Kidnapped Colt (13 page)

“Don't even try to boss me around, Ryan. It worked last time, but never again. I should have listened to my own good sense. Not only did you use me, you lied to me.”

Sam glimpsed Jen's amazement. Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. Gram, Mikki, and Gina looked pretty much the same.

In the silence, Sam wondered if Ryan had hung up.

She listened so hard, she thought she heard blood swishing through the veins in her ear.

Finally, Ryan spoke. “Everything I told you was true, except for coming back that night. It's not like the horses were stranded there. I wrote Karl Mannix a check to pay their fare to England.”

“But he didn't do what you wanted him to. Someone—probably Mannix—ripped down the
fence. Hotspot is running with the mustangs. And Shy Boots is in a petting zoo.”

“I made an excellent plan,” Ryan said stubbornly.

“Which did not work,” Sam said, spacing the words out so that he couldn't miss a single one.

“I paid him a sufficient amount—”

“So what? Sometimes you have to do things yourself,” Sam insisted.

She might have been giving herself a pep talk, and it was a good thing. The other four faces stared at her as if she were crazy.

“I would have been waiting for them in England,” Ryan said in a pouty tone.

“Why, Ryan?”

“Isn't it painfully clear?” he asked. “I don't fit in, in Nevada.”

Sam remembered Ryan saying he was the last person who could teach Shy Boots to be a Western horse. She also remembered what Sheriff Ballard had said about him.

“Give it time,” she told him. “You've only been here a few months. I was
born
in the West, and I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's very kind of you, but—”

“No, Ryan, I'm not being kind. I'm telling you to cowboy up.”

Jen flung her arms out like wings, then mouthed the words,
What are you doing?

Sam closed her eyes. She had to do this her way.

“Who do you think you are—?” Ryan barked.

“Act insulted if you like, but it won't help. Your father refuses to file a police report. That means the sheriff can't do anything. If you want Shy Boots back, he'll be at the Fourth of July carnival, at the fairgrounds, in Patty's Petting Zoo.”

Sam hung up. Her hand was still trembling on the phone, when she realized she was out of breath.

“Good going, Sam,” Jen said. “You said what needed to be said. I just hope he heard it.”

“I hope that really was Shy Boots on the website,” Mikki giggled.

With an admiring smile, Gina took off her baseball cap and hung it on Sam's head backwards.

 

The Fourth of July dawned sunny.

“It's like it never rained a drop,” Mikki said as she finished drying the last breakfast dish.

Gina snatched the plate from Mikki and stuck it in the cupboard. Jen straightened the tablecloth with an impatient twitch and Sam shouted up the stairs.

“Brynna, are you ready?”

Dad called down something Sam couldn't understand, but his tone said she knew better than to shout.

“Honey, what's your rush?” Gram asked. “The parade won't begin for another hour.”

“We might not be able to find a parking place,” Sam said, though she and Gram both knew she wanted to get there and look for Shy Boots.

“You girls got up so early,” Gram said.

In fact, they'd hardly slept. They'd chattered through a dozen what-if plans for bringing the colt back home.

Their first choice was to have Sheriff Ballard impound the colt. If that didn't work, they'd talk to Patty and try to make her understand what had happened. If all else failed, they planned to steal Shy Boots back.

“Aren't you warm, dear?” Gram asked, considering Sam's sweatshirt.

“I want to be prepared in case it rains,” Sam said.

“It'll soak up water like a sponge,” Dad commented as he came into the kitchen.

Sam gave a nervous laugh. Underneath her sweatshirt, she wore one of Brynna's uniform shirts.

It was Gina who'd remembered that Patty wore a khaki shirt just like the ones Brynna wore with her uniform.

“Wear it,” Gina told Sam. “If anyone notices you carrying Shy Boots away, they'll think you work for Patty.”

“Have you ever tried to carry a horse?” Jen had asked, but she'd agreed to go along.

Sam was still more worried about being a bad influence on Gina than she was about moving the colt, but she couldn't come up with a better scheme to reclaim Shy Boots.

“There's been a slight change of plans,” Dad said,
looking over the girls' heads at Gram. “If you all can get along without us, I think we'll be staying home. Brynna just can't seem to shake off this flu.”

