Heartbreak Bronco (2 page)

“H
owdy, Jake,” Dad drawled.

“Wyatt.”

Jake only said Dad's name, but it sounded like an apology.

Jake stared at the spot where the green fender pressed against the blue one. He'd driven his mom's car into Dad's and not only was Dad his closest neighbor, he was often his boss.

Sam felt sorry for Jake, but someone needed to go after Jinx. Why were they all just standing here?

Even Clara. Though the grulla belonged to her, she seemed more interested in the accident.

“You tried to miss the horse,” Dad guessed.

“Yeah. I would have if he hadn't shied. Still.”
Jake sighed. “Maybe we should call the sheriff.”

Sam gritted her teeth to keep from shouting that Jinx could be lost by then.

Sheriff Ballard would have to drive all the way from Darton. That would take at least half an hour.

“I know calling the sheriff is the right thing to do,” Sam said. Jake glanced up as if he were just seeing her for the first time. “But Jinx is running down the highway, alone. You missed him, Jake, but someone else might not.”

“Jinx,” Jake echoed. One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Who's he belong to?”

“Me,” Clara said. Her hands moved toward her tied apron strings, as if to take it off, but then she shook her head. “Maybe there's something to what that cowboy said, after all. Maybe that gelding earned his name, fair and square.”

That was ridiculous, but Sam didn't want to get in trouble for correcting Clara, so she didn't say so.

“Someone still needs to go after him,” she insisted.

“You're right,” Clara agreed. “He's my responsibility. I can't have him running loose.” Clara turned to Dad. “It's kind of adding insult to injury, and I hate to ask, Wyatt, but since you have that empty horse trailer, if your truck isn't hurt too bad…”

“It's just a dent,” Dad said.

Thumb through one belt loop, he looked unconcerned, as if he didn't care that there was no extra money to fix his truck.

“If I'd turned the other direction, I mighta missed the truck
and
the horse,” Jake said slowly. Sam could tell he was replaying the accident to figure out what he'd done wrong.

“Don't fret over it,” Dad said.

Sam shifted from foot to foot. They had to hurry.

The accident couldn't be undone. Whoever was at fault would still be at fault later, but Jinx was galloping away. Now he was just a blur in the middle of the highway.

The desert looked flat, but it had dips and rises. Any minute, a car could crest a hill and the speeding driver would barely have time to see Jinx right in front of him.

“I'll stay here and wait for the sheriff. It's just a formality anyway,” Dad said. He took the truck keys from his pocket. “You and Sam go get Clara's horse.”

Jake's jaw was set hard. Sam couldn't tell what he was thinking as he took the keys. Jake didn't thank Dad for trusting him in spite of the crash. He just nodded.

And Dad didn't tell Jake to hurry. Even though Brynna was probably standing in the airport welcoming the HARP girls to Nevada right now and Dad wanted to be on his way home, helping a neighbor was more important.

“Jake, want me to call your mom?” Dad asked.

Jake swallowed so loudly that Sam heard him.

“I'd better do it,” Jake said.

“You're a brave kid,” Clara said. “Maxine sure likes that little Honda.”

“I'll call when we get back,” Jake said. Then, he moved toward the truck and Sam knew he was ready to go. She hurried to climb into her usual seat on the passenger's side.

“There's ropes and whatnot in there,” Dad called after them. Jake waved out the window as the engine roared to life.

 

Jinx shone like steel under the summer sun.

“How should we do it, do you think?” Sam asked.

She looked sideways at Jake. She could tell he'd pushed the accident to the back of his mind. He was trying to think like a horse.

Jake drove at half speed, hanging back so he wouldn't spook Jinx. Not that they could sneak up on him while they were dragging the trailer.

Jake stayed alert for other traffic, but he appeared to be reading the gelding's body language.

“It's almost like he knows where he's goin',” Jake said, then his eyes narrowed. “Wish I coulda seen him clearly before this. Did you?”

