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  All three of them stared at the beautiful horse.

  “Makes you wish you could ask him what’s wrong, doesn’t it?” Sam said wistfully.

  “Not really,” Inez said. “Whatever it is, I’m pretty sure he blames me.”

  Suddenly, Inez seemed anxious to drop discussion of her troubled horse.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get cleaned up,” Inez said.

  As the trainer went to her camper to get ready for dinner, Sam stared after her.

  “I wonder what makes her think her horse is mad at her,” she mused, aloud.

  “We’ll find out at dinner. Mom’s coming over. They’re havin’ their little reunion at your gram’s kitchen table while all the guys who’ve been haying have a spaghetti feed at our house.”

  “All the guys except you, right?” Sam asked.

  “Yeah,” Jake’s tone asked if she wanted to make something of that.

  Sam didn’t. In fact, she was glad Jake was here to give his opinion of what might help Bayfire. But since Jake was already irritated, she figured there was no harm in reviving their earlier squabble.

  “So, are you really mad at me for just being polite to Violette?”

  When Jake didn’t answer, Sam pushed harder. “Or maybe it’s not me. Maybe you’re disappointed because Violette Lee isn’t the beauty she looks like in the movies.”

  Sam had noticed he’d looked the actress over, carefully.

  “I don’t care that she has a face that looks like biscuit dough and dresses in toad skin,” Jake snapped, “and her attitude’s her own business. What I can’t stand is the way you let her boss you around!”

  “Oh, so her attitude is her own business, but my—”

  “You know what I mean,” Jake said.

  “Yeah, I do, and it’s bad enough that you’re overly protective of me when you think I might hurt myself, but what makes you think you can tell me how to act, too?”

  Jake shook his head.

  “That’s what you’re trying to do,” Sam goaded him. “Right?”

  “Why d’you want to give in to someone like her?”

  “It’s okay if I give in to you, though,” Sam said, and finally Jake seemed to have had enough.

  “Hey,” he said. “You only need to put up with me for a couple of days. Then I’m out of here. And when I get back, it’s not like we see each other that much at school. This time next year, I’ll be out of your way for good.”

  She’d been mad enough to tell Jake he couldn’t leave soon enough to suit her, until that last part. She’d hate it if Jake moved away permanently.

  Since she didn’t know what to say, Sam gave Jake a shove.

  “Wait. I need to show you two something.”

  Sam and Jake turned at the urgency in Inez’s voice.

  When she climbed down from her camper, her eyes were red from crying.

  “If this movie’s going to be made with Bayfire in it, we don’t have time for me to waste time being touchy. If you’re going to help, you need to know the whole truth. Most of all I’m worried about Bayfire, but I’m also worried about myself. I’m pretty new to Hollywood, but so far I’ve got a dynamite reputation. That can change overnight if people start thinking of me as the woman who wrecked Bayfire.”

  Neither Sam nor Jake spoke.

  Sam didn’t know about Jake, but she felt out of her depth with Inez’s confession.

  “So, why are you asking us for help?” Sam asked, and though her words came out in a near whisper, Inez understood.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Inez said, with a lopsided smile, “but I’ve tried everything else and now, well, I’ve got nothing to lose.” The trainer cleared her throat loudly and went on, “Let me show you why I think he’s mad at me and not just bored.”

  Sam looked over at Jake. He’d made some kind of little sound, something between a growl and a worried whine. Then he rubbed the back of his neck, newly bared by his haircut.

  “Is this gonna be safe?” he asked.

  “Safe enough,” Inez said. Her black brows arched and she looked a little insulted.

  “I trust you to know your horse,” Jake said, looking down at his boots, “but I saw my dad and grandfather use a pitchfork to get a stallion off a man once and well, ma’am, I’m not set up for doing that before dinner.”

  Inez looked amazed. Then, she gave a giggle.

  “Not before dinner?” she asked, before breaking into outright laughter.

  Sam joined her. It was such a Jake thing to say, and of course he had no idea why it was funny. He just sighed.

