Untamed Page 6

  The sheriff stayed to make sure Jake could back the truck out of the ruts and start home.

  Once they were on their way, Sam glanced at the glowing turquoise numbers on her watch. It seemed like forever since she’d left River Bend, but it was only eight thirty.

  When she yawned, Jake glanced over at her.

  “How’s your head?” he asked grimly.

  Sam felt so impatient with him, she thought about faking a faint. But that would be a really bad idea.

  Jake still blamed himself for the head injury she’d suffered when he was helping her gentle Blackie, the colt who’d grown up to be the Phantom.

  “It’s fine.” Sam sighed, but she could tell Jake was drowning in guilt because he’d been driving, now, when she hit her head again.

  They drove in silence for a few minutes and Sam was just beginning to think Jake wasn’t going to act paranoid and overly protective when he exploded.

  “Are you crazy?” he shouted.

  “Why do people keep asking that? Of course I’m—”

  “Because you have a one-track mind when it comes to mustangs,” Jake said. “Nothing else matters. Think about this: A guy with a gun nearly shoots you and you don’t tell anyone?”

  “I just told someone,” Sam said, crossing her arms and cinching them tightly against each other.

  “But you wouldn’t have, would you?”

  “Oh yeah, right,” she snapped, then continued with more than her usual sarcasm. “I was planning to wear that shell casing on a chain around my neck.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jake muttered. After a few seconds he added, “I don’t know Caleb Sawyer. My dad doesn’t think he’s dangerous, but don’t go getting any ideas about knocking on his door and asking him questions.”

  Arms still crossed, Sam shook her head. Jake really must think she was crazy. She wouldn’t do that.

  But if she did, it might help answer some questions.

  What would she do when she got to Caleb Sawyer’s ranch? Ask if his antelope poaching had somehow caused her mother’s death?

  “Hey, if you went with me—” Sam broke off when Jake glared at her. “Never mind.”

  “Sure, ‘never mind.’ All you’re going to tell me is some guy shot at you. That figures.”

  “I—You didn’t ask,” she said. “Why are you so mad?”

  Jake’s head shook in a curt refusal to talk. If she didn’t know, his gesture said, he couldn’t explain in a hundred years.

  Now, River Bend Ranch had come into sight. Sam could see the glow of the front porch light.

  Blaze started barking, announcing their arrival, while Sam tried to decide how to keep Jake outside while she went in. That would be important.

  Because she wasn’t stupid, she’d mention she’d bumped her head, but there was absolutely no reason to tell Dad, Gram, and Brynna about the sheriff. Or the shell casing.

  She hadn’t been hurt, after all. The gunman had been trying to shoot animals. For sure. After all, when she’d yelled at him, he’d skulked away.

  Jake had not been there. He didn’t know. And, though she was the one with the head injury, he was certifiably insane on the subject of her safety. He could not be allowed to get her family in an uproar.

  She’d be in enough trouble without his interference.

  Ace neighed a welcome when Jake’s truck stopped and Blaze bounded across the River Bend Ranch yard. Sam opened the truck door to escape Jake’s glare and her horse continued a conversational nickering.

  “Hey, baby,” Sam said, smooching at Ace.

  She saw a flicker at the kitchen window as a curtain was drawn back, then dropped into place. It would’ve been perfect if everyone had already been in bed, but her bad luck day was still holding on.

  Out of the corners of her eyes, Sam watched. Sure enough, Jake climbed out of the truck as well.

  “You don’t have to come in,” she said pleasantly.

  He shrugged and kept walking toward the porch.

  Fine, Sam thought. No more Ms. Nice Guy.

  “I can handle this, Jake.”

  A cricket chirped, a night bird warbled a question, and Jake still didn’t say anything, just stomped his big, stupid boots up the porch, then waited for her to catch up.

  With choppy steps, she followed, then stood on the porch, hands on hips, and glared at him.

  Jake only looked bored.

  “I hate you, Jake Ely,” she said.

  He had the nerve to smile. “After you, sweet talker,” he said, then opened the door and nodded her on through.

  When Blaze crowded ahead of her, Sam let him go.

