Heartbreak Bronco (3 page)

S
heriff Ballard had arrived by the time Sam and Jake drove up to Clara's coffee shop and parked Dad's truck and the horse trailer.

Sam saw Jake's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Why did the sight of the sheriff's black-and-white car make him nervous?

The minute she spotted Sheriff Ballard in his khaki uniform, Sam felt relieved. She liked the gruff, by-the-book police officer.

A few weeks earlier, just before school was out, he'd helped her understand the circumstances of her mother's death. After years of being kept in the dark, she'd appreciated being treated like an adult. Besides, she liked his droopy mustache because it reminded
her of an Old West lawman in a movie.

Carefully, Jake put on the emergency brake and turned the truck's key to
OFF
.

“Wonder if anyone's called my mom,” Jake said quietly.

So it wasn't the sheriff making Jake nervous, Sam thought. He was worried over what his mom would say about the damage to her car. Sam didn't blame him. Jake had the same kind of family she did. Mistakes had big-time consequences.

“She'll understand, won't she?” Sam asked. “After all, you're a good driver. You were only trying to keep from hitting Jinx.”

Jake picked up his black Stetson from its place on the seat between them.

“Hope she sees it that way,” he said.

Together they climbed down from the truck and side by side approached the spot where Clara, Dad, and Sheriff Ballard had gathered.

The sheriff greeted them with a grim expression. It wasn't a frown and he didn't look angry, just very serious.

“Jake, I expect you know you're not supposed to leave the scene of an accident.”

Sam didn't know Jake had stopped until she'd walked a few steps beyond him.

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw he'd been about to position his Stetson on his blue-black hair when the sheriff spoke. Jake's hand stopped
halfway to his head, then he let it drop to his side, still holding the hat.

“Yeah,” he said.

“I—”

“We—”

Together, Dad and Clara explained they'd asked Jake to take the truck and trailer after the runaway horse.

Sam wondered if she'd be able to memorize all the rules of the road so that she could get a driver's license when she was sixteen.

It made sense that you didn't move cars that had been in an accident. Their positions might help the sheriff decide who was to blame. And yet all these adult drivers had encouraged Jake to do just that.

“All the same, it could be considered a hit-and-run,” Sheriff Ballard said.

Hit and run. Sam's breath caught in her chest. She knew that was serious.

It grew so quiet she heard a ding as a car pulled up to the gas pumps at Phil's Fill-Up. She heard a car door slam and coins tinkle into a slot before a soda can rattled out of a vending machine. Still, no one moved.

“It wasn't a hit-and-run,” Sam protested. “He stopped and talked with everyone—”

Sheriff Ballard held up a calming hand. “I know that, but in some places, it might not matter. It's not a good habit to get into.” His chin lifted and he met
Jake's eyes, waiting for a response.

“No sir,” Jake agreed. Just above his faded yellow shirt, Jake's throat moved as he swallowed. “Thanks for the warning. I'll remember.”

“Now, since this accident happened on private property”—Sheriff Ballard's nod took in the parking lot—“and there's no one hurt or any signs of substance abuse, it's of no interest to the county.”

A shuddery breath made its way through Sam's lips. She noticed Dad look down, shaking his head in relief, and decided she'd just discovered another reason to love him. Dad was more worried about Jake than he was his own truck.

“I'll write up an accident report for your insurance company, Jake. Hope it does you some good.”

“Thanks,” Jake said, but Sam could tell by the way his jaw stayed set in a hard, smooth line, that Jake dreaded facing his mother.

“Now, tell me about the horse,” Sheriff Ballard said.

Jake's attention turned inward for a minute, as if he were replaying what they'd seen out on the range.

“He might be the fastest horse I've ever seen,” Jake said.

“Is that so?” Sheriff Ballard's voice lifted as he glanced toward the trailer.

