicolas wished she hadn't.

“Is that so?” Dad asked Nicolas.

“I don't need his approval or anyone else's,” Nicolas said. “All I need is my horse.”

Dad narrowed his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. He shaded his eyes to watch the old blue truck rumble across the bridge, after the cattle had crossed, but Sam saw Dad's disapproval.

He didn't say anything wrong, Sam thought, but by the way they all stared at the blue truck pulling up at the ranch, she knew she wasn't the only one feeling uneasy.

Pepper braked to a stop, got out, and walked to the truck bed. He'd just returned from Phil's Fill-Up in Alkali, judging by the gunnysacks of chicken feed each of his arms were curled around. They had to be heavy, but he sidetracked from going straight to the barn when he set his eyes on Lace.

“I'll see to her, if you like,” Pepper said, setting down the feed.

Pepper had only looked this smitten once before. Then, he'd been looking at the actress Violette Lee. In Sam's opinion, Lace deserved his attention about a hundred times more.

“Thanks, but I'll take care of her,” Nicolas said. “We're only stopping for a little while.”

Although Sam had encouraged Nicolas to drive on, before, now she wanted him to stay. He and Dad had gotten off on the wrong foot. For some reason, she wanted them both to have the chance to change that.

“Don't go,” Sam said. “Gram will be here in a minute, and then we'll eat.”

Nicolas looked down as if fascinated by the reins in his hands. His face flushed as red as Dad's had just a minute ago.

“Really, I should be going.”

“You're welcome to stay.” Dad's invitation had a hint of apology in it. Nicolas looked up and his eyebrow didn't quirk in skepticism.

“It's my understandin' there'll be chicken-fried steak, mashed potatoes, and peach pie with vanilla ice cream,” Dad added.

Nicolas gave a disbelieving chuckle, then accepted Dad's invitation with a nod.

“You can take your wagon 'round back of the barn and leave it. Then, unharness your horse, maybe bring her back up here for some water, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Nicolas said, then smiled at Pepper, who showed no sign of moving away from the big mare.

“She's sure a good-lookin' horse,” Pepper said.

As he moved closer, the dun colt ducked behind the wagon, but Lace was as drawn to Pepper as he was to her. Pressing her face against the young cowboy's chest, the Gypsy Vanner inhaled his scent as if recognizing an old friend. Next, she rubbed her forehead against his collar bone with such enthusiasm, he stumbled back a step.

“She's like a big dog,” Pepper said. “She's a little heavy for a cow horse, but once you got a rope on a steer, I don't think he'd be goin' anywhere.”

For an instant, his eyes left Lace and flicked to Dallas, but when Lace widened her exploration to tug the hem of his shirt free of his jeans, Pepper laughed and forgot about the other people.

Pepper had to reach high to do it, but he scratched Lace's crest and the mare's white-lashed eyelids drooped with pleasure.

“And, hey, we have the same color hair in places,” he said.

As he lifted the white strip of Lace's mane, Sam wondered why she hadn't noticed its pinkish tips before.

“What's that?” Sam asked, since it clearly wasn't natural.

“Chili powder,” Nicolas said. “The colt kept chewing on her mane and she wouldn't make him stop. So I had to. He was pulling out big hunks of it. See how that part's shorter? So, I made up a watery chili powder solution and combed it through her mane. The next time he took a nip, he didn't like it so much.”

“She throw that colt?” Pepper asked Nicolas.

“No, he's an orphan she took on,” Nicolas said. “You want him?”

No one took him seriously, but Sam thought Nicolas might really be looking for a good home for the tagalong colt, since he was worried about its safety.

“Blue sure seems to have taken a shine to him,” Dallas chuckled as the Spanish Mustang pulled to the end of his reins to touch noses with the dun colt.

“Look at them,” Dad said. His tone was low as Blue sniffed the colt's long forelock, then the black
mark that crossed the dorsal stripe at his withers.

The colt stood statue-still, out of respect for Blue, until Nicolas clucked for Lace to listen up. When he drove her in the direction of the barn, the colt looked torn. Should he stay with Blue or follow his surrogate mother?

He pawed up a clump of dirt and for the first time, Sam really studied the colt. His color reminded her of a crumpled brown paper bag smoothed out, with black lines showing where it had been creased. His spine, shoulders, and knees showed some of those lines, faint as if they'd been inked on with a fountain pen. His face might have some thread-thin lines, too, but the colt didn't give her long to look. With a teeter-totter buck, he ran after Lace.