If Jake was looking for a hint of the horse's temperament, Sam knew she'd be no help.

“No. We were having lunch and Clara was telling us she'd swapped a piece of pineapple upside-down cake for a horse.”

The truck slowed suddenly. At first, Sam thought
Jake's foot had come off the accelerator in surprise. Then, she noticed he was steering off the right shoulder of the road.

Ahead, Jinx slackened his pace. He meandered from one side of the white line to the other. He moved at a rapid trot, ears flicking from side to side.

“He mighta lost his way,” Jake said. “We can haze him off the road.”

“He'd be safer from cars,” Sam said. She sat up straighter, taking in the terrain around them. “We're not far from War Drum Flats.”

A million years ago, War Drum Flats had been the bottom of a sea that had covered much of Nevada. Most of the lake had dried up, but it had left behind smooth footing that would be easier on the gelding's hooves. And Jinx might stop to drink at the remaining pond.

“We're also close to Lost Canyon,” Jake said.

“We'll never catch him if he decides to go in there,” Sam said.

Lost Canyon was honeycombed with sandy basins and steep trails, secret paths and dead ends.

The gelding glanced back over his sweat-sleek shoulder at them. His dark-shaded face and ears flashed annoyance. Then he jumped as if hurdling an invisible fence on the left side of the highway. Off the pavement, he broke into a gallop once more.

“There he goes,” she said.

Heading back, Jinx would pass trails to Lost
Canyon and Arroyo Azul before crossing War Drum Flats.

All of this was the Phantom's territory.

“If he runs into the Phantom, what do you think will happen?” she asked Jake as he steered after the running horse.

“You know that stud better than I do. Can't see him bein' real friendly, though.”

Sam agreed. Jinx was no threat to the Phantom's kingship, but the grulla gelding was a stranger. During the summer months, range stallions guarded their herds jealously.

All at once the gelding's smooth speed reminded Sam of the flier in her pocket.

“Hey, what's a claiming race?” she asked Jake.

“YRA's havin' one.”

“I know, but what is it, exactly?” Sam asked.

“Pay a small entry fee to enter a horse in a race,” Jake said in a tone that said she should know. “Then, up until like, five minutes before the race, anyone can claim him for a set fee. Like in a $1,000 claiming race, you have your pick of horses for $1,000.”

“Before the race,” Sam mused. You'd have to have solid faith in your own judgment to buy a horse that way. “And do you want him to get claimed?”

“Do I want
who
to get claimed? I wouldn't enter any of our horses.”

“No,” Sam said, but her mind darted to Clara. “But why would you do it?”

“I wouldn't. Brat, what are you talking about?” Jake demanded, glancing away from the road.

“Never mind,” Sam said. “How should we catch Jinx?”

As they rolled across the range after the horse, Jake didn't answer. Sam felt restless and anxious. “Or haven't you figured that out yet?”

Jake shrugged. “Take a close look up ahead.”

Sam's eyes skimmed over the blue-green sagebrush and occasional black rocks until they spotted War Drum Flats. They showed on the horizon, smooth as a beige tablecloth except for the toy-sized horses at the edge of the pond.

For an instant, the mustangs were just streaks of color. Blood bay, black, sorrel, roan. Sam widened her eyes so she could see them more clearly. She leaned forward, straining against her seat belt. When the truck hit a bump, Jake's arm flashed out to bar her from banging her chin on the dashboard.

As she watched, the wild horses melted into a gully thick with pinion pine. One horse stayed behind. It was the Phantom.

Sam felt as if a bird fluttered where her heart belonged. Years ago, the Phantom had been hers and she'd seen him every day. Now, each sighting was a gift, a reward for living in this wild country.

“Looks like he's in prime condition,” Jake said.

Sam didn't take her eyes from the stallion. Still,
she smiled. Sometimes it seemed as if Jake and the Phantom were enemies, but, like Dad, Jake was a horseman as well as a cattleman. He had to admire the splendid stallion.

“He's not paying much attention to Jinx,” Sam said. “I can't figure that out.”

