The Renegade (9 page)

T
ake’s trust made Sam careful.

It was up to her to make sure everything turned out all right.

Sam kept Ace at a walk and searched every inch of earth and sky for danger.

Familiar clumps of pine and rock outcroppings passed in slow motion. Though no sensible snake would be out in this downpour, she watched for them. The frolicking Herefords posed no threat. They’d formed into tight, unhappy herds. One group moved toward the ranch, driven by the rain. A few more stood in a miserable cluster, tails clamped down, white eyelashes blinking.

“I guess no one’s come looking for us since we’re such hotshot range riders,” Sam mumbled to Jake. “Why should they worry?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Sam rode another few minutes before it struck
her they’d be plenty worried if a horse, came home riderless. Sam thought it through. What if she climbed down, gave him a swat, and Ace still didn’t leave her?

And Jake wouldn’t get off Teddy, even if he could. Pride wouldn’t let him lay suffering in the rain until help arrived.

Suddenly Jake was beside her instead of following.

“Faster,” he croaked. The bloodstain on his jeans was spreading.

Sam wanted to argue, but, his eyes warned her it would be a waste of time.

Sam clapped her heels to Ace, hoping he’d leap straight into a lope. He did, and Teddy imitated him, skipping the hammering trot that Sam knew could finally break Jake’s will.

After what seemed like an eternity, a welcome sight appeared on the horizon: smoke, puffing from the chimney at River Bend.

“We’re going to make it, Jake.”

Sam didn’t expect an answer. Only once, when Teddy nearly stumbled, did Jake groan as if the sound had been wrenched from him.

Finally, she let the horses settle to a weary walk.

Just ahead, the bunkhouse windows glowed yellow. All the hands were in from the range, probably eating dinner.

As the horses clopped across the bridge, Sam
thought she saw Gram’s face peer from the kitchen window.

Jake held Teddy on a tight rein, refusing to let him pass the front porch for the barn.

As Sam slid from Ace’s back, the front door opened and Dad stood there.

“Everything all right?” he asked, looking past her.

“Jake’s hurt, Daddy. He’s really hurt.”

It seemed like Dad reached her in a single stride.

For the first time since that awful sound of bone smashing into the riverbank, Sam let herself cry.

The next afternoon, the baby blue Mercedes was silent. The windshield wipers swished, but no one talked.

Jen stayed quiet, thinking her own thoughts, because that was just Jen. Rachel kept her honeydew-fuchsia lips pressed together as if she couldn’t believe she was sharing the same air with the two lame freshmen. Sam was simply exhausted.

Somehow, she had made it through her morning classes. By lunchtime, though, Sam needed some calories to substitute for sleep. The cafeteria was packed with students wearing new sweaters and jackets it had been too hot to wear until now, and the food lines were disorderly and loud.

All the noise and high spirits reminded Sam of the calves’ reaction to the rain. Everyone was glad the drought had broken.

Sam and Jen were balancing their trays and searching for a few feet of table space when Jake’s friend Darrell snagged Sam’s elbow.

“Hey! I need this hamburger,” Sam snapped. And then she recognized Darrell.

He was the kind of guy Gram labeled “bad company,” but Sam only knew two things about him. First, he’d taught Jake how to disable a car by pulling loose strategic wires under the hood. Second, Jake didn’t want Sam to know him.

Today, defying the rain and school policy, Darrell wore an orange tank top and sunglasses. Where was Mrs. Santos when there was a real delinquent around? Sam wondered.

“What happened to my man Jake?” His index finger hooked the hinge of his sunglasses and pulled them down so he could watch Sam. “I’m hearing bad things.”

“What have I missed this time? Jen despaired.

“I was going to tell you when we found a quiet place,” Sam said.

“This looks quiet,” Jen said.

It was, because when Jen slammed her tray down next to Darrell’s, Jake’s usual crew made room with amazement as the girls sat down.

