Desert Dancer Read online

  Ace settled into a steady run, letting all the wild-eyed colts but one stampede past.

  Sam looked down on the soft bay coat alongside Ace. The patch-eyed colt didn’t look like a little pirate now. He looked scared and weary.

  Above the pounding hooves, Sam heard a mare call out. Then another. The mothers must have said something calming, because the young horses slowed.

  All except for the little bay. He rammed into those ahead of him and stumbled.

  Ace swerved left, trying not to step on the youngster. His turn brought him face-to-face with a second group of horses.

  The mares boiled toward them, eyes wide.

  A big honey-colored mare came right at them. Her breath huffed hot and steamy as her head swung right, then left. Her dark eyes looked confused. At the last minute, her knees lifted and Sam knew she was trying to jump the obstacle before her.

  The obstacle was Ace. The mare would never clear a horse and rider. Sam imagined those heavy hooves leaping toward her face.

  “No!” Sam shouted, but the mare was lifting off the ground.

  If only she could fly, Sam thought.

  But she couldn’t. Instead of clearing Ace, the big mare slammed into him.

  In a tangle of hot horseflesh and leather, Sam hit the desert floor.

  Chapter Two

  Ace fell to his knees. Sam pitched forward, then sideways, but stayed astride. She kicked free of her right stirrup. She’d seen Jake’s ruined leg after a horse pinned it to the ground. She feared shattered bones more than stampeding horses.

  Ace was falling. She had to get off. Maybe he could scramble up, without her flailing weight. He tried to and for an instant she clung to the saddle horn, hopping alongside her horse.

  Sam’s boots scuffled on the ground, trying to keep up. She made her fingers release their grip on the saddle horn. At last she stood flat-footed, but her knees were trembling as a paint mare struck her left shoulder, spinning her around.

  The Phantom trumpeted a command. Sam couldn’t tell where the sound came from, but it rang loud and demanding. A blue-gray horse sideswiped her with such impact, Sam fell on the seat of her jeans.

  Her teeth clacked together. Her kneecaps locked and Sam sat facing the herd. They parted around her, thundering hooves shaking her insides.

  She pulled her heels back toward her. Why couldn’t she stand? She was too shaken to do anything but stare at the marks her bootheels had gouged in the dirt. Finally, she curled into a crouch with her arms crossed over her head.

  In the seconds since she’d left the saddle, Ace had lurched to his feet and was swept on by the irresistible tide of horses. He called once, but then he was gone and she knew she had to do the same thing. Stand.

  Get up! Her mind screamed, but she couldn’t leave her crouch.

  Get up! She squinted against bright splashes of light interrupted by running horses.

  If she stayed down, the horses would try to jump her.

  Get up or get your brains kicked out. That thought got her up. The herd split, going around her like a river passes boulders in its path.

  Sam still stood when the last horse galloped past. She staggered a step into the quiet they’d left behind. But where was she going? She felt hot and dizzy, and there was no reason she couldn’t, just for a minute, lie down.

  She did. Her cheek rested right there on cold dirt cut by many hooves. Her chest heaved and her eyes closed. She couldn’t hear her own breathing because the thunder of hooves had left her ears ringing.

  She wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t in shock, just—Sam admitted to herself—really scared. She’d been so certain a hoof would strike her head again. So positive she’d wake up in a white hospital bed, just like before.

  She felt weak. I want my Dad, she thought. I want Jake or Gram or somebody to be with me.

  Suddenly, shade fell over her, blocking the watery winter sunlight.

  Right next to her head, beneath a coating of dust, stood hooves that shone like pewter. Above the hooves, she saw trim fetlocks.

  Sam blinked, opening her eyes wider. Pale equine legs, grayed with dirt, were planted four-square around her. Sam sighed, closing her eyes to enjoy her dream.

  “Zanzibar,” she whispered, calling him by the secret name known only to the two of them.

  The stallion answered with a low nicker. He was solid, dependable, and no dream at all. He meant to protect her, but he was a wild horse. There was no telling what he’d do if a sudden sound startled him or a rival stallion appeared on the horizon.

