Wild Honey (15 page)

Sam made a frustrated sound, but Jen just looked more convinced that she was right.

“My dad has always thought it was strange that Linc didn't fight to get Hotspot. Dad offered to go after her, since we all knew she was running with the Phantom's herd, but Linc said no, he wanted to leave it up to the BLM. Remember,” Jen said, turning toward Sam, “he really discouraged Ryan from catching her, too.”

“That's right,” Sam said, turning toward the sheriff. “They had a huge fight about it. I bet he thought you'd discover something that would incriminate him and prove that he knew about the rest of the horse theft ring, the whole Bug Boy operation.”

The sheriff pushed away from his car, standing up straight with an indulgent smile. “Thanks for the suggestions.”

“So, what do you think?” Jen insisted.

“I think you have some good ideas and it can't hurt for you to keep your eyes open while you're riding in the parade.”

As Jen clapped her hands in delight, Sam protested, “What about me? Hey, since I'm Jen's best friend, it would make total sense for me to ride with them.”

“Not going to happen, Miss Forster,” the sheriff said, smiling. “There's no reason to put you in the middle of this.”

“If Jen's riding Silly, Jed's riding Sundance, and Lila's riding Golden Rose, Mantilla will be left
behind. There's going to be an extra palomino,” Sam pointed out.

“I appreciate your offer,” the sheriff said, “but no.”

Sam squinted into the distance, then said, “I know. I won't ride. I'll impersonate a typical teenager. No one would recognize me if I dressed up in a short skirt and sunglasses and looked like…Rachel!”

“No kidding!”

Jen's outburst only slowed Sam down for a second. She glared at her friend and kept talking. “Really, though, I always wear T-shirts and jeans and if I dressed in some kind of girly outfit, then walked around jabbering on a cell phone, I could stand right next to Karl Mannix and Linc and neither of them would recognize me.”

Sam knew she'd made a good case because now Jen was nodding along with her, but Sheriff Ballard wasn't convinced.

“Again, I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice for the good of the community and its horses, but it's my understanding that you're grounded, Sam.”

Even the county sheriff knew when she was grounded, Sam thought in grouchy despair.

“When I grow up, I'm not living in a small town,” she complained.

“Of course you are,” Jen said. “You're living right next door to me.”

“Speaking of that, I'm driving you both home. Now.”

Sheriff Ballard held open the passenger-side door of the police cruiser.

Sam followed him around to that side of the car. Then she made one last try to be part of the action.

“If riding in the parade was official police business, even my dad couldn't say no,” Sam said as she slid in and fastened the middle seat belt.

The sheriff waited for Jen to get in and close the door before he said, “I think we'll have it covered.”

Sam sighed. Her argument had just fizzled out and she was lucky Sheriff Ballard hadn't brought up the fact that just a couple of days ago, she'd been under suspicion of horse theft herself.

As Sheriff Ballard drove toward Gold Dust Ranch, Sam wondered what Linc had meant about not wanting the guy around Rachel. She believed Karl Mannix could be involved in stealing animals, but as far as people went, he seemed harmless.

But Linc's concern had reminded her of something she should know. Sometime months ago, hadn't someone told her Rachel had revealed some information about the Phantom? But who? She sighed. Maybe so many weird things were going on, everything seemed significant.

First the Phantom had shown up at River Bend. Then Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary had been investigated. The Phantom's lead mare had turned out to be Cha Cha Marengo the police horse, now all this stuff about a ten-thousand-dollar standing offer…

Oh, and she couldn't forget Fluffy the fighting rooster and Ally's dad! No wonder she was imagining things about Rachel.

“Did you moan?” Jen whispered to Sam.

“Probably,” Sam answered. “One small brain can only hold so much stuff.”

Jen scooted a little closer and said, “After the parade, I'll call and tell you everything.”

Sam sighed. That would help. “From a pay phone, though,” she insisted. “Don't wait until you get home or you might forget something.”

“Promise,” Jen said.

“Pinky swear,” Sam said.

Laughing, she and Jen linked little fingers and were about to repeat their vow when something else crossed Sam's mind. She swiveled in her seat to address Sheriff Ballard.

“What if it's not Karl Mannix who wrote the letter?”

“Good point,” Jen said. “That's why I said it was sort of a fantasy, except for one thing…”

Jen's voice trailed off and she looked meaningfully at Sam, but Sheriff Ballard was answering her question.

“Just because it would tie up a few loose ends doesn't mean it's the solution,” Sheriff Ballard agreed as the electronic gates of Gold Dust Ranch swung open to let him drive through. “In police work, you can make lots of wrong turns and go down lots of
blind alleys before you find the truth. It's just part of the job.”