  Any other night, walking into a kitchen that smelled of cinnamon and sugar would feel great.

  Not tonight. Instead of finding Gram amid a clutter of rolling pin and waxed paper, she’d hoped Gram would be upstairs, asleep.

  She paused in her walnut chopping to smile at them.

  “Hello, Jake,” Gram said, then peered inside the oven to check the cookies that were already baking. “Thanks for seeing Sam home.”

  Gram didn’t glance at the clock, but the fact that she didn’t start filling Jake full of food reminded Sam it was getting late and tomorrow was school.

  Jake rubbed the back of his neck. He only did that when he felt awkward. She still had a chance to drive him out of here.

  “Yeah Jake, thanks,” Sam said. “See you tomor—”

  “Unless you’d like to sit for a minute and wait for this first batch of cookies to be done,” Gram offered.

  Traitor! Sam thought. Gram just couldn’t resist feeding people.

  “Okay,” Jake said. He’d barely lowered himself into a chair when the door between the kitchen and living room swung open.

  “Wasn’t that Sam? Oh. Hi, Jake.”

  Brynna wasn’t in her robe yet, but her hair hung loose and Dad was right behind her, wearing his socks, without boots.

  “Jake,” Dad said, nodding.

  Jake shifted in discomfort. His cheeks flushed such a dark red, anyone would have thought Dad had forgotten his pants!

  Good. Maybe he’d leave after all, Sam thought.

  But he didn’t. Jake was determined to stay and humiliate her, no matter what.

  Gram leaned past Sam to place a plate of warm cookies on the table. She patted Sam’s shoulder as she straightened, then took a quick, surprised breath.

  “What’s this?” Gram said, looking at Sam’s temple.

  Oh my gosh. Had it swollen? Bruised?

  “Just a little bump.” Sam struggled to sound casual. “No big deal.”

  “What happened out there, Jake?” Dad didn’t say it like an accusation, either. It was more like Jake had been the adult in charge.

  “Oh, it’s nice of you to ask him, instead of trusting your own daughter!”

  “Did something happen?” Brynna asked Sam.

  Her stepmother’s expression flashed between guilt for letting Sam go and professional interest. But at least she wasn’t addressing her question to Jake.

  “No trouble with the horses,” Sam began, but then Jake interrupted.

  “She knocked her head against the window—”

  “But I’m okay!”

  “—when I hit a rut, running from headlights.”

  “Did that Caleb do something crazy?” Dad’s voice was as low and threatening as Blaze when he growled.

  “No,” Jake admitted.

  Of course, now Jake decided to clam up. He lifted his hand a fraction of an inch off the table, gesturing at Sam.

  “Samantha?” Dad asked.

  She had no choice, so she tried to get everything out without taking a second breath.

  “Today when Jen and I were riding out there, just looking for New Moon, we saw some pronghorn mixed in with the Phantom’s herd and then all of a sudden, this guy stands up—I don’t know if it was Caleb Sawyer, it could’ve been, I think it was—and he tried to shoot the Phantom.”

  “The Phantom’s band was over at Sn
ake Head Peak?” Brynna asked.

  Dad’s head whipped around to send Brynna a look. He seemed to be saying, You’re as bad as she is.

  “I mean,” Brynna amended her statement, “what were you doing over at Snake Head Peak? Moon’s territory was Aspen Creek, and Phantom usually doesn’t hang out there.”

  Dad set his jaw so hard that Sam heard his teeth grind against each other.

  He pushed his chair back so hard it screeched, then strode to the door and opened it.

  “Thanks for stoppin’ by,” he told Jake. “I’ll take it from here.”

  “What?” Sam yelped. Was she some problem to be shepherded from one male to the next? She looked to Brynna and Gram for help, but neither said a word.

  “Let me get this straight.” Dad’s voice was so quiet, Sam had to lean forward to hear. “Some fella started shooting near you this afternoon, but you rode home, talked awhile real normal about Penny, had this”—he broke off, hand moving as if it could spin the right word—“private talk with me in the barn—then more talk at dinner—and you didn’t think it was important to tell me about a man shooting horses?”