The Phantom waited, lips lowered near the ground.

“He's watching,” Jake said, amused. “He's pretending to graze, but he's luring the gelding close enough to get a good look.”

Jake was right.

If the Phantom believed Jinx was set on stealing mares, he would have flexed his neck muscles in challenge.

Instead, the silver stallion moved with trance-like steps, acting as if he sought nothing more than a tender bite of grass.

“Do you think Jinx is fooled?” Sam asked.

Neck drawn back, ears pointed toward the Phantom, Jinx didn't look submissive. He continued toward the trampled area around the pond.

Would the Phantom let him drink?

“We'd better stop,” Jake said, braking until the pickup halted. “If they think the truck's a threat, the stallion might let Jinx join the herd until danger's passed. My dad said he's seen two stallions do that—join forces against an enemy, sort of.”

Sam wasn't so sure. The Phantom was always on the lookout for trouble, and she'd seen him fight other stallions. The battles had been vicious and bloody. She couldn't believe he'd let another male mingle with his mares.

“Watch out,” she blurted as the Phantom raised his head, flattened his ears, then lunged, mouth open.

Jinx stopped, though the pale stallion had only advanced a few feet closer.

“I think,” Sam said quietly, “he's just telling Jinx who's the boss around here.”

“Maybe,” Jake said.

Mane glinting like tinsel, the Phantom trotted forward.

Jinx looked away, swishing his black tail in apparent boredom, though Sam would bet he was still watching the stallion from the corner of his eye.

Why didn't Jinx retreat? That's all it would take to satisfy the stallion.

When Jinx held his ground, the Phantom lowered his head into a herding position. His shoulder muscles bunched as he advanced. The gelding sidestepped, eyes rolling.

Suddenly aware that Jake was rummaging around in the truck, Sam pried her gaze from the horses.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Getting out. Your horse is gonna drive that gelding back this way. When he does, I'll rope him.”

“I'm coming with you,” Sam said, but the truck door had just closed when the Phantom charged.

I
t turned out Jake was wrong. Instead of coming toward them, Jinx ran after the mares. They'd passed through the gully. Now they stood on the ridge line, flicking their tails as they gazed down at the excitement below.

A short neigh of rage burst from the Phantom as he lunged after the gelding.

Hearing the stallion's hooves closing on him, Jinx increased his speed.

“He can run,” Jake said.

Gusts of wind might have blown at his heels, keeping him half a length ahead of the Phantom.

A stranger would have taken Jinx for the horse who'd spent the winter in the wild. His grulla coat
was dull and patchy, his movements rough.

The silver stallion shone in the sun. Living off the land, searching out each mouthful of food had made him sleek, lean, and strong. He moved with a tireless grace.

Still, Sam admitted, each time the Phantom put on a burst of speed, Jinx surged ahead.

“Why would a man give away a horse that can run like that?” Jake asked.

“I can't believe it,” she whispered. “The Phantom's got to catch him.”

Jinx no longer chased after the mares. He flew across the
playa
, wheeling right when the Phantom tried to nip his neck. Then he rushed left when the frustrated stallion circled to the other side, trying to ram his mighty shoulder against the gelding's, to shove him off balance.

Branches cracked as the horses trampled a clump of sagebrush in their path. The herbal smell blew to Sam on a hot wind.

“When are they going to stop?” she asked.

“It's a grudge match, now, but the gelding didn't drink,” Jake pointed out. “He'll slow down soon.”

And then what? Sam wondered.

Even though they were still half a mile away, she heard the horses' breathing. Their speed said they weren't exhausted, but they were working hard.

Which horse would win? A tangle of loyalty and sympathy wouldn't let Sam take sides.

And then, she didn't have to.

Through a secret set of signals, the horses agreed to stop. Half-rearing, the Phantom rose above the gelding, pawing with his front hooves. He didn't touch the grulla, but he left no question about his dominance.