When the sheriff braked in front of the foreman's house and gave a wave to surprised-looking Lila Kenworthy as she came onto the porch, Jen climbed out.

“It's okay, Mom,” Jen laughed.

“Jen, wait,” Sam said before her friend started explaining her arrival in a police car. “What's the one thing that makes you think it's not a fantasy?”

Jen squared her shoulders and prepared to answer.

“Let me guess,” Sheriff Ballard cut in. He leaned forward in the driver's seat to peer out at Jen. “It was when he said, ‘In the old days they used to hang—'”

“‘Horse thieves,'” Jen finished for him. She gave a decisive nod.

“Nice working with you, Miss Kenworthy. If high school doesn't work out, maybe we can find a place for you in the sheriff's department,” Sheriff Ballard joked.

“Jennifer Marie Kenworthy,” Lila said in despair, “what have you been up to?”

As they drove away, Sam and the sheriff were smiling, but as they turned left toward River Bend Ranch, Heck Ballard's grin vanished.

He adjusted a knob on his police car radio, then glanced at her.

“Guess I should explain why I was waiting for
you at the bus stop,” he said.

Suddenly, Sam felt as if there weren't enough oxygen molecules in the police car. She took two deep breaths before speaking.

“You didn't just pull over because Linc was following you?”

“No.” Sheriff Ballard swallowed so hard that Sam heard him.

“What's wrong?” she asked in a small voice.

“Sam, there's been an emergency at River Bend Ranch and your Gram wanted me to come get you and explain what's happened.”

F
rightening images appeared, like framed pictures on the wall, in Sam's memory. She saw dogs attacking Jeepers-Creepers and Dad falling. She saw Brynna's revolver, shiny and cleaned, slipped into a holster she seldom wore and never used. She saw red-haired Pepper laughing as he rode with risky abandon, trying to prove he was a real buckaroo. And Gram…but Sheriff Ballard had just said Gram had asked him to help out, hadn't he?

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“No one's dead,” Sheriff Ballard said.

“That's good,” Sam said, blinking as she grappled with the sheriff's bluntness.

“Your stepmom's pregnant,” he began.

“I know,” Sam replied. Why would the sheriff say something so obvious?

“I mean, she's still pregnant,” he amended.

Brynna had stayed healthy and strong by continuing to work outside with the horses during her pregnancy, but she'd been warned not to climb on the catwalks above the loading chutes at Willow Springs Wild Horse Center. She'd gotten dizzy up there.

“Did Brynna fall?” Sam asked.

“No. She's okay, but she was moving some maps and files around—I guess her staff is painting her office over the weekend—and she started—” Sheriff Ballard broke off. “What they think is that she went into false labor.”

“False labor,” Sam repeated, but the words made no sense. Weren't you either in labor, having a baby, or not in labor?

“The symptoms are the same, I guess, but it's so early, they're hoping it's not
premature
labor.”

Okay. Premature labor made sense, but Sam counted the months on her fingers. The baby wasn't due until December. If Brynna delivered her little sister or brother now, three months early, what would be missing? Which parts of a baby formed in the last three months?

“Don't look at me like that, Sam. I'm no midwife. I can perform an emergency delivery. I've done two of them, but I don't know about premature labor. All I know is, your grandmother said to tell you that
plenty of six-month babies survive.”

Survive?
That wasn't the word Sam wanted to hear applied to their baby. Thrive, maybe, or flourish would be good, but survive was too much like
exist
. It just wasn't good enough for a new member of the Forster family.

Sam looked around for the first time since Sheriff Ballard had left Gold Dust Ranch. They were headed for River Bend, away from Darton.

“Why aren't we driving to the hospital? That's where they took Brynna, isn't it?”

“Yep,” the sheriff said. “Your dad and Gram are with her, but they won't let anyone under sixteen in to see her—”

“That's ridiculous!” Sam shouted. “What do they think I'm going to do? Jump rope in the elevator? Ride a skateboard down the halls?”

“Simmer down,” the sheriff said. “None of us made the rules.”

“Okay,” Sam said meekly. She really didn't know what had gotten into her, so she bit her lip to stop any more outbursts.

“Your Gram hadn't talked to a doctor yet when she called, but they'd been told Brynna would need to stay in the hospital for observation for at least twenty-four hours. That bein' the case, they wanted you to go on home and hold down the fort.”

Sam nodded, though that old-time expression Gram and Dallas used grated on her nerves.

“Tomorrow, I guess you have some West Nile virus vaccinations coming in from Reno? Wyatt said you need to make sure that whichever ranch hand picks it up has a cooler. That vaccine shouldn't get warm on the way to your place. Does that all make sense to you?”

