Golden Ghost (4 page)

Jen continued to stare after Ryan. Her lips wore a slight smile as if she were confused by her own thoughts.

“The way his hair sort of falls on his forehead, doesn't it just make you want to brush it back for him?”

If Jen had asked,
Don't you just have a craving to eat bugs?
it would have surprised her less.

Could you suffer mental whiplash? Sam wondered.

“You have a crush on him,” she said in disbelief.

“Of course I don't. I just think it's cool he's taking an interest in Sky and Hotspot.” Silence crept in between each of Jen's words. “Especially Hotspot.” The harder she tried to sound sensible, the less she did. “She's a beautiful mare….”

“Yeah,” Sam teased. “So beautiful, she makes you want to brush her forelock back out of her eyes.”

“Shut up,” Jen said, in a level tone that sounded like a request.

Sam laughed, glad that Jen was finally acting like herself again.

“Whatever,” Jen said, dismissing Ryan with a word.

The wind had stopped. The orange morning sun had turned into a flat white disk and cold clamped down.

Sam pulled her gloves out of her pocket and worked them on. Ace felt the cold, too, or he'd take advantage of her distraction to act up.

“Good boy,” Sam praised him, but the gelding only swished his tail in annoyance. If she could read his mind, Sam was pretty sure she'd see him thinking about the warm barn corral he shared with Sweetheart, Gram's old paint mare.

Keeping her reins in her left hand, she tugged the leather collar of her sheepskin-lined coat up to her chin. “I need to get home and strategize,” Jen said.

Sam glanced at her friend. “Aren't you cold?”

Jen's nose was red. Her lips were a white that could turn blue any second, and yet her jacket hung open over her sweater.

“Not really. I'm thinking.”

Sam knew she'd felt relieved too soon. Jen was so fixated on Golden Rose, she didn't even know she was cold.

But here came help. Or at least another distraction.

Crested head held high, a black horse surged toward them. She looked primitive and just barely under control, like a horse daubed in paint on an elk-skin tent. Her rider lacked a spear and shield, but his hair was ink black like the horse and he rode as if the two were one.

Yep, from a distance Jake Ely looked great, but Sam could tell from the set of his jaw that he was irritated.

Add Jen's presence to his irritation, and it was like pouring gasoline on a fire. The two never got along.

“Oh, make him disappear,” Jen moaned as Jake rode closer. “I've got to meditate. If I can only go home, stretch out on my bed with a notebook, and lay out a plan, I can keep Dad from quitting his job and moving to the city. I'm just not up for a fight with Jake Ely right now.”

W
itch, Jake's black Quarter horse, liked to bully other horses. Ace had learned to stay out of reach, but Silly stretched her muzzle out in welcome, trying to be friends.

Witch was still five or six horse lengths away when her hindquarters tensed. Her trot turned jerky and her ears flattened to her skull. Her eyes flashed rivalry and her hooves jabbed the dirt as she approached.

A stranger to horses might not have noticed Witch's foul attitude, but Sam and Jen did. Only Jake's skillful riding kept Witch from wheeling to kick Silly.

With a whinny high-pitched as a foal's, Silly extended her head toward Ace, asking for help, but Jen acted first.

“What's that brainless beast you ride got against other horses?” she shouted.

Sam sighed. This whole day was going to be an emotional roller-coaster, apparently.

Jake kept his mare in check and ignored Jen's question.

“Morning.” His greeting sounded like a reprimand. Sam and Jen knew Jake wasn't just stopping to shoot the breeze when he lifted his chin slightly and asked, “What's he doing out here?”

He had to be talking about Ryan Slocum. Even though he'd ridden out of sight, his tracks remained. Jake had probably picked up Sky's hoofprints at the Gold Dust Ranch, but how could he know who was riding him?

Jake stared toward Lost Canyon. His coat was open over a faded blue shirt and his Shoshone hair was pulled back under his black Stetson. Sam couldn't see Jake's eyes, but his casual posture said he was indifferent to the answer. Still, the fact that he didn't ride on after saying hi proved he was faking.

“
He
who?” Jen taunted. Then, when Jake didn't take the bait, she added, “Last time I looked, this was open range. I suppose just about anyone can ride out here.”

Jake's hat brim dipped a fraction of an inch. “Rustlers, butchers, con men,” he muttered in agreement.

“Your jealousy is showing,” Jen said.

“Oh, yeah. I like the sissy look of a man who can't sit down on his horse for fear it's not tough enough to carry him.”

