Desert Dancer (9 page)

S
am's mind spun with envy.

But Callie had just asked a question and she was waiting for an answer.

“I think we should leave Queen where she is,” Sam managed. A breeze blew through just then and Sam was amazed at its frigidity. She pulled her jacket closer, but the wind seemed to slice right through. “We do have other mustangs, but if we turn her out with them, I don't think we'd ever get her back in this round pen where we can work with her.”

“Ever?” Callie said. As she bunched her cloak closer around her neck, she smiled.

“You know what I mean.” Sam tried not to sound impatient. “We couldn't do it without roping her and dragging her back.”

“She doesn't need another trauma,” Callie agreed.

“Besides, I can't rope, can you?”

“No.” Callie climbed up on the fence and laid her
crossed arms on the top rail. She watched the mare watch her.

Sam joined her.

Callie sounded almost hypnotized as she said, “So we're back where we started. Given the kind of week Queen's had, what should we do next?”

“What would you want?”

Callie frowned, really thinking about it as they watched the mare lift her head and sniff. Sam wondered whether the sudden cold signaled snow. It could, she supposed, but the clouds overhead were dark gray, not white-bellied.

“I'd want a hot bath and a cup of mint tea. What's the horse equivalent of that? Just being left alone with a little food and fresh water?”

“Sounds about right to me,” Sam said. For the horse's sake, she tried not to be jealous that Callie seemed to have a knack for reading Queen's mind.

Sam put Ace back in his stall, then helped Callie unload the hay and grain she'd brought. The wind was so cold, it felt almost wet as it snatched bits of hay and sent it blizzarding around the ranch yard before they could get it under cover.

When all the hay was stacked in the feed room, with the burlap bags of grain alongside, Sam sighed. At least Dad couldn't complain that she'd allowed a strange mustang to come in and eat their expensive food.

Soon, they'd scattered loose hay in the corral.
Sam suggested sprinkling a handful of grain on the top, so Queen would gradually get used to eating it.

Right now, the mare only wanted to drink. She kept her body turned so that her eyes showed over the top of the bucket. She observed them, closely, ready to run if they invaded her new home. As they let her get used to them, Sam and Callie worked out a schedule.

Callie had classes at the beauty college every morning, but she was usually finished by noon. Two days each week she worked from twelve until five doing haircuts, manicures, and other beauty treatments.

“For people who are brave enough to be my guinea pigs,” Callie said. She rubbed her hands together like an evil genius, then pulled her cloak to cover both of them.

“They're not risking much,” Sam said. “You did a great job with me, and I'd just had my head shoved in a horse trough.”

“Really?”

“Well, sort of,” Sam said. “That's a long story that I'll tell you later.”

Callie's smile lit up her face. Sam could tell Callie liked her company and Sam realized she'd gotten used to the girl's pierced nose and dandelion-bright hair.

For the mare's peace of mind, they decided only Callie should try to gentle her.

“She needs to hear you and smell you and, as soon
as she'll allow it, let you close enough to touch her.” Sam glanced toward the house and wondered if Aunt Sue had her binoculars trained on them. “I'll work on a way to convince Aunt Sue that it's safe.”

“It's not, is it?” Callie asked, but she didn't look a bit scared.

“No, it's not safe, but it's not as dangerous as some people think. Of course, I had Jake's help—”

“Jake Ely, right? From the Three Ponies Ranch?”

Sam really hoped Callie didn't ask for Jake's help.

Sometime during the day, Sam had figured out how she was going to pay Jake back for dousing her before the wedding. She wasn't going to hurt him, of course, but Jake took himself so seriously, he needed to be taken down a peg. After her revenge, Jake wasn't going to be eager to hang around with her, for a long time.

Once more, Callie was waiting patiently for her answer.

“Yeah, Jake's been watching with every mustang I've touched.”

Every mustang except one, Sam thought. The image of the Phantom shimmered in her mind.

“Well, I'd better get going,” Callie said, starting toward the truck and trailer. “The truck's due back to the rental company by five o'clock. If it's later, I'll have to pay a penalty, and I'm not sure how I'd do that.”

