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  Too understanding, Sam thought. She straightened and hefted the saddle higher.

  The last thing she wanted was to get all sentimental over Jake.

  In fact, she refused to do that. The only reason she was feeling emotional was because of that stupid remark Pepper had made about Ace.

  And there he was. The bay gelding stood with his head over the gate, waiting for her.

  “Hey, good boy,” she called to Ace.

  He wasn’t that tall, but so what? Neither was she. Fourteen hands was just the right size for her. And Ace was the perfect partner. Every inch of him was fast and tough, hardened by generations of horses who’d lived on the open range.

  And Ace was smart. His ancestors hadn’t been coddled in barns or buckled up in cozy blankets. They’d had to outwit predators, and find food and shelter for themselves.

  Ace pawed impatiently, so she answered him.

  “Soon as I get you tacked up, and we greet our Hollywood guests, we’re out of here.”

  Ace must have thought she’d said they were leaving now, because he plunged his open mouth toward the bit.

  “You’re too helpful,” Sam told the gelding as she fumbled to get the headstall in place behind his ears.

  “Drives me crazy not getting out there earlier,” Dad was saying to Dallas as Sam led Ace across the ranch yard to the hitching rail. “But dew-wet hay just clogs things up. Then time’s wasted unclogging.”

  “Guess the sun’s high enough now that it’s dried some,” Dallas said, agreeing with Dad. Then he focused his sharp eyes on Sam. “And you’re stayin’ around to meet this Hollywood horse trainer?”

  “Yeah.” Sam tried to sound long-suffering, but she could tell she wasn’t fooling Dad. He knew she was excited. Still, she added, “Somebody’s got to, I guess.”

  “Sure couldn’t get me to do it,” Dallas said. “I prefer to spend my time with folks who do real work for a livin’.”

  Dallas squinted Sam’s way, as if he expected her to defend Inez Garcia and her type.

  Why was she so excited about their visitors, when everyone else was matter-of-fact? Before Sam answered her own question, Dallas went on.

  “Seems to me that askin’ a horse to prove his grit by jumpin’ off a cliff don’t make sense. Fact is, any horse that’d do that without a fire lickin’ at his tail needs a lesson in stayin’ alive.”

  “Do they really want him to jump off a cliff?” Sam asked. She hadn’t heard about that.

  “Somethin’ like that,” Dad said. “I guess he used to do tricks and one day he just quit.”

  “Got smart, I’d say,” Dallas grumped.

  “Could be,” Dad said, as if it didn’t matter. “Any way you slice it, we win. With HARP finished for the summer, it’ll come in handy to have a few days’ board. Besides, I wouldn’t say no to a friend of Maxine’s.”

  “It’s nice that we’re fixing up the corral for them,” Sam said.

  Dad nodded. Out by the spare corral, Pepper and Ross were brushing their hands together as if they’d just finished up.

  “Brynna says the snow’s gonna have a high moisture content this winter,” Dad said. “That makes it real heavy. Reinforcing those fence posts now is work we won’t have to do later after a heavy snowfall breaks it down and our stock goes wandering.”

  Sam sighed. Everybody thought the movies were no big deal. Dad wouldn’t spend more than a few minutes talking about Inez Garcia and her horse.

  Maybe haying was to blame, Sam thought as all four men loaded up and drove away. Cowboys avoided work that wasn’t done from the saddle, and haying was the worst.

  Once the men had left and she was alone with Ace, Sam couldn’t help talking to him.

  “As soon as you’ve met Bayfire, I’ll take you out and let you stretch your legs,” Sam said as she threw the gelding’s reins over the hitching rail near the house.

  “You suppose he’ll act like a regular horse?” Sam asked Ace. “Or like a movie star? Not that I’ve ever met one, and I guess Inez Garcia doesn’t qualify, but how cool would it be to earn your living by working with trick horses?”

  If Ace felt any of her fizzing excitement he gave no sign of it. He just sniffed the ground for something to eat, as she thought of how Inez Garcia and Maxine Ely, Jake’s mom, had met at a teacher’s conference five years ago. That was before Inez left the classroom to help her father run Animal Artists, a business that trained and managed movie animals.