Sam was so busy watching him and wondering how the colt had ended up alone that she missed the change in conversation until Dad drew her back into it.

“So, you're convinced the coyote Linc missed is actually Blaze's whelp?” Dad asked as the Border collie walked away from them and crawled into his favorite den, the space under the bunkhouse step.

“Yes,” Sam said. “Should we go after him?”

“I don't know about that,” Dad said, looking startled.

Oh no.

Sam busied herself with Ace's cinch. She had to look away from Dad.

Pulling the end of the cinch loose, she tugged
upward until the tongue of the buckle flopped free and Ace sighed.

I don't know about that.
Couldn't Dad see they had to ride out with Blaze, find his son, and bring him back to River Bend? Dad looked as if she'd suggested something bizarre.

“I don't know a whole lot about coydogs,” Dad admitted. “Brynna might. Or someone at the university. I'm thinking it's a bad mix. Could inherit a coyote's dislike of humans without their fear, since his daddy's a dog. Besides, we've got one good dog.”

Sam bit the inside of her cheek to keep from talking back. This wasn't the time to squabble with Dad, but she knew a ranch could use more than one watchdog. As for the coydog's attitude, she'd work with the pup, helping him become as alert and faithful as his father.

Sam had the feeling Jen and Jake might have backed her up on this, but when she looked around for them, it was clear they wouldn't be much help.

Jen and Jake sat their horses, way across the ranch yard, pretending they were guarding the bridge against the steers' return. They weren't, though. Sam knew they felt the uneasiness quaking between her and Dad and they wanted to stay out of range.

But her friends weren't quite uncomfortable enough to ride on home, Sam thought with a mocking smile. Nope, they knew it was about time for Gram
and Brynna to come home from church. They were determined to stay for lunch, and they hadn't even heard about the peach pie yet.

As Sam watched, Jen took off her cream-colored Stetson and twirled it on one finger. That looked like a small celebration and it could only mean they'd spotted the Forsters' only car coming this way.

Yep.
Sam heard the hum of the yellow Buick, and Jen and Jake were backing their horses away from the bridge.

Gram had barely parked the car when Brynna slid out of the passenger's seat and started toward Dad.

Brynna wore an electric-blue maternity sundress that showed off her tanned arms and legs. Sam thought she saw her stepmother stuffing half of a candy bar into a patch pocket shaped like a white daisy.

“You'll never guess who was in church,” Brynna said. “It's a wonder we weren't all killed by a bolt from above.”

“Now Brynna,” Gram said, laughing in a way that clearly supported her daughter-in-law's sarcasm instead of discouraging it.

“Couldn't have been Slocum,” Dallas said. “He was out shooting coyotes.”

Brynna frowned and Gram flashed Dallas a scolding look before she hustled past toward the kitchen.

“Dinner'll be in twenty minutes,” she snapped.

Brynna's mood might have been a little restrained by Dallas's comment, but she still slung both arms around Dad's neck and gave him a hug.

“I'm all sweaty,” he protested.

“I noticed,” Brynna said, kissing his cheek. “I just don't care.”

“I'm gonna leave you two lovebirds alone,” Dallas said. He shook his head before moving off. “And I'll look Blaze over if he'll let me.”

“Me too,” Sam said. Sometimes she wondered if Brynna got all mushy with Dad so that other people would get embarrassed and give them some privacy.

“No,” Brynna said, “don't go, Sam. You'll want to hear this. Well, actually you won't want to, but—” Brynna gave a deep sigh. “You need to.”

Then it had to be about wild horses, Sam thought. Brynna didn't believe in hiding the hard facts of mustang management from her stepdaughter, no matter how unpleasant they were.

“Spit it out,” Dad said. “You're worryin' me.”

“I knew he was coming,” Brynna said to Dad. “I just didn't know it would be this soon.”

“Aw, shoot,” Dad said. He swept his hat off and slapped it against his chinks. “Already?”

Dad seemed to know exactly which “he” Brynna was talking about, but Sam didn't.

“Who's here?” Sam asked.

Brynna reached up and tightened the ponytail
that took the place of her sensible weekday French braid.

“Norman White will substitute as manager of BLM's Willow Springs Wild Horse Center while I'm on maternity leave,” Brynna said. “And for some reason, he's shown up early.”