The Wildest Heart (5 page)

“Let me tie Ace, and we'll turn her out,” Sam said.

As she led Ace toward Mrs. Allen's barn, Sam heard Angel and Imp barking inside the house.

“Poor little dogs,” she mumbled to Ace. They wanted to come out and see what was going on. “They'll have to wait until Queen's out in the pasture, though.”

Ace glanced over his shoulder at the mustang mare and gave a snort that said he agreed that Queen wouldn't tolerate the yapping uproar of little dogs.

Sam hurried. She loosened the saddle cinch, removed Ace's headstall, and replaced it with the halter she'd brought from home. Next, she tied him outside Mrs. Allen's barn.

“Sorry, boy, but you're not done for the day,” she told him when his head swung around with a look of reproach. “We've got to go back out there and keep painting.”

Sam opened the gate into the sanctuary pasture so Callie could lead Queen through. The red dun mare nodded her head right, then left. She stood straight, breathing in the scents of everything around her.

Awareness rippled through Queen as she spotted figures so far out in the pasture they looked like toys. But when Callie unsnapped her lead rope, the mare didn't bolt off after the other horses. Instead, Queen grazed.

Sam only believed the red dun's lack of interest for a second. Queen's pricked ears and the way she snatched mouthfuls of grass showed she was alert to the other mustangs.

“This is a nice place,” Callie said, and sighed as she looked around.

“I'll give you the tour later,” Sam said. “But now, I should let Imp and Angel out. It sounds like they're going nuts in there.”

As soon as Sam opened the door, the black-and-white dogs bounded out. Their toenails scraped on the porch, then clicked on the garden's stepping stones. Finally, they leaped around the girls' ankles, hopping up to lick any skin they could reach.

“Down, you guys,” Sam said.

The dogs stopped for a second. They snuffled through flat-faced nostrils, then turned all their attention to Callie while Sam thought about lunch.

“There's a tree house not far from here. How about if we take our sandwiches out to it? I don't
think we'll get rained on,” Sam said, looking upward.

Gray clouds spread overhead as evenly as a ceiling. Though the wind had picked up, tension lay on the air. Maybe the bees had been right and a storm was on its way.

“Great idea,” Callie said. “When we're done eating, I'll help you paint the fence.”

Sam knew she should protest that it was Callie's day off, but she didn't. The work would go faster and be more fun with company.

“That'd be great,” Sam said. “I'll go make lunch.”

When she came back outside with the brown paper bag that held their picnic and tried to shoo the dogs back inside, Angel and Imp panted with rasping breaths and skittered out of reach.

Their round brown eyes stared beseechingly at Callie.

“Let's bring them,” she said, and Sam agreed.

Angel and Imp followed obediently at their heels until they reached the tree house. Then, Callie climbed the ladder to the level deck, and held out her arms. Cradling Imp against her chest, Sam took three steps up the ladder, then passed the dog to Callie. Once Callie set Imp down, he wiggled his stumpy tail and barked, encouraging Angel to come join him.

Sam backed down the ladder, scooped up Angel, and ascended the steps again.

“Piece of cake,” Sam said as she passed the second dog to Callie.

From the tree house deck, Callie and Sam had lofty views of Deerpath Ranch and all of Mrs. Allen's lands. Past the highway, the La Charla River flowed. They could make out the edge of the sanctuary pasture where its fence of freshly painted brown-red gave way to faded gray. Beyond that boundary, they could see stacked plateaus leading up to the Calico Mountains.

The girls munched their sandwiches and absorbed the stark beauty of the high desert land.

No bigger than a couple of loaves of bread, Imp and Angel lay between Sam and Callie. The black-and-white dogs refused all scraps and panted nervously, but they didn't want to get down.

“You can see where I'm painting,” Sam said, pointing. “From down there, it seems like I've done lots more.”

There was something about Callie's accepting tranquility that made Sam add, “I saw the Phantom out there yesterday.”

Callie's smile lit her face. “I hope you know how rare that is, having a wild horse come to you like that.”