“The cowboy who sold him to me said he was ‘frightenin' fast,' that he could throw dirt in the eyes of a jackrabbit,” Clara said. “But I chalked it up to exaggeration. Besides, where are you going to race a
fast mustang?” she asked, looking a little sly. “Not against Thoroughbreds or Quarter Horses.”

“He
is
fast,” Sam admitted, thinking of the flier tucked in her pocket.

“Sometime I'd like to take a look at him,” said Sheriff Ballard.

“You in the market for a horse?” Dad asked, surprised.

“Could be.” The sheriff tapped the end of his pen against the unopened pad of citations he held. “A horse would be handy for search and rescue situations, but let's finish this up. What do you say?”

 

A half an hour later, Sheriff Ballard's patrol car pulled away.

“The dent's nothing,” Dad told Jake as he apologized once more. “This old truck has a dozen more just like it.”

Jake nodded his appreciation for Wyatt's acceptance. Then, with the grim determination of a guy on his way to his own hanging, Jake left, too.

Dad started toward the rear of the horse trailer to unload Jinx.

“I want you to keep him,” Clara blurted.

Sam caught her breath and held it as Dad turned to face Clara.

Before he could protest, Clara said, “Probably you're thinking you don't need another mouth to feed on River Bend Ranch, but he's a mustang. You can
tell by that light spot on his neck, even if you can't quite read the brand.”

“Saw it.”

“And if that HARP program would pay his room and board…” Clara let her voice trail off.

“I don't think so,” Dad said, but he looked uneasy.

Dad's habit of being neighborly had him in a quandary, Sam thought. River Bend Ranch didn't need another horse, but Clara's request sounded temporary. Dad probably didn't want to offend Clara over the cost of a few scoops of oats.

“Since he's real nimble-footed,” Clara sighed, then interrupted her own careful negotiating. “Oh shoot, Wyatt. I want to run him in that YRA claiming race. I might make a little extra money.

“Maybe you could take the rough edges off him before the race and Sam could ride him. We could share the profits.”

“Dad?” Sam knew better than to get into the discussion, but she couldn't stop herself.

“Go on, you might as well put in your two cents worth,” Dad told her.

“Brynna said she thought we'd be using Popcorn and Dark Sunshine to work with the new girls. They're the only two horses that really belong to HARP, and since Tempest has just been born—”

“That buckskin's even more cantankerous than before,” Dad said.

He still didn't trust Dark Sunshine, and Sam didn't blame him. She'd stood watch as the abused buckskin had given birth to the beautiful black filly she'd named Tempest, but she didn't think a stranger would be safe around the mustang mare.

“We've got Ace,” Dad said. “And Penny. They were both wild.”

Sam shifted her weight. She knew what she wanted to say, but she didn't want to sound sappy. Finally, she just blurted it out.

“Neither of them needs a second chance. Jinx does.”

Dad shook his head. “Sorry, ladies. No sale.”

When Dad shot back the bolt holding the trailer doors closed, Jinx startled and jumped forward. As the doors opened, the horse gazed over his shoulder with troubled eyes.

Sam thought of the broken heart brand the gelding wore. Jinx might not bring bad luck, but he sure had his share of it.

“I can't blame you, Wyatt,” Clara said. “Just the same, Sam, you might take a look at the flier. Here, let me put my phone number on it.” Clara fished a pen from her pocket, took the flier from Sam, then handed it back.

After a moment of uneasy silence, Clara shaded her eyes to look down the highway.

“Isn't that Grace's car?” Clara asked.

“Yep,” Dad said, recognizing Gram's yellow
Buick. “Brynna took it to pick up the HARP girls.”

As the car slowed, Sam felt a fizzing combination of excitement and dread. It was going to be cool to be sort of a camp counselor for the two girls, but what kind of problems would they bring with them?

Slowly and quietly, Dad closed the trailer doors again, but his gesture said it was just temporary.

It might not be
, Sam thought. Maybe there'd be an extra girl in the car. Maybe they'd need another horse. Sam crossed her fingers. Maybe Jinx's luck was about to change.

