The Renegade Read online

  The only view Rachel had been admiring was one of the earth rushing up to meet her hands and knees, but Sam didn’t say so.

  Rachel stumbled forward as Champ nuzzled her backbone. The horse wasn’t holding a grudge, but Rachel was. She whirled around to scold him just as Jake leaned toward Sam and whispered, “Don’t look behind you.”

  When they were little, Sam had told Jake he had “mustang eyes.” Sometimes the label still fit. Dark brown, half-wild, and hypnotic, his eyes managed to hold hers now, but barely.

  Behind Sam, the trail dropped off to a steep hillside. What was there? She hadn’t heard the whir of a rattlesnake, but it could be a cougar or a bear. Sam felt an almost irresistible pull to do the opposite of what Jake ordered.

  “I’m going to do something loud and obnoxious.” Jake barely moved his lips. “Then you can look. Got it?”

  Sam nodded, but it was Rachel who spoke first.

  “It’s hardly polite, talking about me in whispers.” Rachel faced them with one eyebrow arched.

  “Not going to be using that horse anymore? Is that what you said?” Jake asked.

  Rachel looked a little sickly. “If you could just hold him while I get back up--”

  “No need,” Jake said. He forced his horse forward, made a loud coyote yip, and slapped his hat on Champ’s hindquarters.

  The palomino bolted past, headed toward home, away from Rachel’s squeal of outrage.

  And that’s when Sam looked.

  Hidden up to his shoulder in a thicket of sagebrush, the Phantom was watching them. His perfect Arab ears were pricked to catch Sam’s voice, but his intelligent eyes surveyed the scene and judged it too risky for approach.

  Still, he didn’t flee. Instead, the stallion tossed his thick white mane in greeting, and his eyes were set on Sam.

  Chapter Two

  Jake had probably wanted his whooping shout and Rachel’s running horse to make the Phantom stampede back the way he’d come from. But he didn’t.

  At first, Sam admired the stallion’s intelligence. The mustang knew he wasn’t in danger.

  Then, she felt a warning chill. He shouldn’t be so trusting. There was no telling what Rachel would do. And Jake had sworn he’d never give the stallion another chance to hurt Sam.

  The Phantom should never trust a human. Ever.

  Once before, the Phantom’s love for her had been responsible for his capture. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  “Now what?” Rachel demanded.

  Sam wrenched her eyes away from the stallion and looked at Rachel. Hands on hips, the rich girl stared up at the riders.

  “I found her,” Jake said. “So you deal with her.”

  “Like I couldn’t have just ridden along this trail and blundered into her?” Sam asked.

  Hoping Rachel was distracted by their bickering, Sam dared a quick glance at the Phantom. He sidestepped off a few feet, eyes rolling white at her sharp tone.

  “No, you couldn’t have found her. Not without a bloodhound,” Jake said. “Or me.”

  “Hello?” Rachel snapped her fingers. “Ex-cuse me? Will one of you dismount so I can ride home?”

  “No,” Sam and Jake said in unison.

  At least they could agree on that.

  “Then how do you expect to take the credit for ‘saving’ me?”

  Rachel had a point, but Sam didn’t tell her so.

  “You’ll have to ride double with one of us.” Jake’s voice cut off Rachel’s whining.

  Saddle leather creaked and a blue jay squawked, laughing at their predicament.

  “No way,” Rachel said, “Samantha, just get down and give me that horse. She belongs to me, after all, and if you can ride her, so can I.”

  “I’m not the one who ended up on the ground.”

  “You stupid girl.” Rachel’s eyes narrowed. “I could tell you something you’d pay your whole pitiful allowance to hear.”

  Like fashion advice? Or Queen Rachel’s tips on snagging the popular crowd’s adoration? Sam kept her lips closed and wished Gram hadn’t handicapped her with good manners.

  “Both of you hush up,” Jake said.

  “What did I say?” Sam cried.

  Jake kicked loose from his left stirrup and pointed.

  “Rachel, put your foot in there, swing up behind me, and hang on.”

  The bay shied at Rachel’s approach and she hesitated.

  “Do it now.” Jake calmed the horse with a pat. “If I don’t get my work done before sundown, I don’t get paid.”