Sam ducked her head in acceptance. “He didn't come right up to me, but we saw each other, and this is definitely part of his territory. Mrs. Allen has paintings of mustangs in her studio. She's done a lot of them over the years.”

“Cool,” Callie said, still staring toward the mountains.

Sam didn't add that Mrs. Allen's favorite models these days were carnivorous plants. But Sam was pretty sure Callie would be just as accepting of that switch.

One of the things she really liked about the older girl was her tolerance of other people.

Sam had just an instant to notice the warmth of the little dogs pressing close to her thigh. Then they whined and flattened their ears as lightning tore the pearl gray sky.

Sam squinted against the brightness. She winced at the hissing crackle and a smell like gunpowder.

Before either girl could speak, thunder boomed.

“We'd better go inside,” Sam managed, but Callie was pointing.

At what?
Sam stared, eyes skimming down the wind-fluttered sleeve blowing back from Callie's wrist.

“What's burning?” Callie asked.

“I don't see—”

And then she did. Skinny red arms offered up a crazy, twisting white thread.

That's what it looked like until Sam's brain made sense of what she was seeing.

The red arms were the branches of the single flaming pine tree. It stood in the middle of the swathe of cheatgrass and the twisting white threads around the tree were smoke.

The lightning strike had started a fire.

Suddenly Dad's words slammed through Sam's brain.

“If a fire starts on the flat and gets a western wind behind it, it'll race over the range and those canyons will act like chimneys.”

“G
o, go, go!” Sam shouted, but when Callie hesitated before climbing down from the tree house, Sam went first.

Barely looking behind, Sam stepped down on a ladder rung. A sudden wind, so strong it seemed determined to trip her, swirled around her legs.

“We've got to call the volunteer fire department—”

“Before the fire reaches the sanctuary,” Callie finished.

With a flash of guilt, Sam realized she'd been thinking of the Phantom. She'd pictured flames licking through brush-filled gullies and narrow ravines, chasing the mustangs, when there were horses—even Ace!—in danger right here.

Her feet stopped and Sam held her arms up.

“I'll take one of the dogs,” she shouted.

“Okay,” Callie said, and passed one of the wriggling Boston bull terriers to Sam.

“Angel, sweetie, be still,” Sam crooned as the dog's slick fur slipped in her fingers. She managed to clamp the dog against her chest with one hand as she held to the ladder with her other, but when Sam's foot reached downward, Angel decided she'd had enough.

Her small jaws clamped a warning bite on Sam's wrist.

“Hey!” Sam yelled, more surprised than hurt. Her grip must have loosened, because Angel writhed free. Sam grappled for the dog, but Angel was already falling.

She hit the ground with a yelp.

Two rungs above Sam, Callie had Imp pinned between her arm and ribs. She looked back.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she said, “But Angel—”

Sam's voice broke off with a cough, but her feet kept moving. She reached the ground in time to see Angel stand, shake the dirt from her coat, and begin barking.

As soon as Callie reached the ground and released Imp, the dogs scampered two laps around the tree, then raced for the house.

Sam and Callie took off after them, but when their shoulders brushed for the second time, Sam
realized they were both staring toward the fire.

Orange flames danced amid the smoke. The winds warred for control, blowing both fire and smoke from side to side.

“The horses are penned,” Sam gasped, remembering the barn fire at River Bend Ranch. Trapped and forgotten inside the high-sided round pen, Dark Sunshine had screamed to be freed. “Should we let them out?”

“They're safe for now,” Callie said. “If the fire truck comes…”

Sam nodded and kept running. The firefighters would be busy fighting the blaze. Loose horses would just add to the confusion.

“Just run,” Callie shouted.

“I've gotta…” Sam bolted toward the barn where Ace rolled his eyes and jerked at his halter rope.

Her knot was holding, but she couldn't leave him tied. Anything could happen.

“Ace, it's okay boy.”

The gelding's whinny said he knew very well that nothing was okay.