For strength, Sam took a bite of her hamburger, then summed up yesterday’s disaster. She had to explain it quickly. If she pictured the fall and that tortured ride, she’d get weepy all over again.

“Jake’s horse slipped in the mud and crunched his leg, but Jake insisted on riding back to our place. And so,” she finished, “he had a compound fracture--

“Ahhh man”--Darrell drew the words out in twisted admiration--”like where the busted bone shoves through the, skin?”

“Right.” Sam nodded.

Her stomach didn’t turn over as it had the first time Dad told her what Jake’s bloody jeans had hidden. That was progress. And she tried not to recall how they’d made Jake swallow a dose of pain pills and wait for them to take effect before Dallas and Dad moved him from the saddle to the backseat of Gram’s Buick.

“And so?” Darrell encouraged her.

“The emergency room doctor put him in a cast and said he’d be down for a while. The Elys were all there by then, so Dad left before they talked about when he could ride.”

Darrell made a waving motion as if that didn’t matter.

“What about driving?” he asked. “We’re supposed to go to Cimmaron for the midnight drag races in a few weeks.”

“I don’t know. What are drag races?” Sam pictured draft horses pulling heavy loads, but she had a hard time believing Darrell was bereft at the thought of missing such a competition.

“Like with two cars … going fast as they can in a
straight line? Darrell studied Sam for comprehension. “You know.”

“Not really,” Sam said. She noticed her hamburger was getting cold and began eating again, feeling more ravenous than before.

“When is he coming back to school?” Darrell asked, with no concern at all for her meal.

Sam shrugged and kept eating. She wished the crowd of boys would go away so she could talk to Jen, but it was their table.

Satisfied that they’d leeched the choicest information from her, Darrell and the guys leaned together, talking.

For a minute, Sam wondered if Jake was still in the hospital. She remembered how scared she’d been in a big white hospital bed after her accident two years ago.

She’d been younger, of course, and Jake might not be scared, but he’d hate the limits on his movements. He’d get cranky and restless, though the doctor had said it wasn’t an especially bad break.

“So that’s where you were when I called last night,” Jen said.

“Yeah.”

“Your Gram said you were out riding, so I figured you hadn’t gotten into trouble.” Jen looked at her meaningfully. “You know, over the incident?”

Sam stared at Jen.

“The
school bus
incident?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Sam hadn’t forgotten really, but the shame she’d felt yesterday had faded. “I’m grounded.”

“Even after what you did for Jake?”

Sam considered the question. Her thoughts felt like they were swimming through honey, but she was pretty sure of the answer.

“All I really did was ride along with him, and even if it had been more, well, I can’t see one teensy act of heroism erasing what Gram and Dad see as a gigantic mistake.”

The end-of-lunch bell rang through the cafeteria. Sam swallowed the last of her soda and stood. “Better go,” she said. “Who knows what they’d do to me if I added tardiness to my criminal record.”

It was a crummy day to teach Rachel to ride.

When Sam arrived home from school, Gram was in a chatty mood. She announced that Jake had been released from the hospital and was resting in his own bed at Three Ponies Ranch. Of course, Sam couldn’t go see him, since Rachel would be arriving soon.

Gram told Sam that Dad and Dallas were on the range, checking the runny-nosed steers. They could have used Sam’s help, since Jake was missing from the crew, but they’d ridden out without her because she’d still been at school.

Gram was most excited about her weekend plans. She, Dad, and Brynna were going to the county fair. Gram would compete in the fried chicken cook-off
and Dad would meet Brynna’s parents.

Sam felt herself staring dully at Gram. She knew it was significant that Brynna wanted to introduce Dad to her parents, but she had no comment. All this information was making her tired. Her eyelids drooped, begging for sleep.

Instead, Sam stood in the drizzle, watching Rachel try to corner Ace and halter him. She felt impatient with them both.

“I don’t see why I can’t use the pinto one.” Rachel stood in the barn corral. Sweetheart crowded up behind her, and Ace was doing everything he could to escape the halter Rachel was pushing at him.

