The Renegade (8 page)

“I’ll remember,” Dad said, but he was looking skyward and holding back a smile.

Now, while he was pleased, Sam tried to ask.

“Dad, I know if I took Ace out now, I could take the edge off his energy and he’d stay put.”

Wind rushed through the cottonwood trees and the horses in the ten-acre pasture began to run.

All at once, there was a tapping sound as rain hit the brim of Dad’s Stetson.

Ace tossed his head up, nostrils eager for the rain-sweet air. Then he neighed so loudly Sam covered her ears.

“Please, Dad?”

“Get him tacked up and run him into the wind,” Dad said. “But just for a little while.”

“Thanks--”

“Don’t thank me. Thank your
loco
horse, and take Jake with you.” Dad gestured toward the barn where Teddy Bear was tied. “Get after it, and don’t be late for dinner. I’m sure Ms. Starr will excuse you.”

“Of course.” The woman slid her fingers into her pocket and withdrew two business cards. “Sam,
people would pay good money to see Ace do what he’s getting in trouble for.”

Then, looking at Dad, she added, “I don’t love my animals, I let them feel useful.” Then she handed him the second card. “Just in case you change your mind.”

There was something flirty in the gesture that made Sam wish Brynna Olson were there.

Dad nodded politely, and Karla Starr was already driving away when Sam noticed the dog in her truck.

An Australian shepherd stared through the truck’s back window. Its one white eye made the dog’s stare eerie.

For close to an hour, the dog had stayed silent in the truck cab. If Karla Starr didn’t love her animals, how had she trained the dog to be so patient?

Sam didn’t want to know.

“C’mon, Ace.” She led the gelding by a handful of mane.

Sweetheart was kicking fence rails in the barn corral. Out in the small pasture, Amigo arched his neck and pranced like a stallion ready to do battle. Teddy Bear, tied to the hitching rail, jumped back against his reins as Jake hustled out to plop Sam’s saddle into her arms.

“I heard what he said, and this is a fool idea.”

“Jake, he’ll be fine. Ace always behaves.”

Jake ignored her, shaking his head as he frowned after Dad.

“All I can think is that he was so glad you all got
away with all your fingers and toes, he went
loco
himself.”

Sam smoothed on Ace’s saddle blanket. “What are you trying to say? I don’t get it.”

“That Karla Starr gives me the creeps,” Jake said. “She’s after something.”

“It’s just like you to see a competent business-woman as a threat,” Sam told him, even though she didn’t trust Karla Starr, either.

“Competent? Is that what you call it?”

“Sure,” Sam said. Without being asked, Ace opened his mouth for the bit.

“And she didn’t give you the creeps?”

“Okay, it did bother me when she was sizing up the mustangs as bucking prospects.”

“And flashing her business cards around.”

“That didn’t bother me,” Sam said.

“It did,” Jake said, “but you won’t admit it. I listen to my instincts.” Jake pulled Teddy Bear’s reins loose from the hitch rail and mounted. “Want to know why?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Sam rode beside Jake. By silent agreement, they kept the horses to a walk as they crossed the ranch yard.

“One night, I was trying to get to sleep. I was tossing and turning, feeling like bugs were crawling on me. I knew it was my imagination, ’cause I wasn’t camping, just lying in my own bed. Finally one of my
brothers--Nate, I think--yelled at rife to settle down.

“I did, but I kept feeling like something was trailing on my arm. Really quiet, ’cause I didn’t want Nate to beat the tar out of me, I kind of flipped my arm to the side.”

Even now, Jake shuddered.

“Something hit the floor. Nate came roaring out of bed and I turned on the light, and there was this ugly black scorpion scuttling across our bedroom floor.”

Rain was falling for real now, and Sam pulled up the hood on her slicker.

“You get the point, Brat?” Jake said.

“Yeah, yeah, instincts,” Sam, muttered.

Jake rode close enough to grab Ace’s cheek piece. Because it was Jake, Ace didn’t shy, only stopped and flicked his ears in curiosity.

“No, the moral of that story is: if you think something is creeping up to do you harm, don’t wait till it fills you with poison.”

R
ain came in sheets, wavering iridescent in the dusk. The sagebrush glowed silver-green as sunset sifted through thunder clouds. The land Sam had known all her life looked alien and exotic.

