Run Away Home (14 page)

Even though Pepper had gone home for the holidays, he'd get a chance to see the movie later. Inez had given it to Sam in thanks for her help with Bayfire and for Ace's surprise appearance in the movie, and Sam knew the DVD would be passed back and forth from the ranch house to the bunkhouse many times that winter.

Sam put the digging bar away and headed for the warm house.

Sausage, biscuits, and a plate of orange slices sat on the kitchen table, but the room was empty and quiet. Then she heard Dad's voice rumble from the living room.

“It's against my better judgment, I tell you, but I'm doing it!”

He didn't shout, exactly, but he'd raised his voice, and that was rare.

Sam stood still and listened. She heard feet crossing the floor upstairs, in Gram's room.

“I don't know why one of them can't do it, seein' she's set on goin',” Dad added more quietly.

“Three simple reasons,” Brynna answered. “First, she doesn't trust Dallas's driving in bad weather. Second, she says Ross drives too slowly and she wants to do her turn with the therapy horse and drop off Sweetheart's winter blanket, then finish up a little Christmas shopping.”

“Now, wait just a doggone minute. I never signed on for shoppin'—”

“—and third, Wyatt-Forster-love-of-my-life, you are driving me stark, staring mad and I need you out of the house for a few hours!”

“Now, B.,” Dad began patiently.

“You watch every mouthful I eat and tell me to chew my food more completely so that I don't choke,” Brynna began. “You check each step I take walking across a room and tell me to slow down, so that I don't fall. When I'm standing up, you ask me if I shouldn't lie down. When I do, you loom over me, watching my tummy to see if the baby squirms because you're afraid she or he won't have enough room to stretch.”

Sam started giggling. She couldn't help it. Brynna was absolutely right. Gram, Brynna, and Sam had begun meeting each other's eyes each time Dad fussed.

“You got all your chores done?” Dad bawled toward the swinging door between the living room and kitchen.

“Yes, sir,” Sam called back.

She sat down at the table, smiling. Her day just kept getting better and better. Her chores were finished, and if Dad and Gram were in town, there'd be no one to crack the whip. She and Brynna could relax and do whatever they wanted.

Sam just hoped Brynna had gotten all that compulsive cleaning out of her system. Yesterday
when Sam had come home after the accident, Brynna had not only emptied Gram's sewing closet, she'd taken out all the odds and ends of fabric, then washed, dried, and folded them before putting them back.

Sam had snagged one piece of material that had warm memories for her, but she hadn't mentioned it to her stepmother for fear it would offend her new-found sense of order.

“Don't she just look proud as a pouter pigeon,” Dad said to Sam as he came into the kitchen with Brynna. Her hand was tucked through his elbow as if they were on their way to a dance, Sam thought, but Brynna did look pretty smug.

Sam made a sound that indicated her mouth was full, even though she just really didn't want to comment on Dad's defeat.

As Gram whisked into the room carrying a big purple horse blanket she'd had specially made for Sweetheart in New Mexico, Dad started talking to Sam.

“Ross and Dallas are to stay put in case you need anything,” Dad said. “I put snow chains on the truck tires and the Buick in case one or the other of 'em won't start.”

“Dear,” Brynna said quietly, but pointedly, “there's been a helicopter up this morning and each time one goes up it costs a thousand dollars, and—”

“‘Norman White's not a man to waste money.'
Yeah, I heard that, but he's new to this country and I don't trust his weather judgment.”

“I have zero symptoms—except for being as ungainly as a whale—and I have a telephone, a cell phone, the ranch radio—”

“I wound up the emergency radio, too, in case of a power failure,” Dad put in.

“—a totally capable daughter, two cowboys, and a week and a half to go until my due date!” Then, before he could respond, Brynna stood on her toes, maneuvered the swell of the baby so that she could kiss Dad's cheek, and smiled as she wiggled her fingers in a wave good-bye, about an inch from his nose.

Gram slipped out the door and it looked like Dad was about to follow, but he stopped the door from closing after him to say, “Samantha, you've got that hardship driver's license. Drivin' in snow's just like driving in mud. Keep goin' slow but sure, pedal down, but not too hard—”

“Wyatt, for heaven's sake, where
do
you think Ross and Dallas'd be that Sam would have to drive to town in a snowstorm?” Gram asked, and then she must have grabbed Dad's sleeve and yanked, because he disappeared and the door slammed.