“Because you can’t,” Sam explained. “And if you expect to get out of there anytime soon, you need to put the lead rope over his neck, like I told you, and reach over the top of his head, like I told you, and slip his nose into that round part. He’s not going to do it for you.”

Rachel wasn’t used to following orders, that was for sure. Even as she did what Sam asked, sort of, she grumbled. “I’d rather ride a ‘loud-colored’ horse. That’s what I read attracts attention to a queen candidate. Ha!”

At last she’d buckled the halter over Ace’s head. The glare the gelding gave Sam didn’t need words to explain how annoying he found this entire exercise.

“For what I’m paying you,” Rachel went on, “the least you can do is have the horse saddled and ready
when I get here. And I’d prefer one without a scar on his neck.”

A dozen responses hammered through Sam’s mind, but she picked the calmest one as she opened the gate.

“This builds the horse’s confidence in you, so he’ll do what you ask later. Lead him through, Rachel.”

Sam figured there was no reason to explain Rachel would never earn the trust of a smart horse like Ace.

“Besides,” Sam said as they went to the hitching rail, “I don’t think they just present you with a horse--hold the rope with two hands, one closer to his chin--and tell you to do your stuff when you’re trying out as a rodeo queen.”

“I should find out,” Rachel said. “That could save a lot of time. Where’s the saddle?”

Sam took the lead rope from Rachel and tied Ace. “In the tack room,” she said. “I’ll show you.”

Sam piled the saddle and blanket on Rachel’s arms and slung Ace’s bridle over her shoulder.

“I am not a pack animal,” Rachel said, her British accent surfacing with scorn.

This is not going to work
. Sam gritted her teeth to keep from saying it. Only the tiny possibility that she’d be more patient when she’d had more sleep kept ‘Sam from telling Rachel to go home.

And the fun had just begun.

Ace planted a hoof on the toe of one of Rachel’s
new boots. She whimpered.

Ace sidestepped, eyes rolling white. Rachel dropped the saddle.

Ace flung himself to the end of the lead rope, pretending the snaffle was a terrifying foreign object. Rachel recoiled from slimy horse spit.

A long forty minutes later, Ace stood saddled and bridled.

“If you think I’m going to do this every time I come for a lesson, you’re delusional,” Rachel said as she checked the polish on her fingernails. “I do not like to perspire.”

“Could you girls use some cookies and cocoa?” Gram stood on the porch, smiling.

This was what she needed to keep in mind, Sam told herself. Gram cooking happily in the kitchen, the wide ranch house porch, and horses all around. Money made it possible, and that’s all she needed from Rachel.

“Let’s take a break,” Sam said. “Then we’ll get you up on Ace.”

Sitting on a step, sipping cocoa, Sam stared off toward the ten-acre pasture. Buddy was getting big. Dark Sunshine’s pregnancy was beginning to show. Popcorn grazed beside her, looking content.

“Karla Starr is looking for attractive bucking horses,” Rachel said.

“I know. She was here just yesterday,” Sam said, but she was wondering if the steers with the runny
noses had something contagious. She’d ask Dad if Buddy needed an inoculation.

“Sam.”

Sam stared. Rachel had never called her that.

“Yes?” Sam watched Rachel watch her. “I heard you. Kayla Starr is looking for rough stock. We don’t have any.”

“I’m just saying …” Rachel ran her fingers over the pattern on her cup. She glanced up at Sam, then gave her head a faint shake. “Why should I bother to do you a favor?”

“Rachel, I don’t mean to be dense.” Sam brushed her bangs away from her eyes. “But I don’t know what you’re hinting at.”

“Karla Starr told my father--oh, this is utter nonsense,” Rachel said. “Let’s get back to it, shall we?”

By the time Mrs. Coley came for her, Rachel had made some progress in mounting and dismounting from Ace, but Sam had made none in figuring out the clues Rachel had given her.