  The instant Rachel followed Jake’s instructions, he set the Thoroughbred loping away.

  Like something from a movie, Rachel’s glossy hair swung from side to side.

  As her accented voice floated back to Sam, it was clear Rachel was mulling over what Jake had said.

  “That hardly seems fair.” Rachel seemed puzzled by the idea of doing a fair day’s work for wages.

  Jake laughed. Sam tried to join him, but failed.

  She could disregard Jake’s amusement and ignore the fact that he’d asked Rachel to climb up behind him. What Sam couldn’t overlook was the way Rachel Slocum had her arms wrapped around Jake’s waist. She was doing a lot more than just holding on for balance.

  Sam was so hot with jealousy, she forgot to look back for the Phantom. When she finally remembered, he was gone.

  When they rode into the Gold Dust ranch yard, Sam expected to see Linc Slocum waiting for his daughter. After all, Champ had run on ahead, and a saddled but riderless horse was rarely good news.

  Champ had taken the right path home, but he was sweating and still saddled. Bloody foam clung to the corners of his lips, but he looked happy as he stretched over a fence to touch noses with a huge Brahma bull.

  All three of them had dismounted and Jake had begun unsaddling the tired palomino when Slocum finally appeared, tucking a cell phone into his pocket.

  “Soon as I saw you coming, I phoned River Bend to call off the search,” Slocum said.

  “Thanks,” Sam said.

  “Wyatt had just come in and was wondering where everyone was.” Slocum gave a strained chuckle.

  He looked even more out of place than usual in a pale green shirt and matching pants. Without his cowboy hat and boots, he looked a lot like a golfer.

  Sam tugged at the paint mare’s cinch while peeking over her back. Linc Slocum was approaching Rachel, and Sam couldn’t help being nosy.

  “What were you thinking, honey, to go riding off without telling me?” he asked.

  Maybe his daughter’s ripped jeans and the fear that she’d been hurt explained why he sounded like he was apologizing.

  Rachel squared her shoulders and looked down her nose as if addressing the lowliest freshman.

  “I don’t want to discuss it,” she snapped, then walked right past her father.

  As Sam pulled the saddle off the paint’s back, she listened for Linc to call Rachel back and scold her.

  “Rachel, honey, I wish you’d tell me what has you so perturbed,” he said.

  “Later.” Rachel kept walking.

  Sam was amazed, but she just balanced the saddle blanket atop the heavy Western saddle, slung the bridle over her shoulder, and walked to the tack room.

  The tack room smelled of fresh-cut pine boards, tended leather, and buckle polish. Sam would bet it was the result of Jed Kenworthy’s work, not Slocum’s.

  “Nothing happened to her when she sassed her father.” Sam couldn’t help sharing her surprise when Jake came through the door with tack from Champ and the Thoroughbred.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She just walked off.” Sam followed Jake. “And he didn’t say anything.”

  “Yep.” Jake hung the bridles on spindles.

  “She could have ruined that horse. Don’t you think I should tell him so?”

  “Suit yourself,” Jake said, but now he was looking at a shelf of horse medicine.

  When he unscrewed the lid on a tin of salve and sniffed it,
Sam wondered if Jake was just stalling to make her mad.

  “You’re too chicken to do it, right?” she teased.

  Nothing. “Or maybe you like her.”

  Instead of rising to the bait, Jake glanced in a mirror on the tack room wall and adjusted the angle of his Stetson.

  She’d been joking, but Jake never looked in the mirror, never took pains with his appearance. He showered, and that was it. What if Jake really did like Rachel? At school, dozens of guys flocked around her. They walked her to class, brought her sodas, and shared their homework.

  Sam replayed the image of Jake riding double with Rachel. Oh please, not Jake, too.

  When they came out of the tack room, Slocum was standing near the big Brahma as if he was waiting for them. Slocum should have at least offered to help with the horses, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t said “Thank you,” either.

  Filled with irritation, Sam walked right up to him.

  “Mr. Slocum, Rachel could have hurt herself and Champ, riding off the way she did.”

  “I know.” Slocum tried to hang his thumbs in his pockets as Jake did, but they wouldn’t quite fit.