  According to Jake’s mom, Inez specialized in equines. She handled mules, burros, and even a performing zebra, but Bayfire was her favorite. Sam could picture the horse in her mind, because she’d seen a photograph of him in a horse magazine as he was presented with a Trigger Award.

  In the black-and-white shot, Bayfire had looked like the champion he was. He’d stood alert with his poll flexed and ears pricked while his owner and trainer, a slim, pony-tailed woman, had accepted the glittering trophy.

  The short article had explained that Bayfire had received the award not only for his ability as an actor, but for a sense of contained energy that electrified the screen. One of the presenters had saluted his ability to show a spirit “like fire in a bottle.”

  Now, everything stood ready for the Hollywood trainer and her famous horse.

  About ten minutes after Dad and the hands departed, Sam heard the sound she’d listened for all morning.

  Wait. Maybe it was the drone of that small circling airplane. No, there it was. A dark-green truck slowed for the bridge over the La Charla River and drove so carefully, Sam heard the clunk of every rotation of each tire.

  Sam smiled, already liking Inez Garcia. Someone who was that careful of the horse she was hauling was Sam’s kind of person.

  Ace turned his head and considered the vehicle. His ears flicked back, his eyes flashed with suspicion, and he raised a rear hoof.

  “Stop that,” Sam chided him. “This is a movie star stallion.”

  The gelding lashed his tail and kept staring.

  From the ten-acre pasture, Strawberry snorted. Amigo and Popcorn eased closer to the fence, but the other horses accepted the quiet arrival of the strange vehicle with a quick glance.

  Sun glazed the truck’s windshield so that Sam couldn’t see inside very well. She made out the driver’s outline and the glint of sunglasses, but that was about all.

  Sam pushed her auburn hair back from her face and tried to neaten it with her hands. If she’d gotten all dressed up this morning, her family would have noticed and teased her about it.

  So, she’d pulled on clothes fit for cleaning the barn, and now it was too late to worry about what she looked like. She picked some straw from her shirt and stomped her boots to displace the layer of gray dust.

  If Inez Garcia really wanted to be where no one would fuss over her, Sam thought as the green truck stopped, she’d come to the right place.

  Trying to ignore her sudden shyness, Sam straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and started toward the truck. She’d taken only a single step before she stopped.

  Inez Garcia might not be a movie star, but she was beautiful. The woman easing out of the truck must be close to six feet tall. She wore slim-fitting jeans and an open-necked white shirt. Her black hair was gathered high in back and silver hoop earrings danced in her ears.

  Inez Garcia jerked her sunglasses off. She stuck them in her shirt pocket as if she wanted a closer look at everything. Her eyes swept over Sam, feinted toward Ace, touched on each building and pasture, and returned to Sam. Then, Inez Garcia smiled.

  “Hi,” Sam managed as the woman came closer. “I’m Samantha Forster.”

  “I’m so glad to meet you,” Inez said. Despite her exotic looks, she sounded pretty normal. “It’s not a long drive from Alkali where the rest of the crew’s set up, but I was afraid I’d miss the turnoff.”

  “A lot of people do,” Sam said. “When I first moved home from San Francisco, I’d forgotten about landmarks. I didn’t know how to give directions wit
hout talking about cross streets and exit signs, but you found us.”

  Stop blabbing, Sam scolded herself, but when she heard hooves shifting in the trailer, she couldn’t help adding one thing more. “It sounds like Bayfire’s ready to get out.”

  A shadow swept over Inez Garcia’s face.

  “Ms. Garcia, did I—is something wrong?”

  “No. Of course not. And please call me Inez.” She drew a breath. “Nothing’s wrong. In fact, your ranch is lovely and I’m sure Bayfire will be quite comfortable here. It’s not home, where he shares the stable with a mule, two burros, and a zebra, and he has his own paddock with a view of the San Gabriel Mountains, but he needs a change. And this”—she nodded toward the sun-streaked Calico Mountains—“is far different.”

  “I bet,” Sam said, but she wasn’t thinking of Bayfire. River Bend Ranch must seem pretty dull to someone who owned a zebra. Sam felt like she should apologize. “I’m sorry no one else is here to—”

  “This is perfect,” Inez assured her. “In fact, if you have something else to do, please go right ahead. Just explain where you’d like me to put Bayfire, then we’ll settle in on our own.”

