Moonrise (12 page)

“So glad that you're ready to take the afternoon off and play checkers with me?” Jen asked.

“Checkers?”

“I have a little car-trip checkerboard, but I never have company in the backseat.” Jen pulled a pitiful frown. “Don't you feel sorry for me?”

“Not very, but I'm ready to rest the horses and take a nap, so I guess if you'll make lunch, we can play checkers afterward.”

“Deal,” Jen said, and the two friends shook hands.

 

There was a strange sound on the mountain that night. It wasn't the baying of hounds or the lonely howling of coyotes, and yet it was some kind of a cry.

Wakeful most of the night, Sam wanted to investigate, but she'd forced herself to wait until morning.

She'd had a lot of weird dreams between snatches of sleep.

In one, she'd been herself, but as a very little girl. Crouched down, curled into a kitten-tight ball, she'd played hide-and-seek. Holding her breath, trying not
to giggle and give away her hiding spot, she'd suddenly realized she wanted to be found.

Struggling free of the dream and her hiding place in it, Sam knew she wasn't afraid of discovery. She was afraid no one would come looking for her.

It was weird, Sam thought, blinking awake. She wasn't lost and alone. She knew the way home and she was with Jen.

She gazed at the glowing numbers on her watch.

It was five o'clock. One disgruntled cow had continued her hooting moo until midnight. Then they'd been roused at about three by the new sound.

They'd fidgeted inside their sleeping bags, dozing, then waking, all that time.

“I hope it's not Pirate,” Sam said as Jen rolled over in her sleeping bag to face her.

“Shh,” Jen whispered. “If you wake that hooting cow, I'll strangle you. But that sound's not a horse. No way.”

Sam sat up.

The sky had grayed in the east, she wasn't sleeping anyway, and she had time to investigate before they started the herd back to War Drum Flats.

“I'm going to see what it is,” Sam said.

“You don't have to,” Jen told her. “If it's something injured, you'll just feel bad.”

“Yeah, but if I ignore it, I'll feel worse,” Sam said.

“Well, take our first aid supplies,” Jen said, yawning.

“I will.” Sam pulled on her clothes and a jacket.
“Did we give the horses all the carrots? Whatever's up there isn't likely to be a carnivore.”

“We've got plenty,” Jen said, then gave a long sigh. “Just knowing you're going up there to tend to whatever it is makes me sleepy.”

“Swell,” Sam grumbled. “So if I disappear—”

“I'll send out a posse,” Jen said, rolling on her side and pulling her sleeping bag up to cover her nose. “Unless you wake up that hooting cow. Then I won't be speaking to you, so what would be the point?”

Forty minutes into her ride, Sam realized the sound was human.

Fifteen minutes later, she recognized the voice begging for help.

“Okay Ace,” Sam said, clucking the horse into a lope across the plateau. “This is what they call a moral dilemma.”

“Won't anybody help me? I got a roll of hundred-dollar bills big enough to choke a mule and no one will help me!”

Well, that was progress, Sam thought. At least he realized his money wasn't doing him any good.

“Somebody! Anybody!” The voice cracked.

Ace's ears flicked toward the plea, but Sam didn't answer.

If Linc Slocum was trapped or injured, he'd better not have hurt Champ. Or Bub, Gator, or Shirley, for that matter. Even though the pack was a dangerous nuisance, she didn't blame the dogs.

Suddenly, Sam realized Slocum's voice was leading her to Cow Killer Caldera.

She shivered. If the terrain was too difficult for cattle, it might not be safe for Ace.

When she got close enough that she could make out Slocum's mumbling, she pulled rein and tied Ace to a sturdy aspen tree.

“No ground-tying this time, boy,” she told the mustang. “Being left out here alone is one thing, but I will
not
take a chance on you leaving me here with him. No way.”

Sam walked to the edge of the caldera. She wouldn't be able to tell Jen if it was really the remains of a volcano, but she could understand why Linc Slocum hadn't climbed out.

The sides were steep and sheer. The floor of the caldera must be five hundred feet lower than the top edge of what looked like a crater.

An experienced climber could probably make it out, but not Linc Slocum. Even though he looked small in the bottom of the crater, he wasn't in shape for the ascent.

There was no sign of Champ or the dogs, and Linc couldn't be hurt, at least not badly, because he was storming around with his hands on his hips, muttering. Suddenly, he saw her.