Jinx backed toward the pond, watching the stallion return to all fours. He stared after the Phantom as the pale horse trotted back to his herd.

“Wow.” Sam felt air whoosh through her lips as if she'd been holding her breath.

Beside her, Jake tightened his grip on the coiled rope in his left hand. He turned his right hand, rolling his wrist, loosening it up for a throw. As he took a step toward the horse, he gave Sam a look that said
stay back
.

She didn't argue. Jinx wasn't acting too spooked now, but he'd proven he'd be tough to catch if he decided to run. It only made sense for her to stay at the truck, blending in, while Jake roped him.

Jake held the lariat against his leg as he sauntered toward the pond. If the horse had ever been roped before, he wouldn't be fooled.

The grulla drank noisily. In the instant he raised his dripping muzzle, Jake sent a loop to settle gently over the horse's head.

Jinx snorted and Jake stood still as the horse backed splashing into the pond. When he reached the end of it, the rope tightened about halfway down
the grulla's neck, pressing a flat spot in his Mohawk mane.

Jake made a clucking noise. The gelding released a sigh that shook his entire body and then, when Jake turned to walk back toward the trailer, he followed.

Sam unfurled her fingers, which had been gripped into fists. She hurried to open the trailer so that Jake could load the horse without a lot of commotion.

Then she looked back at the approaching pair.

When she'd been a kid, working with the black colt that had grown up to be the Phantom, Jake had told her it was always easier to get a horse to do what you wanted him to do if the horse thought it was his own idea.

The grulla was tired. He'd probably like a ride back home—wherever that turned out to be—and so he followed Jake.

As the horse came closer, walking in step with Jake, Sam finally got a good look at him.

Running, he'd been beautiful. Now, he looked neglected.

“Think I'd call him Orphan, not Jinx,” Jake muttered as he stopped just short of the open trailer.

“Wouldn't you love to see what's under that clumpy dead hair?” Sam asked.

Jake didn't look intrigued. His expression said he wasn't as fond of currying as he was cowboying.

It was almost as if Jinx wore a ragged disguise,
Sam thought. The gelding was still shedding his winter coat. Beneath it, just waiting to be exposed by a shedding blade and curry comb, Sam glimpsed hair that looked silvery tan, with a shimmer of blue mixed in. That undercoat had shone like metal as he ran.

Jake let the rope fall slack between his hands and the horse's neck when the grulla extended a dark muzzle toward the trailer and gave a questioning sniff.

Jinx's ears and face, legs and shoulders were smudged with a dark chocolate shade that showed up again on his dorsal stripe. About as wide as Sam's thumb was long, the stripe flowed from the end of his mane to the base of his full, black tail.

Jinx stood about fifteen hands tall. The BLM freeze brand on his neck was impossible to read under all that hair, but the brand on his left shoulder was clear.

“I guess that's supposed to be a heart,” Sam said.

Jake nodded, and touched the scar. The horse twitched, but he didn't pull away.

“I'm about to remember whose brand it is,” Jake said. “He musta jumped when they set that iron on his hide.” Jake's index finger traced the gaps in the symbol.

Sam brushed her bangs back from her eyes and mentally ordered herself to get a grip.

It was only the horse's resigned attitude that made her think the brand looked like a broken heart.

 

At first they thought Jinx would load easily. Watchful but quiet, he seemed reconciled to moving on. Sam and Jake both thought so.

When Sam begged Jake to let her take over, he agreed.

“Fine,” he said, handing her the rope. “I need to fix somethin'.”

“Hey, pretty boy,” Sam crooned to Jinx. When the gelding's ears flicked in interest, Sam looked over at Jake for approval.

But Jake was sitting in the driver's seat of the truck, taking off a shoe. Before now, she hadn't noticed he wasn't wearing boots. He shook the shoe as if he'd gotten a pebble in it.

As she led Jinx toward the trailer, Sam cast around in her mind for some way to tease Jake, and that's when the gelding balked.

The rope tightened between them.