“That's a shame,” Gram said, “but we'll be fine, won't we, girls?”

They agreed in a chorus, but as they walked out of the house, toward the Buick, Gram held Sam back a moment.

“Dear, I almost forgot to give you the message Sheriff Ballard asked me to pass along to you yesterday.”

“What's that?” Sam asked dubiously.

“He said you wouldn't like juvenile hall.”

P
arade horses' hooves clattered on asphalt.

Vendors sold cotton candy, caramel apples, and popcorn from trays suspended around their necks.

Excited children clung to balloons and tugged their parents along the sidewalk outside the fair-ground gates to the carnival inside.

“You can do this,” Gina assured Sam as they hurried toward the blue-and-white-striped awning that shaded the petting zoo. “It's the right thing to do.”

“If he's here, I'm going to the sheriff,” Sam insisted.

Doing the wrong thing for the right reason was a bad idea. She'd learned the hard way.

Sheriff Ballard appeared just a few feet away. He
walked through the crowd, adjusting a knob on his walkie-talkie.

“There he is,” Jen said.

Sam felt stronger with the sheriff nearby. Even though he'd told Gram that he couldn't arrest anyone without a complaint, she'd bet he'd back her up if Shy Boots were here.

“If only Ryan were here, too,” Sam said with a sigh.

She hadn't really expected him to show up. Ryan let other people smooth out his life's complications.

Just the same, Shy Boots deserved help, even if Ryan Slocum didn't.

“Let's go see if the colt's here,” Sam said. “Before Sheriff Ballard gets busy with something else. Gram—”

“Samantha, you go ahead. I'll stand right here and watch the parade. I trust you not to do something silly.”

For a second Sam thought she heard thunder.

Was it an omen? Or would this rescue be rained out?

“Drums,” Gina said, and a giddy smile lit her face. “The bands are coming. It's showtime!”

Last night Gina had made a big deal of using noise to cover Shy Boots's rescue.

Sam met Jen's eyes. Together, they shrugged. Just when it looked like Gina had turned the corner toward being a
reformed
burglar, she got excited over the prospect of breaking the law.

Wending their way through the crowd, all four girls jogged to the fence surrounding the petting zoo.

“Goats, chickens, rabbits, more goats…,” Gina muttered as they stared inside. “No colt, and no Patty.”

Over the heads of children in line, Sam scanned the petting zoo.

Gina was wrong.

Shy Boots lay in a corner, alone, with his gangly chocolate-brown legs folded.

Sam's pulse pounded louder than the kettle drums in the parade. Shy Boots was here. He was safe. And Hotspot was running free with a well-guarded herd.

Neither horse she'd put in danger had been hurt. Sam exhaled and felt suddenly lighter. She'd been so lucky.

“Go get the sheriff,” Sam said, turning to Mikki.

“I'll stay with the baby,” Mikki crooned with a sugary voice. “You go get the sheriff.”

“Come on,” Jen said, and towing Mikki along by the wrist, she disappeared into the crowd.

“Do you see Patty?” Gina hissed.

Sam shook her head.

A college-aged guy in a khaki shirt stood at the gate, selling tickets and shooing kids into the petting zoo.

Another lie, Sam thought. Patty had claimed that where her animals were, she was, but she was nowhere in sight.

“Careful,” called the guy at the gate. “Don't let the gate shut on that pig. And hey, ducks shouldn't eat licorice. Knock it off.”

How could she make this work? Sam wondered.

Could she ask this guy, who wasn't the boss, if he'd bought Shy Boots from a nerdy-looking man who sniffed a lot and had watery eyes? She could, but he probably wouldn't know. And he certainly wouldn't hand Shy Boots over when Sam explained the foal had been stolen.

When the guy glanced up, clearly bored, Sam tried to look sympathetic. He responded right away.

“Sheesh, my mom is a nutcase,” he muttered, then as he realized no other children stood in line, he glanced toward the pitching booth, instead of watching the children in the petting pen.

Had Jen and Mikki found the sheriff yet?

“This couldn't be better,” Gina whispered. “That guy isn't paying attention. You could walk right in there and take the colt.”

“I won't do that!”

“I'm just saying.” Gina sighed.

“And I'm just going in with him,” Sam said.