Sam tugged the loose end of her quick-release knot and ran toward the corral, towing Ace. He followed but his steps veered from side to side, and when she opened the gate and he saw Calico, Ginger, and Judge trotting nervously around their pen, Ace refused to enter.

“Ace!” Sam shouted. “Knock it off!”

Then Sam closed her eyes in frustration. At herself.

Wise from his years on the range, Ace knew the scent of smoke meant danger. He'd learned, too, that when humans acted frantic and out of control, there was trouble.

Callie had run inside to call the fire department. What would it hurt to comfort Ace, just a little?

“Sorry, pretty boy,” Sam said. As soon as she let the rope fall loose between them the horse stepped nearer.

Ace turned his head aside, but one eye watched her. His lips moved as if grumbling what he thought of her craziness.

“Just go in with them, Ace,” Sam said, but then the wind shifted, bringing smells of heat and smoke. Ace's nostrils widened and closed, and Sam's mind raced ahead. “Maybe in a few minutes I'll ask Callie to give you a ride home.”

Head bobbing so that his black forelock covered, then cleared from his eyes and the star on his forehead, Ace followed her into the corral. The two paint mares and the old bay looked nervous, but Sam was pretty sure they weren't terrified.

Then they proved it. As she set Ace loose with a pat on the rump, the other horses rushed to stand guard at their empty feed bins.

Thunder rolled overhead, making Sam walk faster. When lightning crackled, she ran. Rain began
pattering down. But before Sam could feel relieved, she heard more crackling. Not lightning this time, but brush burning. When she looked up, a yellow haze of smoke drifted across the clouds.

The wrought-iron gate clanged as Sam entered the shady garden and saw Callie coming down the concrete path that looped around the side of Mrs. Allen's house. The path led to Mrs. Allen's art studio, a separate building, with high, round windows. Callie carried Imp and Angel.

Sam's mind raced. Callie should have been in the house by now, calling the fire department!

“They were hiding back there,” Callie said. “I couldn't leave them on their own.”

“I bet they were looking for Mrs. Allen,” Sam said. She felt sorry for the little dogs. Callie was right—Imp and Angel weren't smart in the way Ace was. Left on his own, the mustang might survive a fire. Those two little dogs wouldn't stand a chance. But how much closer had the fire burned in five minutes?

There was no time to worry about it.

“I'll do it,” Sam said, but Callie was right beside her. “There's a brush truck at Three Ponies Ranch,” Sam added, as they nearly fell through the front door together. “It should be able to get here right away.”

Grateful she knew where to find the telephone from the time she'd spent here before, Sam turned to the round table draped with what looked like a gypsy shawl.

While Sam dialed, Callie ran fresh water into a bowl for the panting dogs.

Before she'd even finished dialing, Sam heard the faraway wail of a siren.

Someone else must have sighted the smoke and reported it. But Sam didn't hang up. What if lightning had started more than one fire?

It sounded like the truck was coming from Three Ponies Ranch. Relief rushed through her as she thought of Luke Ely, chief of the volunteer fire department, surrounded by his experienced and level-headed sons. Would Luke be home from work? For a minute she couldn't remember which day it was, but then she thought of Bryan and Quinn and Jake. They'd rush to help, even if Luke was away.

“It's still just ringing,” Sam told Callie.

Callie gave a half nod. “Wait for the dispatcher, anyway. One truck might not be enough.”

Chills, like being wrapped in a wet sheet, made Sam shiver.

Callie was right. If the fire raged out of control, one truck couldn't fight both sides of the blaze. Part of it could race toward wild horse country while the other part swept toward Deerpath Ranch. It wouldn't, would it? Wouldn't the wind push it in one direction?

The phone kept ringing—where? In Darton? At the county offices where she'd met with Sheriff Ballard? Why wasn't someone answering? Sam wondered as
she remembered the wind tossing the flames back and forth, warring for control.

“Fire department.”

In an instant, all the emergency drills she'd recited in elementary school came back to Sam.

“This is Samantha Forster. I'm at Deerpath Ranch, Mrs. Allen's place?” Sam heard the dispatcher's quiet “go ahead” and maybe the tapping of computer keys. “A lightning strike started a fire out on the…” Sam paused, trying to picture a compass. Which side of the ranch was burning? Which direction?

