Gift Horse (15 page)

This time, the two geldings didn't quarrel. They touched noses and uttered curious nickers.

“Just the same,” Dad said, towing Sam from between the two animals. “I'd feel better if you stood over here. Besides, here comes one more.”

Sam's eyes followed Dad's pointing finger.

Cougar sat on a board that bobbed like a teeter-totter. Covered with straw and sawdust, the kitten was a mess, but he was very interested in cleaning one front paw.

 

The power came back on in time for Gram to fix an early dinner of hot roast beef sandwiches, then hustle them to everyone clustered around the television for the KVDV newscast.

“Oh my gosh, we're the lead story!” Sam yelped,
as a picture of Cougar filled the television screen.

“Good things come in small packages,” said the lilting voice of Lynn Cooper. “Or do they?” The camera pulled back to include Tinkerbell.

The close-up showed the horse head-on, muscles glinting with sweat as he strained against the harness and jerked down the section of the barn.

Against the taped cheers of the Forsters and their cowboys, the reporter's voice went on, identifying each member of the family as they pitched in.

When Jake and Darrell staggered in from the range, the camera caught their amazement at the sudden destruction, but Lynn Cooper's casual manner encouraged even Jake to talk. Darrell grinned into the camera as if he'd been born to it.

Picking hay from his hair, Darrell said, “It'll all be worth it if I get an A on my community service project.” And then he winked at the camera.

The news segment proceeded to show local destruction. There was a lot of it. There'd been a grease fire in Clara's Diner, water damage to several stores in the Crane Crossing Mall in Darton, and damage reports were still coming in from homes and ranches around the state. Lynn Cooper promised Darton Valley residents that the late news would feature more information regarding Federal Disaster Relief funds and how high the earthquake had registered on the Richter scale.

The report closed with a view of the reporter
standing on the edge of the playa. Covered with snow, with the sun going down, it was the color of peach ice cream.

“It's been a tough day in Darton Valley,” said the reporter as wisps of blond hair blew across her forehead and wind whooshed over her microphone. “And no one at our station would minimize it, but as I returned to the studio, I couldn't help but take heart.” She smiled.

“We lost no lives in today's earthquake. Families pulled together to save their livestock and pets. And Darton High School's community service program pressed on as planned, feeding at least some of the West's wild horses….”

The camera panned behind her to show the Phantom's herd gathered around the tires. Blue shadows showed in the drag marks where Tinkerbell, Sam, Darrell, and Jake had managed to put out the tires and hay.

As the camera rose toward blue Nevada skies, Sam was scooting closer to the TV screen when the phone began to ring.

Katie Sterling was calling to make an offer for Tinkerbell.

Then Mr. Martinez called, asking if Sam had heard from Katie.

“Please, if she makes you a decent offer, accept it,” he said, “but under no circumstances should we let that magnificent horse return to the auction.”

Sam was explaining all the excitement to Gram, when Jake and Darrell followed Dad out the door.

“Where are they going?” she asked, but Gram was handing her the phone again and, for some reason, she rolled her eyes.

“I see you managed to get on television,” Rachel sneered. “How convenient that Lynn Cooper drove right past my house to get to your rundown ranch.”

Sam almost choked on her laugh. “Rachel, we didn't plan the earthquake—”

But the telephone receiver slammed down and she was talking to herself until Katie Sterling called again.

“Okay, Sam, I've talked with my dad and I can go up to two thousand dollars. I know it isn't that much, but I can promise you we'll jump him, take good care of him, and you have visiting privileges.”

“Sold!” Sam said. She felt giddy with relief, but she still craned her neck to look out the kitchen window at the sound of an engine roaring to life.

Dad's blue pickup truck was pulling away with the boys crammed into the front seat beside him.

“Where are they going?” Sam repeated, as soon as she'd hung up.

Brynna swept into the kitchen, jingling her car keys.

“They're going to check on the truck. You and I are going to check on the mustangs! Grace, do you want to go?”

“I've had quite enough excitement for one day,” Gram said. “I think I'll take a long, hot shower and go to bed early.”

As good as that sounded, going with Brynna sounded even better.

The snow clouds had cleared and although it was evening, the range was washed in an odd milky light. Brynna's white truck was almost silent compared to the ranch vehicles, but she and Sam didn't talk.

Sam thought of the avalanche and the Phantom's loud, huffing breath. He was wild. He was in better condition than any cow pony. He'd be fine.

“Sam,” Brynna said, suddenly, “we're so proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Sam said, but her eyes were scanning the range.

“When you rescued Tinkerbell, you started a chain reaction of good deeds. I know it sounds sappy, but don't worry about the Phantom. More often than not, all those good deeds circle back to the one who started them.”

Sam smiled at her stepmother.

Dusk had fallen and the inky blue sky showed silver pinpricks when they were still a mile from the feeding site.

“We probably won't see them,” Brynna said. “They'd feel awfully exposed to predators out here, this late.”

“You can turn around if you want to,” Sam said,
yawning, but then she spotted the ridge where the Phantom had been earlier.

“Stop!” she yelled.

Brynna applied the brakes quickly, but quietly.

“I'm guessing you see him,” Brynna said, handing Sam her binoculars.

“I think so,” Sam whispered, though she knew the stallion couldn't hear her.

The avalanche had created a choppy white sea of snow down below, but up where the Phantom stood, Sam saw green.

She focused the binoculars. A bit of green grass beneath the stallion's hooves promised spring was coming.

The stallion lifted his head. Sam couldn't see his eyes, but his mane drifted like a wisp of cloud as if he was sniffing the air.

I'm here, Zanzibar
, she told him silently.
I'm here.

As if he heard, the stallion rose onto his hind legs and reared. His delicate white forelegs pawed in a blur, silhouetted against the darkening sky, reaching for the stars.

Cover art © 2003 by Greg Call

Cover © 2003 by HarperCollins Publishers Inc.