“Come on, now,” Sam encouraged the horse. When he didn't budge, she tightened her hands on the rope and gave it a yank.

She didn't want Jinx to think he could get the best of her.

The gelding laid his ears flat against his neck, then jerked his head skyward. She could only see his throat. Her arms straightened until she thought they'd pop from her sockets.

“I think that bronc is about to show you what he's made of,” Jake muttered.

Jake didn't sound worried, but that was no comfort to Sam. If Jake's hat were on fire, he'd just mumble something about it being warm.

Jinx began backing away. Sam couldn't stop him, even though she'd spread her boots apart and lowered her weight. Her bootheels were probably leaving furrows in the earth.

Suddenly her memory replayed Dad's voice saying that when a horse was as mean as Witch, Jake's mare, the only safe place was on her back.

“Do you want to try to mount him?” Sam asked.

“Are you crazy?”

Okay, so that was a bad idea, Sam thought as the horse towed her a few inches farther from the trailer.

Made bold by the fact that he was winning, Jinx shook his head and started to bolt. His hooves scattered dust and he stared toward the highway that led to Darton.

“Hey, I don't know what you lost down that road, but you're not going after it,” Sam scolded him.

When his ears flicked in her direction, she rushed closer to him, going hand over hand down the rope, tightening it around Jinx's neck until she'd wedged her shoulder against his.

The smoke-brown face swung around so fast, Sam couldn't have escaped if he'd meant to whack her with his muzzle. But he didn't.

Jinx could take a bite of her face right now if he wanted to. Sam swallowed and tried more sweet talk.

“Hey, good boy, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.”

Jinx stared at her with big brown eyes, then pressed his brow against hers.

“I just meant you're not going down that road today,” she whispered. “Maybe later.”

He was so close she couldn't focus. She smelled his hot hide and felt the prickly, growing-out forelock against her bangs.

Jinx gave a hay-scented snort, then backed up a step. As soon as the pressure on Sam's face was relieved, the rope was snatched from her hand.

It was only Jake, taking over as usual. She let him, because she needed a minute to think.

Sam's arms curled around her ribs. Something had happened between her and the grulla. She wasn't sure what.

She tried to figure it out as Jinx went willingly into the trailer. His hooves shifted around, striking the floor, but he was only settling in.

Jake locked the latch and turned toward her.

“Of all the fool things I've seen you do…,” he began slowly.

“It worked,” Sam said. “You can't argue with that.”

“Don't plan to.”

“Here's what I was thinking,” Sam began, though Jake hadn't asked. “You know how when you walk behind a horse, you get close enough that they can't
get up enough momentum to kick you hard?”

It didn't matter that Jake stared off toward the hillside, ignoring her. She kept talking. “Well, I just did it from the other end.”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck and gave a snort almost as loud as Jinx's.

“There are so many things wrong with—” Jake broke off and started over. “The leverage alone, not to mention the logic—”

“But it did work,” Sam interrupted.

“Yeah,” Jake said, as she started back toward the driver's seat of the truck. “But it shouldn't have.”

That sure didn't feel like a victory
, Sam thought. But it was as close as she'd get to one. She hesitated before getting back into the truck and it was then she spotted a swirl of dust halfway up the ridge.

The Phantom's mares had disappeared, but there in the thicket clogging the gully, staring through wind-tortured pinion pines, stood the silver stallion.

Jinx must have sensed the stallion, because his neigh echoed from inside the trailer and it rocked with his weight.

Was the Phantom just keeping watch? Two humans, their truck, and the pushy gelding constituted a disturbance in the Phantom's day. Maybe he was just making sure they didn't change their minds and come after his mares.

But Sam didn't think that was it.

She knew the Phantom. He was the most domi
nant stallion on this range, but the grulla gelding had nearly outrun him.

Could the Phantom be sending Jinx a silent promise that their rivalry wasn't over?

You'll see me again
, she imagined the stallion saying.

The white blur beyond the pinions pines grew hazy, then vanished.