Mustang Heart - phantomstimeturner13 - The Phantom Stallion Series (2024)

Chapter 1: Okay, Garfield

Chapter Text

Sam leaned on the edge of the round pen, keeping a watchful eye on its singular occupant. Currently, the skinny bay mustang was pressed against the fence on the opposite side, as far away from her as possible. If she moved too quickly, he'd fly into a panic, maybe slam into the fence like he had the night he first arrived at River Bend. He had scrapes on his chest and ribs to prove it.

Only thirteen hands high and the color of dark chocolate, Sam had picked Windy out because he reminded her of Ace. Physically, at least. As far as personality went, the two geldings had little-to-nothing in common. Ace was confident and spunky. Windy seemed to be afraid of his own shadow.

“I'm sorry you're stuck in here, buddy,” Sam murmured. The sound of her voice wasn’t quite enough to spook Windy, but he did toss his head once, making the hunter green rope halter bounce on his nose. Sam hadn't been the one to wrestle that halter onto him- it was a souvenir from his time in the BLM holding pens, probably tied on when he was knocked out to be gelded. “I know you'd rather be out on the range with your friends.”

As if he understood her words, he lifted his head again, mournfully this time, staring down the driveway at the desert. Sam chewed her lip. It broke her heart to hold him captive, taking him away from everything he knew. She’d already had to talk herself down several times already, in the three days Windy had been hers, to prevent herself from opening the gate and letting him go, just like that.

It had been Brynna’s idea for Sam to adopt a TIP mustang. Like a summer job, but you're helping a horse! she’d said encouragingly. Starting completely wild, Windy would be Sam's project for the summer, and once he checked off all the skills on the list- leading, lunging, picking up his feet, and trailering- he would go to a new forever home. Sam would get to show someone how wonderful mustangs could be, and as a bonus, she’d get to make some extra cash.

“It'll get easier soon,” Sam promised through the bars. “I'm gonna convince you to be my friend, Windy. No matter how long it takes.”

Windy didn’t exactly seemed floored by her statement, but when the screen door slammed, he leaped forward a good six feet. “SAM! Let’s go!”

“Coming!” Sam called, hopping down from the fence. She would’ve liked to spend a few more minutes calming Windy down, but it was unlikely he'd draw any comfort from her murmured words anyway. Besides, Brynna’s tone had made it pretty clear she meant business. Sam jumped in the Jeep beside and they were on their way to work.

Windy the mustang wasn’t Sam's only summer job. Her stepmother had secured her an internship at the Bureau of Land Management- a paid one, fortunately- also under the pretense of combining Sam's love of horses with her need to pay for college. The internship didn’t accomplish either of those goals very well, considering it paid very little and Sam’s “work” had been entirely office-related so far, but she was enjoying her two days a week at Willow Springs in spite of herself.

“Any luck with your new friend?” Brynna asked conversationally. She was undoubtedly Sam and Windy’s biggest cheerleader, and Sam was almost embarrassed to have nothing to report.

“He still doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Sam admitted. “But it looked like he drank some more water overnight, and I gave him a couple more flakes of hay.”

“That’s good. For a while, I was worried he wouldn’t eat anything at all.”

Some mustangs adjusted easily to captivity and some did not. Windy was so far in the “not” category. Things that were normal to most horses were utterly terrifying to him. Buckets. A pan of oats. A hay bale. Most two-year-old horses were curious to the point of inconvenience, but Windy seemed determined to not experience any new things at all.

“I think he’ll come around,” said Sam, sounding more confident than she felt. So far Windy wouldn’t even tolerate her within fifty feet of him. And somehow she had to have him tamed by the end of the summer?

They made the rest of the drive to Willow Springs in silence.

Sam flicked on the lights and Brynna shut herself in her office with a stack of paperwork. Sam couldn’t help envying her a little- paperwork might be boring, but at least it was important. As an intern, Sam's main job was to start the coffee pot. On a really good day, she might get to look at some maps. Most days, she just talked about horses with Kay-Lynn and Tasha, while the former answered the phone and the latter manned the front desk.

I'm sure there's a learning experience in here somewhere, Sam thought as she straightened up the desk. And if nothing else, it’ll look good on my college apps.

“Morning!” Kay-Lynn chirped as she hung her jacket up on its peg. Tall and skinny with glasses that seemed to take up most of her face, Kay-Lynn’s motto was “be prepared”. She was the only employee who regularly brought a jacket- it was the end of May and absolutely gorgeous- and her feedbag-sized purse was a vault that contained just about every household item one might need while out and about. Despite having the mannerisms of a mom and the name of two grandmas, Sam thought Kay-Lynn was actually a lot of fun.

Their other coworker, Tasha Sanderson, was arguably even more fun. Arguably even too much fun. Tasha was a whirlwind, always showing up at seven-fifty-nine and talking a mile a minute about everything under the sun. She was the definition of a bit too much, but Sam found herself enjoying Tash’s company. Her “last Friday night” stories had redeemed many a dull morning at the front desk for all of them.

“I brought donuts!” Tasha announced as the clock struck eight. “That’s my excuse for being late. That and it’s Monday.”

“I hate Mondays,” Kay-Lynn sighed, although she looked just as professional and put-together as she did every other day of the week. At least, Sam assumed she did. She only ever saw Kay-Lynn on Mondays and Thursdays, the days she worked at Willow Springs.

“Okay, Garfield. Do you want a donut or not?”

Kay-Lynn wanted a donut. So did Sam. Chocolate with sprinkles, her favorite.

“I bet we will have…” Tasha drummed her fingers on the desk, as if she was thinking very hard. “…zero calls this morning.”

Kay-Lynn smacked her on the arm. “Stop manifesting. I'm already bored.”

“You're bored? Okay then, you have to hear about my weekend.”

Sam cleared her throat. “Uh, actually, I think I had the most interesting weekend this time.”

Tasha and Kay-Lynn both raised their eyebrows. “What exactly did you do?” Tasha demanded. “Cause mine involves-”

Sam covered her ears. “If your story has the word ‘DILFs’ in it again I do not want to hear it! I! Am! A! Minor!”

“Well, I was going to say I found this new pizza place that I love, but now that you mention it…”

“My new horse got here!” Sam interrupted, pulling her phone out of her jeans pocket. “Isn’t he cute?”

The photos of Windy with his head down in the round pen weren’t exactly cute, much less flattering, but Kay-Lynn and Tasha ooh-ed and ahh-ed sufficiently anyway. Horse pictures were one thing they could all agree on. Tasha actually had a PowerPoint called “Selfies with Tasha and Pebbles” that she made her coworkers watch when things got really dull at the office.

“A yearling?” Kay-Lynn guessed, squinting at Sam's phone despite her glasses. To be fair, the pictures were quite grainy- although Sam considered herself a pretty decent photographer, she hadn't exactly been able to get close to her subject.

“Two-year-old,” Sam corrected. “He's just a little runty. The drought was hard on the mustangs.”

“That’s why we had to round so many of them up, right?” Tasha asked rhetorically. Of the three girls, she was the only one who was a full time employee and not an intern. Therefore, she was also the only one who said “we” instead of “they” when referring to the BLM.

Sam nodded, although it was still a sore spot for her. It was one of the beliefs she held most strongly: mustangs should be free. But the extra roundups (and consequently, the adoption of Windy) had made sense. Thanks to the drought last year, many mustangs had gone hungry, and Sam would rather they were rounded up than starved. As it was, mustangs had died, and the antelope population was seriously down as well.

“At least there's no shortage of rain this year,” Kay-Lynn put in. “I get to show off all my cool umbrellas.”

Tasha snorted. “Are you talking about the kitten and puppy one? Is that your idea of ‘cool’?”

“What? It’s the definition of cool! Sam, you think it’s cool, right?”

“Um…” Sam pondered the puppy-and-kitten umbrella. “I think it’s preschool-core.”

“Hey!”

Sam was saved from further discussion by Boomer, another one of their coworkers. “Coffee?” he asked hopefully, poking his head into the room. Boomer- he had a real name that no one at the office knew- was one of the stockyard employees, but he made his way into the office as often as possible. Either he really liked the coffee or he had a crush on Brynna. Sam couldn’t tell.

“It’s ready.” Sam pointed to the pot she’d started earlier. “Tell me if it’s good.”

Boomer poured himself a very generous cup of coffee. “Mm. It’s good. Where’s Brynna?”

Another point for Theory Number Two.

“Right here!” Brynna called as she strode out of her office, a stack of file folders nearly obscuring her face. “What do you need?”

“Oh, I was just wondering,” Boomer replied. Definitely Theory Number Two.

Brynna set her pile of paperwork on the desk with a thunk. “What's all this?” Sam asked curiously.

“This,” Brynna announced. “Is crop reports from the tri-county area from the past five years.”

“That sounds…” Sam spent a moment fishing for the right word. “…boring.”

Brynna made a face. “Well…yeah. But that’s our job, right?”

“Our job?”

Brynna handed her stepdaughter a file. “Start reading, kiddo.”

Kay-Lynn and Tasha were each handed a folder as well. Brynna even offered one to Boomer, but he excused himself rather than doing paperwork. A point for Theory Number One.

Sam felt like her eyes were crossing as she scanned the sheet of numbers in front of her. “What am I looking for here, exactly?”

“Well, you just have to-”

Brynna’s explanation was cut off by the ringing phone. Kay-Lynn reached for it and spoke in her prim secretary voice. “Willow Springs Wild Horse Center, how may I help you?”

She paused, listening. Her already-pale face turned paler. “Brynna.”

“Hmm?” said Brynna. Kay-Lynn passed her the phone. “What? Where, exactly?”

Her tone sent a bolt of fear down Sam's spine. She shot a demanding look at Kay-Lynn, who said nothing, staring straight ahead like a ghost.

Brynna finished her conversation a moment later. “What's going on?” Sam demanded, as soon as the receiver clicked down.

There was a grim look on Brynna’s face, and she didn’t look at Sam when she spoke. “That was Ben Rowland. There's an injured wild horse on his property we need to investigate. He said to bring the vet.”

Sam sucked in a big breath of air, but Brynna wasn’t done yet.

“…and a gun.”

Chapter 2: Choices and Chances

Chapter Text

Sam didn’t consider herself a particularly religious person, but by the time she and Brynna climbed into Dr. Scott’s quite frankly disgusting Chevy, she had already prayed a number of rosaries and was Googling how to do the sign of the cross correctly. She needed it to be anyone but him, and pleading with God was the only way she could think of to make that happen. Any other horse. Anyone but him.

While Sam continued to pray and inwardly lose her mind, Dr. Scott’s SUV bounced and rattled over the back country roads that would lead them to Ben Rowland’s ranch. It wasn’t far, at least- maybe fifteen minutes from Willow Springs, if you were as indifferent to traffic laws as Glenn Scott seemed to be. Not that Sam was complaining. Actually, she was grateful- almost as grateful as she was for her seatbelt- because every minute that separated her and this wild horse, that separated her from knowing, felt like it was taking months or even years off her life.

On the other hand, both Brynna and Dr. Scott were way too nonchalant about this. They were acting as if this was a completely normal day, not a day where a wild horse was injured and words like “dead lame” and “blood everywhere” had been used. Sam wanted to scream at them but discovered she couldn’t find her voice. All she could do was sit and wait and hope and pray, and even that didn’t do any good because when they got there, it was still him. It was still her Phantom, head raised proudly but with stiff posture betraying his pain- that and the crimson stains marring his silver-white coat.

“Stay in the car,” Brynna ordered immediately. Her harsh tone- and the child lock Dr. Scott rudely activated- convinced Sam to obey. “Don’t do anything that might scare him. We can't have him run off on us.”

“He doesn’t look in any shape to run,” Sam murmured, her voice breaking as she stared at him through the window. They were three-hundred-some feet apart, but Sam still felt like she could see into the horse’s very soul. He was looking right at her- maybe because the Chevy was a moving object and he was a prey animal, maybe because of their special bond- and she wanted nothing more than to bust out the car window and run to him, if that was what it took.

Dr. Scott pulled a pair of binoculars out of his glove box and rolled his window down. The whir of the window was a strange enough sound to put the Phantom on his guard, trotting back and forth a few paces with his tail held high. Sam winced. She didn’t need binoculars to catch the painful limp on his right front leg, or the way his knee was swollen up like a balloon.

She waited with bated breath for Dr. Scott to say something- something more helpful than hmm. He adjusted the focus of his binoculars, his lips in a determined frown, and that in itself told Sam not to expect good news.

“Some kind of animal attack,” Dr. Scott stated. “Canine, most likely. If it was a cat, there would be claw marks on the hind end as opposed to puncture wounds on the lower body.”

Sam sucked in a big breath of air. She was all too familiar with the marks a wildcat would have left, thank you very much.

“Judging by the swelling, a severe infection has already set in, and he's clearly in a lot of pain.” Dr. Scott lowered his binoculars and looked Sam- Sam, not Brynna- directly in the eye. “The most humane course of action would be to put him down.”

“NO!” Sam cried, her voice way too loud for the confined space of the Chevy. She found she couldn’t stop herself from babbling on. “You can't! I won't let you!”

“Sam,” Brynna said gently. “I know how much this horse means to you, but you have to think about it rationally.”

Sam certainly did not feel rational at this moment in time. She couldn’t control her pounding heart or the tears streaming down her cheeks; did Brynna really think she was in a place to make grown-up decisions?

“Look at how badly he's limping,” Brynna instructed. Indeed, the Phantom was barely putting any weight on his injured leg. “I know you love him, but that should mean you don’t want him to suffer.”

“I don’t want him to suffer,” Sam agreed. What she did want was to throttle the people in the car with her. How could they look at an injured horse and not even want to give him a chance? “Can't we treat him? A dart gun with antibiotics or something?”

The grown-ups exchanged a look Sam did not like at all.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Dr. Scott stated. He seemed to be having a hard time meeting Sam's eyes now. “A severe infection like that won't go away in just a couple doses. Think twice a day for two weeks- that’s not realistic for a wild horse. Not to mention, decreased mobility makes him an easy target for predators. It would be much kinder to-”

“Then I’ll buy him!” Sam cried. “Adopt him. Whatever. We can round him up and I’ll do whatever it takes to get him better!”

Brynna pursed her lips. Dr. Scott drummed his fingers on the dashboard, clearly thinking very hard about what he was about to say.

“Sam,” the vet said gently. “Let’s pretend for a moment all the paperwork and bureaucracy doesn’t exist and that was legal. You could bring him home, put all the time and money in, and he still might never be fully sound. Do you understand me?”

“I don’t care,” she replied honestly. “I don’t ever need to ride him. I just want to give him a chance.”

“And if you gave him that chance…” Brynna chose her words carefully, not wanting to sound like she was agreeing to anything. “And if you gave it your best, and he was too far gone to heal, could you accept that?”

“Yes,” Sam replied again, although she wasn’t really being honest this time. Giving up on the Phantom wasn’t an option, not for her, at least.

Brynna raised her eyes to the high heavens, as if she was consulting the lord on this important decision. “I know exactly what your father is going to say about this.”

Sam's hopes soared. “You mean…I can do it?”

Her stepmother shot her a stern glare. “I’ll have to call in every favor I’m owed and you're definitely not getting a birthday present...but if Dr. Scott gives his blessing, we can attempt to rehabilitate him at the ranch.”