Brynna sank into the chair across the table from Sam. She listened to Dad's truck crunch over the gravel road Ross had cleared and waited as his tires thumped across the bridge. Then she waited some
more, eyes closed with her head leaned against the chair back.

When her lids finally opened to show the sparkle of her blue eyes, Brynna said, “How about passing me one more biscuit and a dab of that strawberry jam?”

Y
awning, Sam repositioned the pillow behind her head and stretched her stockinged toes until they touched the far arm of the couch. She usually preferred watching television from Dad's chair. That's where she'd started out and Brynna had picked the couch, but after they'd watched the film sent by Inez Garcia, Brynna had asked to switch places while they watched one of Sam's favorite movies,
The Little Mermaid
. Now, Sam thought, the couch suited her just fine.

Wind moaned around the corners of the ranch house and snow patted the windows, but each time Sam rose to put another log on the fire and stare outside, the snow depth looked about the same.

Brynna watched Sam watch the snow, but she didn't get up.

“If it's like this tomorrow and you want to go ride, use my cold-weather gear,” Brynna told her.

“I don't know,” Sam said. “I'm feeling pretty lazy.”

“If you change your mind,” Brynna said, picking through a bowl of cold popcorn, “it's in that little maple wood trunk in the bottom of my closet. I didn't have the figure for it this year,” she said with a lopsided smile.

Sam turned away from the window. The snow must be melting as it fell. She wedged a chunky log into the fireplace. It ought to last for at least an hour.

When the movie credits rolled over the TV screen, Brynna asked Sam, “More dancing crustaceans? Or do you want to watch the Inez movie once more? I can't believe they caught the Phantom on film.”

Caught the Phantom.
Sam's heart responded, thudding in panic, before her brain explained the words. She must be closer to sleep than she thought.

Sam wiggled into a sitting position before she reminded Brynna, “The Phantom part won't be in the real movie.”

“Who cares?
We
can watch him forever.”

Brynna groaned, threw off a knitted comforter, and kneaded a muscle spasm in her leg. Each time she did stuff like that, Sam felt nervous, but she tried not
to be as paranoid as Dad.

“Honey, switch places with me, will you?” Brynna asked. “Again?” she added sheepishly. With difficulty, she slid her feet into knee-high, fleece-lined shoes that were not quite boots or bedroom slippers.

“Sure,” Sam said. She stood, made way for Brynna to get by, then plopped into Dad's chair.

“I don't know how I can feel restless and sleepy at the same time,” Brynna said. She fidgeted on the couch, despite the pillows piled under her feet and her head. Then, with a heavy sigh, she said, “Watch whatever you…” The sentence ended with a ladylike snore.

Sam retrieved the comforter Brynna had discarded and pulled it up to her chin. She clicked the remote to silence the television. Through drowsy eyes, she looked across the room at the freshly laundered red flannel she'd sneaked from the reorganized sewing cabinet.

Once, it had been a nightgown, but she'd used part of it to make the first bridle the Phantom had ever worn. Back then he'd been Blackie, an ebony two-year-old, and Sam could still see the dramatic picture the stallion had made wearing the soft red halter.

If she had to tame him again, she hoped he'd remember. She could cut the cloth now and begin making a headstall, but she felt superstitious about it, almost as if fate would guarantee the Phantom's capture if she did.

Instead, Sam reached for the mystery novel she'd left on the table and began reading.

Her eyes kept closing. Too groggy to follow the clues, Sam stared at the flames in the fireplace. She kind of liked standing guard this way, especially when there was nothing to do except watch TV and read. Brynna would probably be more comfortable if she shucked off those bootie things, Sam thought, but since her stepmother was fast asleep, she left her alone.

Cougar leaped up onto Sam's lap and burrowed under the comforter. His claws kneaded her leg gently as he purred, and then he was quiet.

 

The first thing Sam noticed when she awoke was the cold. The log had burned down to a charred lump and she didn't hear the heater running, but there was a sunny glare of light around the curtains.
Weird,
Sam thought.

Stifling a groan as she tried to straighten knees that had been hammered and tossed around in the bus yesterday, Sam stood, then wobbled over to pull back the curtain.

