Red Feather Filly (12 page)

“I
have one chance to get it right,” Jake said, as they finished a picnic dinner surrounded by horses.

Mac didn't contradict Jake with words, but he lifted one shoulder as if to say the filly might allow Jake to make a mistake or two.

“After me, she knows you best,” Jake told Sam. “Will you hold the halter rope?”

Sam swallowed hard. Could she keep Star from running away if something frightened her? Sam had a mental image of the filly towing her like an upside-down water skier.

But she agreed anyway.

“Okay. Are we going to do the same thing we did with Blackie?”

Jake nodded, then interlaced his fingers and turned to Mac. “What would you teach her first, Grandfather?”

Sam could tell Jake really wanted advice. She wanted to suggest he use the red hawk feather she'd given him, but he might think she was being silly and superstitious.

He knew he had no time to waste and Mac's experience would be useful.

“You've already taught her to trust you. She was lonely and you became her friend. Now you must be worthy of her trust.

“Never hesitate. Never ask the horse to do what you're scared to do. Someone must rise to the top as leader and if you won't, the horse will.”

It was true, Sam thought. Any time her mind wandered, Ace tried to take over. The first time she'd ridden Chip, he'd tried to go after Queen his own way. Even Strawberry, a lifelong cow horse, challenged Sam's authority.

At moonrise, they went to Monument Lake.

It seemed long ago that the Phantom had been Blackie, the colt she'd raised from birth, but Star looked just about the same age Blackie had been the day they'd led him into the river.

Sam remembered the flannel halter they'd made for Blackie, but Star seemed comfortable with the soft leather. She remembered Jake leading Blackie into the water so that she could pet him, talk with
him, lean against him, then, oh so slowly, climb onto his back. Now it was her turn to hold the rope and Jake's turn to ride.

That first ride on Blackie had been gentle and perfect. The trouble had come later, when she'd tried to ride him through a gate on a windy day and he'd felt trapped and began bucking.

Sam shook her head. Jake was a better rider than she'd ever been. Besides that, Star wasn't Blackie.

The pinto filly made that clear right away. She refused to enter the water.

“Come on, little girl,” Sam coaxed.

The filly wouldn't listen to sweet talk. First she flung her head high and backed away. Then, when Jake took the rope from Sam, the filly lowered her head, let her ears fall one to each side, and balked like a stubborn mule.

“I don't think she's going into the water,” Sam said.

For the last few hours, Jake had been mild and quiet with his horse. Now the real Jake, understanding but in charge, was back.

He looked amused as he walked the filly up and down the shore.

“Last try,” he said, leading Star toward the water again.

Her four legs braced wide as bedposts and she would not budge.

“Okay,” Jake said, and with the reins and rope in
his left hand, he leaped for her back—and made it.

Star stood blinking. She'd forgotten all about the water. Something was on her back.

Jake touched her mane and petted her neck, talking. The filly swung her head around to look at Jake's left knee. Was she thinking about taking a bite?

Apparently not, because when Jake shifted his weight and stared down the shoreline, Star took a prancing step.

With hands and voice, Jake praised her, but there was amusement in his voice.

“You'll buck later, won't you girl? When I least expect—”

The filly ducked her head so low, her forelock hit the shore. With a mighty shove, she kicked her back hooves skyward. Jake nearly slid down her neck before she flung herself back, rising on her hind legs to paw at the moon.

Mac clapped and uttered a shout of such delight, that Sam hazarded a glance his way. This was the challenge Jake needed, and the old man was reveling in it.

Squealing, the filly actually took a step on her back hooves. If Jake lost his grip now, the filly would be gone.

Face buried in her mane, arms clinging to her neck, knees clamped hard against her shoulders, Jake stuck on as Star lunged and twisted, then darted down the shoreline.

Her hooves cut into the mud, strewing it in her wake.

She didn't run far. Sam saw her stop. When Jake asked her to, she turned.

Pretending she'd been insulted, the filly shook her variegated mane and trotted back to camp, following Jake's requests as if she'd been doing it all her life.

 

Heaven was spring vacation with only horses on her mind, Sam decided.

