Golden Ghost Page 7

  Brynna recoiled a little. “For how long?”

  “Just a few days, that I saw.”

  “She may have come from another herd,” Brynna mused.

  “From a band that was sick and, like, maybe she brought the disease with her?”

  Brynna was shaking her head. “You never know. She could have been feral.”

  Brynna’s eyes took on a faraway look and her fingers began braiding her hair, almost as if they had minds of their own. She rocked a little in her chair and Sam could tell she was thinking.

  Sam’s heart didn’t want to know what Brynna was mulling over. Her head did. Brynna was a biologist. She’d studied all kinds of things that could go wrong with wildlife.

  Sam leaned forward with her arms folded across her book and papers. Algebra forgotten, she watched her stepmother. At last, Brynna’s eyes refocused. Head tilted to one side, she said, “There is something I’d forgotten all about. I’d have to do more, study…”

  Sam swallowed hard, then asked, “What is it?”

  “The fatal white factor,” Brynna said. “It’s a genetic condition. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

  Sam’s chest tightened. She pictured the Phantom as a long-legged black foal learning to stand in River Bend’s warm barn. Her imagination showed him turning into a young gray. Now, he was silver and soon, very soon, he’d be completely white.

  Chapter Eight

  “I’ve heard of the fatal white factor,” Sam said. She tried to push back a wave of dizziness. “But what is it, exactly?”

  “Nothing for you to worry about,” Brynna said. She took a deep breath. “I just keep saying the wrong thing, don’t I?”

  “But I want to know,” Sam insisted.

  Brynna nodded as if she understood.

  “As I remember, it only occurs in all-white foals of pinto parents.”

  The Phantom’s father was a gray and his mother was sorrel, but Sam kept listening.

  “Foals,” Brynna said with emphasis, “with this condition, are born with an intestinal problem. I am sorry, Sam. It just popped into my mind when I was thinking about that pinto mare. I didn’t mean to give you something else to worry about.”

  For a minute it was quiet. There was one last, ugly thing Sam had to ask about the dead mare. When she finally did, Sam found she couldn’t ask it above a whisper.

  “Did they just leave her out there?”

  Right away, Brynna knew what Sam meant.

  “Jake’s dad and brothers picked her up. She’s being examined by state vets to see what happened.”

  “Okay,” Sam said. She didn’t want to know any more, and felt a moment of worry when Brynna tossed her loosely braided hair back over her shoulder and went on.

  “Look, if there were any defects in the Phantom’s herd, they would have shown up long before now. As far as I can see, the only things your horse is transmitting to his herd are speed, beauty, and—since they’ve managed to outwit mustangers for so long—intelligence.”

  Sam couldn’t help smiling. It felt like Brynna had given her a personal compliment. How weird, Sam thought, that Brynna was giving her more support than her best friend.

  Brynna pushed away from the table just as Gram came back into the kitchen carrying a big box.

  “I got a present for Sweetheart in New Mexico,” Gram said. “It was too big to carry home on the plane, so I mailed it home.” Gram gestured toward the sound of a retreating vehicle. “They just dropped it off.”

  Gram used a paring knife to slit open the box. She folded back the flaps and lifted out a purple and turquoise horse blanket decorated with angular white hearts.

  “Handwoven,” Gram said. “I am such a fool over that old horse, but I figured if I liked to keep my old bones cozy in the wintertime, so would she.”

  Both Sam and Brynna admired the blanket, until Gram folded it back into its box, set it aside, and turned to the stove.

  “I’d better get dressed for work,” Brynna said, but she turned back.

  “It’s Saturday,” Sam said. “Do you have to go in?”

  “I have some catching up to do,” Brynna said. “Besides, they might have some results on that mare. They were supposed to fax them over immediately. You know Sam, we could have missed something very simple.”

  While Brynna was upstairs, Sam worked to finish her math. She was almost done when Gram clanged a pot lid back on.

  “Samantha, what have I told you about patience?” Gram demanded. “A good cook doesn’t rush food.”

  Sam had no idea why Gram was yelling at her. Her bewilderment must have shown on her face.

