Heartbreak Bronco (10 page)

“And she's throwin' it away.” Sheriff Ballard shook his head. He gave Brynna a sort of salute before turning toward his vehicle. As he did, he caught Sam's eye and his official demeanor changed.

“Samantha, how's that grulla doin'?”

“Great!” she answered.

“He has a few rough edges,” Brynna corrected. “But he's still here.”

“Had a chance to see if he's as fast as that cowboy said?” Sheriff Ballard asked.

“Faster.” Brynna's voice had a teasing edge as she motioned the sheriff to walk toward the round pen.

Yes
, Sam thought. If HARP wouldn't buy Jinx for the program, maybe Sheriff Ballard would. That would keep Clara from putting him in the claiming race, and the horse would have a good home.

And she'd still get to see him sometimes.

Sam's excitement was bubbling up when hooves clattered on the bridge.

It was Dad. He rode Jeepers-Creepers, their only Appaloosa, into the ranch yard. The horse was wet and wild-eyed and Dad didn't look happy.

D
ad slowed Jeepers to a jog, but he didn't stop the Appaloosa until he was within a few feet of them.

“Somethin' goin' on?” he asked, swinging down from the snorting horse.

“We're all fine,” Brynna assured him. “Crystal ran away, but Jake caught her before she got very far.”

Dad's shoulders sank about two inches. He'd been worried, Sam realized.

“We were bringing in strays when I saw the black and white,” Dad nodded toward the sheriff's vehicle. “Thought there mighta been an accident.”

“Me showin' up has that effect on people,” Sheriff Ballard said. “But everything's okay. Those two girls
could use a watchful eye, though.”

“And it's only Tuesday,” Brynna said with a sigh.

“You rethinkin' your enthusiasm for this project?” Dad asked.

Brynna shook her head so hard her braid whipped over her shoulder and swung partway around her neck.

“Absolutely not.” Brynna's hands perched on her hips and she lifted her chin to meet Dad's gaze. “It will be worth it.”

Their stare-off lasted until Sheriff Ballard broke it up. “We were just talking about that grulla horse of Clara's.”

“Better get your bid in on that claiming race,” Dad suggested. “You used to ride rodeo. He couldn't show you any tricks you haven't already seen.”

Sam drew a deep breath. Dad hadn't seen Jinx's spectacular balk. Still, if Sheriff Ballard had been a rodeo rider, he'd know what to do.

“It's tempting,” Sheriff Ballard said, watching Jinx touch noses with Blaze through the round pen's fence rails.

“And you've got about an acre and a half out at your place, don't you?” Brynna asked.

“Thing is, I'd want him for Search and Rescue. He'd have to be smart, and okay around tracking dogs. He'd need to be surefooted on all terrain and willing to try new things. If he gets scared, he can't
bolt. Standing still is the required response.”

Sam laughed as she recalled the gelding's four-poster balk when he feared moving into a gallop.

“No problem,” she said. Jake and Brynna smiled, too.

“Am I missing something?” Dad's tone said he didn't like being left out.

“Jinx gets a little balky when you ask him to run,” Brynna said. “Our theory is, he had a novice rider who was afraid to gallop.”

“I think he—or she—jerked Jinx up hard and maybe even hurt his mouth,” Sam added. “Now, he's not sure what to do when you ask him to run.”

“You've been riding him?” Dad asked.

Something in Dad's tone made Sam careful. Ever since her accident, he'd worried she'd have another one.

“Yes,” Sam answered, then braced herself.

When Dad only nodded and said, “Sounds like you might be on the right track,” Sam was amazed.

“I'm going to get on my way and leave you folks to your business.” Sheriff Ballard nodded toward the house, confirming Sam's guess that the girls were inside with Gram. “Don't hesitate to call if you need anything else.”

Sheriff Ballard left in a chorus of “thank yous” and Jake drove after him, heading for town. After he dropped off his insurance paperwork, he and his buddy Darrell planned to repair the dent in Mrs. Ely's car.

“Guess I'll switch horses, then go back out and help the boys settle those steers,” Dad said. He was rubbing the back of his neck as he often did when he felt awkward or uneasy.

“Is something wrong, Dad?” Sam asked.

“Honey, my heart froze when I saw the sheriff's car speeding down the highway, headed for my home,” Dad said, looking a little embarrassed. “Nothing could have stopped me from coming to check on my family.”

A lump formed in Sam's throat, making it hard to swallow. Dad didn't talk about feelings much. It touched her when he did.

