Untamed (11 page)

“You remind me of another sassy woman. ‘Harmin' the horses,' that's what she accused me of when she come out here. Three or four times it was and leave here mad, every time.”

Sam's heart thundered so hard it felt like her rib cage vibrated. It had been Mom. Absolutely.

“Still, I didn't mind havin' her come around.” Caleb Sawyer fell quiet.

Why hadn't he shut up before uttering those last words? Everything had been black and white.

“It's the honest truth, little girl, those were different days. I ain't taken a horse in years.”

She had no reason to believe him, but she did. And this was not the ending she wanted. Old, deaf, kind to his dog, and, in a way, he'd admired Mom.

But she hated what he'd done to the mustangs. She couldn't forgive him his past. What if his horse hunting days weren't over?

“I don't see any cattle.” Sam tried once more to trap him. “How do you make a living?”

“Saved some cash from the old days, if it's any business of yours, which it ain't. Now and then I still take hunters out for antelope. That's why I was scarin' off that herd. Why share the feed for my cash crop of pronghorn?”

“You could keep them out by—”

“Man shouldn't have to fence his land,” he interrupted, gazing over her shoulder.

“But it's against the law. Even if you don't shoot
the horses, it's called harassment and—”

“I know about those fool laws,” he said, fluttering both hands her way, as if she were a pesky hen. “Before you go plannin' my jail time, you ask that red-headed woman about statutes of limitations.”

Sam was trying to unravel the hermit's words when a horn blasted behind her.

When she turned around, a white truck was pulling up beside Slocum's. Its red-haired driver flung the door open, slipped out, then slammed it so hard, the BLM truck shuddered.

Sam had never been afraid of Brynna, but now she saw that was a mistake.

C
aleb Sawyer greeted Brynna as if he knew her, then guffawed until he was out of breath as Brynna ordered Sam into her truck.

As if she were a child, Sam thought. As if she didn't have this tape, which could get Caleb Sawyer thrown in jail!

Humiliated and angry, Sam did as she was told. At least Ryan and Jen had left when Brynna arrived. Given Jen's level of curiosity, Sam thought, that proved once again that Jen was an amazing friend.

Brynna shifted into reverse, turned the truck around, then aimed it at each rut as if she welcomed the hammering impact.

“All the way over here I was kicking myself for
not trusting you,” Brynna said. “Now I see why I came anyway. You lied to me.”

A click sounded from Sam's pocket. Mr. Blair's tape recorder had lasted long enough to record her disgrace.

“I didn't,” Sam said, pointing out the camera around her neck as if it were a witness. “And you won't believe all the stuff he told me.”

“Oh yes, I will, because I was already here today. And I probably asked him the same questions!” Brynna gave a self-mocking smile. “To think I was going to give you all my notes, just like a present, while we ate our pizza.”

If Brynna already knew everything, and she hadn't had Caleb Sawyer arrested, that couldn't be good.

“Don't you think he's guilty?” Sam asked quietly.

“I'm quite certain he is guilty,” Brynna snapped. “But it will take a while to prove it.”

“I've got him saying a lot of stuff on tape,” Sam offered. “If it would help.”

“That's not what you should be worrying about,” Brynna said. “You've gone too far this time, Sam, and I don't know what we're going to do. Obviously
grounding
doesn't hold any great terror for you.”

Sam braced her elbows on her thighs and put her face in her hands. Maybe she could think of some punishment awful enough that they wouldn't send her away.

“You're not even sorry, are you?” Brynna demanded.

“Let me play this tape for you. Then you'll see—”

“That's not the point, Samantha. You're not listening to me.”

“Professional journalists do it and it stands up in court,” Sam insisted.

“You won't even use the sense an animal does, to keep itself safe,” Brynna said. “Didn't you feel creepy walking toward his cabin? I know you did, but you kept going.”

Once they were back on a paved road, the windstorm Ryan had mentioned materialized.

Wispy dust devils swept across the range, carrying sand and small pieces of brush.

“Whatever we do will be for your own good,” Brynna said.

She sounded hard and final, and Sam didn't know what to do.

Peering from the truck, she saw the sky overhead was still blue, but more clouds had rolled in. Once, a violent patter of raindrops almost obscured vision through the windshield. Next, there was a rumble of thunder, but the storm passed in minutes, leaving only the wind behind.