  “Hysteria,” Inez explained. “That’s all it could be, because this isn’t the least bit funny. The horse I’ve loved since he was foaled hates me.”

  Sam didn’t believe it was true, but as Inez called the stallion to follow her, then opened the newly restored pasture gate, Sam tensed.

  Vaguely, she’d wondered why Inez had kept Bayfire in the barn instead of loosing the stallion into the pasture. Now she’d find out.

  “Go play,” Inez said, releasing the stallion from her control.

  Even in the setting sun, the horse’s coat shone with copper glints. Muscles slid smoothly beneath his glossy hide.

  As Bayfire relaxed, Dark Sunshine snorted. She used her shoulder to bump Tempest away from the fence, but the filly ignored her and raced up and down, trying to gain the stallion’s attention.

  At first Bayfire hardly noticed, but when she whinnied in her newfound volume, he had to stare. Fearful of the male attention fixed on Tempest, Dark Sunshine acted, flashing her teeth, flattening her ears, and forcing her baby back.

  “She doesn’t take no for an answer,” Inez said. “She won’t hurt the filly, will she?”

  “No,” Sam said, “but Dark Sunshine’s only a couple years off the range and she still kinda goes by those rules.”

  “Rules?” Inez said.

  Though Sam was eager to see the demonstration of hatred Inez had promised them, she explained, “Lots of the time stallions kill the foals of their rivals.”

  “That’s right,” Inez said, nodding. “I’ve read about that. I guess she can’t take a chance. I wouldn’t.”

  For the first time since his arrival, Bayfire struck out in a showy gait, performing for Dark Sunshine.

  “Look at that,” Sam said. “He looks better to me.” When Inez didn’t smile, Sam asked, “Does he to you?”

  “For the moment,” Inez said.

  They watched as the stallion quit parading and lowered himself to the ground. He rolled, kicking his strong legs while showing his vulnerable belly. Finally he stood, shook, and blew breath through his lips.

  “Now watch,” Inez said. She touched her index finger to her temple and though the stallion clearly saw her, he turned away.

  “Bayfire,” she said, then touched her temple again.

  He walked toward her stiff-legged, begrudging each step. Still, he obeyed.

  When he was within six feet of the fence, his robot walk changed. His brown eyes rolled white, like a shark about to attack, and then he came straight at Inez, mouth agape, teeth aimed to rip her flesh.

  He slammed into the board fence with such force, Sam wondered if it would hold. It wouldn’t have if Pepper and Ross hadn’t just renailed it.

  In just a few seconds, though, the attack ended. The stallion trotted away, shaking his black mane.

  “I don’t think it’s you,” Sam started.

  Inez pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, then dropped them and glared at Sam. “What?” she demanded. “Do you think he was after the fence?”

  “No, but—”

  “I think Sam’s right,” Jake said.

  “Then I’m afraid neither of you can help me. Whatever’s wrong is between me and this horse,” Inez said, and her voice held both irritation and regret.

  “He’s charging you all right, but if I went out to—well, watch this,” Jake said. He hurried back to the barn, snatched up the first lead rope
he came to, and approached the pasture.

  “Don’t go in there,” Inez warned.

  “I won’t have to. Watch.” Jake climbed to the second rung on the fence and leaned forward, dangling the lead rope. “Gonna getcha,” Jake said playfully. Bayfire wheeled, arched his neck, pranced in a fiercely threatening manner, then bolted toward Jake.

  Once more, his eyes rolled white and his black edged ears, so like Ace’s until now, flattened against his head. This time, he swerved before he struck the fence.

  “So what have you proven? That he hates everybody?” Inez demanded.

  “I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Maybe he hates leaving the pasture, and he’s doing whatever it takes to make you let him stay.”

  Sam’s words sounded so hollow, Inez didn’t answer. Clearly, she hadn’t shown Sam and Jake what she’d hoped to.

  “All done,” Inez said, flashing a sign to the stallion. Though she used words, she spoke as she would to a deaf person, depending on quick-fingered signals as much as words.

  “Are you okay with leaving him out there while we eat?” Jake asked.