Dust still swirled as Brynna climbed out of the yellow car. She wore a bright summer dress, but her smile was strained.

“What is it?” Dad asked. He seemed to cover the yards between himself and Brynna in one long stride.

Looking both pleased and embarrassed, Brynna waved Dad away. “Nothing, really,” she said.

“Tell us,” Sam said, hurrying closer.

“You two,” Brynna laughed, shaking her head. “All your fussing is embarrassing. Now I see how silly I'm being.”

The screen door to the cafe closed quietly as Clara went back inside, leaving the three Forsters alone.

“One of the girls is going to be a handful,” Brynna told them.

“You expected that,” Dad said.

Brynna matched her fingertips together before she added, “It's Crystal. She missed her plane and we
had to wait for her. Luckily, the second plane was only an hour behind the first, but she didn't offer anything like an apology.”

Sam waited. That couldn't be all.

“We only have one week to make a difference in these girls' lives and she missed her plane.” Brynna stood stiff.

“Well, yeah,” Dad said.

Brynna had a college degree in biology. Her logical, scientific mind had made her director of Willow Springs Wild Horse Center. She didn't get angry very often, and yet she seemed on the verge of it already.

Sam's thoughts flew to the horses. If the girl was inconsiderate of people, how would she be with the mustangs?

In the HARP program, a horse “belonged” to each girl for the entire week. Would Brynna let this Crystal have sweet, wise Popcorn?

She couldn't trust her with Penny, could she? Even though the sorrel mustang had lots of spirit, blindness made her vulnerable.

Sam took a deep breath and reminded herself she'd decided to like these girls.

A hoof crashed against the metal trailer. Could Jinx be reacting to the tension whirling around out here?

“I thought you were taking Buff in early,” Brynna said.

“We did,” Dad told her. “That's Clara's horse.”

“Clara's?” Brynna asked.

“She just got him. She bought him for a dollar and a piece of upside-down cake,” Sam said, knowing Brynna couldn't resist such a story. “He's a mustang and—”

“
And
, we're about to unload him,” Dad insisted.

“Unless we want to use him for the HARP program,” Sam hurried on. She didn't look at Dad. “Clara said we could.”

Brynna's eyes narrowed in thought, then she was moving to peek into the back of the trailer. She peered through the side. Finally, she moved to the front.

Dad didn't say a word, just sighed as if the argument were already lost.

“What's he like?” Brynna asked.

“He likes goin' back inside that pasture and never seein' us again,” Dad insisted.

When Brynna shook her head so that her red braid flopped over her shoulder, she looked much cheerier.

“I mean, what's his temperament? Is he dangerous? Sam?”

“His name is Jinx and he's a little feisty, but he doesn't act mean,” she said honestly.

This didn't seem like a good time to bring up his speed, or the claiming race. Despite Dad's pessimism, wasn't it possible that HARP could buy him for more than Clara would get in the claiming race?

“Don't forget that part where he brings bad luck wherever he goes,” Dad muttered.

Together, Sam and Brynna stared at him in amazement.

“Not that I believe it,” Dad added.

“How do you think he'd react to a ham-fisted rider?” Brynna asked.

Sam's mind replayed the moment she'd tried to force Jinx to do what she wanted. He'd almost jerked her off her feet. When she'd been sweet to him, he'd done as she asked.

“If you're nice to him, he's nice to you,” Sam diagnosed.

“Perfect.” Brynna nodded with satisfaction. “Wyatt, I promise I'll find a way to pay for his feed. Just please,” she said, putting her hand on Dad's sleeve, “please take that horse to our house.”

W
hen Dad's truck and the horse trailer rumbled over the wooden bridge spanning the La Charla River and under the high wooden rectangle marking the ranch entrance, River Bend looked like it always did.

The two-story white house stood on the right. A grassy pasture spread over ten acres on the left and a scatter of corrals covered the area between the bridge and the barn.

