Firefly (14 page)

C
arried away
, Sam thought as she and Gabe sandwiched the colt between them and set off.

She'd been carried away by the idea of taking the colt to the hot springs and she hadn't thought enough about the “what ifs.”

Everything was fine now, as they crossed the bare ground around Deerpath Ranch, headed toward the sagebrush and sticker bush–studded fields of the shortcut to the hot springs. The colt stepped carefully and slowly through the vegetation. Every few steps, he turned his head away from her to nudge Gabe's shoulder.

But what if he caught the scent of smoke and went
loco
? What if he saw wild horses running and
dragged her across the desert at the end of this lead rope? What if a sage hen burst from cover in front of him and he spooked, injuring Gabe?

“There are lots of sounds out here once you listen, huh?” Gabe said.

Sam listened. Ahead of them, Mrs. Allen's truck rolled slowly over the dirt road that ended about a quarter mile from the hot springs. Its tires spun monotonously, but crows cawed, too, and insects buzzed.

“Yeah, you're right,” Sam said. There was no sense dumping all her misgivings on him. He had enough to worry about.

The colt stopped, raised his head, and snorted. Nostrils trembling, he tested the air.

“What do you think he smells?” Gabe asked.

“I think he's just recognizing this area,” Sam said. “It's part of the Phantom's territory.”

Sam couldn't believe Mrs. Allen had given permission to walk into this kind of danger. The colt had already proven he had memories. Who could blame him for wanting to return to freedom?

But maybe she was wrong. Maybe he wasn't searching for the scent of his wild herd, or recalling the nights he'd galloped in the dark of the moon with his family, pressed shoulder to warm shoulder, sleek side to side, to the river. He would have been a long-legged foal in the days that Mrs. Allen's fences were down and mustangs had grazed in her
abandoned hay fields.

“Hey, buddy, you're okay,” Gabe said, balancing to reach up and touch the colt's neck.

The colt trembled. He jerked his head up but didn't move away from Gabe.

This rope won't hold him if he wants to go,
Sam thought again. She gave it another wrap around her hand, glad the colt's halter was soft cotton, and snug, so it wouldn't rub his healing burns.

From the tips of his ears, down his neck to the sweat-damp hair on his chest, the colt shook as if he were cold. His front hooves tapped in—what? Impatience? Confusion? Or maybe anticipation. Sam couldn't tell, but she knew some horses found water irresistible. Remembering this colt in the lake at War Drum Flats, she hoped that was what he was feeling.

“What do you think's got him so excited?” Gabe asked.

“He likes water,” she said. “I think that's it.”

“You don't think he wants to return to his herd?” Gabe asked as Pirate resumed walking.

Sam sighed, waited until a crow quit cawing nearby, then said, “That could be it, but you know, even if this hadn't happened to him, he would've been out on his own pretty soon, anyway.”

“Why? All this stuff you've been telling me about herd animals—”

“Is true, but the lead stallion kicks out the young
males when they get to an age that…”

“They're too rowdy?” Gabe suggested.

“Well, sort of,” Sam laughed. “But once they're on their own, they usually hang around in bachelor bands.”

“That doesn't sound all bad,” Gabe said, and Sam wondered if he was thinking of his own friends.

The colt bolted forward a few steps and the lead rope jerked painfully tight around Sam's hand.

“Shoot, five years of weight lifting and what good is it?” Gabe snapped. He gripped his crutches harder and rolled the muscles in his shoulders. “If I could just get rid of these crutches, I could hold him better than you can.”

The colt's hooves stuttered to a stop. Wide-eyed, he scanned the desert.

“No offense,” Gabe added as if he'd just heard what he'd said.

Sam brushed the apology aside.

“If he tries to go, don't even think about trying to stop him. He could drag either one of us to death.”

“That's kinda harsh,” Gabe said.

“That's the truth,” Sam said, but suddenly her hands were shaking. She couldn't tell Gabe the nightmarish choice that had just occurred to her, so she kept talking. “If you tried to stop him, it wouldn't change anything—except you might get hurt and it might take you longer to get well. He'd still have to be recaptured by BLM.”

And if BLM couldn't find him, Sam thought, would she help?

“It's kinda sad,” Gabe said.

Sam stepped out to the end of the lead rope, then looked back at Gabe.

“Keep walking,” she told him. “And we'll follow you. It's not nearly as sad as him suffering through a muddy autumn and snowy winter only to die when it gets too cold for his lungs.”

“Wow,” Gabe said. “Now I smell it, too. Smoke.”