  “I’m willing to do that, even though I shouldn’t. Bayfire is a very intelligent horse and he’s thinking about what earned him the right to do what he wants,” Inez said.

  The stallion looked cocky as he paced the perimeter of his new corral. He sniffed the top edges of the fence boards, then a patch of dry grass. In between, he stopped and tossed his forelock back from eyes that flashed a challenging glare.

  The trainer was right. Bayfire’s equine brain was used to learning. They’d just taught him if he acted vicious, he’d get his way.

  “But when we return later,” Inez said, “I’ll need your help. Both of you.”

  “No problem,” Sam said. “We should have lots of daylight left.”

  As they walked toward the house, Jake stopped at the pump to wash up.

  “Give you two more room at the sink,” he said.

  Sam wasn’t sure she wanted Jake to lag behind. She could feel Inez watching her, not as if she’d done something wrong, but as if she was wondering if Sam could be trusted.

  “I know on a ranch you have a different relationship with animals than I do, but they still have to behave and bend themselves to what you require of them—perhaps cutting a calf out from a herd and putting you in position to rope it. If your Ace refused—”

  “He has,” Sam said, “and we’ve worked through it.”

  “But he’s never charged you like that.”

  “No, Ace hasn’t, but I think that’s a stallion thing.” Sam swallowed and looked toward the Calico Mountains. “There’s this mustang called the Phantom…”

  “Maxine told me you had a favorite colt that went feral.”

  Sam nodded. “Sometimes I’m still lucky enough to see him. And three times, when he’s been under incredible stress, he’s charged me like that.” Sam stopped to take a breath, then said, “It’s pretty scary.”

  “I’ve got to say, you don’t seem as intimidated by it as I am,” Inez said.

  “It’s a mock charge,” Sam explained, feeling like an expert. “Wild stallions do it to weed out challengers who aren’t worthy. When the young males are driven out of their home herds, it’s one of the things they practice in their bachelor herds, and—”

  “A mock charge,” Inez interrupted. “If only it were.”

  They were almost at the house when Inez glanced back to see if Jake was still at the pump. He was.

  Then, as Sam watched, Inez Garcia unbuttoned a button at her neck and lowered her white blouse to show Sam the top of her shoulder.

  Black and purple bruising covered the top of the woman’s arm, from back to front.

  “He grabbed me with his mouth, lifted me from the ground, and shook me,” Inez said quietly. “Samantha, there was nothing ‘mock’ about it.”

  Chapter Eight

  As Inez hurriedly adjusted her collar and smoothed her blouse back into place, Sam thought about the discolored flesh around the horse bite. Bayfire had inflicted that bite with crushing power. It was no nip and no accident. He’d lifted Inez off her feet.

  “I see what you mean,” Sam said. “He meant that bite.”

  “That’s why I was sure something must be hurting him. I have been with this horse every day of his life for five years and he’s never harmed me, not intentionally. My friendship with him was as strong as that with my best friend, with family! But something has changed.”

  The bump-bump of tires crossing the bridge made them both turn. As they did, they noticed Jake had left the pump. He was just a few steps behind them, giving a wave to the approaching car.

  “Here’s Mom,” Jake said.

  Since she had no advice to offer Inez, Sam was relieved when Mrs. Ely drove into the ranch yard, parked her Honda, and hurried over to hug Inez.

  “It’s so good to see you!”

  Both women spoke in unison, then laughed and fell to chattering with such speed, Sam couldn’t follow the conversation. Since it really wasn’t her conversation to follow in the first place, Sam went inside and left Jake standing there, hands in his pockets, unsure what to do next.

  “I was wondering when you’d come lend a hand,” Gram said.

  Though Gram was teasing, Sam hurried to help, setting the table with silverware and heavy pumpkin-colored napkins. Sam shuddered. The pumpkin-colored linen made her think of autumn, even though it was still summer outside.

  In two weeks she’d be back in school. She liked school and was looking forward to seeing her friends, but why did she have to let go of summer?