She and Brynna hugged Dad harder than usual, then went into the kitchen.

Sam expected dead silence and a feeling that punishment was about to descend.

Instead, she saw Amelia eating a sundae. Scoops of vanilla ice cream drizzled with chocolate were mounded in a clear glass dish.

“Hey,” Sam said. “What did I miss?”

“Turning in your homework,” Gram said.

“I put it somewhere,” Sam said, looking around the kitchen. It seemed like it had been a long time since she'd walked in with it at five thirty this morning.

“I suppose, if you and Crystal can write down the correct answers, that would count.”

“Great,” Sam said, reaching for the pad of paper Gram kept by the telephone.

“Give me one, too,” Crystal said, then added, “Please.”

“Oh, let's make it an oral test,” Gram said. “Crystal, what was Jinx's birth year?”

Crystal swallowed audibly, then managed, “1998?”

“Absolutely,” Gram said. “And Sam, his home state?”

“Nevada,” Sam said.

“You're both right,” Gram said, and then lavished Sam's sundae with chocolate and nuts and Crystal's with butterscotch and marshmallow creme.

Amelia licked her spoon, then looked at Sam with a sheepish smile.

“Grace is going to tell us a story. You know, like when you're a little kid and your teacher read to you after lunch.” Amelia shrugged as if she was more excited than she thought she should be.

This whole morning was getting weirder by the second, Sam thought. It was odd, hearing Amelia call Gram by her first name, but Gram must have given her permission. It was even stranger that the girls were getting stories and sundaes when they'd messed up so badly.

What had happened to the consequences that came down on her when she made mistakes? Sam shot Brynna a questioning look but didn't ask. Yet.

“We were talking about Jinx,” Gram explained, “and I thought of a story that might apply to that
grulla visitor of ours. It's supposed to be taken from a Chinese folktale.”

“A Chinese folktale and a Nevada mustang. This, I've got to hear.” Brynna pulled out a chair and settled in.

“Once, a farmer had a horse,” Gram began. “He used it for everything—riding, plowing, entertaining his children—and then one day, his horse ran away. All his neighbors pitied his bad luck, but the farmer asked, ‘How do you know it's not really good luck?'

“Of course, his neighbors thought he was just making the best of a bad situation, but sure enough, two days later, the farmer's horse returned. Running alongside him was a beautiful, spirited mare.

“The farmer's neighbors congratulated him on his good luck, but the farmer looked over each shoulder, appearing worried. ‘How do you know it's good luck?'

“The farmer was right to ask, because two days later, the farmer's son was riding the new mare when she bucked, threw him off, and he broke his leg.”

Gram paused, looking preoccupied for a minute. Sam almost laughed. She knew Gram used this stalling technique to build suspense.

“Yeah, so then what?” Crystal asked.

“Of course, all of the farmer's neighbors commiserated. How sad, they said, that the farmer would have to do all his work alone, since his son had the bad luck to break his leg. Although the farmer felt sorry
for his son, he waited to see what would come of this apparent misfortune.

“Sure enough, good luck came, once more, out of bad. Two weeks later, all the young men of the village were ordered to join the emperor's army. All of them, that is, except for the farmer's son. Because he had a broken leg, he didn't have to go.” Gram took a breath and looked at the four of them. “The end.”

“So, what does it mean?” Crystal said.

“It's philosophical,” Amelia said, seriously.

Crystal looked at her as if she were nuts. For the first time, Sam found herself agreeing with Crystal. Even though she earned A's in English and usually understood the themes of stories, she wasn't sure what Amelia meant by “philosophical.”

“I'd guess it's just an observation on how often what seems like bad luck, turns out to be good luck,” Brynna mused. “And vice versa, of course.”

Sam decided she'd have to think about the story. She had a feeling there was some truth in it.

“That's too deep for me,” Crystal said.

“I'll give you an example,” Brynna said. Her head tilted to one side and her eyes sparkled.

Uh-oh, Sam thought, Crystal had better watch out. Maybe she wouldn't have to ask Brynna about those consequences after all.

“All morning, I've been thinking what bad luck it was that Sam didn't wake up when you were sneaking out of the bunkhouse—” Brynna began.

“And now you think it's bad luck that I'm back, right?” Crystal said.

“Of course not,” Brynna said. “I'm thinking it's good luck that I have to punish you, because now that mountain of firewood behind the barn will get restacked.”

“By me?” Crystal asked. She looked at her hands as if they were already dirty and pricked with slivers.