It was Monday afternoon and Star hadn't exploded again. She still shied and threatened to bolt, but she didn't seem to have a mean bone in her body.

Each day, Sam and Jake tested the horses by riding over strange footing, under low-hanging branches, along narrow trails. They had Mac wave a blanket, clang a pot lid with a metal spoon, and howl like a coyote. The horses were learning to expect anything.

Star grew calmer, but instead of becoming dependent on Jake, her wild personality showed through. Once she grabbed Ace's tail in her teeth, gave it a yank, then walked slowly away, as if she'd had nothing to do with it.

Later the same day, she cautiously mouthed a lock of Jake's hair. He looked surprised, but stood still, waiting to see what she did.

Star gave his hair a gentle tug. Then, when he turned laughing to face her, she swung her head away and pretended to be studying a tree.

“The spirit of the horse remains,” Mac said, “if the rider doesn't fight to replace it with his own.”

 

On Tuesday, twilight had spread over the range and Jake and Mac had left Sam to pony Star back to camp. Being led by a rider on another horse was a skill Star was still learning.

All at once, Sam got the finger-down-the-spine
watched
feeling she'd had before.

Was there a cougar? Sam gazed up at the treetops. Here in the cottonwoods a cougar could hide, but Jake would have noticed even the faintest cat track.

Ace and Star snorted in the same instant and their necks craned toward the sound of hooves.

The Phantom trotted out of the cottonwoods. Neck arched, shoulders muscled beneath silver satin skin, he trotted directly up to Star.

Oh, no
. Sam jerked the lead rope, pulling the filly's head around. Star planted her feet more firmly. Sam knew the filly was stubborn enough to resist.

Ace danced in place, eager to greet the stallion who'd been his herd leader. Sam sat into him, reminding Ace she needed his help.

“You've got plenty of mares.” She scolded the Phantom, although her hopes weren't high that he'd listen. “Leave Star alone.”

The stallion's ears flicked in her direction, but that was all. He and Star were locked in a stare.

The filly quit balking. She pranced and played, throwing herself to the end of the rope, trying to go with the stallion as he backed away. Sam's grip started to slip and she used both hands on the rope, hoping she could keep Ace steady with her knees.

And then Star lunged.

“No!” Sam shouted. She fought being jerked out of the saddle, but she'd have to choose. Hold the rope or grab the saddle horn.

If she let Star go, Jake would never forgive her.

“Jake!” Sam shouted. If the Phantom saw other humans, maybe he'd go. “Jake!”

Sam's shouts were all the excuse Star needed. She reared high on her hind legs, and Ace backed out of her way.

Sam's grip on the rope loosened as Star pulled it across her palm in searing, hot pain. No matter how she tried, Sam couldn't hold on.

She'd lost the rope, but the filly was still there.

Breathing hard, Sam tried to think. The rope trailed behind the filly, but Star was still playing. She didn't know she was free.

“Get her, Ace,” Sam told him. “Cut her out.”

The filly was no steer, and there was no herd to separate her from, but Ace knew what to do.

His body settled lower to the ground. Sam let her reins go slack, and he slipped between the stallion and Star. Even though it was dangerous to turn his back on the Phantom, the gelding obeyed.

He wouldn't let Star past. He blocked her like he
would a cranky cow. As Sam watched, the filly stayed centered between Ace's ears. He had no intention of letting Star get away.

Suddenly, Star gave up.

She swished her tail and nickered.
I was just having fun
, the filly seemed to say, and now she was ready to go back to the rope corral.

Sam sighed. Everything was going to be all right.

But the Phantom wasn't giving up. With flattened ears, the stallion brushed past Ace and shoved the filly with his head.

He wasn't playing games. He'd decided Star was his. When she hesitated, he gave her a bite on the rump. She squealed and bolted.

“No!” Sam shouted again. She waved her hand in the Phantom's face.

He was blind to her. It was spring and he had to gather as many mares as he could to build up his herd against other stallions' raids.

Ace sensed the Phantom's mood change. He scrambled to avoid the stallion's slashing hooves.

Ace knew he was losing, but he wasn't stupid. He let the stallion have Star, then turned and sprinted, trying to cut her off once more.