“Hey, you! Get me out of here!”

“Hi, Mr. Slocum,” Sam said. “What'cha doing?”

Sam put a hand over her mouth to keep from
laughing. A nicer person probably wouldn't even think of laughing, but she loved his predicament.

“I'm trying to get out of here! That bacon-brained horse of mine acted like he'd never seen a dog before! They were just playin' and he dumped me right here, off the edge.”

Sam had her own opinion about who was bacon-brained, but Slocum might be injured. If what he'd said was true, he'd fallen a long, long way to reach the bottom of this crater.

“Are you hurt?” she yelled.

“What?”

“Are. You. Hurt.”

“No, but that Champ's going to be beggin'—”

Linc's sudden silence told her he'd remembered something. Everyone knew that when it came to horses, Sam Forster was notoriously softhearted.

As she watched, Slocum seemed to retrieve two things that might be his boots. Sam wondered how long it would take for Slocum to start offering a reward for his own rescue.

“Samantha, I'm gonna make you a deal,” he said.

That was quick
, Sam thought.

“I've got a nice, crisp hundred-dollar bill for you if you can rope me out of here.”

Sam shook her head in disbelief.

“Mr. Slocum, my rope won't reach you. This crater is far too deep.”

“Two hundred,” he shouted up to her.

“I don't even believe this,” Sam muttered to herself.

She almost reminded Linc of the last time he'd promised her a reward. He'd given her the money, all right, but not Hotspot's foal. She didn't remind him. He might think she was tempted, and she wasn't.

“Mr. Slocum, are you hungry?” she called instead.

“So hungry I could eat these boots!”

“Well, I don't think you'll have to do that. I'm going to throw you down a sack of carrots—”

“Carrots? Carrots!” he shrieked. “A man can't live on carrots!”

He was in no danger of starving to death before she brought back help. She waited for him to realize that.

“Okay, throw them down,” he demanded.

She did.

“All right, Mr. Slocum, I'll try to get someone back to you before dark,” Sam said.

“You can't leave me,” he yelled.

“Well, I'm afraid I have to,” she answered.

He mumbled something about her being a useless little monster, before shouting, “What would your father say?”

“I'm glad you asked, Mr. Slocum,” Sam said, trying not to sound smug, “because my dad would say the ranch comes first. And, since I have a herd of cattle I need to bring to him by—” Sam looked at her watch. “Wow! Look at the time! I really do have to hurry.”

“You can't leave me here alone,” he moaned.

“I'll get you some help, Mr. Slocum. I promise.”

And she would, Sam thought, walking back to Ace, but in the meantime, maybe Linc Slocum would think about what was really important.

Ace nuzzled her neck as she untied him, and then Sam swung into the saddle.

Revenge didn't have to be very harsh to be sweet.

U
nder a pearl-gray sky full of heat, Sam and Jen navigated the path down to War Drum Flats.

“They're trying to play it cool,” Sam whispered to Ace as she spotted Dad and Jed Kenworthy.

On this Father's Day morning, the two men sat their horses by the shallow lake. They pretended not to see their daughters escorting the herd down to meet them.

Jen rode three-quarters of the way up on the right side of the herd and Sam rode kitty-corner from her, three-quarters of the way back, on the left side. They couldn't talk this way, but it had proven the perfect way to keep the range cattle together.

So far, only two animals had caused problems: the
calfless Brangus and the black-and-orange calf they'd named Trouble.

After each of them had bolted from the herd, Sam and Jen had made a rule. If the Brangus wearing the Gold Dust brand bolted, Jen went after her while Sam and Ace held the herd. If Trouble skittered away, Sam, as the River Bend rider, would give chase.

They could have heard their dads now, if they'd spoken. They didn't, but Jeep neighed and Sundown, Jed's palomino, snorted a greeting.

Neither Ace nor Silly answered. Heads bobbing with each long stride, the horses kept up their watchful, flat-footed patrol alongside the herd.

“Just takin' care of business, aren't you, boy?” Sam asked Ace, rubbing his favorite spot at the base of his mane.

If we can just keep it together until we get down there, Dad will be proud
, Sam thought.

The hard part was over. All they had to do was deliver the herd to their dads and tell them about Linc Slocum. Sam didn't know if she'd earned the right to be called a buckaroo.