But things weren't normal. The hens were nowhere in sight. The horses in the ten-acre pasture raced along the fence, anxious and excited. Blaze, the ranch's watchdog, stood barking in the middle of the ranch yard.

The HARP girls had already disrupted life at River Bend.

“Shall I put Jinx in the pasture?” Sam asked.

“I'll take care of that,” Dad said. “You'd best go meet the girls.”

“I'd rather take care of Jinx,” Sam sighed. “Horses are easier.”

Dad turned the truck key off. When he turned to her, his sun-browned face creased into a smile.

“Don't blame you,” he said. “But you signed on to wrangle the humans.”

“I know,” Sam moaned. “Brynna told me about them last night, and I didn't really think they'd be so bad. But if they've got her worried already, I don't know if I have a chance.”

“I'm not sure she should have told you all that was a good idea,” Dad said. “You mighta formed decent opinions of these girls. Mikki turned out all right.”

“I can hardly wait to see her,” Sam agreed.

Mikki Short, the first HARP girl, had started out rough and impatient, but she'd ended up helping Popcorn make the transition from a frightened horse to a trusting one.

As a reward for passing her middle school classes and making up the credits she'd lost when she was in trouble, HARP was bringing Mikki back later this summer as a counselor‘s assistant, to work with Sam.

Both of these new girls could turn around just the way Mikki had, right?

“Brynna said it was safer for her to tell me a few things about each of the girls,” Sam said, when neither she nor Dad made a move to get out of the truck. “And we're supposed to have ‘breakfast meetings' and exchange information every morning before the girls get up.”

“Sounds like gossip to me,” Dad said.

Sam sort of agreed, but Brynna was the teacher. Brynna wanted Jake to be her co-teacher so he could take over when she returned to work at Willow Springs Wild Horse Center, but Jake had declined.

Despite the salary HARP offered, Jake didn't think he was cut out for teaching.

So, Sam would act as Brynna's student teacher by day, and at night, she'd sleep in the bunkhouse with the girls.

“She didn't tell me a bunch of personal details,” Sam said. “Just that Crystal's dad works in a casino in Las Vegas and she's been in a lot of trouble since her mom died. I guess she's done crazy stuff like jumping off a roof into the school swimming pool and stealing a car to go joyriding.”

Sam had found that hard to believe, since both girls had just finished seventh grade.

“Guess I'll be takin' my keys up to bed with me.” Dad said it like a joke, but Sam knew he'd do just that.

“And Emily—” she began. “I mean,
Amelia
, is a total follower, and that's what gets her into trouble.”

Big trouble
, Sam thought. Brynna had mentioned that even in her small town in New Mexico, Amelia had been accused of shoplifting, cutting class, and alcohol abuse.

Dad rubbed his rough palms together. “Sounds like one heck of a long week to me, honey. How about you?”

It sounded like forever, especially when Sam thought of trying to do her usual chores, too.

Still, sappy as it would sound if she tried to explain, Sam knew she'd been lucky. She hadn't done anything to deserve her loving family. If she'd been born into Mikki's family, or Crystal's or Amelia's, life might have been different. She would probably be different.

A little embarrassed by her own corny thoughts, she rolled her eyes in mock horror.

“Tell me why we're doing this, again?” she joked, but Dad answered seriously.

“Helping horses and kids is Brynna's dream,” Dad said. “If she's willing to take vacation time to do this, how can I say no? And we can use that HARP money.”

As she opened the truck door to climb down, Sam's eyes were already searching the barn corral, looking for the tiny black filly. Sam wanted to take this last, unscheduled moment to check on Dark Sunshine and Tempest.

She'd only taken a few steps when the bunkhouse door opened and Brynna came out with two girls.

They were so quiet. Sam heard nothing but the crunch of dirt beneath their shoes. It was weird. Without knowing it, Sam had grown to expect lively conversation and laughter any time three people were together on this ranch.