But Star was running scared. As the stallion herded, nipped, and whinnied behind her, her long white legs reached out. She galloped in the direction he herded.

Sam heard shouting behind her, but she kept after the two horses.

Cutting through the trees and brush, they spotted a wilderness camper. He waved, but Sam ignored him. If she lost Star, Jake would hate her. He'd think she'd allowed the Phantom to do as he pleased. He'd never believe the truth.

Out of the narrow neck of the tribal lands she chased the horses. Ace lined out like a greyhound, unused to losing the animal he was trying to cut out.

Past hills that looked like crumpled pink paper they ran, and suddenly Sam recognized the terrain.

What had Mac said? Or was it Jake? A finger of the tribal lands extended between Lost Canyon and Arroyo Azul.

“Go, boy!” Sam leaned low on Ace's neck, letting his black mane whip her eyes. If the stallion got the filly into Arroyo Azul, he'd take her down the secret tunnel that led to his valley. She'd be lost to Jake, forever.

 

“Careful, boy, careful,” Sam whispered to Ace.

They'd been following Star and the Phantom for what seemed like hours. Sam didn't risk a minute looking at her watch. It didn't matter; she'd follow as long as she could hear them picking their path through sagebrush, between boulders.

Ace felt her urgency, and he'd sweated up almost immediately. He charged uphill faster than she would have pushed him, and each time the narrow ledge trails leveled, he wanted to run.

She kept watching on her right. She knew the shaley path down to Arroyo Azul was coming up. Any minute now, she'd see it. With luck, the two horses would take it slowly enough that she could catch them and grab Star's lead rope. What she didn't want was to fight the filly on one of these narrow, cliffside trails.

All at once, she hit a dead end. Her path was blocked by a huge rock face with a crack running across it. Water seeped out, too, and she recognized it.

She'd ridden through Lost Canyon. She was on the opposite end, near War Drum Flats.

Why hadn't she seen the path down to Arroyo Azul?

She let Ace take a quick drink, then turned him. It didn't matter how. She'd missed the downhill trail. She'd have to backtrack.

She did it, but she kept Ace reined in.

Her spirits crashed. There was no point in hurrying.

She'd be too late. The horses would be long gone and she'd have to take all the blame for Star's escape.

S
am heard Chip's hooves coming before she saw him.

It was almost dark and Jake's hair blew in the wind, giving him a fearsome silhouette.

“Don't rush,” he shouted. “He's already got her.”

Jake's words slashed her like physical pain, but she didn't take it in silence.

“Ace is winded. We passed the trail down to Arroyo Azul. Somehow—I don't know. It's here somewhere.” She gestured toward the edge. “It goes down, but I didn't see it. If I couldn't find it in the light, I'm worried that now, in the dark…”

“Pretty hopeless, isn't it?” Jake's voice was sarcastic, as if she hadn't tried.

“I did everything I could to catch them!”

Jake shrugged.

“I
did
!” she insisted. “Look at Ace. He's lathered up and exhausted. Would I do that to him for nothing?”

“For nothing?” Jake asked. “Or for your precious Phantom?”

Something invisible and frigid clamped around her.

“I'm not lying. I did my—”

“Take me to his hideout.” Jake's voice stopped her before she could finish.

“That's what I was trying to tell you,” Sam said. “There's a way down to Arroyo Azul and I couldn't find it.”

“Take me in from the other direction, then. From the River Bend side. We'll go back to camp and Mac can drive us.”

He was daring her. Every syllable of each word told Sam he knew she wouldn't do it.

Jake believed she was lying and the only way she could prove him wrong was by betraying the Phantom.

“I can't,” she said, at last.

In the deserted canyon, with rock set like shelves all around, her voice sounded hollow and alone.

Sam didn't see the reins move or Jake shift, but he spun Chip and sent him back the way they'd come, back to Monument Lake, without Star.

 

A campfire burned and Mac sat beside it, but he wasn't alone.

“Dad!” Sam shouted.

He caught her as she slipped down from Ace, then hugged her tight.

Was Dad surprised at the way she clung to him? Was he staring over her head at Mac or Jake? She didn't care.