Sam turned pleading eyes to the vet, who nodded agreeably. “With aggressive medication and a little luck, he could go on to live a comfortable life. He's been an exception to every rule already. Why not give it a shot?”

Failing to read the room or control herself, Sam double fist-pumped. Brynna frowned. “Do not celebrate yet. You need to call your father and I need to call Maxine.”

Sam mentally compared her kind-hearted history teacher to the notably gruff Wyatt Forster. “…can we switch?”

“No,” Brynna said firmly, pulling her phone out of her pocket to show the conversation was over.

Sam took a deep breath and got her own phone out, her thumb hovering over the “call” button. Unfortunately, she couldn’t agonize over it for very long. There was so little time to waste.

Sam dialed.

Wyatt picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Dad!” Sam wasn’t sure if she was relieved to hear his voice or not. Probably not, honestly. “Okay, Dad, I need you to listen to me now and get mad at me later, alright?”

Wyatt correctly guessed exactly where this was going. “Does this, by any chance, involve a horse?”

“Yes. There's been an emergency at work.” So far, all of that was true. “There's an injured wild horse that needs to be rehabbed at our horse. Brynna and Dr. Scott are here and they're on board with it, so please, please, please say yes.” Also true. She was great at this.

“Well, it doesn’t exactly sound like I have much of a choice, do I?” he huffed. Sam’s shoulders sagged with relief. That was an agreement if she ever heard one. “Let me talk to Brynna.”

It seemed like Brynna had finished her conversation with Mrs. Ely, so Sam passed her the phone. Her stepmother instantly started talking a mile a minute, and Sam actually found herself a little intimidated. Work Brynna was scary.

After several minutes of businesslike conversation- mainly focused on exactly how the yard should be set up- Brynna returned Sam’s phone. Her jaw was set in a way that made Sam wonder if it hadn't gone well. Not that she dared to ask.

“Why did you call Maxine?” she asked instead.

“We’ll need a big group of riders, and she can usually round up three or four of her boys on short notice,” Brynna replied.

“Riders?” Sam repeated. “Why do we need riders?”

“Well, I don’t think you'll be able to just halter and lead him back to River Bend, and we all know how he feels about being roped, so running him in is my backup plan,” Brynna said dryly.

Sam looked out the window at the Phantom, still staring them down. His knee was easily twice its normal size, and he was barely putting any weight on it. “We’re going to run a horse that lame? It has to be five miles to home.”

“Quite frankly, it’s the lesser evil,” said Brynna. “Trailering him would involve building a chute and a catch pen while he's in it, which we have neither the time nor the money for. Not to mention, the trauma of loading a wild horse like that…”

She made some good points, but she sounded so infuriatingly practical that Sam couldn’t help being irritated with her. This wasn’t just any wild horse; it was the Phantom. There was nothing neutral or practical about it.

Unfortunately, Sam was treading on thin ice already. Instead of arguing further or trying to come up with another way, she just responded with “alright”.

Dr. Scott and Brynna continued to speak to each other in hushed tones, but Sam waited for the Elys in silence. Watching the Phantom, mainly. Somehow, he still managed to look noble with the bad leg and the bloodstained flanks. Sam's heart ached for him in a hundred different ways.

This isn’t how it was supposed to go, she thought bitterly. All I wanted was for him to be free, but I want him to be alive even more than that…right?

All in all, it felt like a decision she wasn’t qualified to make, but it was fully in her hands. Fighting for him seemed like the right, or maybe even the only choice to Sam, but she wondered, with a slight sinking feeling, if the Phantom might choose death over captivity if it was up to him.

When the Elys rode up over the hill, Sam craned her neck for the best possible look. Mostly, she was curious about who Maxine had managed to round up. All seven of the Ely boys were older than Sam, so it was anyone’s guess who would be hanging around their parents’ house at any given time. All Sam knew was that Jake was still at college and Kit was still in Hawaii, but it could be any of the other five.

There were four riders in total. Maxine and Luke, the parents, and Quinn and Bryan, two of seven sons. Sam was somewhat disappointed to see they hadn't brought along a spare horse for her, but she was relieved, too. It might be better to just wash her hands of the whole time, keep her head down while she still could.

Mainly, she didn’t want the Phantom to know the part she had in this little round-up. But that was a cop-out and she knew it.

There was no idle chit-chat or discussion of the plan. The Elys seemed to know exactly what to do, and they fanned out around the Phantom in perfect sync. Sam chewed her lip as she watched her horse’s reaction; he was obviously unhappy with the situation, but he was in no shape to retaliate like he normally would have. His trumpeted challenge didn’t carry the same weight when he was hopping lame on the right front.

It was enough to make Sam tear up, but she found she couldn’t look away, her nose pressed to the glass. Quinn took the lead with his bay roan cutting horse, Chip, and waved a hand to get the Phantom moving. The stallion flinched and tossed his head, but he stood his ground for the moment. With that bad leg, “flight” wasn’t an option, and a horse’s other survival instinct was “fight”.

“C’mon, Blackie, they're trying to help,” Sam murmured to herself, not caring if anyone else heard her. She watched as Quinn swung the end of one split rein at the Phantom, convincing him to move off the spot he'd rooted himself to. The Phantom reared and spun, and for a moment, he looked like his old self, except the only reason he chose that move was because it kept all of the weight on his hind end.

The rest of the family was on him in an instant, pushing him northwest, towards River Bend. The Phantom pinned his ears; it wasn’t in his nature to obey, but in this situation, he really had no choice. Even though the Elys weren’t pushing him very hard, he pushed himself into a trot, and Sam's breath caught in her throat. None of his usual elegance, gliding across the desert like a ghost- today he was a lurching Frankenstein’s monster of a horse, his head sinking lower with every stride.

“Must be some kind of puncture wound,” said Dr. Scott, breaking the thick silence that had settled in the car. “That degree of lameness is usually only associated with abscesses or fractures. And if he's a typical wild stallion, it’s actually much worse than he's letting on.”

It hurt Sam physically to think the Phantom might be in even more pain than he was alluding to. For a brief moment, she understood why the vet had suggested they put the Phantom down. They were asking him to do something incredibly difficult now, and it would certainly get worse before it got better- after all, they still had four-point-nine miles to go.

That didn’t mean she was changing her mind. It just meant that, if Sam was given the choice, she’d be the one to walk five miles on a bad leg, and the Phantom would be safe in the car. Not that that would work out well for anybody, she supposed.

It was hard to watch, but the Elys slowly drove the indignant Phantom off the rancher’s property. Dr. Scott followed from a distance, never getting in the way, but always keeping the riders in sight. Sam chewed her lip until it bled. Lunchtime came and went, but she didn’t feel hungry. The only thing she could feel was worry, both for her horse and herself.

She worried the most about the river crossing. Making up for last year’s drought, the rain had poured heavily all spring, and the normally-tame La Charla was now pushing whitewater rapids. A healthy horse would have no trouble fording it, but the Phantom was nowhere near full strength.

“Maybe he’ll just cross the bridge,” Dr. Scott suggested when Sam voiced her worries.

“I doubt it,” Sam murmured. The Phantom had crossed bridges before, but he'd learned to hate all things human now. It was unlikely he'd choose the rattling metal crossing over the water.

She held her breath as the Phantom approached the river. His silver flanks were drenched with sweat, a testament to how much the “run” had taken out of him, even though he hadn't once gone past a trot. He wavered on the banks, pawing at the muddy water. It became clear to Sam right then that he was going to jump in, and he wouldn’t even consider taking the easy way out.

In a last-ditch effort to push him towards the bridge, Maxine Ely approached on the left and waved an arm at him. The stallion didn’t hesitate to wade into the river; the water was all the way up to his swollen knee. Sam's heart pounded in her throat as the Phantom splashed through the fast-flowing creek. Every step seemed slower than the last.

“What happens if he goes down?” Sam asked desperately, almost certain she didn’t actually want to know.

“He won't, Sam,” Brynna assured her, although her eyes never left the struggling white horse.

As usual, Brynna was right. The Phantom staggered out of the water, tripping a little on the loose rocks, but overall, no worse off than he was before. Sam let out a shaky sigh of relief as the Elys gently nudged him into the front yard, where Wyatt had, true to his word, set up a catch trap with a number of extra panels. Starting at the spare round pen (thank God they were the kind of people who had two round pens) a line extended from both sides of the gate at a wide angle, appearing inviting but eventually leaving the Phantom no choice.

It took some fine horsemanship to get him all the way through. The Phantom was too familiar with pens and gates to cross that line willingly, and his bad leg didn’t stop him from wheeling around and trying to double back a few times. It didn’t help that, from his own pen, Windy was screaming bloody murder the whole time. He'd only been gelded a couple days before arriving at River Bend, and it seemed that had not really kicked in yet.

Quinn pushed Chip into the Phantom’s space, and finally, the stallion yielded, trotting into the catch pen with his tail streaming behind him. The second-youngest Ely jumped off his horse and slammed the gate, signaling the end of the chase.

Sam couldn’t tell if she was relieved or not, but she knew she should decide quickly. The screen door swung open, announcing her father’s presence, and it looked like she might have to explain her choices sooner than originally planned.

Chapter 3: Soft Heart

Chapter Text

“Samantha,” Wyatt Forster said through gritted teeth. “You did not mention it was this horse.”

Sam shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. She had expected this reaction, but she had not expected to face it alone. It was just bad timing that Brynna was helping push the Phantom into a DIY squeeze chute and Wyatt apparently could not wait to have this conversation. “I'm sorry. You know I would have wanted to help even if it was a different horse, though.”

“I know,” her dad admitted grudgingly. Sam's soft heart wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. “Any chance this arrangement is only temporary?”

Slowly, Sam shook her head. Brynna had explained it all to her. “No. Honestly, I wish it was, but he’ll become legally mine again and we won't be able to turn him back loose.”

Wyatt didn’t look like he quite believed her. Sam wanted to plead her case further, but she was distracted by the clanging of hooves on metal. She was horrified to see the Phantom rearing in the chute, while Luke and Bryan fought to hold the gate shut and Dr. Scott frantically tried to plunge his needle into the horse’s neck.

Sam abandoned her conversation without a second thought, running to the Phantom’s head. They had him pinned to the edge of the round pen, in theory so he could be sedated and safely handled, but he had to be losing his mind right now. Hands, a fence, and needles- all they needed was a rope, and it would add up to the Phantom’s worst nightmare.

“Blackie! Blackie, it’s okay,” Sam murmured from the outside of the pen. If they'd been alone, she would have used his secret name, but she wasn’t willing to share that one with the class. Too selfish, maybe, or she just knew he was too wound up for even the big guns to do any good.

He did stop rearing, though it was more out of surprise than anything else. He pushed back instead, straining against the gate panels that kept him so tightly contained. Dr. Scott was able to use his relative stillness to inject him with the sedative, but the Phantom still protested heavily, and he shook the syringe out of his neck aggressively.

Somehow, the vet was not fazed by this. He stepped down from the panel he'd been using as a stepstool. “That should be enough to settle him down. Boys, just hold him for a few more minutes.”

“We’re doing our best,” Bryan grunted.

Slowly, from a combination of sedative and helplessness, the fight slipped out of the Phantom. His eyes found Sam again, and her stomach dropped. There was so much anger in those eyes, and she instantly knew she should have stayed with her dad. Now the Phantom would associate her with the chute and the struggle, and it seemed unlikely he would ever forgive her.

When the Phantom’s head drooped and the sedation took its full effect, Bryan and Adam released the chute so Dr. Scott could do his work. “I’ll have to be fast,” he warned, climbing into the round pen with no shortage of trepidation. “Sam, be my gofer.”

That, she could do. She held onto the assortment of bottles, syringes, and bandages the vet would need and watched carefully as Dr. Scott examined her horse. He was cautious at first, but the Phantom was entirely conked out. His lip was nearly brushing the ground, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet, not reacting at all to the humans’ approach.

“Definitely a dog attack,” Dr. Scott declared, crouching near the Phantom’s swollen knee. “See this large tear here- from a canine tooth- then these smaller marks from the incisors? Bit him while he was running, got depth and length to the injury.”

He was gesturing for her to look closer, but Sam didn’t really want to get any more involved than she already was. The pus and bloodstains, not to mention the pain the Phantom was in, had already left her sick to stomach.

“This is a bit old to stitch, but since I doubt he’ll let you clean it regularly, that’s our best option to keep more debris from getting in,” Dr. Scott declared. Sam passed him his needle and thread, and he got to work.

Luckily, the bite itself was above the knee, although the swelling consumed the entire joint. Dr. Scott said that if the infection had taken root in the bone, their course of treatment would be different- Sam knew exactly what he meant by that, and she shuddered as the hooked needle made its first poke in the Phantom’s skin.

It was ugly work. Sam stayed out of it as much as she could, but Dr. Scott kept asking her to pass different bottles of disinfectant and a tweezers and a bucket, so she saw a lot more than she intended to. Pus, mainly. She hated pus.

When the stitches were done, Dr. Scott examined the rest of the sleeping horse. He had more bites on his flanks- almost as deep, but showing no signs of infection, and further away from the joints, which was what really made the knee bite dangerous. He had a long scratch on his right hind that would most likely scar. Whatever had gone after the Phantom had really meant business, and Sam knew he was lucky to be alive right now, human intervention or not. They cleaned the wounds as best they could, but when the Phantom began to stir, they wasted no time in ducking out of the round pen. Thirty feet away, from his own pen, Windy let out a squeal as if they'd wounded him personally.

Sam barely heard Dr. Scott explaining the aftercare instructions in vivid and perhaps excessive detail. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her horse, trotting around the round pen and whinnying frantically. He didn’t even seem to notice the pain in his leg, or the cuts on his chest, as he slammed into the fence.

“…and go easy on the pain meds,” Dr. Scott continued. “We want him to be comfortable, obviously, but not so comfortable he overextends himself. Wild horses are self-destructive as it is.”

As if to prove his point, the Phantom reared and snapped at Windy over the six-foot fence, briefly getting his good front leg caught up on the rail. Sam, Brynna, and Wyatt all managed small chuckles, but none of them actually found it funny.

“Good luck with him, Sam,” Dr. Scott concluded, briefly pulling her attention away from the stallion. “Call me if there's any problem. Otherwise, I’ll see you in a week to pull stitches.”

Sam nodded politely and thanked him. The vet paused. “One more thing. Sam, I'd be careful to ride out alone until somebody takes care of whatever did this to that horse. If it can do that much damage to the top stallion on the range…”

Sam shuddered, imagining being snuck up on by Evil Balto or a pack of coyotes or whatever hellhound had ripped her precious Phantom to shreds. “I’ll be careful. Really careful.”

That answer seemed to satisfy everybody, although Wyatt certainly looked concerned about whatever-it-was prowling around. He had cattle to worry about, too. Dr. Scott excused himself, offering to send the bill in the mail, and the three Forsters were left standing in the yard semi-awkwardly.

Wyatt and Brynna had we need to talk written all over their faces, so Sam decided to make the first move. “I’ll put this all away,” she said, gesturing to all the pill bottles the vet had left with her. “And start on my chores, maybe.”

“Good idea, Sam,” said her dad. His tone did not imply he thought it was a good idea. “We’ll talk later.”