She sounded so grown up, Sam thought, but she
didn't know how to express her admiration.

“Thanks for saying she could stay here.” Callie met Sam's eyes with heartfelt appreciation, and Sam had the feeling that if they'd known each other better, Callie would have given her a hug.

“It's no problem,” Sam said.

“It could have been,” Callie said. “I don't handle obstacles very well, but lately, things have been going my way.”

Sam wondered how a teenager who was living on her own in a converted garage could think things were going her way.

“When my parents decided to move away and open a new store, I couldn't face it. I'd always wanted to adopt a mustang and I was afraid if I moved to town with them, it would never happen. They told me I could stay here, but only if I worked out a plan.

“So, I took a high school equivalency test instead of waiting for graduation and I passed. Then, I applied for a partial scholarship to beauty college and got that.” Callie looked surprised by her own talent. “I don't know if I want to do it forever, but right now I think it's cool.”

“That's amazing,” Sam said. “I wouldn't even know where to start.”

“Neither did I,” Callie said, shrugging. “But it turns out that was the easy part. My folks give me some money, but I've got to pay for power, a phone, food, and all that stuff.”

“Well, you must have done a good job budgeting. BLM doesn't give horses away,” Sam said.

“My grandma gave me money when I got my GED and expected me to buy a car. I did, but it was a real bargain. You'll know why when you see it. That left me with enough money for Queen's adoption fee, the truck, and horse food. I'm going to see if I can work out some kind of a barter deal with Dr. Scott and Mr. Lake, the farrier.”

“I'm not sure what you mean by bartering,” Sam said. She remembered hearing the term in eighth grade world history, but couldn't remember its definition.

“It means trading stuff. I already scoped out Mr. Lake's wife,” Callie said smugly. “And believe me, she could use a good haircut.”

“Dr. Scott doesn't look like the kind of guy who cares about how he looks,” Sam said. “He wears the same old jeans and flannel shirts all the time, and the only thing I've noticed about his hair is that it usually has straw in it.”

“I'll think of something,” Callie said. “Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I can live on noodles and oranges.”

Sam knew Gram would end up feeding Callie. After one look at the girl's gaunt cheeks and thin wrists, Gram would be mixing up casseroles and baking extra batches of cookies for her to haul home to her lonely apartment.

The wind had stopped and the air seemed even colder.

“Good-bye, girl,” Callie called to Queen. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

She blew the horse a kiss. Sam knew they should stop talking. Callie should go home and she should go inside, but Callie was interesting, and Sam had to ask one more question. She fell into step with Callie as she returned to the truck.

“What made you want a wild horse so much?” Sam asked. “I mean, I love Ace and I'd do anything to keep him, but you made all these sacrifices before you even saw Queen. How come?”

Callie opened the door to the truck. It was a long step up to the driver's seat, and she waited until she'd vaulted up to answer.

“It's all your fault. When you stood in front of the bus to save—” Callie broke off and shook her head. “It inspired me. I don't know if I even want to ride Queen. I don't want her for a pet, either. I want her for a friend. Like you and the Phantom. Call me a copycat,” Callie said, draping both arms over the steering wheel as she looked out at Sam. “But when I saw you with him, I knew I wanted to be part of something like that.”

Sam couldn't believe she was to blame for Callie adopting Queen. Guilt washed over her again. Somehow, responsibility for the red dun's capture kept coming back to her.

But maybe, since Callie sort of looked up to her, she could find a way to make Callie return Queen to the wild.

“By the way,” Callie said, as she started the truck and turned on its heater, “what were you doing up at Willow Springs, anyway?”

Sam decided to tell her the truth. “I came looking for your horse.”

“For Queen? Were you coming up to adopt her?”

“No, I was coming up to see if I could set her free, but it turns out I couldn't.”

“Why did you want to do that?” Callie's face turned pale and sickly. “Has this whole friendly afternoon been a trick?”

Had it? Sam swallowed hard.