“I'll create a distraction,” Gina said.

“I don't need a distraction,” Sam told her. “I'm just watching him until the sheriff gets here.”

Sam edged closer to the open gate as three children ran out of the petting zoo.

Shy Boots's ears turned toward Sam as if he'd
recognized her, but it wasn't possible.

Maybe, Sam thought, catching the gate with the edge of her tennis shoe, he recognized escape.

By the time she looked up again, Gina had strolled over to the pitching booth.

At the same time Sam realized she didn't have an admission ticket, the guy in the khaki shirt called out to her.

“Which one's with you?” he asked.

It only took Sam a second to understand he thought she was baby-sitting one of the four kids left inside the pen.

Sam pointed vaguely. The guy nodded that she could go in, then turned back as a landslide of tin milk bottles drew his attention back to the pitching booth.

“Wow, look at her throw!” the guy in the khaki shirt yelled to no one in particular.

Ponytail tucked through the back of her baseball cap, Gina had knocked down all the milk bottles and earned another turn.

When she turned back and gave the petting zoo guy a dazzling smile, Sam could see it was genuine. Gina had found something besides burglary that made her happy.

But where was the sheriff?

Sam pulled off her sweatshirt and knotted it around her waist. She only did it because the morning was heating up.

She had no need for a disguise.

“Shy Boots,” she whispered.

Brown velvet ears swiveled to catch her voice and the colt's throat trembled in a silent nicker.

“Here, sweet baby.”

Gravel pricked Sam's knees through her jeans as she knelt beside the colt.

Unsure of her intentions, Shy Boots scrabbled up on all four hooves.

Sam touched the belt on her jeans. If she slipped it loose, she could drape it around the colt's neck and lead him right out of here.

He leads?
she'd asked Ryan, that day in the box canyon.

Quite nicely
, Ryan had bragged, and he'd been right.

It was tempting, but she would not do it, even though Boots looked down at her, blinked his long-lashed eyes, and stepped forward.

“Samantha.”

It wasn't a voice she'd expected to hear.

It wasn't Jen's voice or Mikki's or Sheriff Ballard's. Behind her, Sam heard the smooth British voice of Ryan Slocum.

Resting a hand on the colt's neck, Sam turned just as the gate to the petting zoo squeaked open and Ryan came in.

He was dressed for a fancy dance. Or at least a nice restaurant. He wore a long-sleeved white shirt
with the cuffs turned up and something silver stuck through to hold them in place. Mirror-polished shoes shone below black slacks, and Sam would bet everything she owned, except Ace, that the white limousine idling in the parking lot had brought Ryan from the airport.

“What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

“I came to fill out the paperwork my father won't, so that I can take back my horse,” he said.

“In that limousine?” Sam joked, but Ryan was slipping his own leather belt free of loops and getting ready to put it around the colt's neck.

“If necessary,” he said.

But Ryan's proud attitude changed when Shy Boots recognized him. Suddenly, the colt's ears came alert. His nostrils whuffled open and closed, and his tiny brush of a tail whisked from side to side.

“Hello, boy,” Ryan greeted him.

“Hey, what do you think you're doing?” the khaki-shirted guy shouted when he saw Ryan's makeshift halter.

“Taking my horse,” Ryan answered.

“Uh, Ryan, aren't you skipping a few steps?”

Ryan's raised eyebrow challenged Sam and the petting zoo attendant.

“Like filling out the police report,” Sam said in a leading voice.

“Ah, yes,” Ryan said.

The attendant was already rushing their way.
Before he got inside, though, Sam saw Jen and Mikki with Sheriff Ballard.

“You're not going anywhere,” the guy yelled, though neither Sam nor Ryan had tried to leave. “Here comes the sheriff. They're trying to take my horse!” he shouted.

“Ownership of that particular horse might be in dispute,” Sheriff Ballard said patiently.

Sam listened to the conversation between Patty's son and Sheriff Ballard, but she also watched Jen.

Her friend had had a crush on Ryan for several months, and sometimes he seemed to return it. But Sam saw the strain between them now. Jen stayed outside the petting zoo pen, and Ryan stayed inside with Shy Boots.

The sheriff was taking a statement from Patty's son, and though Sam still made no move to leave, Sheriff Ballard raised his eyes from his notebook, pointed at Sam, and said, “Wait.”