Of course they would. Sam just nodded, feeling too much like a jumbled plate of spaghetti to communicate further. She took one last look at the Phantom- given the state of things, he offered her little comfort- and slipped into the barn. Their feed room was already kind of a mess, since Windy got antibiotics too and they were trying a joint supplement for Strawberry, but Sam cleared a space on one shelf to make room for the Phantom’s pills.

It was still so surreal, that he was here and he was hers and the next morning, she’d be mixing up a pan of grain for him along with Windy, Ace, Witch, and all the others. Sam couldn’t think of anything more bittersweet; it was like her dreams had just come true and been shattered in one fell swoop. She had no intentions of sorting out her feelings about it anytime soon.

When Sam left the feed room, she was surprised to bump into Quinn Ely, hands in his pockets and strolling casually down the barn aisle. “I thought you left ages ago!” Sam blurted out.

“Clearly, you have not been paying attention,” Quinn admonished. “We took down the whole catch pen and stacked it neatly. Less work for you to do, right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Sam concluded. Even though Quinn was several years older than her, she found she was not at all bothered by the ribbing. “What are you doing in the barn, though?”

“I'm here to check on the devil mare.” Quinn blew a kiss in the general direction of said mare’s stall. “Her owner will be back tomorrow; I thought I should have some kind of update ready for him.”

Despite being Sam's best friend or maybe second-best friend, Jake Ely had not told Sam the date he was returning from college. Jake was a man of few words and even fewer texts. It did not surprise Sam at all he'd neglected to share that information with her.

“Oh, do you want to take her back today, then?” Sam offered. While Jake was in college, she’d been gifted/punished with the responsibility of keeping his feisty black mare in shape. There had been plenty of ups and downs- mainly downs, aka Sam hitting the dirt- but overall, she was proud of the job she’d done. She hoped Jake- who had notoriously high standards- would feel the same.

Quinn shuddered at her suggestion. “You obviously haven’t tried ponying her anywhere.”

If Witch was irritable towards humans, she was downright hostile to other horses. It didn’t surprise Sam at all she didn’t do well being led from another horse. “Is it any better if you ride her and lead Chip?”

Quinn just about laughed in her face. “If you think there's anything in the world that could convince me to get on that horse, you are dead wrong.”

“I always knew you were a coward.”

He just rolled his eyes. “Uh huh. I’ll tell Jakers you said hi when he gets back.”

That sounded like a goodbye. Sam raised her eyebrows. “You won't stay for dinner?”

“Under no circ*mstances. Dad’s making chili. Gotta go!”

It was hard to argue with that. Sam waved him off, amused and feeling oddly better than before. She didn’t know the guy very well, but he was fantastic comic relief. It would have helped to have him at dinner.

It didn’t take long for the unpleasant emotions to start creeping back in. Sam needed a distraction, and getting a head start on evening chores seemed like the perfect way to do that. Between the horse drive and assorted medical proceedings, the day had slipped away, and it was later now than when she would have been clocking out at Willow Springs. She wondered if anyone had explained the situation to Kay-Lynn and Tasha- like many other things, they had completely slipped her mind.

Sam gathered up the feed pans and started measuring out the different grains. The familiar task soothed her, or at least, it did until she finished feeding in the barn and had to carry pans out to the round pen. Out there, it was too obvious something was different and wrong.

Wyatt and Brynna had gone inside, at least. There would surely still be consequences and “we need to talk” later, but Sam was pleased to put it off even for a short while longer. It was enough to deal with the Phantom, staring longingly down the driveway, and Windy, who was beginning to feel like an unnecessary headache.

She slid a pan of grain in for the Phantom, knowing it was unlikely he would eat it. He hadn't touched his hay yet, too busy pacing, calling, and doing other things that were not conducive to healing.

Windy was also making a menace of himself, although Sam was more optimistic about him taking a break to eat. He was trotting back and forth, pinning his ears and swishing his tail. Sam whistled to get the bay’s attention. “Hey, short stack! Did anyone ever tell you you're two years old and also a gelding?”

Windy spooked at the sound of her voice. It wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been hoping for, but it did effectively stop him from harassing the Phantom. Windy’s ears turned forward at the grain she pushed under the fence- he had adapted to that part of domestic life very well, actually- but he still wouldn’t approach it until she took several big steps away from him.

“One of these days, you will start to like me,” Sam told him, trying and failing to make it sound like a threat. For now, she would give the colt his space.

The Phantom was different. He didn’t fear humans, like Windy did- he resented them, hated them, even. After everything he'd been through, it made sense, but Sam had always been the exception to his distrust. She hoped she could still claim that, even though she’d taken part in capturing and restraining him- although, she’d acted with the best intentions and his own life in mind, not personal profit or vanity, like Slocum or the rodeo people had done.

At first, he didn’t even notice her, as she leaned on the outside of his fence. He was staring due east, presumably looking for his herd. He sure knew how to tug at Sam's heartstrings. “Blackie,” she said, but of course he wouldn’t respond to his old name. She looked around, making sure they were really alone, and then she lowered her voice. “Zanzibar.”

That got an ear flick, at least. “Zanzibar,” she said again, a little louder this time, and he actually turned his head. Sam was startled by the dark look in his eye, none of the warm trust he'd held for her before. It seemed the Phantom had neither forgiven nor forgotten.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered as he turned away from her again. “I know you don’t understand what's happening to you. You must feel so lost right now, and I do too. Just know I'm going to take care of you and you're going to feel better, alright?”

The Phantom let out a harsh snort, which Sam took to mean he was unhappy with her. And why wouldn’t he be? Hadn't she let him down?

“I'm sorry,” she said again, and she turned on her heel and fled.

Chapter 4: Magnificent White Stallion Acquired

Chapter Text

Family dinner was awkward. At least it was just the family- Sam, Wyatt, Brynna, Gram, and two-year-old Cody. For a long time, the ranch hands had been involved in family dinner as well, but Pepper had recently started a food-themed YouTube channel (“Just Add Pepper”) and now he cooked for Ross and Dallas in the bunkhouse. Sam had eaten his food once and been sick for a week, but the guys seemed to enjoy it.

Wyatt and Brynna must have talked while Sam was outside, and they must have filled Gram in on it too, because no one was talking about It. Actually, no one was talking, period, aside from Cody’s “buh-buh-buh” and banging his spoon on the table. When it suited him, he could produce words and even sentences, but most of the time, he preferred unintelligible syllables. Sam called him her little beatboxer.

Brynna cleared her throat somewhat awkwardly. “Sam, can you pass the p-”

“Potatoes?” Sam finished for her, handing her the heaping bowl with a little too much enthusiasm. Even Wyatt cringed.

Brynna still managed a perfectly polite “thank you”, because she was Brynna Freaking Forster and if the actual emergency hadn't been enough to make her lose her cool, then neither was a tiny bit of spilled potatoes. Sam apologized right away, and Brynna grabbed her napkin, and dinner went on as usual.

“Buh-buh-buh-buh…”

Sam just picked at her chicken. Even though she’d completely skipped lunch, she wasn’t at all hungry, but she didn’t want to make a big scene when the overall feeling at the dinner table was already so tense. When people said they could cut the tension with a knife, this was exactly what they were talking about.

It was almost a relief when Wyatt slammed his silverware onto the table. “I can't believe you brought that horse here.”

Sam couldn’t either. She didn’t exactly regret it, but the whole thing was such a tangled mess it made her chest hurt to think about it. She’d gone against every Phantom-related instinct she had, and despite what everyone else seemed to think, it hadn't been an easy choice for her to make.

“The alternative was to let him die,” Sam pointed out, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Brynna, tell him.”

“I've already told him,” Brynna replied in a perfectly neutral tone. She was really good at that. “It’s just a lot to process. For all of us.”

Sam included. “It’s not like I planned this,” she huffed. If it had been up to her, she never would have had to choose between the Phantom’s life and freedom, and even if she had, she never would have scheduled it when she already had so much on her plate.

“No, we know you didn’t,” Gram assured her, although her words came out a little strained, like she might have preferred to be scolding her granddaughter. If that was the case, she would have to get in line. “We’re just a little worried about your time management.”

Sam grimaced. Even she was aware that time management was not her best thing, but she tried to approach the thinly-veiled accusation rationally, which was not her best thing either. “Well, I won't keep Windy forever, and Witch is going home ASAP. Tempest is still too little to start, so I’ll just have three to do groundwork with and keep up with riding Ace!”

Her family looked at her dubiously.

“I can do it!” Sam insisted. She would never admit it, but it did hurt her feelings that they were all so quick to believe she couldn’t. “It’s not even that different from what I've already been doing! And I've handled that, haven’t I?”

Wyatt just shook his head. “When I was…oh, never mind. Do you have a plan for paying his vet bills? And adoption fee?”

He actually took a fairly even tone, but Sam's hackles still raised and she felt like she had to go on the defensive. “I have my savings! And my job at the BLM!”

Her solutions did not impress the table. “Sam, you make ten-twenty-five per hour,” Gram pointed out.

“I’ll figure it out!” Sam insisted, although her stomach flip-flopped at the prospect of attempting such a feat. “Brynna said it could be my birthday present!”

That was not exactly what she said, but it slipped out of Sam's mouth before she could think better of it.

Wyatt turned his accusing glare toward his wife. “Did you say that? Do you know much we usually spend on her birthday?”

“It can be her Christmas present, too!” Brynna said reasonably. Oh, thank god. Someone was on her side. “There are grants we can apply for that’ll help too. We’ll figure it out.”

Oh, right. When Sam said she’d “figure it out”, everyone looked at her like she’d suggested turning Ace into meatballs, but it was perfectly logical when Brynna said it. Life really wasn’t fair.

As if determined to prove she had this family wrapped around her finger, Brynna told them all what to do a second time. “Let’s talk about something else and enjoy this meal. I heard from Maxine that Jake will be back tomorrow.”

For some reason, Sam wasn’t sure why, the mention of Jake made her tense up. Of course, it had already been a fairly tense day, so maybe it was nothing.

“Do you talk to Jake very much, Sam?”

Sam gritted her teeth. “No, not really. Just once in a while.”

She was pretty sure the last time she had spoken to Jake was when he came home for Christmas. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss him or he didn’t miss her. It just felt impossible to connect over the phone or email- Sam had considered writing him a letter once, but brushed it off as too childish.

“You don’t send him pictures of the horses? On ChatSnap?” Gram asked innocently.

Sam groaned. It had been a rough day and she absolutely did not have the energy to explain SnapChat to her grandmother. “No, Gram, we don’t do that. I’ll talk to Jake when he gets back, alright?”

“Is he going to be working here this summer?”

“I don’t know; I haven’t been talking to him!”

“Well, maybe you should ask him!” Brynna prodded.

“I am not going to ask him anything after not hearing from him in six months!” Sam burst out. She shoved her chair away from the dinner table abruptly. “I'm going to the barn.”

Good thing she hadn't been hungry anyway.

Ten minutes later, Sam felt substantially better, flying across the desert on Witch. Her other option, Ace, had looked positively desolate when she rode by, but Sam had promised to take him out next time. This was her last chance to ride Witch- at least, she hoped it was.

When Witch was running full out and the sound of hoofbeats roared in Sam's ears, it was impossible to think of the Phantom or time management or if she’d made the right choice this morning. She could leave all that behind- albeit temporarily- while they streaked across the countryside, churning up the ground beneath them, right as the sun began to set.

Unfortunately, it was not quite impossible to think of Jake. Everything about Witch reminded Sam of him. Even though the black mare and her owner had nothing in common personality-wise, they were irrevocably connected in Sam's mind. She couldn’t look at Witch without thinking of Jake, a thought that made her grip the reins with a little more force than necessary.

She didn’t know why it bothered her so much that her family had brought up Jake at dinner, or that they'd all assumed the two would have kept in contact. Seriously, did they know Jake at all? Or worse, had he been regularly texting everyone except her? Sam pictured Jake on FaceTime with her dad and it irritated her so much she spurred Witch into a higher gear.

Witch obliged willingly, even though she couldn’t possible have much more speed left in her. Sam leaned forward in the saddle, keeping her body position low to avoid any unnecessary air resistance. This wasn’t a race; there was no opponent besides their own lengthening shadows, but there was something so freeing about going as fast as you possibly could. Sam had only discovered that with Witch, and only after much trial and error. It had taken a lot of guts to let Witch go the first time, and the second time, but by their last ride, Sam trusted Witch almost as much as she trusted Ace.

Almost.

A jackrabbit burst out in front of them, causing Witch to spook. Sam grabbed the saddle horn to steady herself while her mount snorted at the spot where the rabbit had been. “You're an idiot,” Sam told her, although she stroked the mare’s neck kindly. They were both a little shaky, coming down from the adrenaline rush.

Witch flicked one ear back. After so many months, she was used to it, but she had initially not vibed at all with Sam's habit of talking to horses like they were human. She’d been so used to quiet Jake, who said exactly what needed to be said and nothing more.

“We should probably head home,” Sam murmured, taking the reins in both hands again. She was suddenly and keenly aware of how close it was to dark, and what Dr. Scott had said about riding alone with whatever had attacked the Phantom still on the loose. She’d been so frustrated when she first rode out that she hadn't even thought of it, but it was starting to sound really important. “Actually, let’s go home really fast.”

By all logic, Witch should have been tired, but she didn’t protest when Sam spurred her on again. If anything, she ran faster the second time.

Sam thanked God for summer sunsets. It still wasn’t fully dark when she got back to River Bend with Witch, even though they’d spent an extra twenty minutes walking up and down the driveway, waiting for the sweat on Witch’s shoulders to dry. Equal parts relieved to be alive and relieved no one was waiting on the porch to scold her, Sam led Witch into the barn. “Well, chica, that’s it for us, our last ride. You’re that other guy’s problem now.”

Witch snorted. Sam's dad liked to tell her that horses couldn’t understand English, but Witch had made it very clear over the past few months that she did not appreciate being referred to as “chica”.

By the time Sam had Witch untacked and turned out, the sun had pretty well set, but the Phantom’s silvery coat seemed to glow in the moonlight. Sam hovered outside the round pen, uncertain if she should try to greet him or not. Ever since he'd gone wild nearly six years ago, they'd connected better under the cover of darkness, but maybe that didn’t matter, anyway. The Phantom wasn’t wild anymore, but he wasn’t tame, either. The way he walked that line made him dangerous, and he proved that point by rearing and spinning to turn away from Sam.

“This is why you can't have pain meds,” Sam told him, trying to act like she wasn’t hurt by his rejection. “You'd probably kill yourself.”

The Phantom refused to look at her, but the swish of his tail indicated she was probably right.

Sam's alarm went off way too early the next morning. Normally, she didn’t set an alarm on the days she didn’t work, but she knew this day wasn’t exactly going to be normal. Brynna had made that more than clear the night before.

Step one: haul yourself out of bed. Step two: the barn. Sam felt like she didn’t even wake up until she was halfway down the barn aisle and all the horses were clamoring for feed. “I'm doing my best!” Sam informed them, hurrying to the feed room and pouring grain into buckets once again.

She fed the stalled horses, then ventured back outside to the Phantom and Windy. The stallion and the gelding were staring each other down from their respective round pens, and Sam was pretty sure neither of them had touched their hay overnight. “Really? You guys need to grow up.”