“Sure,” Sam said, though it sounded like busy work to her, something to keep her occupied while she waited in scared boredom at the ranch. “So, they didn't know when they talked to you if it was false labor or premature?”

“They're hoping for a false alarm,” the sheriff said, as his cruiser rumbled over the bridge over the La Charla River into the ranch yard.

The white house with green shutters, the cozy bunkhouse, and the big barn looked familiar, but also somehow threatened. When she scanned the ten-acre pasture, Sam saw the red gleam of Brynna's blind mare Penny. The sorrel stood at the gate as if she was waiting for word of her mistress.

Suddenly Sam longed to get out of the car. She wanted to run into the house, up the stairs to her room, and slam the door against the trouble crowding toward her. Still, she tried to be polite.

“Thanks for the ride, and for telling me,” Sam said.

Before the car stopped, she grabbed for the backpack she'd slung into the backseat. She opened the car door, swung her feet onto the ground of home,
and focused on the front porch.

“Hey, before I go, do you suppose I could see that filly of yours?” the sheriff asked.

His voice worked like a bungee cord, pulling her back.

“Tempest? Sure,” Sam said, then noticed all three hands, in from the range though it was only afternoon, standing near the bunkhouse.

She couldn't read their expressions, but just in case they were watching her with pity, Sam squared her shoulders, bent to rumple Blaze's ears, then led the sheriff toward the small pasture where Tempest and Dark Sunshine grazed.

The pasture was empty and her heart lurched.

“They must be inside the barn,” Sam said, and of course they were.

Sam heard the rustle of straw and the clump of hooves before she and the sheriff passed into the barn. As she did, though, for the first time in at least a month, Sam glanced back at the board nailed above the doorway. There it was, the little wooden horse Dallas had carved, stained with white shoe polish, then set there as a good luck charm.

Though she knew it was silly, the sight made her feel better.

So did Tempest's greeting.

“You squeal like a little piggy,” Sam told the filly.

Even in the dim barn, Tempest's coat flashed obsidian bright. Her tiny mouth showed pink as she
whinnied for Sam's attention, then sidled up to the side of the box stall and rolled her eyes at the sheriff.

“Aren't you the feisty one,” the sheriff said. “How soon 'til you wean her?”

“Around Thanksgiving,” Sam said. “Brynna said before—” Sam broke off when her voice started shaking. Get a grip, she told herself, then went on, “before Christmas, so all Tempest's and Sunny's carrying on doesn't wake the baby.”

Dark Sunshine stood back from her own baby, ears pricked forward because she saw Sam and trusted her. She was also braced to attack, because she didn't know the man beside Sam.

“It's okay, girl,” Sam told the mare. “No one's here to hurt either of you.”

“Your buckskin belonged to another one of Slocum's bad companions, didn't she?” Sheriff Ballard mused.

Weren't there enough nightmares waiting for her to go to sleep tonight? Why did Sheriff Ballard have to bring up Flick, the bullwhip-wielding criminal who'd roped the Phantom for Linc, then threatened her and Jake on a lonely canyon rim?

“Yeah,” Sam admitted.

“Probably I should check and see when he gets released from prison,” the sheriff said.

“Why?” Sam asked. “It was…” Her voice trailed off as she tried to remember when she and Jake had faced Flick in Lost Canyon. “It's only been a year
since he was locked up. He couldn't be out yet, could he?”

“Can't see him returning to these parts where people know what he is,” the sheriff said. “Doesn't hurt to check.”

Sam heard the sheriff sidestep her question. That meant he could be out of jail. And she'd spend tonight alone in the big, creaky ranch house.

Then, almost as if he wanted to give her something different to worry about, Sheriff Ballard said, “We need to talk about you and Preston.”

Instead of insisting there was nothing to talk about, Sam said, “Okay.”

“I know you care about horses more than just about anything. I also know you're a good girl,” he said.

But…

Sam could hear the qualifier before he spoke it. In fact, this conversation was sounding really familiar. Not that she was bored with it. Instead, she wondered if Preston had changed his mind. What if he was pressing charges against her after all?

“You care about truth, honor, justice, and big value words like that. I know your mom would be proud of you,” he said.

Sam took a deep breath and held it. That wasn't what she'd expected to hear. But Heck Ballard had been her mother's friend. He probably knew what he was talking about.

“Thanks,” Sam said.

“All the same, you've got to stay safe until we can channel your enthusiasm into the right project, okay?” he asked.