When she saw Dad and Jed face each other and give slight nods of approval, she figured she was on her way.

In the movies, Dad and Jed would have ridden up galloping to greet them, but this was real life. Both men were cowboys. Short of a sudden storm, there was probably no faster way to start a stampede.

So they eased their horses toward their daughters. Any minute, Sam expected Dad and Jed to stop the herd so they could talk.

It didn't happen, and suddenly Sam realized the men were letting her and Jen decide whether to stop the herd or keep going.

“Wow,” Jen muttered as she realized what Sam had.

“Yeah, wow,” Sam replied quietly.

Her cheeks were sore from grinning by the time Jed reined his horse to a position opposite Jen, and Dad fell in across from her.

They'd ridden just a few yards more when Jen angled Silly in front of the crazy River Bend cow that had tried to butt her.

Sam narrowed her eyes toward Trouble.
Don't you dare make a break for it
, Sam thought toward the animal, but the Halloween-colored calf just tucked up close to her mother.

The herd stopped.

“Well,” Jed said.

“Happy Father's Day,” Jen and Sam said together, and then they laughed. Their chorus couldn't have come out better if they'd planned it.

“Brands appear to be on straight,” Jed said, scanning the herd.

“Everybody's wearin' ear tags,” Dad observed.

Jen and Sam met each other's eyes over the herd. Not everybody would recognize their dads' words for
congratulations, but coming from cowboys, those few words were high praise.

“Everything went great,” Jen said. “Nobody threw a shoe, or tagged their own ear, or got a brand upside down.”

“Jen…”

“What's that?” Dad asked Sam.

“I didn't say anything. I was just laughing at my funny friend,” Sam told him. “But one little thing went wrong.”

Suddenly still, Dad waited.

“He's all right—”

“As all right as he ever is,” Jen interrupted.

“—but Linc Slocum fell into Cow Killer Caldera.”

It was Jed and Dad's turn to exchange looks.

“He did, did he?” Jed asked. “But you say he's okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Sam told him. “He was complaining about the food I dropped to him.”

Both men nodded.

“We'll get Sheriff Ballard out. He's pretty eager to test his new search-and-rescue horse,” Dad said.

“Jinx!” Sam said to Jen. “Maybe you can see him in action. That will be so cool.”

“I wonder how they'll get him out, though,” Jen mused. “It might take a while to find someone who can rappel down and bring him back up.”

“You say he's safe where he is, though?” Dad asked.

“He's fine, just cranky,” Sam said.

“It's too bad we don't have a cell phone that would work from here,” Jen said, frowning.

“Yep, it's a cryin' shame,” Jed agreed, but the sarcasm in his voice said he didn't mind letting Slocum wait in the caldera just a little bit longer.

“Dad!” Jen said in an uncharacteristic squeak.

The sound made Dad and Sam laugh, but Trouble didn't find it a bit funny. The brindle calf sprinted past Jen, headed across the
playa
.

Without thinking, Sam sent Ace after the calf. White dust puffed in the calf's wake and its tiny hooves pecked marks in the alkali flat.

Everyone was watching and Sam knew she had to get this right. With the faintest touch, she guided Ace to the right.

Trouble must have glimpsed them from the corner of her eye, because she made a wide, sweeping turn away from Ace and headed back to her mother at a trot.

Sam followed at a distance, letting the calf lead the way. If Trouble swerved in either direction, she and Ace would block her.

Ace pranced proudly, aware of all eyes upon him. Sometimes, Sam thought, being watched wasn't so bad.

All at once, she flashed back to her early morning dream. And Linc.

He wasn't playing hide-and-seek, but no one had
come looking for him. She shivered.
He'd been out all night and no one had noticed.

If anyone had, Jed would have known.

What about Rachel and Ryan? It was Father's Day, and neither of them had noticed their dad was missing.

Sam felt a twinge of guilt for thinking she needed revenge against Linc. She didn't. He'd brought plenty of misfortune on himself.

Suddenly, Trouble broke into a gallop.

“Crazy little girl,” Sam said, but Ace matched the calf's speed and they were running, almost home free.

Sam's heart vaulted up. She could see the pride on Dad's face, even from here.

As Trouble rejoined her herd and Ace slid to a stop in a rush of white alkali powder, Dad rubbed the dust from one eye.

“You did fine, Sam,” Dad said, clearing his throat. “Just fine.”