Not surprisingly, neither of the horses responded. Sam slid a pan of feed into each pen; it didn’t matter who got which. The meals were identical- oats, sweet feed, and powdered antibiotics on top. The Phantom needed medicine because he (obviously) had lost a fight to a pack of wolves or whatever, and Windy needed it to keep his castration incision from getting infected. Talk about a horse you didn’t want to try cleaning a wound on.

“Bon appetit,” said Sam. She took a couple steps back to encourage the skittish horses to approach but kept watching for a few minutes. Once again, Windy was bribable. He lowered his head almost immediately and started nibbling at the grain. The Phantom was less sure. He snorted loudly, letting everyone know his feelings on the matter, and cautiously sniffed the feed pan.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” Sam said dryly. “In case you’ve forgotten, you used to eat from a bucket regularly.”

That had been such a long time ago. Sam still couldn’t believe he was back, and he would probably be back forever. It just seemed so wrong to see the Phantom fenced in, even though she fully understood why. Did she love him too much to put him through this? Or was this the second beginning of their once-beautiful partnership?

“I hope you can be happy here, Zanzibar,” Sam murmured. “That’s all I ask.”

He didn’t look at her or acknowledge the secret name, but he did take a bite of his grain. To Sam, that counted for something.

She headed back to the barn somewhat reluctantly. She could have watched her horses all day, but unfortunately, she had responsibilities, and she could already hear one of them kicking at her stall.

“I’M NOT TURNING YOU OUT!” Sam yelled. When she’d first brought Witch to River Bend, she had attempted to integrate the mare into the herd, but Witch had gone sicko mode and beat up all the other horses. Thus, the solitary confinement. Sam would be grateful when Witch went home and she would have one less stall to clean every day.

Halfway through the third stall, Sam heard her stepmother’s voice from outside. “Sam! Let’s go!”

“Already?!” Sam shrieked. She left the pitchfork in the half-cleaned stall and hurried out to meet Brynna. So much for having all her chores done before they left.

Sam was out of breath and basically infused with the scent of horse manure when she met Brynna by the Jeep. “Just so you know, I have not had breakfast yet. Or brushed my teeth.”

Brynna slapped a Pop-Tart into her hand. “I brought you food. I guess I’ll just have to deal with the smell.”

“S’mores. My favorite.”

The drive to Willow Springs was quiet. Even the crinkling of the foil packet felt like too much noise. Sam knew it was because they were supposed to be talking about What Was Going To Happen but neither of them wanted to. Brynna had already gone through it with her last night anyway.

Sam nibbled her Pop-Tart slowly for two reasons. One, so it would feel like a more substantial breakfast, and two, so she’d have an excuse not to chit-chat. She took her last bite right as Brynna was parking the car. She was saved from further conversation by Brynna’s cell phone ringing at that very moment.

“I have to take this,” Brynna mumbled, pressing the phone to her ear and power-walking into the office. Sam followed behind her and was immediately assaulted by her two favorite coworkers.

“SAM!” Tasha yelled, throwing her arms around her. “YOU'RE BACK!”

“Easy!” Sam sputtered, gently pushing the hug away. “It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you saw me!”

“Yeah, but it was like the most dramatic twenty-four hours of our lives!” Kay-Lynn retorted. She’d been hanging back just a few feet. “First of all, we were left in charge of the office, and you know that’s not good. Second, Boomer wouldn’t tell us anything, so we have no idea what's going on.”

“Boomer was your main source of information? That’s your problem right there,” Sam joked, but she followed it up with a deep sigh. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“Is the horse okay, at least?” Kay-Lynn asked.

Sam winced. “The horse is…not great. He's at my house and I'm adopting him.”

Both Tasha and Kay-Lynn started freaking out. “That is so great!” Tasha cried. It was not great, but Tasha didn’t know any better.

“It’s like…Romeo and Juliet, but with a horse,” Kay-Lynn said dreamily, and she didn’t know the half of it.

Tasha swatted her on the arm. “Why do you always go straight to the one where they die at the end? Sam, do you have any pictures?”

After a moment of deliberation, Sam shook her head ‘no’.

“Well, then please provide us with a detailed verbal description, starting now.”

“Um…” Sam paused, not sure how deep she should jump into this story. Eventually, she realized she had the perfect angle right in front of her. “Have you ever heard the legend of the Phantom?”

Tasha gasped. Kay-Lynn covered her mouth. “You're kidding.”

“I'm not kidding,” Sam promised, and for the first time, she let herself feel a little bit excited about the Phantom’s return. It would always be a little bittersweet, but there was something magical about getting her childhood horse back, too. “Magnificent white stallion acquired. But he's not in super great shape.”

“Well, yeah,” said Tasha. “I didn’t figure they called the vet on him because he was just so fit and healthy.”

Kay-Lynn elbowed her. “Can't you just listen to the story?”

Sam cleared her throat. “Well, okay, the complicated part is-”

She didn’t get to tell them the complicated part. Brynna’s office door swung open, and that dried up conversation quite effectively. The fearsome Brynna Olsen-Forster brought with her a grim expression and a stack of paperwork. “I have good news.”

Her face did not look like she had good news. Sam tried to be optimistic anyway. “What's your good news?”

“Since it can't be photographically proven the Phantom is your runaway childhood horse from five years ago, there are substantially fewer hoops to jump through.” Brynna mimed throwing confetti.

“WHAT?” Kay-Lynn and Tasha both gasped.

Sam shook her head. “Later, later. That is good news, Brynna.”

It was really the best option any of them could think of- Sam and Brynna both had too strong a sense of justice to not tell the BLM about the Phantom’s origins, but it also made sense that the BLM didn’t believe them. The Phantom looked nothing like the pictures of two-year-old Blackie, he was unbranded, and he had no helpful identifying markings, so the only thing that could count as “proof” was his connection with Sam. It was unlikely that would hold up in court.

“We can basically just proceed like a normal adoption,” said Brynna. She slapped the stack of paperwork on the desk. “Get ready to sign your name a million times.”

Sam did as she was told while Brynna read the terms and conditions out loud. Tasha and Kay-Lynn just looked on curiously.

“Congratulations on your new friend,” said Brynna, when Sam had signed everything including the check.

Sam managed a “yay”.

Brynna checked her watch. “I'd better get some actual work done. Sam, your grandma will pick you up around lunchtime. Stay out of trouble until then, alright?”

“When have I ever gotten into trouble?” Sam protested, and Brynna didn’t even dignify that with an answer.

“You're about to be in trouble with me,” said Kay-Lynn once Brynna’s door shut. “What do you mean, the Phantom is your childhood horse?”

“That,” Sam said sternly. “Is a secret.”

Tasha pointed an accusing finger at her. “I told you the DILF thing! You can absolutely tell us about this.”

“First of all, I asked you not to tell me that,” Sam reminded her, but eventually, she realized she had a better chance of keeping them quiet if they understood the gravity of the situation. She told them the whole story, starting with knock-kneed baby Blackie and ending with the scar on the back of her head.

“Wow,” said Tasha, as Sam flipped her hair back to its normal part. “That’s wild. Someone could write, like, twenty-five books about that.”

“Twenty-four,” Kay-Lynn corrected.

“You guys are weird,” said Sam. “This kind of stuff happens to people all the time.”

Her friends didn’t look like they believed her. Tasha reached over and patted her hand gently. “We’ll let you off because of the head injury.”

“Thanks?” Sam tried. But she had to admit, they had made her feel better.

By the time Gram (with Cody in tow) arrived to pick her up, Sam had gotten pretty damn antsy. Being at work on a day she wasn’t supposed to be was weird and also boring. Despite the major kerfuffle the day before, there was basically nothing to do. After talking about said kerfuffle for like an hour, Tasha went back to her working on her selfie PowerPoint and Kay-Lynn started alphabetizing things.

Needless to say, Sam basically threw herself into Gram’s ancient and impractical Buick at the earliest opportunity. Gram somehow managed to look alarmed without looking surprised. “Did everything go alright, Sam?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, it was fine. I think. He didn’t break anything while I was gone, did he?”

“The horse, you mean?”

“Who else would I mean?”

“Well, Cody did break a tooth.”

“WHAT?” Sam turned around and looked at her baby brother in his car seat. “Cody, smile!”

Cody was not exactly what one might call “an obedient child”, but he did love his big sister, so he flashed her a grin. Sam saw what Gram was talking about. “Aww, that’s just a chip. What’d he do, eat rocks or something?”

Cody clapped his hands at her implication, as if he thought that was a very good idea indeed. Gram shook her head. “He ran into the car before we came to get you.”

“Oh.” Sam flinched. She had once been a clumsy toddler too, and she knew from experience those old cars weren’t very forgiving. “Ouch.”

“The horse has been fine, though. Moody as a snake at a square dance, but fine.” Gram’s face tensed as she guided the car through a particularly-steep section of the mountain pass. Sam wondered for at least the hundredth time why they had put wild horse holding pens in such a terrible spot. She would rather kiss a coyote straight on the lips than try to maneuver a horse trailer up there. “Your little one, though. He's made quite a fuss.”

Sam groaned. “That sounds like Windy.”

Despite being all of thirteen hands, Windy possessed an attitude typically only found in hot-blooded Thoroughbred stallions or chestnut pony mares. Sam was grateful the program she’d signed up for didn’t include any saddle training.

“You should check on him when we get home. And maybe see about halter breaking him, too.”

“He's only been here a few days, Gram! I don’t want to rush him!”

“Land sakes, Samantha- which one of us knows more about horses, me or you?”

Sam winced. Sometimes she forgot that, despite being more interested in the domestic arts these days, her grandmother had basically grown up on horseback.

“That horse is scared and all alone right now,” Gram continued. “And it’s not going to get better until he makes a friend here. By my count, he still has twenty-four days of quarantine left, so it’s going to have to be you, isn’t it?”

“That sounds right,” Sam agreed cautiously. All the words made sense, but she did not like the tone her grandmother was taking with her. “I’ll go out to the barn as soon as we get home, I promise!”

Gram nodded affirmatively. “Yes you will. And you will get a halter rope on that horse!”

That, Sam was not willing to promise. She liked to think she was pretty good with horses, but Windy had every reason to be terrified of humans. It was going to take more than a day’s work to get him over that.

She went straight to his paddock when they got home. Not surprisingly, Windy shied away from her approach, but then he tossed his head and trotted back in her direction. It was more likely an attempt to challenge the Phantom than a gesture of friendship, but Sam was still pleased. “I’ll be right back,” she promised as she headed into the barn. “I think you might like me better with a bucket of grain, anyway.”

She never made it to the feed room. She stopped in her tracks as soon as she opened the barn door, staring at the black horse tied in the alley and more importantly, the person heaving a saddle onto her back. Sam reminded herself to breathe.

“Jake.”

Chapter 5: Different Problems

Chapter Text

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Jake was there- didn’t it make sense he'd made it home and wanted to see his horse right away? Sam would have done the same, but she was still caught off-guard to run into Jake at River Bend, saddling his horse like he'd never been gone.

“Uh,” Sam said intelligently, still frozen in the doorway. “Hi.”

Jake looked up at her briefly and replied with “mm”. He'd always been a man of few words.

She got her wits back together and actually stepped into the barn. Jake had turned his attention to cinching up Witch, so Sam had free rein to unintentionally check out her best friend for a moment. She hadn't seen him since New Year’s Day, almost six months ago now. Oddly, he looked exactly the same and completely different than before. She couldn’t put her finger on it.

She and Jake had been friends (or at least, acquaintances) since they were toddlers. Most of that friendship had been comprised of bickering, teasing, and occasionally riding their horses together- only in the past few years had something begun to change for them. Perhaps now that they were older, they had matured enough to treat each other with more respect. More likely, Sam though, Jake had hit sixteen or so and turned insanely freaking hot.

When he wasn’t around, it was easy to forget about that and just think of him as that prickly guy who called her “Brat”. When he was right in front of her, all biceps and chiseled jawlines, it was impossible to ignore: Jake Ely was drop-dead gorgeous.

Sam determinedly pulled herself together. This was Jake. Her friend. She may or may not have had a stupid crush on him in middle school, but she was over that now and needed to act like an adult. Starting now.

Once they actually had a conversation (if Jake could be persuaded to string multiple words together) things would feel normal between them again. Sam decided to jump-start that conversation and came up with the beautiful eloquence of “uh duh”. So much for normal.

If Jake noticed she was tongue-tied, he didn’t show it. He did, however, talk to her once he'd finished adjusting his stirrups. “You comin’ with or not?”

Sam hadn't known she was invited. “I thought you were going home.”

“Someone’s gotta find whatever took the Phantom down. Come on.”

Sam looked down at her outfit. Ratty jean shorts and her “San Frantastic” t-shirt. Definitely not riding clothes or, arguably, something she wanted Jake to see her wear. “I’ll need a minute.”

“I’ll wait.”

Sam dashed to the house, hurriedly apologizing to Windy for bailing on him and then to Gram for nearly slamming into her as they passed each other in the kitchen. “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Gram demanded as Sam searched her room for her cleanest pair of jeans.

“Riding!” Sam called. “Jake’s back!”

Sam changed as fast as she could and hurried back to the barn. She thought she made pretty good time, but somehow, Ace was already tied and saddled next to Witch. Annoyed, Sam thought Jake was so good with horses he'd probably just asked nicely and Ace saddled himself.

“Ready?” asked Jake. Sam nodded and bridled Ace, who did not look thrilled to see her by any means.

They led their horses out of the barn. Sam hoped, secretly and somewhat meanly, that Jake might appear out-of-practice after going so long without riding, but no such luck. He swung into the saddle gracefully and looked perfectly at home on Witch’s back. Sam felt comparatively clumsy mounting Ace.

The Phantom whinnied as they rode out, and Witch was stepping high. Jake didn’t say anything, of course, but Sam didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on the white stallion. He'd never been Blackie’s biggest fan, and Sam didn’t see why that would change now.

Still, she felt the need to ask, “What do you think? About him?”

She knew Jake’s brothers would have already told him everything that happened the day before, possibly with some embellishments added.

Jake snorted dismissively. “He’ll make a nice gelding.”

“Jake!”

“One of us has to be realistic, and I know it’s not gonna be you.”

He sort of had a point there, but Sam still took it personally.

For once in his life, Jake elaborated. “If Wyatt’s gonna keep him around, he's gonna have to be safe to be around- it’d be better if he was useful too, but with that leg, I wouldn’t count on it.”

Sam winced at his lack of sugarcoating, although Dr. Scott had more or less told her the same thing. It just hurt more to hear it from Jake for some reason. “I think I signed something promising to geld him anyway. BLM policy or whatever. He’ll have to get freeze branded too.”

There was a slight upturn to Jake’s lips that indicated he found that amusing. “I'd be more worried about getting him halter broke.”

“He was halter broke before. It can't be that hard.”

Jake looked at her. Just looked at her. Sam relented. “Alright, he's royally pissed about being chased and captured, and he wants nothing to do with me, much less a halter. I have no idea where to start.”

“That’s where I come in,” he said glumly.

“You're kidding me.”

“Would I joke about that?”

“Maybe?” she tried. Although, Jake wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor. “Was it your idea?”

“Wyatt’s. You think I signed up to play riding instructor all summer?”