Gabe didn't stop. Now that he'd adapted his gait to the colt's, he swung along without pause.

Though she admired his determination, Sam couldn't help but wonder if the soft flesh under his arms wasn't rubbed raw with all the activity of the last few days. And when the colt swung his head to the side, giving Gabe a companionable nudge, Sam saw Gabe put his right leg down for balance.

It was getting better, she thought, but then Gabe noticed the direction her eyes had darted.

“Don't say anything,” he ordered her. “Or you'll jinx me.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Pretend nothing's changed. It's up to the doctor to tell me if it's really better.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Sam said, shrugging, but excitement spurted through her veins.

 

With only a short distance left before they
reached the hot springs, Sam decided there were no wild horses around. She hadn't seen a puff of dust or heard a clack of hooves on rock to support last night's fears.

In the darkness, she'd thought of riding while she led Pirate. Even though he wasn't used to it, she'd thought it might give her greater control. But then, it had occurred to her that even though summer was ending and mustang stallions had assembled their herds months ago, the Phantom might be lured to investigate a mare.

And once he'd come sniffing around Calico or Ginger, he might have recognized Pirate and taken him back to his secret valley.

Sam bit the inside of her cheek. Hard.

She had to quit this. She wasn't being cautious. She was depressing herself to the point where she felt like she stood at the bottom of a cold, dank well.

“Hey, are you shivering, too?” Gabe asked. “It's about two hundred degrees out here!”

“I'm fine.” Sam tried to keep her tone light. “You know that expression—like when you get chills for no reason, you say a goose walked over your grave?”

“Never heard that one, cowgirl,” he joked.

But Sam barely managed a smile. If the Phantom took the colt to his secret valley, BLM wouldn't find him. If she had to choose between revealing the Phantom's hiding place and letting
this colt brave winter in the mountains and die, what would she do?

Tires skidded on dirt. They all looked ahead to see Mrs. Allen parking the truck.

They'd walk down to the hot springs, where the tumble of rocks would block them from her sight.

Sam looked back over her shoulder to see Mrs. Allen give a stiff wave.

She's trusting me,
Sam thought.

“Wow! This is so outstanding!” Gabe said suddenly. “How could I have missed this?”

The hot springs sat like a vivid jewel amid the buff-colored dirt, weeds, and rocks. Pale aqua in the shallows darkened to turquoise, then dark jade green in the center.

“How deep is it?” Gabe asked.

“I don't know for sure, but not that deep, I don't think.” Sam knew she sounded vague and distracted, but she couldn't quit scanning the area around them for anything that might frighten the colt.

“I've got to sit down,” Gabe said.

“What's wrong?” Sam asked. The colt had quit trembling and Sam turned her worried gaze on Gabe.

“No big deal,” he said, lowering himself to sit on a flat-topped boulder. “I just want to take a look at the path.” He nodded toward the water. “Kind of strategize my way down there so the tips of the crutches don't slip or something.”

If Gabe did fall, if he slammed face first into the rocks…

“Will you quit freaking out?” Gabe asked. His voice was low and almost kind.

“I'm not—”

“Sam, I can see you obsessing over what's going to happen. Shake it off.”

Silence surrounded them.

Finally, Gabe shrugged. “Face it, if anything goes wrong, I did it to myself.”

“That helps a lot,” Sam snapped.

“Just figure out how you're going to get that plastic bag out of your pocket without him getting scared.”

Sam drew a deep breath, and suddenly the moment came. A black bird with a flash of yellow on its wing sat wobbling on a reed. The colt snorted and took a step forward.

While he was distracted by the flutter of the bird's sudden flight, Sam dug her fingers into her back pocket and dropped the folded black plastic near Gabe.

As he pulled it up over his cast, it rustled, but the colt watched without shying.

“I don't think you have any idea how incredible this horse is,” Sam told Gabe. “He's bonding to you. He's going to turn to you if something goes wrong.”

“No he won't,” Gabe said. He knotted the yellow
plastic drawstring with an adamant jerk. “He's more wild than he is mine.”

The words hung between them for a minute before Sam smelled the smoke.

The hot air was clear, with no sign of drifting smoke, but the smell of it filled the air as strongly as if she'd been sitting in front of a fireplace.

The colt wasn't afraid. He straightened, ears pricked. His lips moved as if he were talking to himself. Then he licked his lips.

“What's he doing?” Gabe asked.

“I have no idea. That licking is supposed to be submissive, but—” Sam broke off, shaking her head.