Wow.
Snow came down in flakes and clumps, falling as if the ranch house stood in a snow globe shaken by a crazy child.

On the couch, Brynna huffed in frustration. She must be having trouble getting comfortable.

Then Brynna sat up. She pushed back the red
frazzles of her braid and tsked her tongue.

“How did he know?”

Sam's stomach dropped so suddenly, she was sure she could have found it under the house if she'd gone looking for it.

There was no point in trying to shift the sense of Brynna's words. They could only mean one thing: Dad had been right. Today was the day Brynna would have the baby.

“Do you feel okay?” Sam noticed her hand was trembling as she released her grip on the curtain.

“Not really,” Brynna confessed. She winced and locked her fingers together across her huge middle.

“I'll get your suitcase,” Sam said. Sprinting up the stairs, she heard Brynna say something about calling the bunkhouse.

Good
, Sam thought,
I could use some help
. Suitcase right where it was supposed to be, Sam checked it off her mental list. So was Brynna's purse with her medical information inside.

Boots…boots…there
! Sam snagged her best snow boots from beside her bed and pounded back down the stairs.

In about two minutes, she'd laced on her boots extra tightly and she and Brynna were outside.

Brynna held her coat together with one hand and in the other she grasped a plastic baggie filled with tiny pink lemonade ice cubes. Gram had sworn that sucking on them during labor would give Brynna
extra energy. Though Brynna had laughed at the idea before, she'd apparently decided that since the real moment was here, she'd give Gram's idea a try.

“We're ready,” Brynna said, “but…”

Not all of their escape plan was going so well.

The truck had bogged down in the snow. Its rear wheels were spinning out. Then it jumped a rut in the ranch yard as Ross tried to drive closer to the porch.

“Stay there!” Brynna yelled into the wind, and made a “halt” motion at Ross. Then she held on to Sam's arm and began making her way across the ranch yard.

As they walked, Sam could see Ross inside the truck cab. He leaned forward to rub at the windshield fogged by his breath, and gunned the engine again. The truck spun loose from its first sticking point, but it wallowed ahead in slow motion as the bottom of the truck scraped on snow.

What had happened to the perfect path they'd shoveled? How could the storm have dumped so much snow, so fast?

The truck stuck again, and this time Sam smelled something like burning rubber.

Dallas darted behind the truck. Using the short shovel, he dug down to the gravel.
Good idea,
Sam thought as gray materialized beneath the white.

Since Dallas and Ross were doing all they could to free the truck, Sam wiped snowflakes from her
eyelashes and studied Brynna.

Brynna's freckles stood out, rust-red against her pale, perspiring face. With her jaw set and eyes shut, she swayed, struggling to stay upright.

Hurry,
Sam thought as she watched Dallas sprinkle something from a bag—kitty litter?—around the truck's back tires, doing everything he could to make the tires grip. The tires kept spinning, spitting gravel back at him, and Dallas threw the bag down in disgust.

He marched up to the driver's-side window and rapped on it.

“Forget it!” he shouted at Ross, then took long, stomping steps toward Gram's Buick.

“This'll work,” Sam assured Brynna, but now her stepmother's face was dreamy.

Sam was prepared for Brynna to be tense and in pain, but Brynna looked as if she'd left her body for another world. It was kind of creepy.

The truck's engine went silent in mid-whine and Ross climbed out. Tugging his dark Stetson down to his nose, he didn't look over at Sam and Brynna. He followed Dallas to the Buick, swept his coat sleeve across the car's windshield, and cleared the glass of snow. For a few seconds.

Dallas dug at the snow in front of the car, clearing a path for the tires. Ross started the engine with a roar. Then he rolled down a window to motion Sam and Brynna into the backseat.

“Let's go,” Sam said, and they plunged into the wind-whipped flakes, eyes set on the Buick's back door.

Sam held the door open, but Brynna glanced down at Dallas. He'd thrown the shovel aside. They could see dirt clinging to his palms and fingertips.

“He's going to give himself a heart attack,” Brynna shouted. “Make him quit.”

Sam didn't have to. As soon as Brynna plopped down in the backseat, Ross shouted “Get back!” and Dallas jumped away from the car.

Sam slammed the car door, crossed her fingers, and leaned forward, as if that would help the car go.