“Obviously I'm flattered, but you should know it’s not exactly what I wanted either,” Sam grumbled, kicking Ace into a lope. She liked Jake, and she knew he knew more about horses than she did, but that didn’t mean she wanted him intruding on her relationship with the Phantom. That was supposed to be hers and hers alone.

After all, Jake had been involved the first time around. And how well had that gone, exactly?

They rode in silence after that, until they got to Rowland’s place, where they'd found the Phantom the day before. Sam hung back, letting Jake do his thing. She was no help where tracking was concerned, while he was a master. He could make something out of nothing and find anything in the world.

…anything except the dogs that had attacked the Phantom, apparently. Jake was able to pick up the stallion’s trail and follow it for several miles, but eventually, it got too muddled up with other hoof prints. “This must be where he was last with the heard,” Jake announced. “It’s looking for a needle in a haystack. We’re probably nowhere near the scene of the crime.”

Sam did not love referring to the site of her horse’s injury as a “crime scene”. Although, given the opportunity, she would love to press charges.

“…but that don’t mean we’re in the wrong spot.”

Sam didn’t know what he meant until she quit trying to decipher hoof scuffs on the ground and looked up. Her breath caught in her throat- mustangs, a lot of him. And they were achingly familiar to her: two blood bays, a claybank dun, a stocky paint, and many more with colts at their heels. This was the Phantom’s herd, except it wasn’t his anymore. The band of mares was led by New Moon, his son who didn’t have a speck of white on him.

Was it fair to resent a horse? Sam was aware the answer was “no”, but it was still hard to watch the herd and its new leader without feeling a tiny bit resentful. This was where her horse belonged. And if she could just go back in time a few days…

“You can't make him explode just by looking at him.” As always, Jake could basically read her mind. “Wouldn’t help anyway. You got different problems.”

“I should be happy to see them doing so well,” she sighed, embarrassed by the lump in her throat. “…but I just miss him.”

Jake scoffed and started to turn his horse. “Not like he's dead. Let’s go.”

“Wait.”

Sam hadn’t taken her eyes off the mustangs, specifically the black stallion in the lead. Moon was around four years old- young for a tame horse, middle-aged for a wild one- and he was the only one of the Phantom’s offspring that showed no signs of graying out. Tempest got a little lighter every season, but Moon was still blackest-black, reminding Sam way too much of the Phantom when he was young.

If she could forget everything else and just watch the horses galloping, tails streaming behind them, there was something beautiful about them. A lot of beautiful things, actually.

“Alright,” said Sam, once the horses had all gone by. “Let’s go.”

All things considered, the herd was doing well. Sam would take care of the Phantom, and Moon would take care of the mares. Which was kind of sexist if she thought about it. Some of the mares were older and more experienced than Moon- couldn’t they take care of themselves?

Nature was stupid.

Sam and Jake were both quiet on the ride home. It was their usual comfortable silence, with maybe a slight side of brooding or disappointed. Neither of them said another word until they both had their horses untacked- Sam didn’t know why Jake hadn't just rode straight home but she wasn’t going to ask- and Sam was putting her saddle back on its stand. Jake showed up in the doorway, footsteps silent as always. “Let’s look at those problems of yours.”

“Mustangs, you mean?”

“Close enough.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Right this way, please.”

“I know where they are.”

She didn’t answer, just shut the tack room door and led Jake out to the first of two mustangs. She started with Windy, thinking he was less of a sensitive subject and would maybe be easier to talk about. Not that talking to Jake was ever easy.

The two of them leaned on the fence, and Sam kept her mouth shut, trying to gauge Windy’s reaction and predict Jake’s commentary. That is, if Jake decided to grace her with commentary. More than likely, he'd just grunt and say “horse” and she’d be expected to know exactly what he meant by that.

Jake started out with a strong two words. “He's little.”

“I'm not gonna ride him.”

“For the best.”

Sam wasn’t sure if that was a jab at Windy’s height or her ability to start a horse. She found she didn’t really want to know. “He’ll grow on you,” Sam promised Jake, who had his eyes fixed on the gangly two year old in the round pen. His only reply was “mm”.

Just once, Sam tried to see things as Jake saw them. She squinted and imagined she was older and wiser than she was, looking in at Windy. He was getting more comfortable with people every day; he no longer went flying as soon as they approached the fence. He still raised his head and trotted a few steps, but it was more for show now. Although he wasn’t bold enough to approach the humans, he flicked an ear towards them once in a while, showing he was curious.

“He’ll be easy,” Jake deduced.

Sam wasn’t quite sure if she agreed with that- Windy was pretty clearly a spitfire- but she couldn’t really argue, either. Windy would be easy…compared to the Phantom. Convincing a horse to trust you for the first time was a whole lot simpler than repairing a bond that had been broken.

The Phantom proved that right as they approached. He flattened his delicately curved ears and trotted away, tail swishing. He wasn’t scared, Sam knew. He was angry. And that was what gave him the potential to be dangerous.

“What happens if you go in?”

“I haven’t,” Sam admitted.

“Seriously!?”

“It’s only been a day!” she replied defensively. “I thought it would be dangerous to go in with him! Normally you yell at me for doing dangerous stuff!”

“Yeah, but at this point it’s kind of your thing.” Jake didn’t seem at all fazed by her outburst. “How do you feed him?”

Sam kicked the ground, embarrassed and perhaps worried he'd call her a coward. “I push it under the gate and pull it out with the pitchfork.”

It was subtle, but Jake cracked a smile. “Congrats on not doing the dumb and impulsive thing for once in your life.”

He really knew how to get under her skin. Sam felt her temper flare. “It wouldn’t be dumb. He's my horse, and I'm not scared! Actually, I’ll do it right-”

“Sam! Jake!”

Gram was waving at them from the front porch. “We should probably go see what she wants,” Sam said, and they jogged to the house obediently. It was probably for the better- Sam would have forged onward in the name of proving a point, but jumping in with the Phantom would have been dumb and impulsive indeed.

“Yes, Gram?” Sam asked expectantly.

Her grandmother ignored her and turned to Jake instead. “Will you be joining us for dinner?”

Jake nodded stoically and Sam cursed inwardly. She felt that she had had enough Jake Time for the day. The two of them could only get along for so many hours at a time, and they were both reaching the end of that threshold.

They had to get used to each other again, find their footing. At least, that’s the way Sam saw it.

She didn’t get to argue. Gram expressed her delight by tugging both kids inside. “Good, you can help me cook, then. Sam, you get chopping tomatoes, alright?”

They were kept too busy to chit-chat, which was maybe a good thing. Sam had a lot on her mind already; she didn’t need to add “the inner workings of Jake Ely” to that list. It was easier to just do what her grandma told her to do and prepare what would hopefully be the best tacos any of them had ever had.

By the time they all sat down to eat, things were starting to feel a bit more normal. That was how things were with Jake- he could be gone for six months straight, then slide back into the Forster family like he'd never been gone. He fit in so well with it was almost infuriating. Sam couldn’t imagine tagging along to the Elys’ family dinner and acting like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maybe the problem was her.

“You told her?” Wyatt asked Jake.

Jake nodded shortly and shoved a whole taco in his mouth. That was one of the perks of mini tortillas.

Sam frowned. “Told me what?”

Wyatt co*cked his head towards Jake. “You two’re gonna be working together this summer.”

“Oh. Yeah, he told me that.” Her frown deepened. “I don’t need that much help, though. I can do this on my own.”

There was an awkward pause, as if everyone was trying to think of a way to avoid disagreeing with her.

“Sam,” said Brynna. Her tone was so reasonable; Sam instantly knew she was going to say something completely unreasonable. “It’s in the Phantom’s best interest, don’t you think? The sooner you get him haltered and tamed, the sooner you can treat his wounds.”

“The Phantom doesn’t like Jake,” Sam pointed out. She didn’t elaborate, knowing her theory of her horse resenting her friend because Jake took up so much of Sam's time would be dismissed as “silly” and “childish”. “It'll just make it worse.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Jake nodded along with her. The feeling was somewhat mutual between him and Blackie- perhaps even for the same reason.

“It’s not like he has to be in the pen with you,” Brynna reasoned, although Sam was no closer to seeing it her way than she had been before. “He can be a coach from the sidelines. For safety reasons.”

Sam knew exactly what she meant by that. Jake was to be her babysitter, and she scowled. “You know I'm sixteen, right? That’s a whole lot older than Jake was when we broke the horse the first time. I can figure this out on my own.”

Jake pushed his chair back from the table. “I’ll just go.”

Gram half-heartedly told him he could stay, but Wyatt and Brynna didn’t take their eyes off Sam. The front door opened and shut and they still kept staring her down.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Sam stated. “You have to stop thinking of me as a little kid. And I definitely don’t want Jake to-”

She cut herself off when she realized she didn’t know exactly where that sentence was going. She didn’t want Jake to think of her as a little kid? She didn’t want Jake telling her what to do? Both of those things were true, but for whatever reason, she found herself struggling to articulate them out loud.

“He's not a babysitter, Sam!” her dad argued. “He's just there to make sure you don’t get yourself killed!”

So that was it, then. They didn’t trust her. They would probably never trust her. Sam was so hurt she could hardly see straight, but she excused herself before she could lose her temper. She shoved her boots on and escaped to the most comforting place she knew: the barn.

The summer sun was still plenty hot at six o’clock sharp, but Sam's temper cooled as soon as the screen door slammed behind her. It was hard to be angry when the Phantom was right in front of her, nostrils flared like he'd just sprinted a mile.

Jake hadn't gone home yet. He was leaning on the fence, eyes fixed on the white stallion. Majestic was the word Sam usually used to describe her Zanzibar, but it didn’t seem fitting when you considered the limp and the enormous swollen knee.

There was a lot Sam wanted to say as she took her spot beside her friend. I'm sorry. It’s not you I'm mad at. All I want is to prove myself. But none of those words were willing to come out either. She studied Jake as carefully as he was studying the Phantom, trying to guess what exactly was going through his head. It wasn’t always easy to tell what Jake was thinking, but she had a good guess this time.

“You think it’s a bad idea, don’t you?”

“Hmm?” Jake replied.

Sam co*cked her head towards the round pen. “Him. Bringing him here, saving him. You think it’s a bad idea.”

“Doesn’t matter.” As always, Jake avoided the question. “I know you. This is the only way it possibly could have worked out.”

Chapter 6: Good Faith

Chapter Text

Sam actually had the next day off from Willow Springs, so she invited Jen over. With all the chaos, she hadn't really been able to explain the full extent of things, starting with the Phantom, and it had snowballed to the point they needed to have a conversation in person. When Jen heard everything, she’d probably think Sam's life was falling apart, but that was a risk Sam was willing to take.

As expected, Jen’s eyes practically bugged out of her head when she spotted the Phantom in the round pen. She hung Silly’s reins on the hitching post and turned to Sam. “You were serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Sam replied. “Want to take a look? I'm asking you not as my friend, but as a future vet student.”

“Gladly.” Dr. Jen was in the house.

They approached the round pen carefully, not wanting to spook the Phantom, who was currently locked in a hateful gaze with Windy. Of course, he spooked anyway, wheeling around on just his hind legs. He staggered as he landed, erasing any beauty the moment might have carried.

“Oh,” Jen said softly, stepping onto the bottom rail for a better view. “He looks…wow.”

Sam just nodded tersely. She still hadn't gotten used to it, watching the equine love of her life suffer. The Phantom had accepted eating antibiotic-laced grain for the past couple meals, but the wound had yet to look any better. Still swollen, still leaking pus through the stitches. Sam loved him wild, but she wished now that he was tame so she could bandage his wound, or ice the swelling, or even just dab some first aid cream on it. She couldn’t imagine the Phantom letting her do any of those things now.

“It’s not good; I know,” Sam said, when it seemed Jen had lost the ability to say words out loud.

Jen shook her head, blonde braids swishing and consequently smacking her in the face. “I just can't believe it. What did this to him?”

Sam shrugged, wishing she had a real answer. “Coyotes? Feral dogs, maybe? Dr. Scott seemed sure it was some sort of canine.”

“There must have been a lot of them to get the drop on him.”

“I guess. But a big pack like that…shouldn’t they be easier to find?” Sam asked rhetorically. Obviously Jen didn’t know. “Even Jake couldn’t find a trace of them.”

Sam didn’t miss the way Jen wrinkled her nose at the mention of Jake. Her two best friends had never gotten along. “Well, there's a lot of desert and even wolves leave small prints. That checks out. Why didn’t you tell me Señor Know-It-All was back in town?”

Sam gestured vaguely towards the round pen. “There were more pressing matters at hand.”

“Fair,” said Jen. She clambered over the fence- sending the Phantom reeling back once more- and sat atop it, hooking her boots behind the second-to-top rail. “I mean…there’s things I haven’t told you either.”

Sam joined her in sitting on the fence. In theory, it was desensitizing for the Phantom and could even count as training. “Oh?”

Jen flipped her braids over her shoulder, trying to look casual but unable to contain her grin. “Well…Ryan and I are back together.”

“You're WHAT?” Sam squawked. She shouldn’t have yelled- the Phantom and Windy both started doing hot laps around their respective pens, and watching the Phantom try to canter with a Grade Four limp was depressing. “I mean…you what?”

“Got back together,” Jen replied, a secretive smile on her face. “He bought me flowers. We worked it out.”

Ever since Ryan and Jen had first gotten together almost two years ago, they had been what one might call “volatile”. They were the most on-again-off-again couple Sam had ever met. Jen had once broken up with Ryan because he called fries “chips”, but somehow, their relationship still made sense most of the time. To Sam, the wildest thing was that they could fight, break up, and somehow still manage to live and work together in close quarters. Jen said it was because they were “professional”. Sam thought perhaps if they were really professional, they could resolve their disagreements without breaking up, but she’d never had a boyfriend, so maybe she just didn’t get it.

“What kind of flowers?”

Jen sighed dreamily. “Roses.”

Sam jokingly fanned her face with her hands and made a big deal about Ryan’s roses, but she shut up when the Phantom took a step towards her. She all but held her breath, wondering if this was the moment they'd all been waiting for, if their sitting on the fence had paid off. This was the first time the Phantom had approached her since his injury, unless the disdainful turn of his head counted.

She expected him to stop after a few steps, but he didn’t. His head was low, proceeding with caution, but he didn’t stop. Sam sucked in a big breath of air then froze, not wanting to move an inch and risk startling him as he got close to her.

Except, as it turned out, the Phantom wasn’t going for a touching reunion with his person. At the last second, he spun around and kicked out with his hind legs, letting out a scream typically only associated with fighting elephants. His hooves clanged against the fence and the two girls flung themselves off it, landing with two unpleasant thumps.

Jen was cursing like a sailor; Sam remained a little more coherent, although she’d had the wind knocked out of her. “It wasn’t us,” she rasped, instantly leaping to the Phantom’s defense. “He was kicking at Blaze.”

The Border Collie was indeed running from the round pen with his tail between his legs. Jen sat up and adjusted her glasses, which fortunately hadn't been damaged in the emergency exit. “So your horse is dog-aggressive now.”

“Can you blame him?”

“As someone who just hit the ground because of him, yes, a little bit.”