  “Hey, boy,” Sam said. She trembled and the stallion was steady, but this was not a safe position and she knew it. “I’d be an idiot to try to make you move, wouldn’t I, good horse? When you’re good and ready, you’ll walk away.”

  And then, he did. The stallion moved off, before turning and lowering his head.

  “You really look like a wild horse today, fella.”

  The stallion’s silver coat showed smears of dirt and patches where sweat had dried and left his hair stiff. Ropey white mane clumped on his neck and his brown eyes glowed with intelligence. Concern showed as clearly in his eyes as if he’d been a human.

  His muzzle came toward Sam and he whuffled his lips over her hair.

  “I’m fine,” she told him. “I bet you’re having a hard time keeping everyone together without your lead mare. Is that why you look so scruffy?”

  Even with no one else to hear, Sam felt guilty saying that to such a kingly animal. But he looked weary. It was a lead mare’s job to find water and good graze and maintain discipline. The red dun would have kept the herd in the secret wild horse valley.

  Every minute Zanzibar watched over her, he’d have farther to run to catch up with the herd. And they’d been running toward the highway.

  As Sam sat up, the stallion backed out of reach, swinging his head to the side to keep an eye on her.

  “You like me fine, but I’m still a human. Is that it?” Sam crooned to the mustang.

  His head jerked upward, scattering his thick forelock away from his eyes.

  Sam touched the scratchy horsehair bracelet around her wrist and saw his eyes follow her movement. She sighed.

  “You’d better go after your herd.” Sam moved to get up.

  He trotted a few steps in the direction the horses had fled, then bolted after them.

  Sam felt achy all over. Just a few weeks ago, a cougar’s pounce had knocked her off Strawberry. She still had a few bruises.

  She wasn’t that bad a rider. She’d been raised on a ranch. She’d ridden since she was two years old. Since the accident, though, she’d fallen a lot.

  On the day of the accident, the Phantom had been a two-year-old she called Blackie. He’d just been learning the feel of a saddle and rider, when he’d become trapped while passing through a gate. She’d been on his back. Blackie’s bucking had thrown her to the ground. In his hurry to escape, he’d accidentally kicked her head and she’d been in a coma for days.

  Sam tried to count the times she’d fallen since then, but she felt sick to her stomach. She’d been back on the ranch for seven months. She should be an expert rider, but she was barely competent.

  Enough.

  All at once, Sam realized she was out of time. She couldn’t be standing out in the middle of the desert, moping over her clumsy riding ability when her clean hair was dirty again and the wedding march would be booming from the church pipe organ soon.

  Of course she didn’t know how soon, because she’d left her watch at home. Worse than all that, Jake would be pulling his father’s truck into the ranch yard to pick her up any minute now.

  Jake Ely had been her friend since childhood, but he was three years older and considered himself her big brother. Ever since she’d fallen from the Phantom, Jake had thought she needed protection. If she told him the truth about her dirty hair and clothes, he’d turn into a human guard dog. Again.

  Of course, that assumed she’d get home in time to meet him before the weddi
ng. She’d better do something to make that possible.

  Sam started jogging. She winced at the pain in her poor abused body. She wished she was wearing sneakers instead of these heavy leather boots. But she kept going.

  Sam had run about a mile when she made out a solitary horse searching for grass near the highway.

  Sam ran faster. Please let it be Ace.

  “Ace?” she called.

  The horse’s head came up. He watched her approach, moving so that she could see a saddle on his back.

  It had to be Ace, but why wasn’t he coming to her? Dad always said Ace acted like a pet. She was out of breath. Maybe he hadn’t recognized her voice.

  “Ace!” Sam shouted.

  She was close enough now to see the white star on his forehead and the light hair from the freeze brand on his neck. Of course it was Ace! If they hurried, she might be home in time to meet Jake. Sam really hoped so. Jake got crazy when things didn’t go the way he’d planned.

  “Come here, boy,” she called to the gelding.