It
had
started out that way, but now she liked and respected Callie.

She'd turned the question over in her mind for too long. Callie slammed the truck door and jammed the gear shift forward.

“Wait,” Sam said, but the vehicle made a loud, huffing sound and the empty trailer banged as Callie accelerated toward the River Bend bridge.

Sam couldn't help noticing that even though Callie was angry, her driving wasn't reckless.

As the truck turned right, then vanished down the highway, Sam felt forlorn. The least she could do was check on Queen. But then she reconsidered. If she disturbed the horse again, it would be to make herself feel better.

She stood still a minute. She listened to the grinding of teeth. If Queen was eating, she wasn't terrified
by her confinement or concerned over the wet smell of the evening air. Queen was fine.

Blaze appeared at Sam's side as she crossed the ranch yard. Instinct must have told him she was sad, because he kept shoving his cold nose into her palm.

When she got inside the house, she scooped dog chow into Blaze's dish. While the dog wagged his tail in appreciation, Sam heard running water.

Aunt Sue had started a load of laundry. She was also taking a shower. And when Sam returned to the kitchen, she saw a big pot of water boiling on the stove. She'd have to remember to explain the temperament of a country well to Aunt Sue.

In San Francisco, people rarely ran out of water. In the high desert, however, where it was hard, expensive work to drill for water, wells ran temporarily dry all the time.

Sam would have told her right away if Aunt Sue hadn't appeared with an outstanding plan for dinner.

“How does nachos and a green salad sound to you?” she asked.

“Fantastic!” Sam said.

“Nothing fancy. I brought chips and this orange goop,” Aunt Sue said as she dropped a sealed bag into the pot of water boiling on the stove.

“Orange goop?” Sam asked.

“Instead of cheese.”

City food,
Sam thought. She wondered what was in the cheeselike substance, but not enough to ask.
She'd bet the original container had listed more chemicals than her science book.

“And I found some hamburger in the freezer,” Aunt Sue continued, as she slid a skillet out of a cabinet. “I'll brown that and we'll have a feast.”

They'd just seated themselves at the table and begun eating chips from the pyramid of nachos, when Aunt Sue stopped.

“Buddy.” Her eyes rounded. “Your little calf…” Aunt Sue stared at the ground beef decorating the chip in her hand. “Will you have to give her up? Does she have to go live at, uh, McDonald's?”

Sam covered her lips with one hand, afraid she'd laugh the chips out of her mouth.

“That's one reality of ranch life your mother managed to make me understand,” Aunt Sue added solemnly.

“Buddy was orphaned,” Sam explained. “And Dad gave her to me to raise. So, no, Buddy won't grow up to be a hamburger. That's not true for all orphans, though. I'm lucky Dad made an exception for her.”

“We always do for those we love,” Aunt Sue said.

Something in her tone warned Sam that there was a lecture coming, but Aunt Sue waited until they'd almost finished with dinner to begin.

“I'm not sure I like the way your friend Jen behaved.”

“By that you mean you don't like her.”

“Not exactly,” Aunt Sue said. “But at the wedding, I was concerned, and today—”

“Today Jen wasn't even there!”

“That's right, but I recognized some of the same things in you.”

“You were inside the house,” Sam snapped. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Then Sam stopped. She couldn't put a name to what Aunt Sue meant, but she did understand. Besides that, she'd better be careful. Aunt Sue was really nice, but she had a temper once she got going.

“I imagine it's much the same as knowing what a horse is thinking,” Aunt Sue said. “I could read your body language. One isn't a teacher for half her life without noticing the way a girl tilts her head and puts her hand on her hip while she listens to gossip about another girl. And does nothing.”

Aunt Sue had done a pretty good job of describing the way Sam had felt when first Jen, then her father, criticized Callie.

“Jen's parents are fighting a lot,” Sam explained. “I guess her mom doesn't want to move back to the city, but her dad
thinks
she does. And her dad wants to stay on the ranch, but he hates being bossed around by a know-nothing like Slocum.”