  She’d carried a huge wooden bowl of green salad to the table and poured glasses of milk or iced tea for everyone by the time Jake came in and stood fidgeting near the door.

  When Brynna and Dad came downstairs, Gram said, “It’s about time.”

  The screen door creaked as Jake leaned out to call, “Mom, they’re ready to eat.” Jake’s mother and her friend crossed the porch with hurrying steps and Sam was amazed to hear Mrs. Ely giggling like a girl.

  Gram put a cold platter lined with ruffled lettuce and layered with sliced ham and Swiss and cheddar cheeses on the table. She asked Jake to bring over a basket of bread she’d sliced off the morning’s loaves, and a blue ceramic bowl full of pasta salad.

  Sam looked at the table with approval. Almost.

  It would have been a perfect summer dinner except for the sliced and steamed zucchini Gram had mixed with tomatoes from her garden.

  Sam tried not to shudder. Plenty of times, she’d been told that she was too old to feel revolted by certain foods, but she hated cooked zucchini with tomatoes. Yuck.

  And she knew exactly what she’d be told to do if she complained: take just a little.

  While the adults talked about work, about the differences between city and ranch life and what Mrs. Ely and Inez had been doing since they saw each other last, Sam watched Jake. He’d taken lots of vegetables.

  Quit acting like a baby, Sam told herself. At least the zucchini and tomatoes were sprinkled with toasted almonds. Using the silver serving spoon like a cutting horse, she tried to navigate around the zucchini and cooked tomatoes and take a scoop that was mostly almonds.

  She looked up when Inez mentioned that after three years teaching eighth grade science, she’d taken on a job as nurse’s aide, too.

  “We only had a school nurse three half days each week,” she explained, “so a couple of us teachers took up the slack. Mostly I was called on to diagnose sniffles and flu for kids who should’ve stayed home. And there were a few fakers, too, who showed up in the nurse’s office to dodge quizzes and tests.

  “For big excitement, there was the occasional P. E. injury. Dislocated fingers from basketball, bloody noses from slamming face first into the wrestling mat, twisted ankles from soccer, and a few broken bones from general fooling around. Actually, it was kind of fun.”

  “And yet you quit,” Maxine Ely said. She didn’t sound critical, S
am thought, just amazed as she added, “I can’t imagine liking any other job the way I do teaching.”

  “Bayfire was born,” Inez said helplessly.

  “I remember your voice when you called to tell me,” Jake’s mom said. “I could tell it was love at first sight.”

  “Absolutely,” Inez agreed, then turned to explain to everyone else. “Just after Bay was foaled, Dad got a call for a newborn foal to wobble around in a TV sitcom and he asked me to take Bayfire. Everyone on the set adored him and he was a natural in front of the cameras. The screenwriter wrote him into the script for six episodes and that took us to the end of the school year.” Inez shrugged. “Dad’s seventy-two and, uh, semiretired, so when he asked me to take charge of all the equines, I said yes. Since then, I’ve never looked back. It’s the best job in the world. Most days.”

  Inez didn’t have to tell anyone at the table that she was worried about Bayfire. They all knew.

  “What makes your horse so special?” Gram asked. “Sam and Brynna tell me he’s won some awards.”

  Inez considered the question for a second. “What makes him special is what’s missing right now. There are lots of pretty trick horses—most of them white if they’re ridden by stars—and lots of stunt horses. For those, they like bays or browns, so they can blend in and do their trick—falling is a big one in historical battle scenes—over and over again without the audience noticing it’s the same horse.”

  “They do that?” Sam said, and just as she asked, she realized many times when Inez began discussing Bayfire, she veered away from his problems and talked about moviemaking instead.

  “They do that, and they use computer generation,” Inez said. “Usually when you see a huge battle scene with hundreds of horses, it was shot with a few dozen horses and then they’re”—Inez moved her hand in a rolling motion, still holding her sandwich—“replicated. Don’t ask me exactly how.”

  “Technology,” Gram said, and the way she tsked her tongue sounded slightly disapproving. “But your horse doesn’t need computers to help him look good, does he?”