  Ace just stared at her, swishing his tail and chewing like a cow.

  “Ace!” Sam stormed toward her horse. “How can you eat lunch at a time like this?”

  Reins trailing, Ace trotted away. His eyes rolled white as if she were a monster.

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Sam shouted. As she sprinted after him, the gelding broke into a lope. “Ace, no!”

  She’d never catch up with him now. Why had she let him see her irritation?

  Ace hadn’t pulled a trick like this since June. On her first cattle drive he’d tried every stunt he knew to make her look like a dude.

  “Why now?” she called after him. “Why did you have to pick my father’s wedding day to act like you’ve been eating loco weed?”

  Maybe Ace took pity on her. Maybe the mention of eating reminded him she was the keeper of his oats. Whatever it was, something clicked in his equine brain. Ace did a U-turn and trotted back to nuzzle her hands as if he’d missed her more than he could express.

  “You can apologize later,” Sam said as the horse blinked his innocent brown eyes. “Right now, I want you to act like Pegasus and fly to River Bend before Jake gets there.”

  They almost made it.

  From across the range, Sam spotted a truck the color of old blue jeans, crossing the bridge into the ranch yard. At the same time, Ace made a grunting sound as if she’d run him too hard.

  Sam sucked in a breath. She knew Ace was fine. She’d bet he was just having a stubborn day, but she refused to take a chance. Jake would already be mad, she thought, snugging her reins. She spared her horse and hoped Jake was so dressed up for his role as usher, he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  As soon as they trotted into the ranch yard, Jake burst out of the truck and swooped down on her like a vengeful hawk. He wore a pressed blue shirt that actually buttoned down the front and pants that weren’t jeans. His black hair was slick and neat.

  She barely had time to notice how nice he looked. When he reached her, she’d just dismounted. He crowded her, standing about a foot away. His hands were clenched in fists and they moved in short jerks at his sides, as if he was trying to keep from strangling her.

  “This is the last time, Samantha!” he roared, then jerked his head toward the truck.

  Okay, if Jake wanted to yell, she could match him.

  “The last time that what?” Sam shouted back.

  Ace sidled away, eyes rolling all over again, as if he’d known she’d turn into a beast, some time.

  The best defense was a good offense, Sam thought. She had no time to explain it to Ace, but she knew Jake had no respect for people who just rolled over and played dead when they were challenged. Her number-one rule in dealing with Jake was to stand firm, even if she was wrong.

  Jake’s glare turned into something dangerous. Sam swallowed hard and wondered if today might be an exception to her rule.

  Just how late am I? Sam wondered.

  Jake drew a deep breath, shouldered past her, and began stripping the tack from Ace.

  “Get in the truck,” he ordered, without turning around.

  “I’m just going to run inside and take a quick shower,” Sam began. “I have to wash my hair.”

  “No,” Jake said. He slung Ace’s saddle over a fence rail. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Because she’d heard him make that sort of silly vow a dozen times before, Sam relaxed a little.

  Jake was nervous about the wedding, not mad at her. Although today might not be a good day to stand toe-to-toe arguing, she could still get what she wanted. She made her voice quiet and reasonable.

  “My hair is dirty,” Sam explained. “I can’t get in the truck until I’ve taken a shower. I’m sure you understand.”

  “There’s no time,” he said. He removed Ace’s bridle and pumped some fresh water into the trough so the horse could drink.

  “Of course there’s time,” Sam told him, calmly. “While you put Ace up I can run upstairs, wash my hair, and be ready to go in ten minutes.”

  “Ace can put himself up.” Jake slapped the bay’s rump and he trotted toward the barn. “And your hair’s fine.”

  Jake walked toward the truck as if he expected her to march along behind him. Even then, Sam tried to sound tranquil.

  “Now, Jake…”

  He wheeled around, pointing his index finger her way.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Samantha, but you can stop talking to me that way. I’m not a bull pawing the ground, about to charge.”

  “Coulda fooled me,” Sam muttered.