  “That corral is for him,” Sam said, pointing past Tempest and Dark Sunshine. The buckskin and her foal stood at quivering attention. “I’m sorry it doesn’t adjoin his stall—”

  Sam broke off. Why couldn’t she stop apologizing?

  “Really,” Inez said, laying a warm hand on Sam’s arm. “We are very low-maintenance guests and grateful for the quiet. Don’t give us a thought.”

  Inez glanced up at the sound of the small white plane overhead. For an instant, she looked even more distressed.

  Sam wished she could figure out what was worrying the trainer.

  “I see your horse is saddled,” Inez said. She fidgeted a little, clearly eager to be alone.

  “We’re going out for a ride,” Sam said. “Ace needs some exercise, but—I don’t mean to be pushy, but do you think I could see Bayfire first?”

  “Of course,” Inez said, but she didn’t sound flattered, and her manner was so competent as she unlatched the trailer door, Sam didn’t even try to help.

  “Back,” Inez said.

  On command, Bayfire made his appearance. As he backed down the ramp, the stallion’s haunches gleamed. Sturdy, graceful black-shaded bay legs ended in white hind socks. He wore no halter, but his ears were cast back, listening for Inez’s voice.

  “Reverse,” Inez ordered, and the horse turned to face them.

  “He looks like Ace,” Sam blurted. Then, at the astonished expression on Inez’s face as she followed Sam’s eyes to the little bay mustang, Sam added, “Well, a pumped-up version of Ace.”

  Bayfire had the thicker neck and broader chest of a stallion. His black mane and tail were full, but his red bay coat was no more burnished than her horse’s. Bayfire’s forehead wore a white star, too, just like Ace’s.

  “There is a resemblance,” Inez said, slowly.

  Why did the woman sound like she was just being generous? Inez must see the horses’ similarities.

  “Forward,” Inez said, and the stallion took two steps ahead until he stood between them.

  The stallion was incredibly obedient, but the precision of his movements bothered Sam. The beautiful horse moved like a robot.

  “Ace is a mustang,” Sam said, to cover her uneasiness.

  “Is he?” Inez’s head tilted slightly as she studied Ace. “Bayfire is Andalusian and Thoroughbred.”

  “Wow,” Sam said, and she meant it, but the stallion’s noble bloodlines didn’t make up for his dreary expression. Bayfire looked nothing like the fiery horse in that Trigger Awards photograph.

  Something was really wrong. That must be why Inez appeared to be holding her breath.

  And since Inez knew what was best for her horse and obviously wanted to be alone with him, Sam said, “Well, I guess I’ll mount up and—”

  Just then a gaggle of Rhode Island Red hens came clucking from the direction of Gram’s garden.

  At the sight of the fluttering, muttering hens, Bayfire was a horse transformed. His neck arched until his chin bumped his chest, and Sam saw a glimmer of the horse he really was.

  “I’m not sure he’s ever seen chickens before,” Inez said with a chuckle, then rushed to give the horse a cue to release him. “All done.”

  Right away, the stallion shuffled nearer the chickens.

  “Bay, what are those?” Inez crooned to the horse. “Do you like those chickens?”

  Though they avoided his hooves, the hens didn’t scatter. Clearly, they were stuffed with bugs they’d pecked up and swallowed in the garden, and they’d decided this horse wasn’t much of a threat.

  “We could get you some for stablemates,” Inez went on. “Would you like that, Bay?”

  But when the horse looked at her, he seemed to deflate.

  His bearing was still showy, but the sparkle left his eyes. When he lowered his head, he didn’t sniff the chickens. His head hung, as if he had no desire to hold it up.

  Sam noticed that the saddle horses in the ten-acre pasture moved away from the fence. Ace closed his eyes and dozed at the hitching rack. Dark Sunshine had gone back to grazing. Only Tempest and the two humans still watched the stallion.

  Bayfire wasn’t acting like a star. Was he exhausted? Sick?

  Sam caught her breath, and Inez made a small sound like a moan as a plump red hen centered herself between the stallion’s polished front hooves and, totally unafraid, proceeded to take a dust bath.

  Sam couldn’t ignore the insult to the stallion.

  “Is he all right?” she asked.

  “Physically, he’s fine,” Inez said. “And, as you saw, he’ll do anything I ask of him. But Bayfire just isn’t himself. He’s lost heart,” she said with a sad smile.