She trudged toward the house. Maybe Rachel’s hints would make sense in the morning. Just now, all Sam knew for sure was that she needed a warm bath, cozy pajamas, and sleep.

T
hursday was Jake’s birthday.

As Gram drove her over to the Three Ponies Ranch, Sam was not only glad to be getting some time with Jake, she was glad to have a reason for skipping Rachel’s lesson.

Only Jen knew how much Sam disliked the after-school chore.

But it wasn’t for either of the reasons Jen suspected.

True, Ace acted like a brat-horse around, Rachel. He sprinted for the fence rails and tried to rub Rachel off whenever he felt Sam’s attention wander. And Rachel was no better. She protested the lack of a covered arena, whining that any civilized ranch needed one for winter. But Ace’s tricks and Rachel’s stuck-up attitude weren’t what made Sam crazy.

Rachel’s unending hints were the problem.

She was trying to say something about Karla
Starr, but what? Sam tried to connect Rachel’s clues with the fringe from the watering hole and her constant, gnawing worry over the Phantom.

She was hoping that Jake would help her understand. Together, they’d been able to figure out almost anything.

“Welcome to Jake’s lair,” Mrs. Ely announced as she led Sam to the sunporch where her son sat. “He’s cranky as a bear, Sam. We throw him a chunk of raw meat a couple of times a day, but in honor of your visit, I put some iced tea and chips on the table there.” Mrs. Ely hesitated. “You’re the only one he’s agreed to see.”

“I’d be flattered,” Sam joked as Jake glared past her at his mother, “except that he knows I bought him a cool present back when I got that reward.”

As Mrs. Ely and Gram moved off, talking about the county fair and harsh weather, Sam tossed the big, brightly wrapped present toward Jake.

He caught it, but barely, and Sam understood why her friend was so down.

He was embarrassed. His leg was casted straight and jointless. Energetic Jake, who was always bounding off somewhere, couldn’t move without help. His jeans were split to go over the white plaster and he wore no shoes.

Had she ever seen Jake’s feet before? Bare and pale, they made him look kind of defenseless, so Sam tried not to look. Instead, she took in the wide windows
and cascading ferns of the sunporch. And the crutch leaning in one corner.

“Out here, you can pretend it’s still summer,” she said.

“It’s better than my room.”

“And you get to skip school.”

Jake shook his head and Sam saw how it was. She didn’t know how many brothers shared Jake’s room, but she could, imagine the quiet after they’d all dressed and left him behind.

Sam poured iced tea for both of them. She stared at the slice of bobbing lemon in her glass and resolved to cheer Jake up.

“After you open your present, I have something else for you, too.”

Jake’s expression said he didn’t want to be pitied.

“Open it, Jake. I’ve been waiting months to see it again.” Sam had had the saddle shop wrap the gift in its special packaging. The cardboard was printed to look like hand-tooled leather stamped with the shop’s exclusive brand.

“Need some help with that tape and tissue paper, or what?”

“Shut up, Brat,” Jake muttered, but then he pushed the wrappings away and stared. He looked up at her, speechless.

“I’m going to put it on Witch for you,” Sam said as if she gave hundred-dollar presents every day.

“She’ll eat you alive.” Jake fingered the split-ear
headstall with something like respect.

“Yeah, and I’m such a good friend, I’ll let you watch.”

Jake smiled, but it didn’t last long.

Sam was glad she’d anticipated this. She’d known that right after he admired the headstall, he’d be sad he couldn’t ride with it right away.

“And that’s not all.” Sam dug into her backpack. “This isn’t a present exactly, more like a contribution to your secret ambition.”

Jake struggled to sit up straighter. The box and tissue paper slipped away from him before he could grab them.

Pretending she’d intended all along to clear it out of the way, Sam pushed the wrapping aside with one foot and scooted her chair closer to hand him a stack of printouts shed made from the Internet.

“The Shadow Wolves, she announced in a dramatic voice.