  “These potatoes,” Gram said, pointing, “are pale as fish bellies. They needed to fry another five minutes, at least, before you turned them. Now they’re crunchy on one side and limp on the other.”

  Sam felt a surge of anger at Gram’s injustice, but she took the blame. Brynna was having a tough enough time fitting in without Sam tattling that she’d been the one who’d meddled with breakfast.

  Boots stamped on the porch, then Dad came in. By the alert way he surveyed the two of them, Sam could tell he’d heard Gram’s voice. He didn’t say anything, though, just brushed some straw from his shirt-sleeve.

  The movement startled Sam and she wondered if it was Brynna’s influence. Dad rarely thought about looking tidy.

  Gram picked up another pot lid, then slammed it back down.

  “And heavens, girl, it’s not that I don’t appreciate the help, but what did you do to this oatmeal?”

  Gram scooped up a wooden spoonful of the cereal. A gluey glop dripped off the spoon and back into the saucepan. “It’s not fit to eat.”

  “It was me, Grace,” Brynna confessed, as she strode back into the kitchen.

  She looked efficient and professional in her khaki uniform, but each word in the sentence dwindled.

  As if she felt her confidence fading, Brynna took one long step to the sink and rinsed her coffee cup. Without putting it down, she dried it and returned it to the cupboard.

  “I have to go in early,” Brynna said. “I’ll call if I learn anything about that mare. Sam, some of those old mining areas are really dangerous. Mine shafts, contaminated groundwater…” Brynna made a wide gesture. “Nugget’s been the scene of some nasty accidents.”

  “I’m always careful,” Sam promised.

  One corner of Brynna’s mouth rose in a skeptical smile and Sam wished Dad or Gram would rush in and convince Brynna everything was fine. Instead, Gram made herself super busy at the stove and Dad just let Brynna keep going.

  “I’ve read real documentation—not gossip—on a man who broke both legs when the ground beneath him gave way, up there.”

  “I wouldn’t walk anyplace that looked unsafe,” Sam began.

  “On the surface,” Brynna warned as she smoothed one hand through the air, “it looks completely normal. Underneath, it’s honeycombed with tunnels.”

  Brynna watched Dad as she added, “And if Ace hesitates to drink, trust his instincts.”

  Dad nodded in agreement, but apparently that wasn’t enough for Brynna. She strode across the kitchen and had her hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, when she turned back. “I don’t think it’s a safe place for you to be.”

  Sam took a deep breath. Everyone knew she was going up there for school, not for fun, so what was the problem?

  “Are you saying I can’t go?” Sam asked.

  Brynna’s eyes flew to Dad’s.

  “You’d know if we were saying that,” Dad told her. “Just stay sensible.”

  “I will,” Sam said. “And Gram told me the chores you want me to do. I’ll get started as soon as I change.”

  Then, before Dad added more chores to the list or launched into another lecture, she hurried upstairs.

  Sam rushed through her chores and called Jen to ask her to ride out as far as the bus stop to meet her. They agreed to bring their lunches, so they could spend plenty of time in Nugget without getting hungry.

>   But Sam had one more detail to take care of before she left the house. She called Jake.

  Sam didn’t really expect Jake to answer. It was ten-thirty, and by this time, she was pretty sure he’d be out working on the irrigation system. But there were seven Ely brothers and two parents, so Sam figured someone should be around to answer the phone. She just hoped it wouldn’t be Jake’s mom. Although she was really nice, and had known her since she was born, their conversations often felt a little awkward, because Jake’s mom was also Mrs. Ely, Sam’s history teacher.

  “Hi Samantha,” Mrs. Ely greeted her. “Jake tells me you’re working on your history project.”

  “Yes, ma’am, we are,” Sam said. “I’m just about to go meet Jennifer Kenworthy. She’s my partner.”

  “I remember,” Mrs. Ely said. “Are things going all right?”

  “Well…”

  “Your Dad’s not giving you a hard time about going up there, is he? I went myself just a few weeks ago to check it out. There’s no way I’d send any of my students somewhere dangerous.”