  “That’s just like lying, Sam,” Brynna said, summing up Dad’s words.

  “It’s not! I was going to tell,” Sam insisted, but Dad was pacing, ignoring her.

  “I even kept the shell casing,” she told him.

  Dad stopped. Hands on hips, he stared toward the kitchen window. With only darkness outside, could he see anything besides his reflection?

  Gram sat silent, shaking her head in disappointment.

  “I wanted to tell the sheriff, and I already did,” Sam said. “He wants to talk with me tomorrow after school.”

  Dad still didn’t turn to listen.

  “Then why,” Brynna said, “didn’t you tell us?”

  “I was afraid you’d be, like, overly protective, and not let me do stuff….”

  “Sam, every time you’ve given good reasons for things you wanted to do, we’ve worked it out with you,” Brynna said.

  Dad turned and his expression wasn’t angry, just cold.

  “Never would have believed it, but you were safer in San Francisco.”

  Sam felt as if her flesh clamped closer to her bones, as if she could make herself smaller and disappear.

  “Dad, no,” she said, but he met her eyes, daring her to say she’d ever been within yards of a gunman when she lived in Aunt Sue’s city apartment. She hadn’t.

  “Get up to bed,” Dad ordered, and before he could say anything worse, Sam went.

  Chapter Nine

  How could a horse make her so happy? Penny wasn’t even her horse, but she lifted Sam’s gloom just by being there.

  The blind mare crowded against the fence of the pipe panel pen assembled next to the ten-acre corral and neighed a greeting to Sam.

  She kicked up her heels and bolted in a run around her pen, delighted to have human company.

  “Hi, Penny,” Sam crooned, and her smile widened when the sorrel slid to a stop, listening.

  Penny tossed her head, flinging aside her forelock as if it, and nothing else, kept her from seeing.

  “You are a pretty girl, and I’d stay to pet you, but I’ve got to feed the chickens before I leave for school.”

  When the mare gave a disgusted snort, Sam checked the other horses. They pricked their ears in Penny’s direction, looking curious, but nothing more.

  Sam smiled. Putting the small pipe corral next to the ten-acre pasture would keep the new horse safe while the others got used to her. So far, it seemed to be working.

  Sam’s smile broke into a yawn.

  Dallas, Pepper, and Ross had ridden out to check for calves at about five thirty. Sam knew because Blaze had been so excited, he’d barked and yapped, awakening her.

  She must have dozed again, though, because, by the time she made it downstairs, everyone was up.

  Then, she’d discovered that even though she was in trouble, feeding the hens was her only morning chore. Gram and Brynna had offered to do everything else.

  Sam couldn’t figure it out. The previous night, Brynna had tapped on Sam’s door to say she was grounded until further notice. She’d refused to listen to Sam’s excuses and warned that Sam would be lucky if there weren’t other consequences for keeping such a serious incident secret.

  Right now, the Rhode Island Red hens were studying Sam suspiciously, as if they didn’t see her every morning of their lives. Each hen was the size of a feathered basketball. As soon as Sam began sprinkling their food on the ground, they forgot caution. They rebounded off her ankles, fighting for the cracked corn, grain, and crumbs of cherry muffins left from breakfast.

  Excited by the hens’ squabbling, Penny sidled down the fence line. She crossed one hoof over the other with the grace of a dressage horse.

  Moving into the darkness didn’t frighten her, Sam realized. There must be a lesson in that.

  “You and me, Penny,” Sam promised the red mustang.

  She wouldn’t let the unknown scare her, either. She’d missed hundreds of hours of hugging, scolding, and companionable silence with Mom. Now, she had a chance to learn more about Mom’s life and no one would stop her.

  After all, Dad had stopped short of saying he’d actually send her back to San Francisco. He’d been surprised and shocked, but Brynna had said she was only grounded.

  She’d be very careful, but she still had to find out what had happened to Mom.

  It was weird the way curiosity and sadness had stirred up long-forgotten moments.

  This morning, the tart-sweet aroma of Gram’s muffins had brought back a memory of Mom cooking.