“Thanks.” Jake’s tone was careful, as if he was trying not to hurt her feelings.

“It’s not science fiction or any kind of fantasy, Jake. It’s a group of Native American trackers--from several tribes--who help the government catch smugglers. Mostly in the Southwest deserts, but--it’s
you
. Take a look.”

She’d found the perfect way to end Jake’s mope. Once he began reading, he was transformed from sulky to studious.

Outside, the sun ducked behind a cloud. The sunporch grew dim, but Jake didn’t notice. He hardly breathed as he entered the world of men and women whose ancient skills worked better than modern technology to catch criminals sneaking across the desert.

“I didn’t know,” he muttered, but Sam could tell he wasn’t talking to her.

The minute he quit reading, he’d want her gone so, he could log on to the Internet looking for details she’d missed.

Sam smiled. It was working out just as she’d hoped. She couldn’t give Jake mobility, but she’d given him hours of daydreams.

Somewhere in the ranch house, a window was open. Wind gusted, slamming a door, even as it brought the scent of more rain.

Jake finished reading, then paged back to a photograph illustrating an article.

Gram would want to leave before the roads got too slick. Sam bit her lip. If she was going to ask Jake about the clues, it was now or never.

“I have this situation,” she began.

“Figured as much.” Jake set the papers aside. “You’ve been fidgeting for five minutes.”

As rain pinged on the aluminum overhang outside, Sam told him everything. His head tilted to one side as he stared out the window.

“You’re not stupid, Sam. You just don’t want to face facts.”

Her heart hammered. She’d counted on Jake to tell her she was just being paranoid.

“Rachel overheard something. She’s telling you Karla Starr’s after the Phantom.”

“But why would she do that? Rachel can’t stand me.”

“Don’t ask me to look into her head. I don’t want to be there.” He pretended to shudder. “But the horses, now …

Jake’s eyes lost focus as he sank deeper into the chair.

“The key to how she’s catching horses is in the way Silly and Ace reacted at the water hole. They’re domesticated. A trap shouldn’t scare them.” He rocked forward and his fist struck the table in frustration. “If I could get out there and look around--”

“You wouldn’t find a darn thing, because it’s been raining for days. So forget that.”

“Don’t get uppity or I’ll hit you with my crutch.”

“You will not.” Sam didn’t feel like joking. She warmed her arms against a chill that had nothing to do with the rain. How could she help the Phantom?

“Tell Brynna.” Jake turned one hand palm up, as if the solution to Sam’s worry was obvious. “If I could ride, I’d go check it out with you. That terrain’s too rough for you alone, but she can send a ranger or wrangler up to the high country to look for him. It’d be best, you know, if you told them exactly where to find him. There’s nothing else you can do.”

Jake was wrong. She could ride Ace to the Phantom’s hidden valley. He might even come to her. Being grounded would make it tougher, but Gram and Dad were going to the county fair. They expected her to go along, but maybe she wouldn’t.

“I can see the wheels turnin’, but with that river rising, it’s too dangerous to risk going alone. Don’t cross your arms and get all huffy with me. I didn’t do no rain dance.”

Jake was trying to tease her. He knew he couldn’t stop her himself, and he didn’t want to tell on her. But he would. He’d done it before.

Sam heard footsteps approaching. She stood to go, feeling more irritated and confused than when she’d arrived.

Jake grabbed her sleeve and his voice turned gruff.

“Get it through your thick head, Sam. Rodeo season’s nearly over. If Karla Starr wants the Phantom, she probably already has him.”

When she got home and jogged into the barn, Sam expected to see Ace waiting impatiently for her.

Instead, she saw Brynna Olson Kissing Dad right on the lips.

Sam froze. As far as she knew, they’d only been on one date. She had caught Dad talking on the phone to Brynna a couple of times, but still …

They were in the barn, just outside the tack room.
Even though Brynna wore her red hair in a tight braid and her BLM uniform, she looked anything but professional. And though Dad’s hands rested on each of her shoulders, he was not pushing her away.