  Sam waited. Gram would say she’d already been impolite. “Guess I’ll just hope she doesn’t,” Slocum continued. “She never has before.”

  Sam bit her lower lip to keep her mouth closed.

  She couldn’t say another sassy word. Slocum might be smiling, but he was angry. If he talked to Gram or Dad, she was already dead.

  “I’ll have to be sure someone’s around to unsaddle horses, so she’ll leave them be.” Slocum seemed to be talking to himself. “Or maybe take her mind off horses altogether, and buy her that red Porsche she’s been wanting.”

  Sam couldn’t believe her ears.

  From the corner of her eye, Sam saw Jake shake his head as if Sam should know better than to take on another lost cause. She ignored him.

  “Maybe,” she suggested to Slocum, “you could talk with Rachel about--”

  A sudden threat flared in Slocum’s eyes. She stopped. She glanced at Jake. Of course he hadn’t noticed. When Sam looked back to see what Slocum would do next, she decided she must have imagined the look. Slocum just shrugged and gave her a dopey smile.

  “You’re right, Samantha. I guess what I really need around here is a smart girl like you to tell everyone exactly what they should be doing.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Slocum.” Sam hoped her sincerity showed. “I guess I got a little carried away, but Rachel fell, you know, and Champ’s mouth is torn up.”

  “Jed keeps medicine for that,” Slocum said.

  Slocum watched Jake move close to the haltered and tied palomino. Gently, Jake dabbed on the salve he’d brought from the tack shed.

  “I see Jake found that medicine. Good. And you don’t go worrying, Samantha. You didn’t hurt my feelings.”

  Sam didn’t believe him. She felt like the sun had moved closer and the lid of clouds had pressed down tighter.

  “In fact, my son, Ryan, is coming home soon. He’ll help keep everything straight. Though he’s more of a horseman, he’s agreed to help with my new hobby.”

  Champ snorted and pulled against his tie rope as Slocum approached the pen that held the tiger-colored Brahma bull.

  Glossy orange and black hair swirled with creamy white over the bull’s saggy skin. A hump wobbled where his neck flowed into his back. He had such large, gentle eyes, he wouldn’t have looked fierce at all if it hadn’t been for his markings. Black tiger stripes made a mask around his eyes. Each side of the mask pointed back to his short, sharp horns.

  “Meet Maniac,” Slocum announced, “part of my new bucking Brahma program.”

  As Slocum gestured in fanfare, the bull wrenched his massive head away from the fence. Strings of saliva swung from his jaws, but he didn’t bolt in fear. Once Maniac backed out of Slocum’s reach, the big bull held his ground.

  Sam swallowed hard. What was the bull doing? Most of the time, she could think like a horse. That made it easier to know when Ace or any other horse might spook. Range cattle seemed to react the same way. Horses and cattle loved the safety of the herd, and most chose to run away from danger.

  But Maniac seemed different. His chocolate-colored eyes were watching for a challenge, but his drooping ears belonged on a velvety toy.

  “He doesn’t look too mean,” Sam said.

  “Not mean?” Slocum roared, making his voice loud enough to provoke the bull. “Watch this.”

  He waved his arms, too. The bull shook his head and pawed the earth once. Sam could read that message. It meant “Back off.”

  Before Slocum goaded the bull further, Jake sidled in and pulled the rope tethering Champ. The knot slipped, as intended. When he walked the skittish palomino past, Jake glared at Sam.

  What? If he thought she’d purposely egged Slocum into making a fool of himself, Jake was wrong.

  “Hey, you two-thousand-pound cheeseburger,” Slocum shouted, “show the little lady what you got!”

  Flinging his bulky body toward the fence, Slocum started to climb.

  Maniac didn’t warn again. He trotted two surprisingly graceful steps, feinted his horns to the left, then slammed forward into the fence.

  Slocum fell. The side of the corral was still shuddering when he stood, dusted himself off, and gave a breathless laugh.

  The bull stood huffing, eager for another dare.

  “I guess you’re right,” Sam said quickly. She didn’t want him to tease the bull anymore. “He’s fierce.”

  “Darn tootin’ I’m right. And I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Slocum beckoned Sam to come closer.

  Struggling to be polite, she moved toward him.

  “Last week, d’you know who I had out here?”