Sam got up and helped her friend up too, but she was watching the Phantom more than anything else. His ears stayed pinned flat against his head and his eyes darted back and forth, always settling on Blaze, who was curled up on the porch and looking downright repentant. If Sam had needed proof the Phantom was affected both physically and mentally affected by the accident, she had it now.

“I would appreciate,” Sam began delicately. “If no one outside of us ever hears about this. Dad and Brynna barely agreed to let me keep him.”

“I can't believe they agreed,” Jen marveled. “What’d you do? Sell your soul?”

Sam wrinkled her nose. A sensitive subject. “Not quite. I gave up my birthday and Christmas, and Jake’s helping me with training.”

Jen pretended to vomit. Sam wasn’t thrilled by the idea either, but she still felt the need to defend Jake. “He's not all bad. He definitely knows a thing or two about horses.”

“That’s what YouTube is for.”

Sam's gaze drifted back to the stallion in the paddock. She didn’t think YouTube would be much help where the Phantom was concerned. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What do you mean, gave up your birthday, though?” Jen continued.

Sam explained the conditions she’d agreed to, which involved not having a birthday party or a Christmas present. Jen looked extremely bummed out for her sake. “Well, I can still get you a present, right?”

“I won't stop you,” Sam promised. In truth, she wasn’t all that disappointed. She’d already decided her horse was worth it, whether he recovered fully or not.

Both girls turned when they heard the crunch of hooves on gravel. A black horse and a stoic rider- Witch and Jake, respectively. Jen frowned. “That’s my cue to leave.”

“Jen, you don’t have to-”

“See ya!” Jen was having none of it. She scampered to the hitching post, where Silly had tangled herself with her reins over her head because that was the kind of horse she was, and trotted away.

“BE SAFE!” Sam yelled after her. She knew Jen could handle herself, but knowing something on the range had been close to taking down the Phantom made her worry. Jen turned back to give her a thumbs-up; hopefully that meant everything would be fine.

Sam fell into step with Jake as he led Witch into the barn. “You scared my friend away.”

“Good. We don’t need the peanut gallery for what we’re about to do.”

“And that is…?”

“We’re putting a halter on the Phantom.”

“We are?” Sam squawked. Then she tried to pull herself together. “Are you sure he's ready? He's really scared.”

“He's ready,” Jake stated, sliding the stall shut behind him. He started walking to the tack room, saddle on his hip, and Sam followed. “Horses aren't stupid. He remembers his training, and he's not nearly as wild as he thinks he is.”

Sam wasn’t sure she believed that. At this point, the Phantom had been wild for three-quarters of his life, and he was royally pissed at her. That wasn’t exactly a recipe for success, but she decided not to pick a fight within the first five minutes.

Jake passed her a black rope halter- one of the oldest ones they had, faded and softened from years of use. As an afterthought, he grabbed a black rope too, but he held onto that himself. Maybe he didn’t think she’d need it.

“You fall off already?”

“Huh?” Sam asked. Then she remembered her back was covered in sand. “Not off a horse. I just fell.”

“Mmm.”

She didn’t explain it and Jake didn’t ask. Maybe she should have- maybe it would have changed what he asked her to do next. “Go in,” said Jake, gesturing to the Phantom’s round pen.

“And?”

“And wait. Let him think about you for a minute.”

He basically shoved her through the gate. Sam wanted to protest, but something kept her mouth shut. She was embarrassed to admit she was a tiny bit afraid of her own horse; she could only imagine what Jake would think of her if he knew.

He could probably tell anyway, just by looking at her. But it would have been different to say it out loud.

Sam took her place in the center of the pen, keeping an eye on the Phantom the whole time. He'd reacted as soon as the gate swung open, watching her just as carefully as she was watching him. Like they were predator and prey. Sam just wasn’t quite sure which one she was supposed to be.

“Relax, Brat,” Jake called from outside the fence. “You're tense. He's picking up on it.”

“I'm not tense,” Sam lied blatantly. She kept her tone neutral and quiet to avoid spooking the Phantom. “And don’t call me Brat.”

Jake didn’t reply. He was kind of a dick that way.

Sam took a deep breath and tried to follow his advice despite finding it irritating. He was right- she was tense, and the Phantom could read her like a book. If she couldn’t control her own emotions, she had no hope of controlling the Phantom.

Not that “control” was exactly what she was going for. She wanted a partnership, to work together in harmony like they had before. Before the accident, Sam and the Phantom- he was Blackie, then- had been like one creature. The same couldn’t be said for them now. The line of trust had been severed between them, and even though they were less than thirty feet apart, Sam had never felt further away.

When she got her nerves under control, she called to Jake again. “What should I do?”

“Wait.”

“Huh?”

“Just stand there and wait.”

Waiting was not Sam's strong suit. Nor was listening to Jake. She did both anyway, wondering what exactly they were waiting for and why Jake had been left in charge when his teaching style left so much to be desired.

She got the answer to one of her questions, at least. After a few more minutes of standing and waiting, the Phantom let out a deep sigh and licked his lips- he was relaxing too. Jake gave an approving nod. “Alright. Turn your back to him.”

It went against Sam's every instinct, but she turned away from the horse and locked eyes with Jake instead. “And the point of this is…?”

“It’s a gesture of good faith. A person is vulnerable from behind, so you're showing him you ain’t gonna hurt him.”

Sam snuck a glance at the Phantom. He was standing parallel to the fence, one ear flicked towards her. “So he should show me his back too?”

“A horse is vulnerable from the front. If he sends you the back end, you're getting kicked.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Alright, this isn’t my first day. You just suck at explaining things.”

“Take a step back now.”

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, one foot taking one step, but Sam saw the way the Phantom flinched. If they'd met a week ago, it would have been different; he'd meet her in the middle and bump her shoulder with his nose, greeting her like an old friend. Now they were like strangers- maybe something even further apart than strangers, since as far as the Phantom could comprehend, she had betrayed him quite cruelly. There was no way she could explain it to him, nothing she could do to make him understand. The only possible cure was time, and even that was a long shot.

“Another,” Jake ordered.

Sam obeyed and took another step backward, although she was privately already certain they wouldn’t be haltering the Phantom today. He wasn’t ready. She probably wasn’t ready either. They just had to try because it was better than doing nothing.

On her fourth step, the Phantom spooked. He didn’t go far, just spun around and trotted a couple steps away. Sam winced at his limp, and she knew Jake saw it too. It was kind of hard to miss, unless you were in another country or perhaps in space.

Sam held still until the Phantom stopped too. She didn’t want to spook him more, push him into moving any more than he had to. She wished they were alone- it would be easier if no one could hear them and she could whisper his secret name and maybe, just maybe, she could earn back a tiny scrap of his trust.

“Easy,” said Jake. He provided no context other than that, which was quite typical of Jake actually.

Sam was getting a little tired of his input, even if it only came out one word at a time. Just because he was “in charge” didn’t mean he got to talk to her like a pet instead of a partner.

Still, Sam knew she had to put childish disputes aside for the Phantom’s sake. A few minutes and a few deep breaths later- it had become clear early on that patience was the name of the game here- she approached him again, one small step at a time. “Hey, Blackie. Don’t get too worked up; it’s just me.”

It seemed wrong to call him by his old name, but it didn’t feel any righter to call him “Phantom”. Not out loud, at least.

She wasn’t sure if the chatter was helping the stallion, but it did soothe her. Talking gave her nervous energy somewhere to go, and she felt less like exploding than the first time she’d approached the Phantom. He let her get closer this time, but not close enough to touch. He whirled away from her again, his ragged hooves cutting deep lines into the sand.

Embarrassingly, Sam felt like crying. Ten minutes into their first training session, and the Phantom had nearly reduced her to tears. Well, no- it was more Jake’s fault. If they'd been left alone, if Sam could do it her way, maybe the Phantom wouldn’t be looking at her like she had “horse killer” tattooed across her forehead.

But she couldn’t completely blame Jake. Jake wasn’t the reason the Phantom didn’t trust her anymore- it was the fact that he'd been shoved into a round pen and taken away from everything he knew.

He'd been her best friend, once. Now she couldn’t even touch him.

“You gonna try again, Brat?”

That, combined with every other irritating thing about this day and this round pen, was too much. “Don’t,” she growled, forgetting time and place. “-CALL ME BRAT!”

The Phantom reacted like he'd been shot. Jake just frowned, and obviously Sam was more concerned about the horse. She watched, all but drowning in regret, as the Phantom flung his head and sprinted half the length of the pen. He was normally so elegant when he moved, but watching him try to gallop with a stiff front leg that could barely hold his weight was almost enough to make her sick.

She looked to Jake, knowing he'd be disappointed in her- she was certainly disappointed in herself- but as always, his expression was unreadable. Even his tone was neutral as he suggested, “Let’s try something else.”

Chapter 7: Time, Patience, and Kindness

Chapter Text

They left the Phantom alone, which was probably for the best. Not to be dramatic, but judging by the harsh snorts and distrustful glares, Sam had done irreparable harm to their relationship and he would never forgive her.

Jake gruffly suggested they try working with Windy instead. Oh, great, another thing I can screw up, Sam thought to herself, but she was grateful he was dropping the Phantom thing for now and that kept her from protesting. For the moment, at least. Sam had her limits, and it wouldn’t surprise her if she reached them trying to get Mustang Number Two to cooperate.

“This should be easier,” Jake said as he took the halter from Sam's hand and swapped her for the lead rope. Windy already had a halter on.

Sam was pretty sure she was supposed to find that fact comforting, but even though she’d had the same thought herself, she couldn’t make herself believe it. She just nodded shortly and squeezed the lead rope like a stress ball. It did not have the same effect.

To say Sam was “pretty worked up” would be an understatement, but she forced herself to calm down as she slipped into Windy’s pen. This tumbleweed of a horse needed a friend and a leader, not a twitching mess, and for that reason only, Sam got it together.

It helped that Windy was far less intimidating than the Phantom. Young and gangly, with a tail that only reached his hocks, Windy was an insecure seventh grader hiding behind a co*cky “he's all that” persona. The Phantom had never been like that- but then again, he'd been kept a stud and raised in captivity, which could account for most of the differences.

Windy had been glaring defiantly at the Phantom- it was how he spent most of his time- but he perked up when Sam entered his pen. It was shocking how much he'd changed since he arrived less than a week ago. Although he was still flighty and most definitely wild, his natural curiosity was beginning to shine through. He'd also started to think of Sam as “the food lady” which improved his opinion of her immensely.

“Get him moving,” Jake instructed. “Lunge him around you.”

Sam had neither a lunge line or whip, but for a horse like Windy, she didn’t need them. She simply waved one arm and clucked, and he took off at a brisk trot. They hadn't done this with the Phantom- it seemed cruel to push him on that bad leg- but it would hopefully help her break the ice with Windy.

He trotted for a long time, until his milk-chocolate coat turned dark-chocolate with sweat. Sam urged him on when he slowed and listened to Jake’s occasional instructions- for whatever reason, they didn’t seem so irritating now. Slowly, over the course of about thirty minutes, Windy’s body language changed. Instead of panicking, he responded calmly to Sam's cues to change directions. In the beginning, he'd been basically glued to the edge of the round pen, but he began to drift towards the center now, giving Sam the signs he was ready to join up.

Jake continued to call instructions even though Sam had a good understanding of how this part worked- mostly from watching Heartland, but still. She’d joined up with Tempest before, and she’d gotten chills when her little black filly had willingly connected with her. She expected Windy would be even more special, because he didn’t have the head start that Tempest did, no reason to think Sam was good other than the ones she was giving him right now.

“Stop, Sam.”

It struck Sam as off that Jake called her by her actual name, but was that really what she was concerned with right now? No. She stopped and turned away from Windy, inviting him to join her in the center of the ring. She heard his hoofbeats slow and then go all but silent. Sam knew better than to move, to risk startling him, but she looked for hints in Jake’s expression and the shadows around her. Obviously Jake revealed nothing, but she caught a glimpse of her mustang's shadow- he was approaching; it was working!

Sam held her breath, willing herself not to move even an inch. Windy got close enough she could hear the crunch of his hooves on the sand, every step slow and hesitant but never stopping completely until he had to be right behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, hoping, waiting, and anticipating, and then it happened.

Windy bumped her with his nose, right between her shoulder blades.

Sam's instinct was to squeal, but obviously she didn’t do that. Still, she couldn’t keep the big goofy grin off her face as her horse prodded at her curiously. The big goofy grin remained as she took her first step forward and Windy followed, like a dog on a leash, except she wasn’t holding him at all- he was there because he wanted to be, because he trusted her.

Somewhere along the line, Sam had started breathing again. She made a lap of the round pen with Windy at her heels, testing his limits to follow her wherever she went. The limit was apparently quite high; Windy never wavered. That was the thing about dopey bay geldings- they might put up a fight in the beginning, but the vast majority of them wanted to stay as far away from leadership roles as possible.

Sam stopped in the middle of the round pen and gave Windy a moment to sort himself out. When it seemed he wasn’t interested in leaving, she made the biggest leap of faith so far: turning to face him. Not surprisingly, Windy shied back a few steps- this was not in the handbook- but he was inclined to approach her again, albeit trembling in every limb.

“You're brave and stupid,” Sam told him, hopefully too quiet for Jake to hear. “You really want to be tame, don’t you?”

The snort he replied with actually implied the answer was “no”, but Sam didn’t let that discourage her. She cautiously raised one hand to Windy-nose-height and let him decide if he wanted to be petted or not.

Jake wasn’t talking, but Sam could imagine exactly what he'd say. Steady hand, Brat. (In her imagination, she didn’t mind if he called her “Brat” because it came off as affectionate.) Mirror his movements; match his energy. You'll know if he's ready.

Sam wasn’t as certain as mind-Jake thought she’d be. She was pretty sure Windy was ready, but when her fingers brushed his muzzle for the first time, he reacted as if they were electrified. He flew backwards- Sam withdrew her hand instinctively- and shifted his weight to his hindquarters, prepared to launch himself into outer space if Sam made another move.

“That’s normal,” said Jake. Two words, and very simple ones at that, but Sam was actually quite comforted. “He’ll come back.”

As usual, when it came to such things, Jake was right. It only took a couple minutes of snorting and eyeing her up suspiciously before Windy took another hesitant step towards her. Sam kept her cool and let the pony call the shots. The second time they touched, Windy didn’t run away, although he did stay as far back as possible, stretching his neck out to meet her instead. Sam's heart was racing, but she was aware it would be inappropriate to squeal with excitement. She preferred to only make the same mistake once per day, thanks.

At Jake's instruction, Sam took the lead rope clip in her hand and got ready. Windy already had a halter on- the BLM had put it on him when he was sedated to be gelded- so if Sam could get a rope on him, she’d have some semblance of control. Of course, haltering a horse didn’t automatically equal halter-broke, but it was a very important step.

Windy had already decided he was comfortable around Sam, so he returned to sniff her once he'd gotten over the rope moving. She bided her time, holding the snap open, knowing timing was everything, as Windy inspected her hands and pockets. As a mostly-wild mustang, he shouldn’t even know about treats, but he was so determined to think of Sam as a bringer of food that he felt compelled to check. Plus, Sam had peppermints in her pockets so often that the smell probably remained no matter how many times she washed her jeans.

