Run Away Home (19 page)

Oh no,
Sam thought. If she knew those guys,
there'd be nothing left of Gram's cherry pie. She tried to read her note as she headed after them.

“Thanks for the most important day of my life,” Darby had written. “My heart belongs to the horses. I won't let you down. Ever. Love, Darby.”

Sam's sigh turned into a gasp when a voice next to her said, “Passing the torch?”

“Were you reading over my shoulder?” Sam asked. She gave a regretful glance toward the potluck table before giving Jen a shove.

“Sure I was, and it sounds like you made a big impression on that little girl from Los Angeles.”

“It is kind of cool,” Sam admitted. Then she thought about what Jen had really said. “But I'm not passing the torch. It's not like I'd let other wild horses who aren't safe like the Phantom just fend for themselves.”

“You could move on to bigger and better things,” Jen suggested.

“Better than horses?” Sam asked skeptically.

“There's always world peace,” Jen said. “A girl's got to have a goal.”

“What are you two scheming?” Ryan's smooth voice cut across their laughter. “It's not enough for you that I'm learning to pull myself up by my own boot belt?”

The girls stared at him for a second.

“Straps,” Jen corrected him. “I'll have to look up exactly what they are, but the
expression
is ‘pulling
yourself up by your own bootstraps.'”

“Whatever,” Ryan said, and Jen laughed.

“That's one Americanism you got right.”

Sam was watching Jen and Ryan wander toward the barn when Jake walked toward her carrying two plates.

“I rescued the last piece for you,” Jake said, handing Sam a slice of cherry pie.

“My hero,” Sam sighed.

Of course she was joking, but Jake sounded kind of serious when he said, “I been meaning to ask you something.”

Serious, but this time nothing was going to stop her from eating her pie.

“What?” Sam asked as soon as she'd swallowed the first bite.

“Did you tell your horse good-bye?” Jake asked.

“Yeah, but he didn't dance in my honor or anything,” she said. Then, seeing Jake's shocked expression, she said, “I didn't tell you about the valley!”

And then she did, and Jake rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Guess I got what I deserved, because I didn't tell you about Kit.”

“What about him?” Sam asked.

“He's had enough of these parts,” Jake said with faked indifference. “He's gonna help his friend Pani run a ranch in Hawaii.”

“Hawaii!” Sam shouted, but her disbelief must have surprised him, because even when Kit yelled
Jake's name from the other side of the bonfire, Jake kept staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

Drawing a breath so deep his chest swelled with it, Jake took Sam's hand in his.

She stopped breathing for a second and saw Jake raise his eyebrows as if asking permission.

“Walk over there with me?” he asked.

This time Sam was the one who was speechless, but she squeezed Jake's hand and walked with him.

Surrounded by her friends and family and a future full of horses, Sam was happy. Best of all, her mind held a picture no one, not even Jake, would ever see.

Before she'd left the valley of wild horses, she'd whispered in the Phantom's ear.

The horse had lowered his head to her shoulder and Sam had done what no one had ever done before. She saw the world through a wild stallion's silver mane.

Even as she'd forced her eyes to travel up the soaring rock wall again, she'd told him, “If my way out works, I'll know how to find my way back to you. Zanzibar, this isn't good-bye.”

As the stallion's velvet lips had nibbled her hair, Sam knew he understood.

M
any people contributed their time and expertise to making the world of River Bend Ranch real. I offer my thanks for Dr. Judson Pierce's veterinary advice, Maxine Shane's BLM wisdom, and Chief Brent Harper's fire experience. Annemarie Bajo, R.N., and Kitty Smith, R.N., gave me medical tips; Officer Jim Overton guided me into the world of police horses; Guy Clifton shared rodeo insight above the chutes; and Willa Cline turned wild ideas into websites.

There's no page big enough to list the librarians, teachers, and booksellers I appreciate for shaping a future we don't have to fear.

Amanda Maciel, Elise Howard, Abigail McAden, Cara Gavejian, Colleen O'Connell, Lisa Moraleda, Julia Richardson, and HarperCollins publishing professionals I've never met are so skillful, they make me look good. Artist Greg Call gave each book a beautiful face. My agent Karen Solem encouraged and advised me with patience and brilliance.

I'm grateful to friends who forgive my disappearance into fiction and always welcome me back.

Most of all, every writer should have my family, but—lucky me!—they don't.

Cover art © 2006 by Greg Call