  Sam shook her head.

  “Karla Starr, of Starr Rodeo Productions. She’s just getting started and you might not have heard of her yet, but you will.” Slocum rubbed his hands together. “She’s a cowgirl. Just a little bit of a thing, not much bigger than you, but tough. Oh my, yes, tough as a boot heel and ready to go up against the big boys who breed rough stock for rodeos. That’s bucking bulls and horses,” Slocum added, “in case you didn’t know.

  “Karla gets rough stock the old-fashioned way. She doesn’t breed ’em on a big fancy ranch. She buys renegade horses and outlaw bulls from cowboys--and ranchers like me.”

  Sam could tell he liked the sound of that. Puffed up with pride, Slocum gave the words “ranchers like me” a chance to echo around the hot, silent ranch yard.

  If only he knew how ignorant he sounded.

  Renegade horses weren’t born man-haters. Most had been ruined by careless, impatient humans. Sam wouldn’t be surprised to learn it was the same with “outlaw” bulls.

  Some of the old ways had died out because rodeo fans couldn’t stand such cruelty. In the past, hundreds of mustangs were trapped, crowded into high-sided trucks, and driven hours across country. Once they reached a rodeo arena, the thirsty animals stampeded out of the truck, only to be roped and blindfolded while men slammed saddles on their backs.

  Men were injured once in a while, but others usually twisted a mustang’s tail or bit his ear--anything to paralyze the horse with fear until a cowboy was jammed into the saddle. Sam imagined the horses could only compare men’s weight and spurring to a cougar attack.

  Those were the “good old days” of rodeo. Slocum should be smart enough to know they’d ended for a reason.

  “Karla Starr thinks Maniac and some of my other Brahmas could be rodeo celebrities.” Slocum savored the syllables as they rolled off his tongue. “She’s willing to give my critters a try in a late-fall rodeo in California--if I sweeten the deal a little.”

  Sam noticed Jake was still nearby, listening, but since he didn’t ask the question, she did.

  “What does that mean, ‘sweeten the deal’?” Sam asked.

  “Well, she was looking for light-colored bucking horses, mainly. Had her eye on the palominos, but
Kenworthy won’t sell.”

  Sam wondered where Slocum had found the nerve to even ask the Kenworthys to sell the last of their palominos. Before they went broke and sold out to Slocum, the Kenworthys had been known not only for their prime cattle but for Quarter horses with palomino coloring.

  Only four of the horses remained. Two were mares, Mantilla and Silk Stockings, the skittish horse Jen called Silly. The other two were geldings. Jed Kenworthy rode Sundance in cutting competitions and Gold Champagne was the horse Slocum called Champ.

  Sam was afraid to ask why Slocum hadn’t sold Champ to Karla Starr, but he must have read her frown.

  “I would’ve thrown Champ into the deal, but he just won’t buck no matter what you do to him.”

  The words made Sam sick. So how had he convinced the stock contractor to take a chance on his untrained bulls? She had to know.

  Sam thought of a fancy tea party with china cups and white gloves, and made her voice polite enough to match.

  “Gosh, Mr. Slocum, so how did you ‘sweeten the deal’?”

  “We’re still working out the details, but Miz Starr won’t be disappointed.”

  There it was again. Slocum’s sneaky half-smile hinted he was hiding a dark secret.

  Sam tried to shake off her paranoia, but Slocum was worrying her.

  “So, you’d sell Maniac?” she asked. “I thought he was going to be part of a breeding program.”

  “He was,” Slocum agreed. “But breeding Brahmas takes time. And, shoot, Maniac could be famous now.”

  “But in the future--” Sam began.

  “Samantha, let me tell you a fact of life. When you have money, the future takes care of itself.” Slocum gave her a pitying smile. “I could sell every Brahma I bought for the breeding program, then just get more of ’em before Ryan comes home, so we’d have some cows to play with. It’s simple.”

  Just like buying Rachel off with a sports car so she wouldn’t sneak Champ away. Just like buying Jed Kenworthy’s ranch so Slocum had a place to play cowboy. Just like stripping all the old pine trees off the mountainside so he had a place to put his mansion.

  “Mr. Slocum?” Jake shifted his weight toward Slocum’s Cadillac.