  Jake closed his eyes for a minute. When he opened them, he didn’t look any more peaceful, but he spoke slowly and clearly. “You need to get in the truck and let me drive to the church. Now.”

  Sam sighed. He was the one wasting time. “Jake, have you looked at my hair?”

  “If I hear one more word about your hair…” Jake began, but he didn’t finish the threat. Instead, he began lecturing her. “They arranged it so you didn’t have to remember anything. Your dress, shoes, all your makeup and fancy gear are at the church. That’s what Brynna told me. Your Aunt Sue’s even bringing a beautician or something, isn’t that what you said?”

  Sam nodded.

  “All you had to do was show up. And I was going to help you with that. You coulda just sat on the porch until I got here, but you couldn’t even manage that.”

  “Why are you so mad?” Sam asked. She grabbed Jake’s wrist and turned it so she could see his watch. “We’ve got time. I’m only ten minutes late.”

  Sam could hear the amazement in her own voice. Maybe that was what pushed Jake over the edge.

  “Why am I so mad? Let’s see. Could it be ’cause you’re making both of us seem like careless kids?” Jake squared his shoulders and drew up to his full height. “I’m sixteen. I drive. I earn money for training horses. I don’t need you making me look bad…and speaking of looking bad,” Jake said, really focusing on her for the first time. “What happened to you?”

  Sam wanted to scream. She’d been telling him she had to shower, hadn’t she? Now he wanted the whole story, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it.

  “I was riding along, minding my own business,” she began.

  “You can tell me while we drive,” he said, and pointed at the truck.

  She was not about to be ordered around like a puppy.

  “I’m not getting in that truck ’til my hair is clean.” Sam planted her feet. She was trying to stare him down when she realized he was carefully rolling up his sleeves.

  “Bend over,” he said.

  “What?”

  Jake didn’t push very hard, but because she was surprised, Sam found herself on her knees beside the horse trough as Jake pumped water over her head.

  She came up sputtering and furious. She heard her own yowl, which sounded like a wet cat, but she didn’t care. Jake Ely was going to pay for this.

  “Now you
r hair’s clean. Let’s go.”

  Teeth chattering, Sam did as she was told. Arms crossed and eyes narrowed, she vibrated with anger. She was a really nice person. She never hurt anyone and she rarely planned revenge, but she was about to make an exception for Jake Ely.

  Chapter Three

  Sam burst into the dressing room off the church sanctuary. This was where she was supposed to meet Gram and Brynna, but the room looked empty.

  It wasn’t. Dressed in yards of white lace, Brynna stood alone, facing a mirror. She looked like a fairy-tale princess, but she also looked very lonely.

  As Brynna turned, Sam began babbling excuses.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late. And that I look like a drowned rat.” Sam touched her hair, but Brynna’s relieved expression told her not to jump into a long explanation blaming Jake. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

  Smiling, Brynna rustled toward Sam.

  “This is how it’s going to be, isn’t it?” Brynna asked. She plucked a tissue from a box and gently wiped Sam’s cheek.

  Sam wasn’t sure what Brynna meant, but the remark made her feel like a child. It didn’t help that her face was dirty because she’d actually settled down for a nap on the desert floor. Wow. She should have been worrying about her head, not her hair.

  “It’s a long story,” Sam admitted.

  “I just bet,” Brynna said. Her smile was lopsided as her fingertips skimmed over Sam’s hair.

  The gesture reminded Sam of the way hens scratched at something they weren’t sure they should eat.

  “I know.” Sam moaned, but Brynna didn’t look disheartened.

  “Don’t worry. Even though it’s too late for a manicure,” Brynna said, holding up her own silvery white nails, “the girl your Aunt Sue found to help us out can work miracles with hair.”

  Brynna twirled so Sam could see that her businesslike French braid had been replaced with a cascade of curls, dotted with white velvet flowers.

  “It’s so pretty,” Sam said, but Brynna was opening the dressing room door and peeking out. She motioned, trying to get someone’s attention. When that didn’t work, Brynna put two fingers to her lips and gave an ear-splitting cowgirl whistle.