Sam reminded herself that Heck Ballard had also investigated Mom's death. Like Dad, he blamed Mom's car crash and drowning on her being preoccupied with wild horses and antelope.

“Okay,” Sam said. She tried to keep the resentment out of her voice.

“This isn't the same old thing, Sam. Remember, I mentioned Preston.”

Sam nodded for him to go on.

“By the sound of things, Preston and Mrs. Allen are putting together something—come to think of it, she said it was your idea,” the sheriff said. “Don't know the details, but it's some way to get city folks to come out and help with the sanctuary horses. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of,” Sam said. “But Mrs. Allen said she'd have to get, uh, liability insurance and that it was unbelievably expensive.”

“I guess winnin' the lottery'll help with that,” Sheriff Ballard said, “'cause they're looking into it, pretty seriously.”

“That's great!” Sam said, and she meant it, but she had to ask, “Are they, like…”

“In love?” the sheriff asked.

At the same time, Sam finished her sentence with “…hooking up?”

Sheriff Ballard laughed so loudly, Tempest and Sunny shied back from the side of their stall and trotted into their pasture. Finally his laughter faded into a chuckle.

“Got me, Sam,” he said. “I'm just a country sheriff, and a confirmed bachelor, at that.”

“But what do you think?” Sam persisted. “Gram and Brynna were talking about them, too, but Mrs. Allen and Preston have only known each other for a few days and, well, aren't they kind of old for love at first sight?”

“I give up,” Sheriff Ballard said, holding both hands over his head. “Don't ask me about anything 'cept crooks and horses. Other than that, I'm ignorant as a jackrabbit.”

As they walked back to his police car, Sam and Sheriff Ballard were rejoined by Blaze. The Border collie bumped against Sam's leg, staying close.

“I'm going to be at that Harvest Home parade tomorrow, babysitting Slocum, so you stay out of trouble, hear?” Sheriff Ballard said as he opened his black door.

“I will,” Sam said.

The sheriff raised one eyebrow skeptically. “Yeah, well, I hope so. Preston's going to be over at Deerpath Ranch. The vet told him his mare's fine for riding, and he's been working with her ever since.”

“Okay,” Sam said, though she didn't see what that had to do with her behaving herself.

The sheriff stared at her over the roof of his police car. “If something comes up and you take it into your head to go ridin' to the rescue, ask him to go along with you.”

“I'm grounded,” Sam reminded him.

“Yeah, that's what I heard, but just the same.” He studied her for a reaction, so finally Sam nodded. “Like him or not,” the sheriff said, “Preston knows his way around horses and trouble, and that seems to be your favorite combination.”

 

Since she was late beginning her chores, Sam left her backpack on the front porch and got busy. She kept listening for the phone to ring. Part of her wanted to go inside and sit there, staring at it, waiting to hear news of Brynna and the baby, but she knew she'd hear it ring through the open kitchen window, and she knew Gram or Dad would give her plenty of time to answer, so she kept working.

It was almost dark when she knocked on the bunkhouse door.

Sam smelled frying onions and heard them sputtering in a cast-iron pan as Dallas opened the door. Instantly, Pepper and Ross crowded around him, too.

“Want to come in?” Dallas invited. “We're not havin' anything fancy, but you're sure welcome.”

“And you can pick what you wanna watch on TV,” Pepper said. He gestured to a small screen with a scratchy picture. “We don't care what it is.”

Ross nodded in agreement, and the cowboys' kindness touched Sam.

“No, I'm just checking to be sure everything's all set up for the vaccinations,” she said to Dallas.

Could she have said it worse? Who was she to be checking up on Dallas, who'd been foreman of the ranch forever? He knew more about it than anyone, maybe even more than Dad and Gram.

But Dallas gave no sign that it was a lame thing to say.

“Yeah, we're all ready,” Dallas said. “Ross's driving in first thing. Phil promised he'd have it for us by ten o'clock.”

“He's keeping it in the bait cooler until we get there,” Pepper put in.

Phil's Fill Up was the gas station next to Clara's coffee shop. Because those two buildings made up the entire business district of Alkali, Nevada, Phil stocked chicken feed, groceries, and other necessities—including night crawlers for fishing—in his little convenience store. So he was keeping the individual hypodermics filled with vaccine for West Nile virus in with the bait.

It wasn't much of a joke, but Sam smiled, as Pepper had probably hoped she would.

“I'm not worried about Brynna and the baby,” Sam protested when all three cowboys kept watching her.

“No reason to worry, I guess,” Dallas said. “Now
you just go over and fix yourself something your grandma wouldn't approve of for dinner, and watch you some television. If you get lonesome, or if you get a call and want to tell us what the folks have to say, just come on back over.”