“Stop it,” Sam said. “I've heard you admit that some of the best riders in the world use English saddles.”

Jake kept quiet, but she could feel his irritation. So now he thought she'd betrayed him. Too bad. Jake and Jen always put her in the middle. At least she didn't mention the black-and-white poster of Mexican cavalrymen riding down hillsides that Jake had shown her once. It was from some 1950s movie and the saddles were smaller and lighter than Western saddles. They'd looked a lot like English saddles. And, if she remembered right, Jake had said something like, “That's ridin'.”

“If you're referring to Ryan Slocum,” Jen said, “he's giving Sky, their endurance horse, some exercise.”

Again, Jake gave a small nod.

Seeing that she couldn't bait him into further argument, Jen gathered her reins and backed Silly away from the other two.

“Fun as this has been, I'd better be on my way,” Jen said to Sam. She backhanded one white-blond braid over her shoulder. “Mom was still in her bathrobe when I left and she was already asking if I'd unpacked my suitcase. And I have a few other plans to get in order before it's time to start thinking about school.”

Jen widened her eyes meaningfully toward Sam.

Sam tried to cover for Jen's not-so-subtle hint.

“I think this project is going to be fun. I'll go over our field notes and start typing them up. I don't have
anything to do for the rest of vacation. Unless you want to come back tomorrow?”

“Oh, yeah!” Jen raised her hand in a fist and pumped it skyward, then sent Silly loping for home.

Oh, nice, Jen.
Sam stirred her legs against the saddle leathers and let Ace start for home. Good thing Jen was aiming at a career in veterinary medicine and not espionage.

“What's she up to?” Jake said, as Witch fell into step beside Ace.

“As if I'd tell you.”

“Something to do with Slocum or with that ghost town?”

“Hey, I need to ask you something,” Sam said suddenly.

“Nice diversion. Real pro, but answer me first.”

“I can't. I promised I wouldn't.”

Jake sighed, then gave a shrug that said he took promises seriously, but couldn't see how anything Jen said warranted such a vow.

“The Kenworthys sold their ranch to Slocum not long after I had to go to San Francisco, right?”

Jake's shoulders tensed. He'd finally tried to duck guilt when it came at him, but he still felt responsible for the riding accident that had sent Sam to the hospital, and then to San Francisco for two years.

“Around then,” he said.

“So why don't they have a lot of money?”

Hundreds of acres of ranchland, complete with
water rights and outbuildings, had to be worth a lot. Maybe Jed had made a bad decision and wasted the money quickly. Maybe that's why he felt guilty that Jen and her mother didn't have nice things.

“Back taxes,” Jake said. “Plus other debt. In that drought he lost cattle. Like everyone else, he sold some for less than he'd paid for them, but that didn't take into account raising 'em, feeding 'em, trucking them to market.”

Sam felt a surge of thankfulness. Her family had been so lucky not to lose River Bend.

“Not that it's any of your business, Brat.”

“It is if Jen's dad makes them move,” Sam said.

“Thought that was just a rumor.”

“I hope so.”

Slowly, as if he was fighting the pull of his own curiosity, Jake looked back toward Lost Canyon.

Let him look, Sam thought. He was jealous of Ryan and she didn't blame him. Besides, if he was fretting over Ryan, he wouldn't see her searching the Calico Mountains, hoping and fearing she'd see the Phantom.

All at once, her imagination bloomed with a thought darker than a nightmare.

“You said butchers,” she blurted. “What were you talking about?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Jake, do you know anything about…” Sam told herself not to be stupid. Saying it wouldn't make it
true, but the words stuck in her throat.

“About what?” Jake tilted his head back slightly so he could study her without the barrier of his hat brim. “Simmer down, Brat. Do I know anything about what?”

“Horsemeat dealers.”

“I know it's illegal to sell wild horses, or stolen horses to 'em.”

“But are there any around here?”

“You've been out to the Mineral auction yards with Brynna, right? When you were looking for the rustlers who had mustangs?”

“No. I recognized the truck before we got out there,” Sam said.

She'd actually been glad to miss seeing the auction yards.

Sam didn't know why she couldn't—no matter how hard she tried—treat animals like lesser creatures. She didn't think of them as pets, really, but she couldn't help trying to understand what they were thinking. Maybe she'd spent too much time away from ranch life. Or maybe she'd inherited a soft heart from her city-bred mother.