“We've already got a volunteer truck started your way,” the dispatcher said. “One of Luke Ely's boys called it in. They're right by you, and the Darton Fire Department's been notified to stand by. They're in radio contact with each other.”

Sam met Callie's eyes and gave her an “okay” sign.

“If the volunteers don't think they can knock down the fire on their own, we'll tone out Darton.”

Tone out.

Sam wasn't certain what that meant, but she remembered hearing Dad's volunteer fire department radio giving high-pitched sounds, and Gram saying the emergency was for another department.

Whatever. Help was coming.

“Samantha?” the dispatcher said.

“Yes,” Sam answered, but she was watching
Callie, thinking she looked awfully pale.

“Ask if we should leave,” Callie instructed.

No,
Sam thought. She didn't want to ask.

She had to stay. She'd promised Mrs. Allen that she'd take care of the captive mustangs. And she had to ask the firefighters if the flames were burning toward the foothill canyons.

If they were, she had to tell the firefighters about the wild horses. If she didn't stay to do it, who would?

“Should we evacuate?” Callie demanded, raising her voice.

The dispatcher must have heard. “Samantha, are you listening?”

“Yes,” Sam said, at last.

“It's always smart to evacuate before you're ordered to, but Chief Ely will be on scene in…” The dispatcher paused. Sam heard a squawk and the buzz of radios before the dispatcher continued. “A minute or two. Follow his directions.”

“Okay,” Sam said and then she hung up.

“The mustangs are probably okay,” Callie said.

Which mustangs?
Sam's mind ping-ponged between the captive herd, seeing Roman, Belle, Faith, the sorrel with the twisted legs…and the Phantom's wild band with the two blood bays, the big honey-colored mare, the bay colt with the white patch over one eye that she called Pirate, and the mighty silver stallion who'd once been hers.

Suddenly, Sam swallowed hard, remembering
Queen. Callie had a horse to worry over, too.

“They've got plenty of room to run away from the fire,” Sam said.

“But what about Mrs. Allen's three, and Ace?”

“We have the trailer,” Sam reminded her, but a sour taste filled her mouth. They had a two-horse trailer. Was there time to move all four horses?

“Okay.” Callie pushed pink bangs away from her wire-rimmed glasses. Sam could see her mind whirling behind her gray eyes. Callie was probably troubled by the same thoughts.

“And I could take the dogs with me,” Callie said slowly.

“Good idea,” Sam said. “And since River Bend is on the other side of the river, but still close—”

“I'll take them there,” Callie finished. “But while I'm doing that,” Callie said, shaking her head, “I can't leave you here.”

“Don't worry about it,” Sam began.

“Don't worry? Are you joking?” Callie came closer to snapping than Sam had ever heard her.

“No, I just—”

“If it's serious enough to evacuate the horses and dogs”—Callie's voice was too level and controlled—“then you have to leave.”

“It's just a precaution,” Sam insisted.

“Do you really expect me to just desert you here with a fire”—she motioned vaguely—“like, roaring down on you?”

Sam blocked out the image. “Okay, you're allowed to worry, and I promise to talk with Jake's dad as soon as I can.”

“And if he says to leave, you'll do it,” Callie added, pinning Sam down. “Right?”

“Right,” Sam said. Then, she'd bet her smile turned sickly, and not because she was afraid of the fire. Dad and Gram would freak out when they realized she was facing the fire without them.

In fact, since Dad was part of the volunteer fire department, the emergency radio that usually sat in the living room with a red light glowing had probably started beeping and giving orders. Dad might be on his way over right now.

The dogs clicked to the front door and sniffed at the bottom of it. Was the smoke heavier?

The sirens were louder, closer.

Suddenly, heavy footfalls sounded on the walk outside.

Then the pounding of a fist made the wooden door shudder. The little dogs barked in a high-pitched frenzy as a voice boomed, “Let's go! Everybody out!”