All at once, the horse shook like a dog and the lead rope swung crazily, hitting Gabe and Sam before the colt surged forward toward the water.

“We're going in!”

Sam splashed along in the colt's wake as he pawed at the warm water, splashing his chest and his legs. She stayed steady on her feet as he lowered his face and, mouth open, splashed himself some more.

“He loves it!” Gabe shouted.

“You don't have to tell—” Sam began, but then the colt lowered himself into the hot springs.

Warm as a hot tub
, she thought, but then the colt rolled onto his side and a wave of desert water hit her face, her jersey, and her shorts, drenching her completely.

Through wet eyelashes, Sam saw a blurry vision of Pirate tucking his legs in like a dozing colt.

Horse island
, she thought, when only part of him showed above the blue water. Could he be floating? Or was his side resting on the bottom?

Blinking and wiping her eyes with the back of her free arm, she held tighter to the lead rope and didn't venture closer. If the colt decided to get his legs back under him, he'd thrash and cause such a commotion, he could hurt her without meaning to.

Then, he
was
thrashing, heaving himself over to wet his other side.

“Wait for me,” Gabe said.

From the corner of her eye, Sam saw him sitting, easing one leg into the hot springs.

Coughing against a mouthful of warm water, Sam tried to be mad at Gabe for not understanding this was really a dangerous situation. But she couldn't be angry because she was delighted, too.

The gleaming colt groaned with pleasure, rolling his eyes and baring his teeth in contentment. He stayed on his side long enough that the water around him calmed to small ripples.

Gabe dangled his bruised leg within inches of the colt and Sam felt her heart tighten. The expression of bliss on the colt's face and Gabe's were identical.

What could she do to convince him they were good for each other? No, it was more than that. They were
made
for each other.

But she didn't have to say a thing.

Eyes wide open, the colt lifted his scarred head and opened his mouth.

He wasn't going to bite Gabe. Sam knew that from his gentle expression, but Gabe didn't. His eyes widened in fear, but still he didn't move, so he was perfectly in position when the colt gave him a pink-tongued lick.

“D
id he just lick me?”

“Yeah,” Sam said past her smile. “Some horses do that.”

A sigh rolled through the colt and Sam's cheeks ached from the width of her grin. It didn't stop there, either. It spread, warming her in a way that had nothing to do with the hot springs or the hundred-degree day.

These two were healing each other. They had to stay together.

“He's your horse, you know,” Sam said.

This time, Gabe didn't protest.

“I know. I guess I could keep him at Grandma's.”

“Forget it,” Sam said, surprised her whisper could sound so sharp. “You'd break his heart all over again.
Adopt him and leave? Think about that, Gabe.”

“I don't know.”

“Don't tell me there aren't stables in Denver,” Sam said.

This time the big sigh came from Gabe. “Actually, there's a field right down the street. The guy who owns it lives next door, and he doesn't do anything with it. He keeps saying he's going to put in a swimming pool or something.”

Gabe leaned over to rub the colt behind one ear. “Would you like that, Firefly? Huh, boy? Your very own swimming pool?”

Sam sat very still. Her hand tightened on the lead rope as it floated.

“Yeah, well,” Gabe said. “I guess my secret's out. I've been calling him that in my head for a couple days.”

“Firefly?” Sam said carefully.

“Okay, you might think this is totally sappy, but if you laugh, I don't care. And neither does he.”

She didn't tell him she wouldn't laugh. He could have called this horse anything and she wouldn't have laughed. Naming the colt meant Gabe really had claimed him for his own.

“It has nothing to do with the bug,” Gabe said. “It's more what a firefly looks like. Like a spark floating away from the fire. Escaping.” Gabe's voice turned husky and even more quiet. “It's like the fire came after him, but it didn't get him. He made it. And he's going to be okay.”

A sigh rocked the horse and a sense of peace fell over the hot springs.

Then Sam realized the birds were no longer squabbling. She didn't hear the buzzing of insects, either.

Her shoulders tightened. Why were all the desert creatures quiet?

All she heard was a faint wisp of country music from Mrs. Allen's truck radio and the crunch of dry weeds.

The colt jerked Sam farther into the hot springs as he rolled into a resting position, but he wasn't resting.

He struck out with a foreleg, trying to stand.

“Gabe, watch out!”

The colt lurched with a grunting effort. Then all four hooves were planted on the sandy bottom of the spring.

His ears twitched forward, then sideways. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped as he used every sense to interpret what had disturbed him.

