Kidnapped Colt Page 5

  Mikki looked down, as if the mention of reputation had stirred her embarrassment.

  “I don’t know what anybody’s told you about me, but I’m not like that anymore,” Mikki said. “This semester at school I made up all the credits I lost from cutting and stuff, and I passed all my new classes, too.”

  “Sounds like you worked harder than I did,” Sam said.

  “I did it so I come back here,” Mikki said, still watching Jen. “So, I don’t want you thinking I’m a screwup.”

  “No, I’m the screwup.”

  Sam turned toward the voice and saw a girl who looked like a boy.

  Sam took the thought back almost instantly.

  A blue baseball cap hid her hair, dark glasses covered her eyes, and a loose T-shirt nearly reached the knees of her jeans. She was thin and agile looking, too, but Gina’s face was rosy and pretty.

  “Hi, I’m Sam and this is my friend Jen. We—”

  “I’m Gina Lucca.”

  The girl crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

  Sam stood speechless. So did Jen. Gina was obviously waiting for the recognition due to a celebrity.

  “Gina Lucca?” She repeated, then slipped off her sunglasses to reveal long black eyelashes that actually cast shadows on her cheeks.

  She was cute, Sam thought, but she wasn’t famous. Was she?

  The girl gave a dramatic sigh.

  “Perhaps you know me better as the Baseball Burglar.”

  Chapter Six

  Sam opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Should she admit she’d never heard of the Baseball Burglar?

  Mikki groaned and rolled her eyes, but Jen had a different reaction. She took the announcement as an invitation to pry.

  “Baseball Burglar? What’s that mean?”

  “It means, that’s what they called me in the newspaper, and on the local TV news,” Gina bragged.

  Sam glanced back toward the Buick where Dad and Brynna stood talking, clearly letting the girls get to know each other before they interrupted, but she would have loved a little advice.

  “They know all about me,” Gina said, as she caught the direction of Sam’s glance.

  “Oh, no, I was just—” Sam began.

  “Anyone with ears and the bad luck to get within twenty feet of her knows all about her,” Mikki said.

  “So you don’t mind talking about”—Jen paused—“what got you into the HARP program?”

  “Mind? She can’t shut up about it,” Mikki said.

  “Can I help it if I’ve had a fascinating life?” Gina gloated.

  Sam laughed at the self-centered twelve-year-old, but Jen rubbed her palms together as if she couldn’t wait to get all the juicy details of Gina’s crimes.

  “So, why are you called the Baseball Burglar, instead of the Cat Burglar or, considering your age, even the Baby Burglar?”

  Sam thought Gina would be embarrassed or irritated by that last suggestion, but she wasn’t.

  “It’s because of my…” Gina paused as if awaiting a fanfare, “modus operandi.”

  “Like, the way you do it?” Sam asked. She’d heard the phrase on television mysteries, but she wasn’t sure what it meant.

  “The way I enter the scene, what I do once I’m inside the house,” Gina said airily. “That sort of thing.”

  Sam’s amusement faded as she realized Gina wasn’t embarrassed. Shouldn’t she be ashamed of doing something so stupid and wrong?

  Sam thought of the cozy kitchen at River Bend. She pictured the couch where she sprawled to watch television with her cat Cougar purring beside her.

  Sam imagined a stranger sneaking up the staircase to her room. Would she ever feel the same about home if someone broke in?

  She glared at Gina. People had a right to feel relaxed and secure in their houses. Did Gina get a kick out of wrecking that for them?

  “Let’s go see the horses,” Mikki said.

  “Good idea,” Sam answered, but first she met Jen’s eyes, expecting a reflection of her own anger.

  Jen didn’t take her eyes off Gina. She seemed to consider the girl as if she were a math problem.

  “So, tell me about the baseball part of it,” Jen said. Her voice was totally inviting, not condemning at all.

  Gina turned cautious. “You sound like the psychologist they sent me to.”

  “Right,” Jen stretched the word out with sarcasm. “That would be me. A kid who lives on a ranch in the middle of nowhere, but is actually a psychologist!”

  “Well, you are a counselor here,” Gina defended her suspicion.

  “Because I can ride a horse,” Jen said.