  In it, Sam felt herself waking from a cozy nap. She remembered toddling into the kitchen to watch Mom roll a pastry cutter through pale dough. Next, in a way Sam had found magical, Mom had woven the dough strips over and under into a lattice crust for a cherry pie.

  Sensing her there, Mom had looked up with a smile and beckoned Sam to come closer. And she’d gone, of course.

  Sam imagined herself tucked under her mother’s arm, safe as a baby bird under its mother’s wing.

  “Gonna be late if you stay there daydreamin’,” Dad warned from the porch.

  Sam’s head snapped back. She’d almost forgotten she was standing in the middle of the ranch yard, but there stood Dad, dressed for the range. He wore leather chaps already, but he held a coffee cup and a wisp of steam curled into the cool morning air.

  “Hope you took care of weighting down that tarp,” Dad said. “Supposed to be some weather blowing in this weekend.”

  Sam glanced at the sky. It was clear and blue.

  Dad didn’t sound very friendly and he was just trying to remind her she was in trouble.

  She’d like to blame Jake for telling on her, but the words had come from her mouth. And no matter how she tried to minimize what had happened, there was that rifle.

  Unlike Gram and Brynna, Dad could hold a grudge for weeks. This mistake would crop up in every discussion, because, in his opinion, she’d placed herself in danger and then kept it secret.

  He’d grounded her. She wasn’t allowed to ride or go anywhere except school and, today only, Sheriff Ballard’s office.

  Sam sighed as Dad watched, stiff-backed, to see what she’d do next. Grounding, Sam feared, was only the beginning of her punishment.

  He’d told her to hurry, and she’d better do it. She could take care of the tarp later. What she couldn’t do was be late for school.

  As Sam walked back toward the house, a single hen strutted away from the others. Searching for a tasty worm, she’d forgotten the first rule of prey animals.

  “Stay with the rest of the flock,” Sam cautioned, fluttering her hands at the hen. “Get out there alone and something will eat you.”

  The hen hopped off a few feet, rejoined the flock, and scratched the dirt with total concentration.

  Sam couldn’t brush her hands on her jeans before grabbing her coat. Today she wore a black
skirt, a crisp white blouse, and little gold earrings. Her auburn hair curved into a shiny cap with a few too many waves and she wore a flick of Brynna’s mascara on her eyelashes.

  She wanted to look nice for her meeting with the sheriff, but she wasn’t sure why.

  Dad was still standing in the kitchen when she was ready to leave.

  “I want you to think about something today,” he said.

  Sam nodded and braced herself for more scolding.

  “That calf of yours is near a year old and thinks she’s a horse. That’s natural after livin’ with ’em for so long. With the rest of the cattle back down here for summer, it’d be a good time to turn her out.”

  “Buddy?” Sam said.

  Dad nodded. Of course she had no other calf. Buddy had been orphaned on the range and Sam had rescued and bottle-fed her in a cozy barn stall until she could eat grass and live in the ten-acre pasture.

  “I know you feature yourself her mama,” Dad said with a half smile, “but think about it.”

  Sam took a shuddering breath. It wasn’t like she spent much time petting and playing with Buddy anymore. As the calf had matured, she’d kept more to herself. But every now and then, Buddy came when Sam called and stood for minutes, getting her head rubbed.

  “I’ll think about it,” Sam said.

  As she left the house to begin her walk to the bus stop, her eyes found Buddy. In the back of her mind, Sam had always known Buddy would be a range cow.

  She’d never thought about brushing and haltering the calf, taking her to a county fair to win best of show, but Buddy was pretty, and she might have won.

  Her red-brown coat shone with good health. Her white face wore an intent expression as it bobbed just above the ground.

  “Buddy!” Sam called. “Hey, Buddy!”

  The Hereford raised her head to chest level. Her pink nose was shiny as she looked in Sam’s direction.

  “Here I am, girl.” Sam waved a hand.

  Buddy sneezed, flicked her tail, then resumed her search for green grass.

  A thud and stutter of hooves made Sam’s attention shift.

  Ears flat and head extended, Strawberry made a short run at Penny, warning her she’d wandered too close to the fences separating them. The blind mustang shied and ran for the opposite side of her pen.