“We don't know if Caleb Sawyer is dangerous,” Brynna burst out. She'd kept brooding, Sam guessed, as they drove along. “It's not the lie as much as a total lack of judgment. Why couldn't you wait?”

Sam shook her head. She'd wanted to save the day, to identify and catch the bad guy Mom had been after. Why couldn't they see that?

“You have to listen to this tape,” Sam said again. “He mentions my mom. He said…”

Brynna's sigh rocked her whole body. Her mouth was downturned and sad. “You're just not getting it, Sam. We're talking about two different things, and one of them is your safety.”

Was it babyish to wish someone would comfort, not punish her? Sam wondered. All she wanted to do was put her arms around Ace's neck and cry.

A house-high whirlwind spun before the truck as Brynna drove across the bridge and into the ranch yard.

At the hitching rail, Dad was unsaddling Strawberry. He raised his forearm to shield his eyes from the blowing sand.

He didn't smile or wave.

It figured. Dad had already had a difficult day and it was about to get worse.

Please don't send me away. I can't stand it
. Half of her wanted to run to Dad and beg. The other half wanted to rage that it was unfair. The words tumbled through her mind again and again.
Please, don't make me go
.

Stubbornness kept her from begging, but how long would pride last against the soaring Calico Mountains, the hawks floating lazily over ridges, the horses, Jen and Jake?

Sam swallowed hard. It felt like a bone had wedged in her throat.

Just when she thought the whirlwind had gone, it was back, carrying something blue.

“What in the world…?” Brynna said, but Sam knew instantly.

The tarp. Dad had told her to weight down the tarp with rocks, so it wouldn't blow away. She'd meant to…She was going to…

And there it went.

“Oh no!” Brynna gasped and slammed on the brakes. She was out of the truck and running by the time Sam realized the tarp, crackling and snapping in the wind, was swooping like a giant blue bat over Penny's corral.

All of the horses heard the tarp. When they saw it, they fled for the far end of the ten-acre pasture. Penny could only hear it, but she tried to follow the others.

“Stop, oh stop,” Sam stood next to the truck, arms raised as if she could snag it from the air or will it back to earth.

Penny's neigh of terror cut Sam like a knife. The blind sorrel fled after the sound of the stampeding hooves, but her corral was small and made of pipe.

Metal rang with the impact of the mare's front legs. She stumbled backward and fell.

Instantly, she struggled to her feet. Her head swung between Brynna's voice and the running
hooves. Then the tarp rustled again, as it drifted to the ground, and Penny tried to batter her way through the fence.

“Brynna, stop!” Dad's voice was louder than the mare's screams. The fringe on his chaps swirled as he threw himself over the fence and into the pipe corral ahead of Brynna.

Arms spread, speaking calmly, he approached the blind mare. “Whoa, there, whoa.”

Sam heard him make a clucking sound and so did Penny. Brynna hung on the fence, panting for breath. The short sprint and total panic had taken everything out of her, but she trusted Dad to help her horse.

Sam stood frozen. One of the pipe panels veed out from the weight of the mare's body, crashing her delicate forelegs into the metal.

The cuts on Penny's front legs began to bleed. Sam longed to cover them with her own hands, but that would only frighten the mare more.

Before Dad reached Penny, another sound set her off. Pushed by the wind, the tarp scuttled along the ground.

Penny galloped around the pen. Her shoulder struck one panel and she ricocheted toward the far side of her pen. At last, she stood, ears back, ribs working in and out. But when Brynna called her name, Penny pricked her ears toward her mistress's voice.

“You're okay, Penny. We'll help you.”

What should I do? Sam wondered. Go gather the tarp and fold it so it couldn't do more damage? Or would that sound cause the mare to hurt herself more? And just what was it that had been so important that she couldn't do what Dad had asked?

Penny pawed with a front hoof, then stood, holding it clear of the ground. Dad stood back. Tense and watchful, he braced, ready to dart forward and catch Penny's halter.

Sam edged close to the corral.

“Dad, should I get the tarp?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Thanks, honey, but leave it for now.”

Thanks,
honey
? Had he forgotten…? And then Sam realized he had. Dad didn't remember telling her to deal with the tarp.

Dad's mouth drooped at each corner and his shoulders sagged. Not now. If she confessed now, she'd only drag him down farther.