  “I think Brynna’s more worried than Dad,” Sam said. She felt a little disloyal, but it wouldn’t hurt to let Mrs. Ely know she was determined to get the project finished with or without parental support. Maybe she’d think Sam deserved extra high marks for extra hard effort.

  “I’ll have a talk with her,” Mrs. Ely suggested.

  For a minute, Sam thought that might work. Then she reconsidered. Dad liked Mrs. Ely a lot, but he thought she was a little bossy.

  “You know, I think we’re working it out,” Sam said.

  “That’s probably for the best,” Mrs. Ely said simply. “So, I bet you didn’t call about the project. Although I can’t help but remind you the artifact and accompanying notes are due Monday. And when you do that map, make sure you mark the spot where the artifact was gathered. I want it returned. Nugget isn’t recognized by the state as an historic site yet, but when it is, I don’t want my students to be responsible for removing significant relics. Then the mapping and field notes are turned in on Friday.”

  Sam’s head was spinning. Even though she knew all of this, it was different hearing it directly from the teacher. She took a deep breath to respond. Before she could, Mrs. Ely’s voice turned unteacherly.

  “But I bet you called to talk with Jake.”

  “I did, actually,” Sam said. “Could you have him call me later?”

  “Sure,” Mrs. Ely said. “But he already said he wanted to borrow his dad’s truck and drive over to River Bend tonight. Something about math homework? Hard to believe on a Saturday night, and you can imagine how his brothers were harassing him about it.”

  She could imagine it, and she was surprised Jake had already planned this. He couldn’t possibly know what she wanted to talk about.

  After Sam had said good-bye and hung up the phone, she wondered, not for the first time, whether Jake Ely was psychic, or just knew her way too well.

  Every minute of the ride toward Nugget, Sam breathed in the cold winter air and watched for the Phantom. The thin layer of snow had vanished from the flats, but it still clung to the shady side of the foothills and she was glad she’d worn thermal underwear beneath her shirt and jeans.

  Sam’s eyes skimmed the pine-studded ridge tops, the deer paths, and wind-scrubbed sky. As she searched for the wild mustang, she tried to absorb the sights and store them up. In a few days, she’d ache to be back out here instead of back at school, confined by classroom walls.

  As she and Jen rode past the trail to Lost Canyon, she looked carefully. Arroyo Azul lay in the bottom of the canyon, and several times she’d seen the Phantom headed that way. But not today.

  Jen, wearing a bulky pink ski jacket decorated with snowflakes, didn’t seem to mind Sam’s preoccupation. In fact, they were nearly to Nugget by the time Jen blurted a question she’d probably been mulling over all day.

  “Why is she there?”

  Sam knew Jen had to mean Golden Rose, but she didn’t get a chance to answer.

  “I mean, I’m glad she’s in Nugget, because she might be there again today, but horses are social animals. Why wouldn’t she be with a herd?”

  Jen’s head was tilted to one side as she waited for Sam to answer.

  “I’ve sort of been wondering, too. And she looked clean. You said she’s been missing for more than two years, right?” Sam paused as Jen nodded. “But Jen, her mane wasn’t even tangled.”

  “It doesn’t make sense. I didn’t notice her feet, did you?” Jen asked, clearly thinking that if the mare’s hooves had been trimmed, she hadn’t been running wild all this time. “She was prancing, but I think that’s her natural gait.”

  All at once, Sam slowed Ace to a gentle jog. “Here’s where we saw the mirage yesterday. I wonder if we’ll see it again.”

  As Jen looked skyward, the lenses of her glasses reflected the gray bellies of the clouds. “The weather’s not nearly so bright.”

  “You did see the horse in the mirage, didn’t you?” Sam asked.

  “What?” Jen’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “This is why you’re good at creative stuff at school. I only saw upside-down buildings. Weren’t they enough for you?”

  “Well, I thought I saw a horse.” Sam said it hesitantly, though she was positive of what she’d seen.

  “You just wanted to see a horse,” Jen assured her. “You’re always looking for the Phantom. Come on, let’s gallop a little. I want to have plenty of time to find Rose and do our project.” Jen caught Sam’s concerned touch on Ace’s neck. “They’ll have time to cool out once we start up the grade into Nugget.”