  “Okay.” Gina shrugged. “What I do is this: after school, I scope out really nice houses that look like they’re empty.”

  “Abandoned?” Sam asked.

  Gina shook her head.

  “No, the people are off at work. Then, just to be sure—wait, I forgot to tell you I always look like this.” Gina swept a hand past her cap, T-shirt, and jeans. “If I didn’t”—Gina yanked off her cap and swoopy brown waves of hair fell to her shoulders—“people would notice me walking along with a bat and ball. So”—she tugged the cap back into place—“I always wear it.”

  “Ingenious,” Jen said.

  “Whatever,” Gina said, looking irritated. “Then I throw up the ball,” she said, pantomiming the action, “Swing, and slug it through a window.”

  “A back window?” Sam asked.

  “Back, front, whatever,” Gina said. “And if no one comes running out to see what no-good kid did it, I break in. And because I look so young,” she smirked at Jen, “I don’t get in trouble if anyone sees me.”

  “Why not?” Jen asked.

  “I just cry and pretend I was trying to get my ball back.”

  “Using people’s stereotypes against them,” Jen muttered, then she looked up at Mikki. “We’ll go see the horses in just a second, but Gina, I’ve got to know. What do you steal?”

  “Candy,” Gina said with a nod of satisfaction.

  “Candy?” Sam yelped. “You risk going to jail just for candy?”

  “I’ve heard enough,” Mikki said. “I’m going to see the horses.”

  “Me too,” Sam said, and she felt a surge of satisfaction when Gina tried to regather her audience.

  “Not just jelly beans and—” Gina called after them.

  “There he is!” Mikki yelled.

  “Hey, don’t you want to know—”

  But Mikki was already jogging ahead toward the ten-acre pasture, so Sam hurried to catch her.

  When she caught up, Sam found Mikki’s eyes taking in all the horses.

  Popcorn stood closest, almost as he had this morning, and Sam had the totally impossible feeling that the albino mustang had been waiting all day for Mikki.

  At the sound of approaching feet, Sam looked over to see Brynna coming toward the pasture as Dad departed for the barn with just a wave.

  If Mikki had had enough of Gina’s burglar bragging, Dad was probably nuts from it.

  “Everything go all right while we were gone?” Brynna asked.

  Sam took a deep breath, ready to start her confession.

  But a closer look at Brynna made her reconsider.

  Although Sam’s stepmother wore a cheery pink dress and her red hair was fastened neatly back with a clip, she looked tired. Brynna was in charge of the Willow Springs Wild Horse Center, where hundreds of fresh-off-the-range mustangs were kept until they were adopted. She worked with the ranch horses and the HARP program, too.

  Brynna looked like she needed a nap, not an explanation of how Sam had hidden two horses in a scheme that would bring a neighbor’s anger crashing down on them.

  Sam decided to wait and tell Dad as soon as she could.

  “Everything went fine,” Sam told Brynna. “Except that Dallas and I disagreed about the right way to teach Tempest to lead.”

  “Does he have a black eye, too?” Brynna asked, smiling.

  Sam’s hand
darted up to touch her cheek.

  “No, but I won.” Sam laughed. “Actually, I just, uh, bumped into Tempest’s hoof.”

  Brynna winced, then glanced toward the barn. “You’d better come up with something better than that before you talk with your dad.”

  Sam nodded and Brynna’s attention shifted back to Popcorn and Mikki.

  “He looks good, doesn’t he?” Brynna said.

  Still staring at the albino, Mikki sighed and said, “Wonderful.”

  “Good food, kind treatment, and a fair amount of work,” Brynna explained. “You’ll be riding him soon.”

  “I’m not in a hurry,” Mikki said. “I wasn’t that good at it.”

  “You’ll be better by the end of the week,” Sam said, and when Brynna touched her shoulder in approval, Sam tried to believe she deserved it.

  She didn’t get to bask in her stepmother’s silent praise for long.

  Suddenly Brynna looked past her, toward the entrance to River Bend Ranch.

  “What on earth is that?”

  Sam looked over her shoulder in time to see a huge yellow Hummer rumble their way. Immediately, she recognized the vehicle Ryan had waved to when they’d been taking the horses to the box canyon.