Jake took the lead, and Sam let Ace follow at a gallop. The wind whipped something past Sam’s face. She thought it was a wildflower stalk, until Jake turned to look back over his shoulder. It must have been Jake’s leather string, the one he used to tame his long hair, because his black hair looked more like a mane than ever, blowing warrior-wild in the wind.

A white smile showed in his rain-wet face. Thoughts of wild horses made her think Jake shouldn’t be confined, either.

Jake liked school and excelled at everything that would make him the good rancher his family wanted him to be, but he wanted to be a police tracker. Sam thought that kind of far-ranging work
would suit him best.

A rasping cry sounded overhead and Jake looked up. The hawk had no time for dropping feathers today. Her rounded red tail shifted like a rudder as she sought the safety of her nest.

“Did you send a wish?” Jake shouted, but Sam shook her head. “Hawks carry hopes and prayers to the sky spirits, then bring back blessings. That’s what the old ones say.”

Jake’s words were proof he was feeling as wild as the storm winds. He rarely mentioned his Indian heritage, and Sam knew if she asked him a question now, he’d shrug off the hawk as just part of a story.

The horses galloped through groups of cattle running in sheer joy. With rain spattering their red backs, calves cavorted, holding their tails straight up in the air.

Sam knew she should be afraid to gallop. She wasn’t the world’s greatest rider, and much of the topsoil had blown away, leaving slippery clay underfoot.

They headed away from the highway and the trail to War Drum Flats. Jake still rode ahead, but now his black hair hung below his Stetson, lying straight and wet to the middle of his back. Teddy’s hair was wet, too, and his Bashkir heritage showed in the little C-shaped curls on his rump.

The trail to the canyon was narrow and rough, no place to take a young horse like Teddy.

“Let’s turn back,” Jake shouted over the hammering rain. His voice was serious.

A single bolt of lightning zigzagged overhead, turning the world aquarium green. Teddy fought for his head, pulling against the reins Jake kept snug.

There wasn’t a trace of fun on Jake’s face anymore. He concentrated on telling Teddy what to do.

Sam slowed Ace, giving Jake room to work.

Once he had Teddy’s attention, Jake forced him to back, to sidestep, anything to remind him his rider was in charge.

Squinting through the rain, Sam saw Teddy begin to relax. Fear drained out of him as he did as he was told. Each time he followed Jake’s instructions, Teddy was rewarded. The reins loosened, the bit sat lighter in his mouth, and Jake praised him.

“There you go, partner. Let me do the worryin’,” Jake said.

Teddy did, and soon Jake moved him through his gaits with fluid grace, then kept him at a jog.

“That,” Sam told Ace, “is the difference between a rider and a horseman. Stick with me a few years and I might be one-tenth that good.” She rubbed Ace’s neck.

Only after they’d jogged through the rain for five minutes did Jake glance back at Sam.

“Keep your hood up, since you didn’t have the sense to wear a hat.” He tugged down on his own hat brim, but didn’t give her time to argue. “We need to get in before there’s more lightning.”

Jake let Teddy gallop. Ace followed, lining out
like a racehorse, legs reaching, head level. She trusted Ace to find the best footing. Unlike Teddy, Ace’s life had once depended on his instincts.

Still, Sam reminded herself to sit back in the saddle. She was too far forward. If Ace veered or stumbled, she’d fall and Jake would be halfway home before he noticed she was missing. At this pace, they’d cover the five miles to River Bend in no time.

The sky brightened as if lightning was racing above the clouds.

Jake let Teddy out another notch and angled him away from the path home.

It must be because of the lightning. Sam knew you were supposed to stay away from trees, from telephone and power poles, and seek low ground.

That’s just what Jake had done, she saw now. He’d steered Teddy into a dry riverbed.

Usually dry. Sam looked around at the low, sandy area. This cloudburst had already turned a few of its dips to puddles. As a child, she’d heard radio broadcasts interrupted by high-pitched signals and an announcer warning against flash floods. She knew that voice had mentioned the dangers of riverbeds.

Ace’s run turned choppy, responding to the worry that had tightened Sam’s grip on the reins. Starting at her head, working down through her neck, shoulders, and arms, Sam forced her muscles to loosen. Dad had trusted Jake to bring her out here.

“Just follow them,” she told Ace. “We’ll be fine.”

The riverbed narrowed and the banks were nearly as high as the horses’ backs.

Dead ahead was a boulder. Sam saw it an instant before Teddy jumped. Too small for the leap, Ace cut through a narrow detour and sprinted ahead. Sam glanced back in time to see Teddy fall.