Backing onto the shore, Sam stayed low, wrapping the rope around her hand. She planted her shoes on the driest rock she could see, and was looking around for another when Gabe spotted the Phantom.

“It's that stallion. He came for Firefly.”

Peering through the reeds, Sam saw him, too.

“Maybe he just came to drink,” she said, but none of them believed that.

The stallion pawed, creating a dust cloud that
made him ghostly, even in the heat of the day.

He tossed his head and the colt answered the summons with all his power.

“Chase him away!” Gabe pleaded.

But the colt slammed to the end of the rope. He bucked and his mane shone like a sheet of black satin.

The small bones in Sam's hand grated and she cried out as the rope tightened.

She couldn't hold him. She wanted to unsnap the lead rope, but she couldn't reach him. Sam opened her fingers at the same time that the colt flung himself sideways. With a mighty jerk, he ripped the rope from her hand.

Sam fell to her knees, holding the hand up to her mouth, gasping but still watching the colt.

The Phantom flattened his ears and swung his head at the colt.

He stopped. Though he was used to the stallion's superiority, the colt had clearly expected to be welcomed. He hesitated until the stallion's mouth opened and his teeth flashed.

It was a serious warning. Sam knew it even before the stallion reared and the sun made a silver corona of his flying mane.

The colt lowered his head. His lips moved in a silent plea to rejoin the band. Sam felt her throat close in sympathy.

But the Phantom would have none of it. When the colt jostled forward, trying to look past the stallion for
the herd, the Phantom squealed and lunged forward, striking the colt's shoulder.

Firefly shied, but not before the silver stallion dealt him a painful bite on the neck.

The colt began backing as the Phantom wheeled. Hind legs tense, tail flung high, one hind leg struck out with the kick, but the colt didn't see it.

He turned toward the hot springs, making his way back to Gabe.

Sam stared after the Phantom. He was leaving as quickly as he'd come.

Alabaster white in the searing sun, he galloped away. Sam swallowed hard. Brynna would probably say the stallion had just been warning off an intruding male, but Sam didn't quite believe that. He'd given Firefly the push he needed to start a new life.

“Hey!”

The colt had returned to Gabe with such enthusiasm, he'd knocked him down.

Gabe wasn't moving.

“Easy boy,” Sam said. As she crept back toward the horse, she could hear Gabe talking to him.

“You don't need him, Firefly,” he said. “You've got me.”

Sam stood still, watching the colt lip Gabe's shirt. Finally Gabe rolled to one side. Even as he gathered his crutches and struggled to his feet, the colt stayed beside him.

 

Sam, Gabe, and Firefly hiked to the spot where Mrs. Allen had parked. Her dark head nodded forward, then she jerked out of her doze.

Blinking, she watched them approach, but if Mrs. Allen wondered about Gabe's scuffed knee, she didn't have a chance to ask.

“Grandma, I need you to help me,” Gabe said.

“Just ask, honey.”

“Okay.” Gabe's tone sounded as if he'd given her fair warning. “I want you to help me convince Mom and Dad to let me keep Firefly.”

He squared his shoulders as if the name were magical.

Mrs. Allen accepted it without question. “I'll do what I can,” she said. “But you know a wild horse, especially one traumatized like this, is going to take a lot of time and attention.”

“I've thought about that,” Gabe said. “And I've got the time. During soccer season, I usually run before school. Then, after school, I was at practice until it was too dark to see the ball. I think the coach will understand if I don't sit on the bench and watch practice. That doesn't mean I won't still go to the games.”

Gabe stopped when he heard his grandmother sniff and dab at the corner of her eye.

“Of course I'll help you, Gabriel,” she said.

As they followed Mrs. Allen's truck back to
Deerpath Ranch, Sam was grateful Gabe hadn't mentioned the Phantom to his grandmother, and she said so.

Gabe snorted. “He's vicious. I don't know why you like him so much.”

“He wasn't trying to hurt Firefly.”

“No, he was just setting up to kick out his brains!”

“He struck out with one leg,” Sam explained. “I've seen him mad, and this wasn't it.”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, looking back over his shoulder. “Maybe.”

Sam turned, too, but there was no sign of her horse.

“I think the Phantom did him a favor,” Sam said, and she kept on, even when Gabe shook his head. “I think he was just telling Firefly to”—she searched for the right words—“get a life.”

Gabe took a deep breath, then turned to face the colt.

Firefly lowered his head and stood quietly as Gabe skimmed his hands over the colt's healing burns.

“‘Get a life,' huh?” Gabe whispered to the horse. “Well, as long as I'm around, he's got one with me.”