A girl walked on each side of Brynna. The dark-haired one was pretty. She held her shoulders stiffly, but her head swiveled from side to side as if she couldn't believe she didn't see anyone she knew.

The other girl's fine, light-brown hair was almost invisible. She wore thick-lensed glasses with dark-red frames. Even from a distance, Sam noticed she was pale. She, too, looked around the ranch, but her steps were choppy. She held her hands in front of her, not clasped, but tumbling over and over each other, like mice on a wheel.

Although Sam longed to visit Tempest, she walked out to meet the girls.

“Sam!” Brynna beckoned her closer. “Come meet Amelia and Crystal. Girls, this is my daughter Samantha.”

My
daughter
. Not stepdaughter. Sam smiled at Brynna, but she felt a little shy as she extended her hand toward Crystal.

The girl's hand closed around hers, warm and soft. Crystal's springy black hair fell to her shoulders
and though she matched Sam in height, she seemed taller. She assessed Sam with ice-blue eyes that fixed on her work-scarred boots and the brown Stetson she held.

When Crystal released her hand, Sam started to brush off the dusty Western hat.

“Nice to meet you.” Crystal had a weird way of giving the same emphasis to each word. It made her sound bored.

Amelia's stance changed after Crystal's words and her interested expression disappeared. She fumbled a cell phone from her pocket.

Why? Sam wondered. She hadn't heard it ring.

When Brynna cleared her throat, Amelia shoved the phone back in her pocket and reached out to shake Sam's hand.

It wasn't much of a greeting. Amelia gave Sam's hand a single downward tug, then pulled her cold palm out of reach. As she did, Sam noticed a blue tracery of veins showed in the girl's hands and near her hairline.

Don't stare, Sam told herself, then she asked, “Have you met the horses yet?”

“They haven't come over for an introduction,” Crystal said, sarcastically. “Only you.”

“Yeah,” Amelia echoed.

If she'd been meeting them at school, Sam would have waved and walked away. But this wasn't school.
Sam looked to Brynna for help.

“I'll select your horses,” Brynna said, “once I get to know each of you better.”

As Brynna walked toward the ten-acre pasture, the two girls lagged behind.

Because she was a few yards ahead, Brynna probably didn't hear Crystal whisper, “Who cares?”

“You should,” Sam said, making sure she sounded mature, not rude. “The horse will be yours all week. If it's a good match, you'll have more fun.”

Crystal's pale eyes didn't change, but her lips gave a phony smile. “This isn't a vacation for us, you know.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said. “You're supposed to help us get our heads straight.”

“Not me,” Sam said. “The horses do that.”

If you'll let them
, she added silently.

Crystal shrugged. Amelia copied her, but Sam noticed Amelia's gaze had strayed ahead to the pasture.

“As you know,” Brynna said once they all stood at the fence, “you'll be paired with a mustang. Most of these animals are saddle horses. See if you can guess which ones were born in the wild.”

Dad had turned Jinx into the small pipe corral next to the pasture. They'd built it a few weeks ago to help introduce Penny into the saddle herd.

Now Jinx stood alone, watching the other horses as they checked him out, feinting kicks and snapping
teeth in his direction.

Sam sighed. Horses made a very big deal of establishing dominance. For some reason, a chunky roan mare named Strawberry ranked highest. She ate first, crowded other horses away from the water trough, and constantly reminded the rest of the saddle herd who was boss.

Now she stood near the fence, and though she didn't look at Jinx, she swished her tail and stamped the hind hoof nearest him. To Sam, it looked like a kind of acceptance, but she wondered what the girls would think.

Could she have guessed which horses had been wild? Sam wondered. Strawberry, Tank, and Amigo all had Quarter horse conformation and muscles built by hard work. Nike was a blood bay and Jeepers-Creepers was an Appaloosa, but both were tall, rangy, and speedy looking. Sweetheart, Gram's aged pinto, was built like a Morgan.