After that juvenile hall message the sheriff had asked Gram to convey, Sam thought hard about what she'd done. As far as she could tell, she was in the clear.

“…mom should have been here by now,” Patty's son was saying. “I don't know what the deal is, but she didn't steal the horse. I was home when this guy came by—middle-aged, nerdy—and he sold her the orphan.”

He had to be talking about Karl Mannix, but
where was Mannix now? Sam wondered.

“Did you happen to overhear his name?” Sheriff Ballard asked.

“No, but my mom will have it. She got a bill of sale. She's real particular about things like that.”

“Did he explain how he came to have the colt?”

The guy shrugged. “Are you trying to say it's, like, stolen? Because all I heard was that the mother horse died, and my mom was actually okay with buying the colt because she has this donkey who had a colt or whatever, and the donkey just adopted him.”

Shy Boots began nibbling Sam's shirt, then making sucking noises.

“He's hungry,” Ryan said to the guy. “Do you have a bottle?”

“No, I don't have a bottle,” he said, sounding a little offended. “My mom was supposed to have brought the donkey twenty minutes ago. Hey, I gotta go sell tickets,” he said, noticing the line forming by the petting zoo. “And my mother will kill me if kids are in there unsupervised.”

Sheriff Ballard closed his notebook and looked at Sam.

“I can explain everything,” she said.

Raising one hand to cover her face in embarrassment, even though she didn't know why, Sam grazed her cut cheek. It hurt.

“Sheriff,” Ryan said before the sheriff could question Sam, “I'll be glad to file the report my father
hasn't. Clearly you know the colt's been stolen, and I daresay you have a guess who's to blame.”

“Better than that,” Sheriff Ballard's smile showed from beneath his sandy mustache. “I have casts of tire tracks and Vibram-soled shoes.”

“Wow,” Gina said in admiration.

“I got 'em before it rained,” the sheriff said. “I just couldn't help myself.”

Karl Mannix would be caught then, Sam thought. That would be great.

While the sheriff stepped aside to call in Ryan's charges, a rickety horse trailer came through the fairgrounds gates.

All at once, Shy Boots lunged and neighed. Ryan needed both hands on the belt to keep the colt from pulling free.

“I believe his lunch is coming,” Ryan said, and if he was uncomfortable because a braying burro was nursemaid to his colt, Ryan didn't show it.

“So I researched the term, ‘cowboy up,'” Ryan said to Sam.

“Yeah?” Sam saw the other girls move closer to the petting-zoo fence. Now that she wasn't angry anymore, the way she'd scolded Ryan was a little embarrassing.

“My understanding,” Ryan went on, “is that it means I'm to catch my own horse, saddle my own horse and, if a time should come when he's beyond help and suffering, shoot my own horse.”

“I guess so,” Sam said.

“Everything I read could be a description of Jake Ely and your father,” he added, nodding at Sam. “And yours.” He nodded at Jen.

In the gap of silence, Sam noticed Ryan had left out his own father.

“And since you have better bloodlines for this than I, perhaps you can just school me like a yearling. That's about how long I'll give the process,” Ryan said. “Otherwise, I'm bound for England again, and Boots can see how he likes the smell of fog and heather instead of sage and sun.”

Sam smoothed her hands down Shy Boots's back. He hadn't been neglected while he was here, but his fidgeting said he recognized the burro's voice.

“One last thing before Boots goes to his foster mother,” Ryan said. “Can I convince you to take me out on the range and introduce me to the stallion who's stolen Hotspot?”

“Never,” Jen called into him.

“She's right,” Sam said, smiling. “I won't take you to visit the Phantom. It's not safe for him to get too accustomed to people. So I guess you'll just have to live with that.”

Ryan accepted the teasing with a shrug and probably had no idea he'd already picked up a cowboy gesture. He sure didn't know why she was laughing.

“Well then,” Ryan said. “If you won't guide me out there, you might be surprised. It shouldn't take
long for me to find my own way.”

Should she take Ryan's words as a threat or a promise?

Sam didn't know, but as memory showed her the gleaming Appaloosa mare standing beside the wild white stallion, she knew the pair was up to the challenge.