“But, are you saying people take horses out there and sell them for—”

“Well, some folks don't ask. But if you could see the stock that gets trucked in…” Jake sighed. “Scarred animals, lame ones, unbreakable crazy ones, and some that are just too old for work….” Jake's voice trailed
off, then came back softer than usual. “Those old ponies aren't going to a retirement home, Samantha.”

“That's awful,” Sam protested.

Ace jumped sideways, startled by her shout and the tension in her legs.

“Well, Jim McDonald, the brand inspector, keeps people from catching wild ones and selling 'em like they did in the old days. So don't get into a tizzy about that.”

A tizzy
. The words were so condescending, they made Sam mad. Mad enough not to talk for the rest of the ride.

When the River Bend bridge came into view, she expected Jake to ride on home, toward Three Ponies Ranch, but he turned Witch toward the bridge.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, finally breaking her vow of silence.

“Ain't you ever heard of Western hospitality?” Jake drawled.

“Don't talk like…” Sam closed her lips. He'd done it on purpose to irritate her. Jake had such stupid guy ways of trying to snap her out of sadness.

As two sets of hooves clopped across the wooden planks, though, she had to ask.

“Why are you following me?”

“Just reporting for work, ma'am,” Jake said.

“There are no colts to break. Dad's home. And Pepper and Ross are back from Idaho, so I don't think Dallas needs you.”

“I'm insulted,” Jake said, but the half smile on his lips said he wasn't anything of the kind. “You've overlooked the fact that I've got more than muscle power going for me. Got me a brain, too.” Jake tapped his temple with the index finger of his free hand.

Sam couldn't imagine what he was talking about. Dad, Brynna, and Gram could handle anything Jake could. Except tracking, maybe, but she had the feeling he was talking about something else.

Jake obviously wanted her to beg for details.

Forget it. Out of habit, Sam tightened her reins, but she didn't have to. Ace had already stopped at the hitching post where she tied him to unsaddle and brush him before putting him back in the barn.

Jake sat lazy in the saddle, watching her.

Sam's patience lasted until she'd stripped off Ace's saddle and draped the blanket over it to air.

“Okay, why do you think we need your pea-sized brain?”

Jake laughed. “They don't, but you do.” Jake swept off his Stetson and made a bow. “Meet your new math tutor.”

“What?”

The Rhode Island Red hens squawked and fluttered, disturbed in their search for slow winter bugs by Sam's screech. Blaze, the ever-watchful ranch dog, came trotting from the barn.

Jake dismounted, ground-tied Witch, and rubbed his palms together like a soap opera villain. “You're
going to eat, sleep, and breathe algebra for the rest of vacation.”

This could not be true.

“Dad!” Sam ran toward the barn, yelling.

Algebra on school days was bad enough.

Before she reached the barn, Dallas, River Bend's foreman, stepped into the doorway and pointed toward the house.

Sam swung around to run the other way. Jake was still laughing, watching her run around like one of those silly hens. She'd almost reached the house when the screen door opened and Dad stepped out onto the wooden porch.

A spicy aroma of chilies and eggs wafted from the house. Gram must be practicing what she'd learned during her vacation at a New Mexico cooking school. Sam's stomach growled in anticipation, but food didn't matter. Nothing mattered except her last few days of freedom.

“Dad,” Sam said, trying to catch her breath. “Jake says he's my new math tutor.”

Dad drank from his steaming cup of coffee. He held it up longer than a sip warranted. He gazed over the rim and his eyes settled on Jake.

Once he'd swallowed, he asked, “When are you kids gonna outgrow teasing and tormenting each other?”

“Maybe never,” Sam said. “So he's not telling the truth?”

“Well, yeah, he is.”

Sam put her hands on her hips in fury, then let them slide off. Never once had she won an argument with Dad by yelling. They were both too stubborn.

“Okay, I know I'm not doing that well in algebra. But
you
can help me. Or—Jen! Jen's really good at math. She's in the same classes as Jake and she's only a freshman.”

“We thought you'd get more studyin' done if you worked with Jake.”

Sam took a deep breath. That battle was lost. She tried to save her vacation.

“But not
now
, right? Not during vacation.”

Dad shifted his weight to one leg. He glanced toward the kitchen door behind him, as if he expected backup from someone inside.

Wait.
We thought you'd get more studyin' done
…

We
thought?

This was so simple, she should have figured it out at once. Her father wouldn't do this to her. And even serious, school-is-your-highest-priority Gram had never suggested she ruin a vacation with algebra.

Neither Dad nor Gram would do it.

But Sam knew who would.