  “I think I know who it is,” Sam told Brynna. “The guy who owns the deerhounds.”

  Brynna’s blue eyes narrowed and she cast a quick look toward the barn, just as Dad and Dallas emerged.

  “Can you remember his name?” Brynna asked, and Sam noticed every bit of her stepmother’s weariness fall away. Brisk and official, she might have put on her uniform.

  For a minute, Sam’s mind came up with nothing but an insect. Sort of like a grasshopper made of dry sticks. A praying mantis, that was it. As the image crossed her mind, Sam wondered if the word was spelled pray or prey.

  “Karl Mannix,” Jen said, coming up to stand beside them. “Sam, remember I told you about him?”

  “Yeah, so did Ryan,” Sam said.

  “He still works for Linc? After that deer hound fiasco?” Brynna asked as the Hummer parked next to Gram’s Buick.

  “Yes,” Jen said.

  “Deer hounds?” Gina said, but she must have sensed the tension among the others, because she didn’t press for more information, just sidled closer to Mikki, who shrugged as Karl Mannix came toward them.

  Despite the hot July day, Sam shivered.

  Lanky and tall, Karl Mannix was dressed in outdoor clothes that fit, but didn’t suit him. Ryan had quoted Jen’s dad as saying the man knew more about stocks and bonds than livestock, and Sam’s first glimpse of him made her agree.

  He might be dressed like a cowboy, but he didn’t move like one. In fact, as Karl Mannix crossed the ranch yard, he gave her the creeps.

  Dehydration or imagination made her think she heard his bones sliding against each other as he approached.

  Or maybe it was guilt, Sam thought. After all, if he’d paid attention, this guy—Linc Slocum’s employee—had seen her in the very act of taking the Appaloosas.

  He doesn’t look threatening, Sam scolded herself. With his beaked nose and water-blue eyes behind his thick glasses, he looked like a nerd.

  “You have police out here?” Gina asked.

  “Indeed we do,” Brynna said. “Here comes Sheriff Ballard.”

  Brynna’s tone was conversational as the sheriff’s black-and-white patrol car bumped over the River Bend bridge, but Sam wasn’t fooled.

  Brynna bristled with a warning that said Sam had better not have anything to do with these unexpected visitors.

  And things were about to get worse.

  Sam’s ribs tightened like a vise around her lungs as Linc Slocum’s beige Cadillac sped over the bridge, fishtailing as he sawed at the steering wheel, trying to follow the sheriff.

  If Ryan had talked with his father, things hadn’t gone well.

  With his rolling cowboy’s gait, Dad came to stand between Sam and Brynna.

  Sam remembered crossing her arms and stubbornly refusing to help Ryan. That had been just this morning. She wished she could turn back time, so she’d be standing here enjoying the excitement instead of regretting she’d ever met Ryan Slocum.

  “Shoot, if I’d known the circus was comin’ to town, I woulda got us home earlier,” Dad said.

  Sam and Jen gave forced laughs, but Mikki and Gina looked frightened and Gram’s face was strained as she welcomed the HARP girls and tried to ignore the three cars crowding the ranch yard.

  This might not have anything to do with the horses, Sam told herself. Ryan promised he’d take the blame.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Mikki said.

  “Me either,” Gina said.

  “Good thing, or you two woulda been on a bus bound for home first thing tomorrow morning,” Dad joked.

  “He’s kidding,” Brynna said at the girls’ startled expressions.

  While Brynna reassured them, Jen sidled closer to Sam.

  “I’m sorry I ever told him a thing,” Jen apologized. “But this could be about something else, don’t you think?”

  Sam shook her head “no.” She didn’t.

  When Linc’s Cadillac barreled around the other car, convincing Karl Mannix to jump out of his path, and Blaze to sprint under the bunkhouse porch, Sam knew she was in big trouble.

  Linc pulled up just yards away, instead of parking across the ranch yard alongside the other vehicles.

  The Cadillac’s door swung open, hit the limit of its hinges, and rebounded, slamming closed before Linc could get out.

  “This is gonna be fun,” Jen muttered.

  The Cadillac’s door didn’t stay closed for long.