Sam let the snap close at just the right time, as Windy was drawing back from her. He spooked hard at the unfamiliar sound, then scared himself further when the rope moved with him. “Get out of there!” Jake yelled, breaking the tense silence that had formed between them.

Windy was running hot laps and crashing into panels. Sam stayed frozen in the middle. “Shouldn’t I try to help him?”

“No! Move!”

He sounded deadly serious. Sam didn’t relish the thought of crossing Windy’s path, but she obeyed, sprinting across the pen and climbing over the fence. She was panting when she found her feet again; Jake was unfazed. “You didn’t tell me he was going to freak out!”

“Thought you knew.”

Sam maybe could have put it together if she thought about it long enough, but she’d simply trusted Jake to tell her what to do. See, this was why working together was a bad idea.

Windy barreled past them yet again, and Sam cringed. He just looked so scared; his eyes rimmed white and rolled back. The trailing rope wrapped around one front leg and he kicked out in a panic. “There's really no other way to do this?”

“This is the nicer way to do it. Wait.”

It physically pained Sam to hold her tongue, but she did it. She was relieved that Windy calmed down after just a few minutes of running around like a maniac. He still regarded the dragging rope warily, but he went from a gallop to a lope, a lope to a brisk trot, and a trot to a stop in front of his hay bag. Jake reminded Sam to breathe again.

“What next?” asked Sam, although to some degree she didn’t want to know.

“You're gonna get ahold of that rope,” Jake said, as if that was the easiest thing in the world. For once in his life, Jacob Ely elaborated, giving Sam a rough explanation of what needed to be done and how she was supposed to do it. She still felt severely unprepared as she clambered back over the fence, but she could basically feel Jake’s eyes boring holes into the back of her head, so in no way did she consider backing down.

Windy wasn’t so keen on approaching her this time. The Food Lady had become The Rope Lady, and he wasn’t sure he trusted her anymore. He definitely still noticed her, though, bobbing his head when she landed in the pen.

“Hey, Windy,” Sam murmured. She had figured out in their first training exercise that Windy really liked being talked to. For whatever reason, he took great comfort in the tone of voice she used to coax Cougar down from the curtain rods.

He glanced at her warily, but he was clearly interested in what she had to offer. At Sam's encouragement, he trotted a couple laps around the pen, his tail held high as if he were a mighty Arabian stallion and not a small-for-his-age scrubby mustang. He quickly remembered how the game was played and drifted to the center once again, brushing his nose against Sam’s palm.

“Pick up the rope, Brat,” Jake instructed.

Sam nodded, but it wasn’t as easy as he made it sound. Just because Windy was apparently kind of a sucker didn’t mean he suddenly trusted her completely- he preferred her hands where he could see them, thank you very much. She couldn’t just reach out quickly and snag the rope, either- no matter how fast she thought she was, Windy was faster. If she made any sudden movement, he’d be off like a shot.

So she played the long game. She petted Windy’s nose gently, then slowly expanded the area she was allowed to touch. Windy’s pinned ears made it clear he was reluctant at first, but he quickly leaned into her scratching the underside of his jaw. From there, Sam was able to get ahold of the rope, letting it slide through her fingers as Windy took a few hurried steps back.

“It’s okay,” Sam assured him.

Windy disagreed. He leaped into the air and spun, making even more of a fuss than he had when the rope was first attached. Sam's arm was effectively ripped out of its socket as her little tumbleweed turned into a Roman candle at the end of the line. She couldn’t hold on-Windy was both stronger and more determined than she was. The rope burned through her hands, and she pressed them between her knees to dull the pain a tiny bit. “JAKE!”

“I was tellin’ you to let go!” Jake insisted, although he definitely still looked concerned.

Sam hadn't heard anything besides the stream of curse words running through her head. She must have missed it.

“Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Thought you didn’t need my help.” Jake was becoming quite the smart-ass lately.

“This isn’t helping! This is watching and looking smug.”

“Pay attention to the horse.”

Sam hated when he was right. She turned to Windy, and sure enough, he was looking at her with curious eyes- there was a little bit of betrayal in those eyes too, but mostly, he just wanted to know what was happening to him. He looked like a lost puppy.

Sam's heart went out to him, and her determination was renewed. More than anything, she wanted him to understand they were on the same team. But it was easier- by a little, not a lot- to communicate with Jake than with Windy. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing. That’s what doing something for the first time looks like. Try again.”

Wow, two complete sentences? From Jake? Sam was shocked but also encouraged. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, ready to start again.

As it happened, Sam had to start again several times after that because Windy kept scaring himself before she could get anything done. Finally, he relaxed enough to approach her calmly, the black rope trailing behind him.

“Just pick up the rope, Sam,” Jake instructed. There was her real name again- why did he keep switching?

Sam didn’t let her irritation show. She kept her movements slow and steady, not giving Windy any reason to spook other than his own natural flightiness. After ten seconds that felt like years, her fingers closed around the rope and she pulled it toward her, taking a few steps back from the pony. He flinched but didn’t take off like he had before. “What now?”

“Now put it down and get out of there.”

Sam set the rope down gently- it would sure be dumb to spook him now, wouldn’t it?- and backed to the edge of the fence. Jake had the gate already open, and she slipped through it before anything else could go wrong. Once the gate was shut, she felt free to break into a victory dance, although it maybe wasn’t completely justified considering all she’d done was hold a rope briefly.

Jake looked at her like she was an idiot, which was pretty much how he looked at her all the time. But Sam ignored him and continued dancing until the novelty of success wore off. “How long did that take us?”

Jake checked his phone. “About four hours.”

“What?!” Sam squawked. “Four?” It had basically felt like no time at all. “I need to do chores!”

She must have sounded a little too panicked, because Jake genuinely looked concerned. “Are you that behind? Do you want me to help?”

Sam's concern with the time had really been that she was a redhead and she’d gone more than four hours without applying sunscreen, but she wasn’t one to turn down chore help. “Would you mind filling the waters?”

Jake nodded agreeably and they went their separate ways. Sam measured and poured grain absentmindedly; she’d done this so many times it was all automatic to her. The rest of her attention was occupied by her red face- she kept touching her cheeks as if that might undo the entire day she’d spent in the sun.

She carried the pans of grain outside and fed them to their respective horses. Red roan Strawberry greeted her with pinned ears as usual, but Ace was happy to see her, at least. Her little bay didn’t technically need grain- mustangs were notorious for staying fat on air- but Sam liked to give him a couple handfuls a day to make sure he knew she loved him. It seemed to be working.

The Phantom was less-than-appreciative of his antibiotic-laced meal, but Sam reminded herself that he needed a lot more time than she’d given him so far. Time, patience, and kindness. Only then could he really heal.

She untied the hay nets from the round pens and started filling them. This was her least favorite part of chores. Compared to opening a gate to let the herd out on pasture or hauling in a round bale with the tractor, it was an extremely fiddly way to feed horses. The flakes never fit nicely through the top of the net and she always ended up with hay in her hair.

But the Phantom was worth it. So was Windy, in his own peculiar way.

While Sam continued to battle with a web of nylon and the powers that be, Jake moseyed over, garden hose in hand, to fill the Phantom’s water bucket. Because he was more of an afterthought than a member of the family, he had an old trace mineral bucket instead of a proper water trough. Not that he seemed to mind- he probably would have preferred a puddle or a creek anyway.

Jake’s expression was unreadable, although Sam wasn’t putting too much effort into reading it at this current time. The hay net was winning, so she took her boot and tried to stomp the last flake down. Therefore, she was more than a little surprised when Jake spoke up. “Are you gonna change his name?”

“Huh?” At first, Sam didn’t even know who he was talking about. “Whose name?”

Jake co*cked his head towards the Phantom.

“Oh. I guess I don’t really know what his name is,” Sam admitted, although it certainly felt like a weird thing to say out loud. It was the truth, though. The horse in front of her was no longer completely Phantom or completely Blackie. “The Phantom” belonged to the ghost of the range while “Blackie” was an in-your-pocket kid’s pony…and also black. It seemed odd to call a pure-white horse “Blackie” regardless of circ*mstances. “Maybe he needs a whole new name.”

Jake must have been in a particularly good mood that day, because he actually offered suggestions. “Ghost?”

Sam shook her head. “Too on-the-nose.”

“Nicholas?”

“What?”

“I always thoughts…” Jake sounded moderately serious now, although he was making a point of not looking at Sam. Eye contact? Not his thing. “Well, when I saw him on the range, before I knew who he was, I thought he looked like a Quicksilver.”

Quicksilver. Sam ran the name through her head, looking over the stallion in front of her. Oddly, it did seem to fit him, his color and markings, the way he moved when he wasn’t injured. Still, she shook her head. “Too fancy. Ranch horses get two syllables, ideally one.”

“What about Strawberry?”

“It’s different for mares.”

“Buffalo.”

“We call him “Buff” all the time,” Sam protested. “Quit arguing with me!”

“Just pointing out your double standards.”

Sam didn’t need to be held accountable for her actions right now. She pushed the problematic hay net aside for the moment, mulling over her predicament. “I don’t know what I’ll do about his name,” she said eventually. “I guess I’ll just do what feels right.”

“And then-” Sam tried to imitate Windy’s leap from their last training session, but it was hard to demonstrate on horseback. “-bam! Right over his water bucket!”

Her coworkers seemed properly impressed/concerned by her story. “He sounds like a real spitfire,” Tasha commented. She was aboard Jeep the Appaloosa, looking dreadfully uncomfortable in the borrowed western saddle. Tasha and her horse Pebbles preferred the English world of short stirrups and painted sticks, thank you very much.

“Oh, he is,” Sam assured her. “But he's really sweet, too. Like a toddler acting out, but you know he's not getting enough attention at home.”

“Is Windy not getting enough attention at home?” Tasha retorted.

“Windy is getting far more attention than he would like,” Sam informed her. “I think he wishes I'd just leave him alone. He's figured out what treats are, though, so that’s good.”

Kay-Lynn sighed dramatically. “I want your life.”

It was unlike Kay-Lynn to be dramatic, but Sam was finding her friend was different outside the office. A little bit louder, a little more lively when she was freed from the chains of bureaucracy. Tasha, of course, was exactly the same.

“It’s not all fun and games,” Sam assured her. “This morning the Phantom kicked at me and Windy crapped in his hay bag.”

“Still sounds more fun than my life.”

“Aren't you having fun now?”

It had been Sam's idea for the three interns to spend the afternoon “tracking the threat to the mustangs”. Really, it was code for “go for a ride”, since if Jake couldn’t find it, nobody could, but shockingly, Brynna had agreed to it. She was neck-deep in paperwork and perhaps just wanted a quiet office for the afternoon, but regardless, the three girls had piled into Tasha’s Pontiac, saddled at River Bend, and the rest was history.

“Yes. I am having tons of fun,” Kay-Lynn promised. It was amusing how short she was compared to everyone else- since Kay-Lynn didn’t ride as much as the others, Sam had thought it safest to put her on good ol’ Ace. That precaution had quickly proven unnecessary, because Kay-Lynn was clearly just as good a rider as the rest of them, if not better.

“This is where we found him,” Sam announced, gesturing to the corner of Full Moon Ranch where the Phantom had nearly bled out.

“Just him?” Kay-Lynn asked. “No herd?”

“Just him,” Sam confirmed. “Either he left his herd or they left him. I'm not sure which.”

“So much for loyalty and family values,” Tasha commented.

“They're horses! You can't hold them to human moral standards!” Kay-Lynn scolded.

“All that’s telling me is that I couldn’t trust you in an ethical dilemma!” Tasha retorted “Kay-Lynn, what would you do if I got bit by a dog right now?”

“I'd scream and call an ambulance. Do you really doubt me that much?”

“But would you be there for me? And hold my hand and tell me it’s going to be okay?”

“I'd be there for you, Tasha,” Sam put in.

“See? That’s what I'm looking for!”

Kay-Lynn rolled her eyes. “Sorry to disappoint.”

They moved on. Sam knew there was minimal chance of them finding the wild dogs, and truth be told, she didn’t totally want to. Obviously she wanted to know what exactly was behind the Phantom’s (Blackie’s?) injury, but seriously, what exactly were they gonna do about it? They didn’t have a gun or traps or even a rope. If they found the pack, all they could really do was look at them, which had potential to do more harm than good.

What Sam did hope to see was mustangs, although she certainly couldn’t guarantee that either. When the Phantom had been wild, she could usually follow her heart and find him, but the rest of the mustangs were a mystery to her. If they decided to show themselves, great, but there was no counting on it.

“Can we let them run?” Tasha asked after awhile. It seemed she was not used to the leisurely trail ride pace.

“Why, are you bored?” Kay-Lynn shot back.

“I'm sorry; I just don’t usually go this long without jumping anything!” Tasha huffed.

“I don’t think you're mentally well.”

Sam cleared her throat. “We can run the horses. If you want, if you're comfortable.”

They both looked at her like she was completely insane. “Obviously,” said Tasha.

Sam shrugged. “Just trying to be a good host. Hya!”

She took advantage of her friends’ distraction (Tasha especially could get lost in an argument and forget she had a life to live) and spurred her mount, Strawberry, into action. Strawberry was not what Sam would call a “willing partner” when it came to being ridden, so if they wanted to win this race- and obviously it was a race now- they would need that head start.

Of course, Kay-Lynn and Tasha weren’t far behind. Ace was always up for a gallop, and Jeep was a crackhead Appaloosa that rarely got used to his full potential. Sam's only advantage was her knowledge of the terrain and trails, which didn’t count for much in the open desert, where you could see every obstacle coming for miles away.

Tasha and Jeep took the early lead. The western saddle was no longer holding her back; she was gripping the horn and standing in her stirrups, wind whipping through her copper-colored hair. Jeep was running flat-out, his shoulders pumping like pistons, and it was debatable if Tasha actually had any control or not. Sam hoping nothing bad would come of that.

Ace and Strawberry ran neck and neck, just half a stride behind. Sam leaned over the mare’s neck. Kay-Lynn looked awfully co*cky, riding with just one hand on the reins, but she was only doing it so she could keep her other hand on her glasses so they didn’t fly off.

The real co*cky one was Tasha. With Jeep’s lightning speed and enormous stride, she had the guts to turn and yell taunts at her competition. But she hadn't counted on Strawberry’s massive attitude problem. Mares like Strawberry didn’t like to lose, and she kicked it into high gear when Jeep drew too far ahead. Sam did the loser “L” at Tasha as she passed, but she didn’t dare ride one-handed for long. Strawberry was undeniably a powerhouse, but she could turn bad at any time.

Sam crowed her victory while Tasha cursed her name, but in the end, Kay-Lynn and Ace breezed by all of them. Apparently they'd just been lying in wait the whole time, but Sam couldn’t even be mad- she’d never seen her pony fly so fast, never in all their rides and races.

The winner was clear, so they unanimously pulled up their horses. Strawberry was snorting like a bull, and there were splotches of sweat behind Jeep’s ears, but all three girls were laughing and having a fantastic time. Even though they were having zero success with what they'd actually set out to do, Sam didn’t think she could have been happier.

She checked her phone. “We should probably head back. You know, so we can clock out on time.”

Tasha waved a hand dramatically. “Right. Because this kind of overtime is unbearable.”

“Alright,” said Sam. “Then we will head back, very slowly.”