And then they noticed her.

Dad had the decency to look embarrassed. Brynna blushed, then giggled. “We didn’t hear you.”

“No kidding?” Sam itched to inform Brynna a thirty-something woman shouldn’t giggle. But she couldn’t do it.

She liked Brynna in most ways, and Dad’s expression warned Sam that her tone had come close to crossing the line.

Since no one seemed to know what to say, Sam turned to Ace.

His head hung over the fence facing into the barn. He tossed his forelock, showing off the white star between his eyes.

Sam stood close and let him nuzzle her neck. She closed her eyes, and though she heard Dad and Brynna talking, about the county fair and Brynna’s parents’ coming to meet Dad, she was thinking of the Phantom.

Sure, she was mad at Brynna, but Brynna cared about her job. And her job was to protect Nevada’s wild horses.

“I think Karla Starr is trapping wild horses,” Sam said loudly.

Dad’s eyes narrowed.

Brynna turned, took in his expression, then faced Sam. “Who’s Karla Starr?”

“She’s a rodeo contractor--” Sam started.

“Strictly small-time,” Dad interrupted, but Brynna was still listening to Sam.

“She’s said things that sort of sound like she doesn’t think the law applies to her.” Sam hadn’t put the thought in words before, but she felt it was the truth. Like Slocum, Karla Starr thought she could make herself an exception to the rules.

“Anything else?” Brynna looked willing to be convinced.

“Rachel Slocum has been hinting that her father told Karla Starr about the Phantom to ‘sweeten the deal’ he was making to sell her some of his Brahma bulls.”

Brynna nodded, encouraging her. “What else?”

“Isn’t that enough?” Sam demanded, as Brynna looked at Dad.

“Wyatt?”

“I don’t know why she’d do that if she wanted to stay in business.”

“And out of jail.” Brynna was actually smiling.

“Because she thinks she can get away with it!” Sam snapped.

Karla Starr
would
get away with it, too, if Dad and Brynna didn’t pay attention instead of making goo-goo eyes at each other.

“What exactly did Rachel say?” Brynna asked.

“Just a bunch of stuff.” Sam’s frustration swelled as Brynna glanced at Dad again. “I didn’t write it down, okay?”

“Okay,” Brynna agreed. “Sam, you were right about Slocum before, and I trust your judgment. You want what’s best for the horses and so do I. I’ll tell the rangers to keep an eye out for any unusual activity--”

“I have her business card,” Sam said, but Dad had already taken his copy of the card from his wallet.

Brynna studied the card. “We’ll check her out.”

“You can have someone keep watch on the Phantom, too, can’t you?”

“I wish I could, but I only have two men to patrol ten thousand acres.” Brynna’s weight shifted toward Dad.

It must have been some kind of cue.

“Friday night we’re driving in for the fair,” Dad said. “We figured you’d want to come along and watch your Gram win a blue ribbon for her fried chicken.”

We
figured. Sam ran the sentence over in her mind. Dad and Brynna. Together. Overnight. They’d be with Gram, but it still sounded awfully serious.

“Maybe,” Sam said. “I have a history project I need to work on, though.”

Sam waited for Dad to tell her she didn’t have a choice. After all, it was pretty clear he was going. And not to watch Gram, either.

She looked him straight in the eyes. Arms crossed,
he mirrored her own stubborn stance. But he’d never left her alone overnight. Would he do it now?

“Suit yourself, Dad said.

“I will.” Sam gave Ace a pat and started out of the barn.

She couldn’t believe this. How was she supposed to feel?

They were watching her. Every step seemed to take forever. She’d longed for Dad to trust her enough to leave her alone overnight, but now he was doing it for all the wrong reasons.

“She’ll get over it,” Brynna whispered.

And though the angel on Sam’s shoulder was assuring her that Brynna meant it in the nicest way possible, her little horned conscience was saying, “That settles it. I’m doing this my own way.”