His jump had been fine. Teddy had cleared the boulder easily, but his front off hoof struck a puddle. Teddy slid, hundreds of pounds of horseflesh sliding on watery mud.

Jake shifted his weight left, trying to give Teddy the help he needed to get centered. Nothing helped.

“Jump!” Sam screamed.

Jake could have, poised to the left as he was, but he stayed with the falling horse. As Teddy’s hooves slipped away, his barrel slammed against the right bank. Muscle and bone splattered damp dirt. Teddy grunted, breath knocked from his lungs. Jake’s head--tucked in, chin to chest--said he’d been hurt. The fall was smashing his leg between the horse and the riverbank.

Sam pulled Ace to a stop, though she wasn’t sure what to do. All four hooves had slid from beneath Teddy. Since Jake had stayed astride, he must be okay. But Teddy’s legs thrashed. Was one of those legs broken? Had Teddy ruptured an internal organ or stabbed himself on broken brush? Or was he just struggling to get up?

Only five miles home, she’d thought a minute ago.
Now, five miles seemed an impossibly long distance.

Jake stayed on as Teddy heaved himself up to stand. Jake’s hat was gone. He stared down at his saddle horn, and his arms looked boneless, swaying as the horse trembled.

Sam tightened her legs, but Ace didn’t want to go closer.

“C’mon, boy, nothing to be afraid of.” Sam kept, her voice strong. “Teddy needs your company. You’re a levelheaded guy. C’mon, Ace.”

Thunder grumbled as she reached them, but no lightning flashed. There was just enough light to see rain running down Jake’s forehead into his eyes. He did nothing to stop it. A knot of muscle stood out under his skin, showing how hard his jaw was clenched.

“Jake, what hurts?”

It must be everything, she thought, because Jake kept his jaw locked. Or maybe he was afraid that if he opened his mouth he wouldn’t be able to stop yelling.

“My horse okay?” he asked, finally.

“Sure. He’s up. He’s fine.” Sam dismissed his question, until she noticed Jake’s boot hanging free of his stirrup. “What about your leg?”

“Check him.” The effort it cost Jake to say the words made Sam do it.

There was no sense arguing. Jake’s concern for himself would wait until he knew Teddy was safe.

Sam turned Ace. They circled Teddy, and though
the cloud-strained evening light made everything look black and white, she could tell he was only a little scuffed.

“A cut on his fetlock and lots of mud. That’s it,” Sam reported, and then her breath caught.

She saw blood. It was Jake’s. A dark patch about the size of her fist had welled through the denim covering his thigh, and it was spreading fast.

“You must have cut your leg when you fell.”

She wished Jake would talk. When one corner of his mouth jerked, she thought he was about to laugh, but he only nodded.

“Do you want to stay here while I go get Dad and the truck?”

Jake was shaking his head no before she finished asking.

“Don’t be stubborn, Jake. I can tell you’re in pain.”

He went back to staring at his saddle horn as if it were the most fascinating sight on earth. He took a deep breath, like someone preparing to jump off a cliff, but only uttered a few words.

“Flash flood could come up,” he managed. “Or lightning. Don’t think--” He looked up at Sam with dark eyes that begged her not to reveal what he was about to say. “Don’t think I could handle him.”

“Then get down and wait,” she demanded.

“Don’t think I can do that, either.”

Dizziness spun through Sam. Jake was in trouble.
He must have done more than cut his leg. He might have struck his head. He might have some injury he was hiding from her.

Sam didn’t know how, to assess his injuries, but she knew she was in charge and they were wasting time.

“Okay,” she said, but then she felt a flash of pain. If his leg
was
broken, the bone ends would grate as Teddy moved. Jake would be in agony.

“I can ride. Just get my hat,” Jake whispered.

Sam slid off Ace, keeping a grip on the reins as she snatched Jake’s Stetson from the mud. She brushed it off, only smearing it worse, then handed it up.

Jake didn’t notice.

Sam remounted, reined Ace close, and leaned over to put Jake’s hat on his wet hair. A wave of tenderness shook her, but Sam refused to let Jake see her distress.

“Typical cowboy,” she muttered. “The world could be coming to an end and you wouldn’t go outside to watch without your hat.”

“You got--” Jake grimaced as Teddy shifted. “Got that right. Now lead us outta here.”