“By you and Amelia,” Brynna amended.

“But I didn't do anything!” Amelia gasped as Crystal sat back with a surprised laugh.

“Exactly! Sometimes
doing something
is required.”

Brynna stood and headed outside.

Amelia trailed after her, still protesting. “But I didn't make her sneak out and go hitchhiking.”

Crystal rushed after them, too, probably hoping she wouldn't lose Amelia's help. Sam followed closely, fingers crossed that there'd be no part for her in Brynna's plan.

“No, Amelia, you didn't make Crystal go,” Brynna agreed. “But you didn't try to stop her. If she'd been hit by a car as she stood out there on the highway, wouldn't you have felt guilty?”

“I guess,” Amelia said.

“You guess? Gee thanks,” Crystal snapped.

“So,” Brynna said. “Because actions have consequences, you got ice cream for doing your homework. Because you made a big mistake, after we've worked the horses and had lunch, you two will stack firewood.”

“I don't know how,” Amelia complained.

“Sam will be glad to explain,” Brynna said.

Sam waited a second, hoping there was no more to Brynna's request. Then, she recited the directions Dad had given her whenever they'd stacked firewood together.

“You're supposed to stack it so that a mouse can run through, but a cat can't follow,” Sam told them.

Brynna flashed her a smile, but Amelia stayed quiet and Crystal asked, in a surly tone, “How hard can that be?”

 

As the sun rose higher and the morning grew warmer, Amelia and Crystal reviewed what they'd learned of haltering and grooming horses.

When Brynna instructed them on how to saddle and bridle Popcorn and Jinx, Amelia was in heaven.

She eased the bit into Jinx's mouth and bent his silky ears so that she could settle the leather headstall behind them.

When she finished, the grulla rubbed his forehead on Amelia's shirt so hard, she staggered back a step, but she took the gesture as a pledge of friendship.

“We're going to be such a good team,” Amelia leaned against Jinx, one arm slung over his neck. “Sam, he doesn't think he can do anything right, so he's afraid to try. But I know just how he feels, and he can tell.”

“You know just how he feels?” Sam repeated.

Amelia's mouth opened and her eyebrows rose, as if she were surprised by her own honesty. Then she stroked Jinx's shoulder and explained.

“My older sister Mandy is perfect. Straight A's, an incredible gymnast, and she not only plays the cello, she writes her own music!”

“That's amazing,” Sam said.

“That's what everybody says,” Amelia replied. “The worst part is that most of my teachers have had Mandy, too. Some of them even slip and call me Mandy. I hate that, because they expect…” Amelia's voice trailed off and she shook her head before continuing.

“Anyway, we're good at different things, but no one sees that. Not my parents or my teachers. They expect me to screw up. So why should I even try?”

Sam didn't know how to answer, but she'd bet the perfect Mandy didn't love horses.

“Have your parents ever seen you ride?” Sam asked.

Amelia looked startled, as if Sam had uncovered a secret. “I don't think it would make any difference.”

“I bet it would,” Sam said. “Mikki, the girl who piloted our HARP program, couldn't believe how excited her mother was when she saw her ride Popcorn. Maybe your parents can come watch you ride on Friday.”

“They won't fly in from New Mexico,” Amelia said. “Besides, my dad thinks doing anything I want
him to do is, like, giving in to me. He says I've got to earn their trust back.”

Sam thought for a moment. Amelia had probably deserved her punishment, but her dad would have to be awfully hard-hearted not to let her be around horses again once he saw how much she loved them.

“I have an idea,” Sam said. “I'll take some pictures of you with Jinx, and you can take them home with you.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said in a distracted voice. “I guess that might work.”

 

After lunch Sam supervised the stacking of firewood.

“Wear these,” she said, handing scarred leather gloves to the girls. “And don't grab anything you can't see.”

“Oh goody, more snake stories,” Crystal said.

Sam ignored the girl's taunt. “Dad and Ross checked the woodpile yesterday, but snakes like shady places where they think they'll find mice to eat.”

They'd already begun stacking the wood when Brynna showed up with an empty feed sack.

“What's in there?” Sam asked.

“Nothing yet, but I've been noticing that there are an awful lot of nails scattered around the ranch yard. It's a miracle no one's had a flat tire.”

It made sense, Sam thought. Last fall there'd been a fire. Many boards had burned completely and only
nails had been left from the bunkhouse and parts of the barn which had had to be rebuilt.