  Sam swallowed. What could she do? Maybe telling Inez about the Phantom’s depression would help, but the Phantom had been injured and deaf. This was completely different.

  No, Sam decided, she could only listen. She waited for the woman to go on.

  “Talking with Maxine Ely made me hope Bayfire would…” Inez gave a self-mocking puff of breath. “This sounds silly, but I’ve been hoping he’d sort of find himself, out here on the range.”

  “It’s not silly,” Sam insisted. She knew just what the trainer meant.

  Inez’s hand hovered above the stallion’s glossy neck, as if she were afraid to touch something so rare.

  “I really hope he recovers. Because if he doesn’t, his movie career is over.”

  Chapter Three

  “Bayfire’s not just…” Sam searched for a word. For a moment she could only think of limp, but then she said, “gentle?”

  “This isn’t gentle,” Inez snapped. “This is practically dead.”

  Sam flinched. Then, as if that weren’t enough, Inez rushed to demonstrate what the stallion had lost.

  “Bay,” Inez said. As the stallion’s gaze shifted to her, she made a slight gesture—almost as if she were brushing a tendril of hair back toward her ponytail. The signal brought him toward her, limping.

  “He is hurt,” Sam gasped and she turned on Inez with a silent accusation.

  Inez had seemed so kind, but maybe she wasn’t.

  She’d said Bayfire was in great shape, physically, that his lethargy was all in his head. What if she’d lied? What if Inez wanted Sam to get out of here because she treated the horse badly?

  “I promise you he’s not hurt,” Inez said, gloomily. “That would be too easy.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked, and Inez must have heard her suspicion.

  “Does that sound hard-hearted?” Inez asked as her expression turned melancholy. “It isn’t, believe me.”

  Sam watched. It was as if the horse’s condition actually pained Inez.

  “Limping is one of his tricks,” Inez explained. “So is acting ashamed.” At another gesture, the stallion hung his head and rolled his eyes guiltily t
o one side.

  “Oh yes, good boy, good boy.” Inez praised the horse. With each word her hands petted and rewarded him, but the horse acted numb.

  “Let’s try neighing,” Inez said. She swept her hand up her throat in a gesture so graceful, Sam expected the stallion to sing. He gave a whinny that was more croak than melody.

  Still, Inez praised the stallion. “You are perfect, Bay, perfect.”

  She slid her hand lovingly under the stallion’s mane, though the horse took no pleasure in it.

  Sam tried to make sense of the stallion’s reaction. Or lack of it, really.

  She watched Bayfire’s eyes. His gaze stayed fixed on the air. Even his eyelids didn’t move. He didn’t recoil at all. From working with Dark Sunshine, Tinkerbell, and Jinx, Sam knew flinching would have been swift and involuntary if Bayfire had been abused.

  The horse was an actor.

  Sam shook her head, telling herself it wasn’t the same as a person being an actor. But still, she wondered. What if Bayfire was ignoring Inez on purpose, to hurt her feelings? Was that possible?

  “He’s had X-rays and ultrasounds on all four legs,” Inez said.

  “All four? He only limped on that leg,” Sam said, pointing.

  “That one leg, this one time,” Inez agreed, “but he takes turns with them. He limps on whichever leg pleases him at the moment.”

  Sam remembered a story Dad or Gram had told her.

  “Was Bayfire ever injured?” Sam asked. “We used to have a ranch dog that limped because he really liked the massage he got when my dad rubbed medicine on one of his paws.”

  “Again,” Inez said wistfully, “that would make sense, but no. Despite all the special effects—all the explosions and plastics shattering around him—he’s escaped injury. Always.”

  Suddenly, the trainer turned cool and professional again. Sam recognized the attitude shift, because she’d seen Brynna do exactly the same thing.

  “All this talking is accomplishing nothing, and I’m delaying you,” Inez said. “I’ll put him in that corral.”

  “That’s right,” Sam said, though Inez hadn’t asked which corral. “Make yourself at home. I’m only riding out for an hour or so, and I’ll probably beat Gram and Brynna back from town. Dad and the hands won’t be back ’til sundown.” Sam tried to stop talking, but she couldn’t. “So, you’ll have the place to yourself, but if you’re hungry—”