Sam wanted to stay there forever, hidden in Dad's arms. Jake hadn't said a word as they'd ridden back. He'd forced her to choose between him and the Phantom, and she'd chosen her horse.

If it had been life or death, she would have chosen differently. She knew that. But maybe Jake didn't. Still, this wasn't life or death.

Star might come back on her own.

Jake could ride Witch in the race.

Or think of another manhood test.

But once she revealed the Phantom's hiding place, she couldn't take it back.

“Ready to go home for a little break?” Dad asked. He set her away from him, but only to the length of his arms.

“I don't know,” Sam said. She wet her lips and turned to ask Jake, but she only saw his back as he ducked into the tent.

“Jacob!” Mac's voice was like a whiplash.

Jake lifted the tent flap. “Yes, Grandfather?”

“What will you do next?”

A lone cricket, braving the cool spring night, sang from the cottonwoods. When its solo ended, Jake still hadn't spoken.

“Jake, I'm sorry,” Sam said again. “I did everything I could to hold her, but she reared and…”

Jake didn't interrupt, but Sam was listening so intently, she heard his lips part. She stopped to hear what he'd say.

“I'm going out at daylight to track her. No sense in you staying around.”

That was it, then.

What had she expected him to say? He was telling her he'd go on without her. Telling her he didn't need her. Asking her to go away.

“You go get your stuff, then,” Dad said. “I'll load Ace. I expect he could use a little time at home, too.”

Jake stepped aside, letting her into the tent, very carefully not brushing her sleeve.

He stood at the flap while she crammed her belongings into her backpack.

Why was he just standing there, watching? Why didn't he say something? She worked quickly, but he had plenty of time to apologize. He didn't.

The zipper on her backpack sounded loud and final as she ducked past the tent flap.

She'd already started toward Dad's truck when Jake called after her.

“Sam?”

Her heart hammered so loud, she didn't know if she could hear him, but she turned, biting her lip to keep from saying anything dumb.

“You forgot this,” he said.

For a minute she couldn't tell what it was. This far from the campfire, the light was dim, but then something soft grazed her fingertips. As soon as she grasped it, she knew what it was.

Jake had returned the glossy red-brown hawk's feather that she'd given him. For luck.

 

Things weren't so bad, back at the ranch. If she hadn't felt heartsick and nervous, everything might have been fine.

She decided to give Ace and Sweetheart a try in the ten-acre pasture. At worst, she'd rescue Ace five minutes after she turned him out. At best, he'd fit into the saddle horse herd and rekindle his friendship with Dark Sunshine.

Instantly, the buckskin perked up. She loped to Ace and seemed to make little darting figure eights with her muzzle. She trotted alongside him, uttering nickers of joy. Neck arched, she kept bowing her head as if telling the others to look at her new friend.

When they did, the best of all possible things happened: nothing. They weren't mean, aggressive, or excited. They barely noticed Ace was back.

Sam spent most of Thursday alone.

Brynna was at work and Dad was readying Nike
and Jeepers-Creepers for the race. Although Gram clearly knew something was wrong, she didn't pump Sam for information, even when she turned down a chance to go back out to Monument Lake.

She knew Jen and Ryan were working with their horses, so she didn't call. At least that was the excuse she gave Gram, but Sam knew it was something more. She was afraid she might confess what had happened with Jake and Star. Her feelings were still too raw to talk about, so she didn't take that chance.

Then, Jen called her.

“Things are really crazy around here,” Jen whispered. “My dad stood up to Slocum about the buffalo.”

“What about them?”

“They arrived on Tuesday and they're really hard to handle. Linc hasn't set up a big enough pasture and Dad insists they can't be put out with the cattle until they've been in quarantine.

“And Dad's refusing to truck them over to Mrs. Allen's for the race. He says they're entirely unpredictable.”

“Sorta like cows?” Sam asked.

When Jen squeaked in surprise, Sam smiled for the first time in days.

“I can't believe I said that,” Jen recalled. “They're really kind of ferocious. Ryan thinks they're great, but Sky doesn't like them at all.”

Sam got chills at the way Jen said it. She really sounded scared.

“Good for your dad, then,” Sam said. “I can't picture Linc bringing them over by himself, can you?”

