The Wild One

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Authors: Terri Farley
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eyes. Sam longed for some lip balm and she wished she hadn’t chopped off her hair. Braiding it might have made her feel tidy. She leaned close to the mirror and fluffed her fingers through her bangs.
    It sure was a lot of trouble, proving she was tough enough to belong.
    Finally, Sam tucked her hair behind her ears.
    â€œBest I can do,” Sam said as Gram’s reflection appeared alongside hers.
    â€œYou look like a cowgirl, and that’s all the horses care about.” Gram kissed her cheek, then stood back as if she had more to say. “I know Jake gets on your nerves, sometimes.”
    â€œIt’s worse than that.” When Sam noticed she’d put her hands on her hips, she let them slide off. “He either ignores me or acts like a mother hen.”
    â€œDon’t you think that’s natural? After youraccident?” Gram asked.
    â€œI don’t know what it is, Gram.” Sam leaned over and whispered, loudly, “But he’s driving me nuts!”
    Sam waved good-bye and took two minutes to rummage through the tent for her black sweater. No luck. She jogged to the corral and arrived as Jake rode by, herding most of the saddle horses in front of him.
    â€œI left Ace and Strawberry for you,” he said. “Just take the path up that ridge.”
    His gesture was easy to follow, and Sam had no doubt she could handle the last two horses.
    After a lazy day just moving with the remuda, Ace rushed the fence, seeming glad to see her.
    â€œHi, good boy,” she said, stroking the velvety nose he thrust over the fence. Ace nodded until his forelock uncovered the white star high on his forehead and she rubbed that, too.
    Sam considered the short ride up the ridge and decided to ride him bareback, while she led Strawberry.
    Jake had said he’d taken all the other horses, but as she entered the corral, Sam noticed a third horse tied nearby, at the same time that she smelled cigarette smoke.
    The brown Thoroughbred had the long legs and deep chest of a steeplechaser. Double sets of saddlebags hung from his saddle and the man drawing his cinch tight was Linc Slocum.
    Everything about the horse and saddle made Samnervous. She bridled Ace, thinking that Slocum was prepared for more than nighthawking. Just the same, Sam returned Slocum’s wave, before leading Ace from the corral.
    â€œI’m giving you a break from that heavy saddle,” Sam muttered as she vaulted onto Ace’s back. “Don’t dump me and make me look bad.”
    Aunt Sue would have said the gelding acted sweet as a lamb. As he plodded up the trail, Sam watched the sky. Dark clouds hung over an amazing sunset. Often, over the past two years, Aunt Sue had coaxed her to watch San Francisco Bay turn gold as it swallowed the setting sun. The scene was always nice, but for Sam fell far short of entertainment.
    Today, Sam had seen the sun rise and set. No one had prompted her to watch. The fiery tangerine color flooding the desert foothills made Sam understand Aunt Sue’s enjoyment.
    Then she heard him. Sam knew, even before the horses’ ears pricked forward, that the Phantom had returned. His nicker floated around her like the words to a secret song.
    â€œWhere is he, Ace?” Sam whispered. “Where?” She twisted at the waist, scanning every rise and dip of the land around her.
    Somewhere, hooves skittered on rock. Sam urged Ace and Strawberry up the trail for a better view, but still there was nothing, except Slocum’s shout.
    â€œI knew it!” His words carried from below.
    No! Slocum must have spotted the stallion first. His Thoroughbred leaped into action, covering yards of desert, stretched low as a greyhound.
    Ace pulled at the bit and danced in place, eager to join the chase, but Sam kept him reined in. Still she saw nothing.
    â€œYou okay?” Jake was suddenly there on foot. He grabbed her reins near the bit and gave a tug to make Ace settle.
    â€œI’m

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