  Linc Slocum’s hair was slicked back and glossy as patent leather. As he stood next to his car, his face shone red under skin so tight, it looked as if he might explode out of it.

  “Where are my horses?” he bellowed. “I want to know right now!”

  Chapter Seven

  Sam noticed Sheriff Ballard’s leisurely approach.

  The Rhode Island Red hens had scattered at the boom of Linc’s voice, so there was no doubt Sheriff Ballard had heard it, too, but his stride didn’t falter as he walked toward them.

  Linc Slocum might be closer, standing right in front of Sam, her family, Jen, and the HARP girls, but it was clear Sheriff Ballard would be in charge when he reached them.

  Before anyone else could speak, Gram greeted Linc in her most neighborly voice.

  “Hello, Linc. I just baked some oatmeal cookies. I hope you have time for a few.”

  “Grace, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I didn’t come for cookies. This kid of yours is a horse thief!”

  Sam gasped as if he’d knocked the breath out of her. When Brynna’s arm rested around her waist, Sam leaned into it. Dad looked like he was counting to ten so that he wouldn’t take a swing at Linc.

  But Linc was almost right.

  “Oh, now Linc…” Gram began patiently.

  “‘Now Linc’ nothin’,” he began, but Dad’s stern voice cut him off.

  “’Afternoon, Linc. You mighta noticed we have company.” Dad nodded at Mikki and Gina. “For their sake, I’ll thank you to get a grip on your temper.”

  Linc respected Dad, and it showed in his sudden embarrassment.

  “Pardon me,” Linc said.

  But Dad wasn’t done with him. “I’ll be real curious to hear you explain yourself to Sheriff Ballard, too,” Dad said. Behind him, Dallas crossed his arms, seconding Dad’s statement.

  Sam felt sick. She wanted to disappear. Dad, Gram, and Brynna were standing up for her, and though Linc wasn’t exactly right, he wasn’t completely wrong.

  Mikki chewed the cuticle on her thumbnail while Gina picked at a thread on the seam of her jeans. Their tension said this wasn’t what they’d expected at a sleepy Nevada ranch.

  Sam felt blame gathering on her shoulders.

  “Hello, folks.” Sheriff Ballard’s easy greeting didn’t match the cold eyes that seemed to
touch them all—Dad and Brynna first, then Dallas and Gram, the HARP girls, Jen, and, it really seemed like he looked at her last, Sam thought—before he faced Linc Slocum.

  “Go ahead,” the sheriff said then, and Sam hoped it was good news that Sheriff Ballard’s voice was filled with forced patience.

  Maybe, because Linc Slocum had been in so much trouble before, the sheriff wouldn’t listen to what he said.

  But behind the sheriff, outside the half circle of people facing the sheriff and Linc, was Karl Mannix.

  Sam’s pulse stampeded when he looked directly at her and nodded without smiling.

  He couldn’t have seen her clearly as he went driving by on the highway, could he? Oh, why had Ryan waved at him?

  Even though Mannix stood behind Sheriff Ballard, Sam felt certain the sheriff knew Mannix was there.

  “Ryan was supposed to load up my Appy mare in the horse van and take her back over to Sterling Stables today,” Linc explained. “I told him to leave that half-breed colt behind to wean himself.”

  Sam listened to each syllable Linc uttered. So far, his story matched Ryan’s, but he hadn’t yet admitted he wanted to destroy the colt.

  “When I got home from Winnemucca, the mare and colt were gone, and the Cherokee is still there. What do you make of that?” Linc demanded.

  “Ryan was here with the colt,” Gram said, “and it was plain to see he’s fond of that young horse, so they’re probably together.”

  On either side of Sam, Brynna and Dad pulled away slightly. She could almost hear them wondering what Ryan and Shy Boots had been doing here, but they didn’t ask.

  “Have you spoken to Ryan?” Gram asked Linc.

  Sam held her breath.

  “Not before he left,” Linc said, then shrugged. “But that’s not the point.”

  Linc kept talking, but his words no longer sunk into Sam’s whirling mind.

  Jen had grabbed her hand and was squeezing it, hard.

  Sam wet her lips and found she was able to pronounce one word. “Left?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know,” Linc said. “Or you either,” he added, turning on Jen.