A crow flew overhead, giving a raucous caw. Penny shied, but stayed near Brynna.

Sam clung to the fence with hands like claws. She watched Dallas come with first aid supplies and bandages. She heard Dad swear it was a bad luck day all around. He'd found Buttercup dead and spent all afternoon searching for her calf.

“Two lost,” Dad muttered, referring to the cow and calf. Then he looked at Penny. “At least it wasn't three.”

Brynna's eyes swung to Sam. Dad had been talking about Penny, but she knew her stepmother was thinking about Caleb Sawyer. He hadn't been dangerous, but what if he had?

Brynna didn't tell Dad what Sam had done, not yet. She held Penny's halter, petting and crooning to her while Dad cleaned, medicated, and bandaged the sorrel's legs.

The kitchen was quiet when Sam went inside the house. Not until then did she remember Gram had her garden club meeting at the Darton library tonight. Dinner wasn't made. She and Brynna were supposed to bring home pizza for Dad.

Sam sighed. She'd messed that up, too. Why
wouldn't
they send her away? She hurried upstairs. Before anyone could come after her, she ran a deep bath.

She took off her horsehair bracelet and sank in up to her collarbone. She stared at the bathroom ceiling. After a while, she realized she was singing “The Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

How dumb was that? She'd lied to her stepmother. She'd hurt a sweet, defenseless horse, and here she was, nearly fourteen and singing a baby song. And then she remembered why.

She couldn't have been more than three or four when she had a high fever and the doctor had advised Mom to keep her in a cool bath. She'd hated it. Even now she remembered how she'd shivered, teeth
clacking together, but Mom had sung to her. How many verses did “Itsy Bitsy Spider” have, anyway? Or had Mom been making them up to comfort her?

She tried not to remember what Jake had said the other day. He'd been talking about Brynna trusting him to go check out Caleb Sawyer's complaint.

If people believe in you, you can either disappoint them or measure up
.

In trying to please her mom, she'd let everyone around her down. She didn't know how to fix it, because she wasn't all wrong and she couldn't say she was.

A sharp rap sounded on the bathroom door and Dad called through it. “You come on down and eat.”

“I'm not hungry,” she said, then grimaced at her own lame excuse.

“Come out anyway. Other people need to shower, and you and I need to talk.”

His angry voice told Sam that Brynna had told Dad everything.

“Just tell me,” Sam shouted back. She hoped he didn't hear the sound of her hands coming out of the water to cover her eyes for the second time today.

“If that's the way you want it,” he said. “You're staying home tomorrow. We're riding out at dawn and expect you to have dinner on the table when we get home. Then we'll talk about what happens next. I'm giving myself twenty-four hours to think, because right now—”

Dad broke off. Sam kept listening.

“Samantha!” Dad snapped. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes sir,” she said. “I'll do what you said.”

After Dad's boots clomped back down the stairs, Sam climbed out of the tub, dried off, and went to her room.

Even though her room was warm from sunlight streaming through the window all day, she pulled on sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Not her emerald green Darton High sweats, but the faded, washed-a-million-times, red ones from her old San Francisco middle school.

When she could hear the television downstairs, Sam replayed the tape very quietly. What could she find to put Caleb in jail, to prove she'd done the right thing by going there?

The part about being a bison guide wasn't illegal. The part where he discussed creasing and water trapping wild horses was illegal now, but had it been when he'd done it?

Wait. Was Caleb Sawyer old enough to have done it when it was legal? And what if he'd lied?

In despair, Sam played the tape over again. Someone who knew a lot more about law needed to listen. Even that part where Sawyer admitted giving Linc Slocum advice about catching wild horses wasn't a sure thing.

He could be an accessory to Slocum's crime. Still, even though everyone around knew Slocum was
responsible for that scar on the Phantom's neck, no one had been able to prove it.

Sam sighed. She had to find a way to get Brynna and Dad to listen to the tape.

She was still awake when she heard Gram's yellow Buick come over the River Bend Bridge and park in the yard. She heard Gram talking with Brynna, but only caught a couple of words about how early they'd get up in the morning.

The house grew silent and Sam kept staring at the ceiling. She didn't imagine prancing horses on it tonight. She felt heartsick and hopeless.

“I can't go back,” she whispered into the darkness.

It was all she thought about until midnight, when she heard a stallion call from the wild side of the river.