  “I know I was just going off about your imagination,” Jen said as they reached the main street of Nugget. “But doesn’t it feel different than before? Like someone’s here?”

  It did. Sam felt Ace quiver beneath her, and then he neighed.

  “Another horse,” Sam said as she recognized Ace’s greeting. “Gotta be.”

  “Let’s try that garden,” Jen whispered.

  A feeling like electricity, almost of being watched, streaked down the nape of Sam’s neck and she nodded at Jen.

  As if they understood, Ace and Silly took quiet steps to the right side of the street, passed the abandoned schoolhouse with its silent bell, then stopped as they reached the stark garden.

  It was empty, but both horses’ heads lifted. Their ears pricked and their nostrils worked. Sam glanced toward the ravine. Nothing, but—

  “Listen,” Jen mouthed the word and held a mittened hand beside her ear.

  Creaking. The sound of unoiled hinges came faintly to them. They wouldn’t have heard a thing if the horses had been moving. And it could just be the wind, but then, suddenly, there was the tick of something hard hitting wood and then muffled thuds.

  The image took only seconds to fill Sam’s mind. It sounded like a horse going over a jump.

  “Go!” she hissed at Jen, but she’d already sent Silly after the sound.

  They swung the horses around the edge of the schoolhouse, back onto the main street.

  “This is ridiculous!” Sam snapped when there was no horse on the street, no horse lunging up any of the hillsides. In fact, she saw no movement at all until she looked toward the cemetery. There, a black raven, big as a beagle, stood cawing next to a sagging wooden headstone.

  Reacting to their riders’ indecision, both horses kept their front hooves propped while their back legs danced, shifting from side to side.

  “Go on, girl,” Jen urged Silly. “Find her.”

  “If they’d even caught a glimpse of her,” Sam complained, “that whole herd instinct would have kicked in, but I don’t think they know where she’s gone.”

  Jen made a sound a lot like a growl. “And anything in town could have made that creaking sound.”

  It was true. Ahead, one bare cottonwood branch rubbed against another. Behind them, a shutter on the schoolhouse moved, and over to the left, a rusty chain had broken, but still s
uspended a wooden sign.

  “We’d better get to work,” Sam said, but Jen was still surveying the town, shaking her head.

  “I have to find her,” Jen insisted.

  “What we have to find is artifacts. This assignment—”

  “You look,” Jen said, whirling Silly away from Ace. “I’m going to check out that ravine. That’s where she went before.”

  “Je-en,” Sam heard her voice pull her friend’s name out in a beseeching way. She didn’t want to be left alone here.

  Jen sighed, as if she at least understood. Then, she pushed her glasses up on her nose with an impatient index finger. Then she glanced at her watch. “Give me thirty minutes.”

  Sam could tell it wouldn’t be worth her breath to argue, so she stayed quiet.

  Just then the raven croaked three times and Sam gave a nervous laugh.

  “Good thing I don’t believe in omens,” she said.

  “Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Jen scolded her. “You’ll be fine.”

  “That’s what they all say,” Sam shouted as Jen rode away. “In horror movies,” she added, as Silly’s white tail vanished around the corner of the schoolhouse. “And then…” Sam yelled louder, but she heard only her echo and Silly’s hooves clattering on the rock-strewn path into the ravine.

  Besides, what happened in horror movies when someone was left all alone didn’t bear thinking about.

  Chapter Nine

  “Okay,” Sam told Ace as she dismounted and ground-tied him. “I’m not going to do all the work for both of us.”

  Ace swung his head around to watch her loosen his cinch. His head bobbed.

  “Yeah, see,” Sam said. “You wouldn’t do it all either, would you?”

  Ace blew through his lips, losing interest. He stamped a front hoof, then turned back and loudly worked his tongue against his bit.

  “I get the hint,” Sam said and eased the gentle curb bit from his mouth.

  What she would do, Sam decided, was scope out the places she deemed most likely to have interesting and portable artifacts.

  She scanned this side of the street. General store. Assay office. Sheriff’s office. Icehouse. Battle-Born Saloon.