Fishtailing through the snow, the Buick headed for the bridge. Brynna covered her eyes, laughing in relief, as they shot over the wooden boards.

They reached the other side before the Buick slowed, then stuck solid.

“D-d-dang it!” Ross struck the steering wheel with the heel of his hand.

Sam looked through the back window. Through the coating of snow, she made out Dallas pushing against the back of the car. As the engine screamed, Dallas tried to rock the Buick loose.

“I can help,” Sam said, unsnapping her seat belt.

“No.” Brynna grabbed Sam's arm. Hard. “I'm going back inside. We can do this, Sam.”

Maybe
you
can,
Sam's mind wailed.

“M-ma'am,” Ross protested, turning to appeal to
Brynna, but she shook her head so hard, her wet braid lashed Sam's cheek.

“Time's up,” Brynna said.

Her sigh told Sam that even if the Buick came loose this instant, they weren't going to make it to the hospital before the baby came.

Brynna reached for the door handle and all but tumbled out into the snow, but she was up and standing by the time Sam rounded the back of the car.

Brynna stared upward as if the cold flakes felt good on her face, but her relieved stance didn't last. As if someone had roped her knees and jerked them forward, she gave into her labor pains, falling to her knees and leaning forward with both palms in the snow.

Before Sam could ask for help, Ross was there. He swooped Brynna up into his arms.

“I can walk,” she insisted faintly, but Ross didn't notice.

As they made their way toward the house, Sam thought it had a weird glow, greenish, like Oz or like a spaceship, but it was probably just the house lights, diffused through the snowflakes. Or maybe it was stress.

Sam only knew that once they got inside and had this baby, life would never be the same.

 

After that, things went fast.

As Brynna settled on the couch again, Sam
started to phone the doctor, but Brynna said it would be a waste of time and money.

“Dr. Wadia is on call at the hospital tonight and I bet there's an emergency room full of people who've had snow-related accidents. We'll be fine, Sam.”

Then, with her eyebrows lowered and kind of kinked in an expression Sam couldn't interpret, Brynna ordered Dallas and Ross to leave. They seemed to have expected it, but Sam hated to see them go, and it must have shown in her expression, because Dallas touched her shoulder, winked, and said, “We'll be just outside.”

Brynna lay on her side on the couch. The snow had silenced every sound but the grandfather clock's swinging pendulum.

It wasn't enough to have Dallas and Ross nearby or to have a stack of books, Sam thought. Brynna had taken good care of herself during her pregnancy. Everything would probably turn out fine, but helping Dark Sunshine give birth was totally different from helping Brynna.

Suddenly, Sam knew what to do.

“I'm calling Three Ponies,” Sam blurted. “Jake's mom has had six kids.”

“That's a good idea, Sam,” Brynna said, and though her eyes stayed closed, Sam saw the kink in her brows vanish. “I hope you can get through.”

Please, please, please let the phone be working,
Sam prayed as she dialed.

“Hello?”

Sam felt her neck muscles go floppy at the comforting sound of Jake's voice.

“Jake?”

“What's wrong?”

He must have heard her worry in the way she'd pronounced his name, because there was no sullen dullness in his voice. He sounded alert, on guard, and ready.

Sam almost laughed with relief. This was not the voice from the school parking lot, saying “Your friend ain't here no more.” This was the voice of her friend and he was where he'd always been, standing right beside her.

“Brynna's in labor and it's just the two of us here,” Sam said.

“Man oh man,” Jake said quietly.

“Do you think your mom—”

“Yeah, she'll know what to do.”

Sam heard Maxine Ely's voice ask a question in the background and wondered how it would feel to have a house full of people with only one “she.”

“We'll be there as soon as we can,” Jake said, before he explained to his mother.

“But Jake, the roads are bad. We tried to drive and—” Sam broke off at Brynna's sudden gasp.

“We'll be there,” Jake repeated. “You just hang in there, Brat.”

While they waited, Sam followed Brynna's instructions and called on some of the stuff she'd memorized
from Gram's home-birth handbook. She joined in Brynna's deep breathing, gave her the pink lemonade ice cubes, and listened for tires crunching into the ranch yard.

Once, Sam made it as far as the big kitchen window and saw nothing but endless white before Brynna called her back and asked where the heck Wyatt was—as if she'd forgotten she'd been the one to send Dad away.