Just like mustangs, they were a mixed bunch.

“You're looking for four wild horses,” Brynna said, nudging the girls to guess.

Sam's eyes counted out the mustangs.

Ace, Popcorn, Penny, and Jinx—with coat colors of bay, white, sorrel, and grulla—had once been wild.

She glanced sideways at the two girls.

Behind her glasses, Amelia's hazel eyes were greedy as she studied each horse.

She likes them
, Sam thought, and she smiled without meaning to. For the first time, she felt something beyond obligation—like a shared interest in horses—might make her like Amelia.

Amelia's lips parted. But before she ventured a guess, she darted a look at Crystal.

Crystal frowned as she considered her nails and pressed back the cuticle on her index finger.

Seeing that, Amelia kept quiet.

“I guess you'll just have to be surprised,” Brynna said. She started walking toward the barn. Sam thought her stepmother was trying to hide her disappointment that the girls refused to guess, until she said, “Let's go see our new baby.”

“Aren't you going to tell us?” Crystal asked. As she hurried after Brynna, she demanded of Sam, “Shouldn't we know which ones are wild?”

Was she scared? Sam considered the idea for a minute, but that couldn't be it. The HARP program was voluntary. No one who was afraid of horses would apply.

“I'll make sure you get the horse that's right for you,” Brynna said over her shoulder, and Sam knew her stepmother had heard everything.

Though Amelia was clearly eager to see the foal, she stayed in step with Crystal. Sam was already peering through the fence rails at the barn corral when they caught up.

With her legs tucked under her gleaming black body, Tempest slept. Dark Sunshine stood beside her foal, ears pinned back in warning. Her buckskin neck jutted out from tense shoulders, cautioning the newcomers to stay back.

Reading Sunny's threat, Amelia stopped a few feet from the fence and just peered through the rails as Sam had.

Crystal stepped on the lowest rail, swung up her other foot, then climbed up two more rails and rested her arms on the top of the fence.

“The baby's cute. Make her get up,” Crystal said.

Was she talking to Brynna?

No one responded except Tempest.

Disturbed by the voice or maybe warned by her mother's circling, Tempest awoke.

“She's just a week old,” Brynna explained.

Tempest's head bobbed unsteadily for an instant, but then her small hooves scrabbled against the dirt and propelled her up. Alert brown eyes, wide nostrils, and ears no longer than Sam's little finger took in all there was to learn about the humans at the fence.

Then, without a trace of shakiness, the filly raced to the far side of her mother. Protected by the barricade of Sunny's body, Tempest peeked under her mother's belly.

“Ohh,” Amelia sighed.

“I pick her to be my horse,” Crystal said.

“Sam and I haven't decided if we'll use Dark Sunshine,” Brynna said.

“That's the buckskin's name?” Amelia asked. She covered her lips then, as if she hadn't meant the words to escape.

Amelia knew something about horses, Sam thought. Identifying Sunny's color proved that.

“I want the little scared one,” Crystal said, impatiently. “How am I supposed to know her name?”

Sam wanted to growl an answer, but she'd known the girl for less than an hour.

“I'm sorry, Crystal,” Sam told her. “Tempest is mine. She's not a HARP horse. Besides, Brynna's got a whole list of things HARP expects you to do by the end of the week, including ride your horse.”

That wasn't the real problem. If Amelia had said she'd like to work with Tempest, Sam might have suggested she pet and rub the filly, teaching her to trust humans.

“If you think I can learn to ride a horse after a few days, you're crazy,” Crystal said.

“You will.” Brynna's voice was meant to comfort Crystal. “But I guess that means you've never ridden?”

“Never even touched one of them,” Crystal said proudly.

What was going on? Crystal seemed to be patting herself on the back for duping whoever screened kids for the HARP program.

A cool breeze signaled evening wasn't far off.

Sam stepped out of the barn's lengthening shadow as if she could escape her sudden dread. If Crystal didn't like horses, what was she doing here?