“To tell you the truth, I can picture him doing just about anything.” Jen covered the phone's mouthpiece, to talk with someone else, but Sam still heard her say, “I'm
not
biting the hand that feeds me, Mom!”

For a few seconds, Jen and Lila bickered over Jen's criticism of Slocum.

“All right, Mom, I'm getting off.” Jen laughed. “Gotta go, Sam. Hey, see you at the races!”

Sam had worked Ace early in the morning and groomed him afterward, but she went out to groom him anyway.

He didn't need it. The gelding was thriving on the extra attention he'd received this week. His coat glowed red gold and his black mane and tail were silky.

Just the same, she curried him and told him what she'd been afraid to tell anyone else.

“I want to go get her, Ace. She's up there with the Phantom and I'd like to go get her, but there are at least two things wrong with that.”

The mustang bobbed his head as if he understood, but she told him anyway.

“One, the Phantom might not let me take her. I couldn't stand battling him. He might never come to me again. Two.” Sam sighed. “Jake might track me! I've seen him track across bare rock. Do you
know that Quinn has called here twice, asking what I'm up to? Don't you just know Jake has him spying on me?

“But if I don't get her back, there goes my chance to be in the race, my chance to show Dad I have some riding skills. And you are doing so well,” she said, hugging the mustang's neck.

Sam stood there thinking. The carpenters had made lots of progress on the barn, and she watched them while she concentrated.

Just then, Ross rode in on Tank. The big gelding was limping.

“What's wrong?” Sam called.

“Threw a shoe,” he said, and when he looked more sheepish than usual, Sam remembered Dad had turned the shoeing chore over to Ross that first day they'd talked about the race.

Sam shrugged with an understanding grin and expected Ross to disappear. Instead, he took a breath, expelled it, and managed another sentence.

“That filly of Jake's a paint?”

Sam nodded, and hope crowded out every other feeling. Ross never wasted a word in idle conversation.

“Saw a strange paint just 'cross the river.”

“Oh my gosh, Ross, that is so cool.
So
cool!” She grabbed the cowboy's upper arms and might have kissed him in joy, but he looked so startled she released him. “Thanks!”

Sam saddled Ace. She got a rope from the half-ruined tack room and tied it onto her saddle. It could work.

She ran into the kitchen.

“Gram, I'm taking Ace out for a little while.”

She already had the door open again when Gram's voice stopped her.

“You're not going up into the mountains after the filly, are you?”

Sam shook her head. “Nope, I'm hoping she'll come to me.”

 

If I only I had my horsehair bracelet
, Sam thought.

She knew it was superstitious, but she had a feeling that once she crossed to the wild side of the river, its magic would draw the filly to her.

You didn't need it for the Phantom
. The whisper came in her own voice and she realized it was true. She didn't need a magic bracelet. The power she had over the Phantom was her own. And if she could communicate with him, she might be able to connect with the filly. All she needed was a chance.

Where was she? Sam stared so hard her eyes already burned.

Even though the sandspit jutting out into the river made it possible to ride across La Charla, it took thirty minutes to ride from River Bend Ranch to the Phantom's trail through the stairstep mesas.

“We're not going up, boy,” she said when Ace
tugged at the bit. “I don't know where Jake is, but he'd follow our tracks for sure.”

Instead, they loped back and forth, letting any animal around know they were there.

She was determined to be in that race. If Jake didn't have Star, he could ride Chip. She'd
make
him ride Chip.

The Quarter horse had shown his stamina and will during that long night they'd chased the filly. He could certainly run a seven-and-a-quarter-mile race.

A lonely neigh made Ace spin on his heels.

The pretty pinto had sighted them, but she didn't know the path down. She picked her way slowly through the sagebrush and shale.

“Star, pretty Star,” Sam called.

The filly had lost her leather halter and the rope trailing from it. This wasn't going to be easy.

Sam remembered what Mac had said about not asking your horse to do something you're not brave enough to do.

Although her palm was still ripped and red from the last time she'd tried to hold onto the black-and-white filly, Sam knew that if Star came to her, she'd be brave enough to slip a loop over her head and never let go.