Strawberry firmly agreed with that statement- she was out of shape and perhaps even fat- and Ace was willing to go along with it, but Jeep was determined to power-walk all the way back to River Bend. Tasha said she didn’t mind; her own horse, Pebbles, was more of a fire-breathing dragon than a horse, so she was used to it. She led the way on the adrenaline junkie and Sam, Strawberry, Kay-Lynn, and Ace trailed behind.

“Do you have your own horse, Kay-Lynn?” Sam asked. She was pretty sure she knew the answer, but since Kay-Lynn was so much quieter than Tash, there was a possibility it had gotten missed in the few weeks they'd known each other.

Kay-Lynn shook her head. “No. Not anymore.”

“You used to?” That would explain a lot. No one was that good of a rider from weekly lessons or pony camp.

“Yeah. His name was Pax,” Kay-Lynn replied, sounding a little bit sad. “Palomino Quarter Horse. I trained him myself, and we did everything together- barrels, endurance, et cetera- he was on his way to becoming a really good roping horse, actually, but then…”

“He died?” Sam asked gently. Her own story was unique, but she knew The Ballad of the First Horse very well.

“No. My parents got divorced and I had to sell him.”

Sam winced, not knowing what to say.

“That was when I was sixteen. I didn’t get back into horses until the BLM job, and I'm not exactly sure what even convinced me to apply for that,” Kay-Lynn concluded thoughtfully.

Sam didn’t know what to say to that either, but Tasha turned around and called, “We’re glad you're back, Kay-Lynn! Horse girls forever!” and that seemed to be exactly what Kay-Lynn needed to hear.

“We need to meet all your horses before we go,” Tasha announced as soon as they got back to the ranch.

“You're just pushing for more overtime!” Sam accused as she swung off her horse.

“I'm an honest woman!” Tasha insisted. “We’ll clock out at four like usual!”

“In that case, get ready for the full River Bend Ranch petting zoo experience!”

Because they were horse girls, Tasha and Kay-Lynn fawned over every horse they met, but it was clear who the favorites were. The Phantom was like a celebrity guest star, and Windy was reportedly “so adorable” despite having recently rolled in his own sh*t. The two guests alternated between the round pens, cooing over the horses that really didn’t want anything to do with them.

“He's just like a mini Ace,” Kay-Lynn declared, reaching her hand between the fence rails. “He's perfect!”

“Perfect is a strong word,” said Sam, although his resemblance to Ace had been the reason she picked Windy out. “He's kind of a delinquent, actually.”

As if to prove her point, Windy spooked at his own shadow and bolted across the pen, which resulted in his catch rope smacking Kay-Lynn across the face. Once it became clear she was okay, Sam and Tasha felt free to burst out laughing, and Kay-Lynn was a good sport about the whole thing.

“Don’t worry; I can forgive him,” Kay-Lynn said, rubbing the red line on her forehead. “Delinquents need love too.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Tasha checked her phone. “Kay, we should probably get going. I'm supposed to be home by six.”

“Hot date tonight?” Kay-Lynn asked, waggling her eyebrows. Sam honestly didn’t want to know.

Tasha shook her head. “Nah, me and my brother are driving to Utah for illegal fireworks.”

“Isn’t it four hours just to the border?” Sam exclaimed.

“Is that why I'm covering your shift tomorrow?” Kay-Lynn demanded.

Tasha shrugged helplessly, as if all of this was beyond her control. “You should be glad I'm not doing something worse! And neither of you is invited to my Fourth of July party anymore!”

“Your what?” Sam asked.

“Tasha!”

“Not invited!” Tasha repeated, striding towards her car.

“Tasha!” Kay-Lynn yelled again, grabbing her purse from the gate she’d hung it on. Tasha was walking away really fast. “You drove me here!”

She started running towards the Pontiac. Sam ran after her. “Tasha! If I hold her back, will you reinvite me?”

Tasha had an affinity for chaos so she replied, “YES!” as she jumped into her car.

Sam all but tackled Kay-Lynn, who was short and skinny and fairly easy to restrain. “I’M SORRY I HAVE TO DO THIS!”

Kay-Lynn let out a strangled yelp. “YOU DON’T EVEN LIKE PARTIES!”

“I like fireworks!”

Tasha mimicked Kay-Lynn’s strangled cry. “MY CAR WON’T START!”

Sam released Kay-Lynn from the chokehold. “Will it turn over?”

Tasha tried to communicate car noises with her mouth. Sam groaned. “Alright, alright. I’ll go get the jumper cables.”

Chapter 8: One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

Chapter Text

Sam slid the pan of tainted feed under the fence and hoped the Phantom wasn’t smart enough to catch on. Slipping him a sedative in his food would be a whole lot easier than the makeshift squeeze chute, so long as it worked.

While the Phantom was still distinctly distrustful of humans and everything they touched, he had a leftover instinct from the wild that helped him out: never waste food. He regarded the grain warily, snorting at it like it might bite him, but once Sam and Dr. Scott stepped away from the fence, he wolfed it down wholeheartedly.

“I'm impressed by how that’s healed,” Dr. Scott observed, keeping his voice low to avoid startling the horse.

Sam nodded. “I can't believe it’s only been ten days.”

But at the same time, those ten days had felt like years- especially the first few, worrying the infection would get worse instead of better. Since then, the swelling had gone down substantially, and it had completely stopped leaking yellow pus, but Sam hadn't been able to really breathe easy until now, when the vet gave his approval.

“How’s the limp?” asked Dr. Scott.

“It’s still there,” Sam said, somewhat reluctantly. “But it’s not nearly as bad.”

There was still a noticeable catch on the right front, but he didn’t lurch around like he had in the beginning. He was at least able to put weight on the bad leg.

“If it’s been improving steadily, then it should continue to improve. Don’t worry too much.”

Yeah, right. When it came to the Phantom, Sam was always going to worry. Based on that horse’s track record, if he wasn’t actively doing something that worried her, he'd start to in the next five minutes.

The sedative worked quickly. The Phantom’s head drooped and he dozed off, co*cking one hind leg. He was never that relaxed sober. Sam would have marveled if not for the need to work quickly.

Luckily, Dr. Scott was used to such conditions. While the mighty white stallion took a little nap, he clipped both ends of the stitches and started to pull the threads out like he was opening a feed bag. The Phantom’s skin twitched, but he held still, much to Sam's relief. She knew they had plans and backup plans, but it was a lot easier if they could just get it right on the first try.

Once the stitches were out, Dr. Scott smeared on some ointment- even though the wound was mostly closed, when would they get another chance to do that? Almost all the other evidence of the dog attack was gone. The punctures on his stifles had closed, with a fine stubble of white hair just starting to come in, and the scratch on his chest was almost invisible.

“Sam,” Dr. Scott said in a low voice. Even though the Phantom’s sleep was medically induced, it seemed better to stay on the safe side of volume. “He's still pretty out of it. Want to get a halter on him before he wakes up?”

Sam considered it; she really did. She knew it was a generous offer and certainly beyond what was expected of Dr. Scott as a vet. In the end, she shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I want to do it the hard way.”

“I figured as much.”

Their business complete, they slipped out of the round pen, still being quiet to avoid disturbing the horse. Windy ruined “quiet” by whinnying at Sam, as he had taken to doing whenever he thought she might have food.

“He's doing really well, Sam,” the vet told her. “Really exceeding expectations as far as healing goes. Keep a close eye on that knee, but I'm tentatively optimistic for a full recovery.”

Those words were almost enough for Sam to break into full Snoopy-from-Peanuts happy dance, but she made an effort to remain professional. “That’s really good news. Thank you.”

Dr. Scott tilted his head back towards the horse. “Don’t thank me; thank him. Or whatever higher power controls horse legs wound. This one was out of my hands.”

“It’s easier to just thank you.”

“Right. Since he's recovering so well, we should probably make things more complicated,” said the vet. He sounded so deadpan Sam couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Per your contract with the Bureau, this stallion needs to become a gelding “at earliest convenience”. In theory, he's ready now, but I'd like him to be a bit tamer for the sake of aftercare. Let’s say, early July. Can you do that, Sam?”

Sam swallowed hard. She still had mixed feelings about gelding the Phantom- she loved his offspring so much. But a contract was a contract, and she couldn’t afford to get sued. “Define “tamer”.”

“Able to be caught, haltered, and led by you.”

“Consider it done.” But Sam sounded a lot more confident than she felt. July wasn’t that far away- was there any way he’d be ready in time?

“Relax your shoulders, Brat. You look like you're stalking him.”

Sam let her whole body sag. “Isn’t that kind of what I'm doing? Sneaking upon him?”

“You can't sneak up on a horse that’s looking right at you. Are you dumb?”

Sam-from-a-couple-years-ago might have found that remark insulting, but Sam-of-the-present was comforted by their rapport. It gave her something to think about other than the wild mustang in front of her who was not totally sure he wanted to participate in this training session.

While Windy had grown more confident, it was often one step forward, two steps back with him. Sam couldn’t read him very well and often ended up asking for more than he was ready for. Windy’s flight instinct was sensitive and he often spooked at the drop of a hat.

Take now, for instance.

“Hold on!” Jake ordered. “Stay calm!”

Was it really possible to stay calm when you had a Roman candle on the other end of your lead rope? Windy was rearing and hopping backwards, a mix between a temper tantrum and a panic attack. Sam made an effort to move with him while some of Jake’s previous “wise words” flashed through her mind. Don’t panic. She was doing her best. Pull when appropriate and release when appropriate. He'd said that like she’d just know when it was appropriate. She didn’t know. Don’t get hurt. At least that one was easy- Windy was trying to get away from her, so she was in a relatively safe position to his hooves and teeth.

The spook ended almost as quickly as it started. Windy quit flailing at the end of his rope, choosing instead to lower his head and lick his lips. Sam loosened the rope immediately, letting him know he'd done the right thing, which earned her an approving nod from Jake.

Once Windy had taken his breather, Sam gently asked him to take a step forward again. He resisted at first, stretching his neck instead of moving his feet, but as Sam continued to step away from him, he got what she was asking for. One tiny step, that was all she needed. Sam backed off and didn’t ask for more, while Windy basked in the glory of having figured something out.

That was the way it was- one stride, take a break, one more stride. One step forward, two steps back happened plenty more times, but less often as Windy put the pieces together. He might have been scared of his own shadow, but he was a fast learner, too. And Gram had been right in her initial assessment of him- he really did want a leader, someone who would make the decisions for him.

Slowly but not totally surely, Sam became that leader. With every step she convinced Windy to take, their trust grew until her little tumbleweed was following her in uneven, faltering circles around him pen. Sam felt she could just burst with pride- at the same time, she found it a little silly, to be so excited. For many horses, walking around the round pen was easy or even dull. But Windy wasn’t one of those horses- he was a shy, scared mustang with a trainer who didn’t really know what she was doing. That meant every little step they took was something to celebrate.

Not surprisingly, Jake did not seem to share that sentiment. He didn’t even manage a smile as Windy jumped through metaphorical hoops for Sam. Maybe there was a hint of pride in his expression- Sam couldn’t be sure. She had given up trying to understand Jake long ago.

“That’s probably enough for today,” Sam announced when she felt they'd reached a good note to end on. She didn’t want to push too far again and have to start over yet another time.

Jake didn’t argue, so Sam slowly worked her hand under the rope clasp and unsnapped it from Windy’s halter. At first, the sound of the snap had really spooked Windy, but he was getting braver every day. This time, he didn’t take a single step backwards, much less do that launch/rear combo he'd perfected a while back.

Actually, he looked disappointed that training was over- Sam knew she’d be laughed at if she ever spoke that thought out loud, but she was pretty confident that’s what he was thinking. Coiling the lead rope in her hand, she started back towards the gate, and lo and behold, Windy ambled after her.

“See?” Sam said proudly, grinning from ear to ear. “He likes me now!”

“Never said he didn’t,” Jake mumbled, and he was right. He wasn’t the one Sam felt the need to prove herself to.

Still being extra cautious, Sam leaned on the round pen fence from the inside, wanting to test Windy’s curiosity. He was comfortable around her, obviously, but what would happen if she got near Jake?

He (Jake, not the horse) looked annoyed as she approached, possibly because he was just as sensitive to having his personal space encroached as Windy was. He didn’t say anything, though, because he was a firm believer in “don’t do anything that might screw the horse up”. At this delicate point in time, one harsh word might send Windy flying across the pen.

Sam snuck a peek behind her as she inched closer to Jake. Windy was still close behind her, although she could tell by his perked-up ears that he was on high alert. His trust in her won out, and he followed her until she was directly in front of Jake, on opposite sides of the fence.

“Why do you have to drag me into this?” Jake muttered, looking away.

“Just say hi to him,” Sam scolded. “Look how friendly he's being!”

That statement wasn’t entirely true. Windy’s tense body language made it clear he was ready to flee at any moment. But still, it was brave that he'd even approached, right?

Jake heaved a great sigh, like he was in immense pain but had to be strong for the kids. He slowly reached a hand out- Sam leaned away so he had a clear path to Windy- and the little bay mustang reached with his nose in return. Sam watched with bated breath as Jake's fingers brushed the horse’s muzzle. Jake drew back immediately- one of his best traits was always knowing when to quit- and gave Sam a Look. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” Sam replied, although she was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, only a fence panel apart. She took a step back to put some space between them- she couldn’t remember why she’d gotten so close in the first place. She and Jake weren’t that kind of friends.

She still felt a bit awkward- she and Jake weren’t the kind of friends that felt awkward around each other, either- so she did what any teenage girl would do: she got out her phone and started taking selfies. Jake instantly made a noise of disgust and left, reducing himself to a tanned blur in the background. “I'm leaving,” he informed her without looking back. “Some of us have real work to do.”

“Alright, bye!” Sam called. She made a peace sign and took another picture. Windy seemed to be getting into it, raising his nose above her shoulder so he could be in the picture. Although, perhaps his interest was more so watching the movement of Sam's phone screen- Sam chose to believe the more fun option. “One more,” she said out loud. She turned to the right and grinned for the camera. “Smile!”

Sam waited until after dinner- or more importantly, until after Jake had gone home- to visit the Phantom in his pen. Technically, it was implied that she shouldn’t be in there by herself, but that wasn’t in writing, and Sam's relationship with the Phantom was something she more or less wanted to keep private. They'd spend so much time meeting secretly on the range for brief moments- it felt wrong to share the delicate way they communicated with the world.

Although, if Sam was being honest, it didn’t feel like there was much communication going on between them these days.

She opened the gate and slipped in quietly. The sun was beginning to set, but it wasn’t dark yet- if Sam so desired, she could probably stay out for another hour. That was the beauty of summertime- the days were long and the Phantom was bathed in the sunset, painted lavender instead of his usual milk white.

He gave no implication of being pleased at her arrival. In fact, he barely looked up from his hay, which did not do anything to raise Sam's hopes.

Good for her, knowing what she was getting into.

Sam took a deep breath. While it didn’t always show, she had, indeed learned something from her past few days with Jake. The main thing (and this was a fairly broad concept) was that she was the problem. Her emotions, her expectations, putting all that on the Phantom was too big of an ask. She couldn’t ask him to be her best friend now, like he had been before. Right now, she had to approach him as a stranger, then slowly build up the rest.

“I don’t know you,” Sam said out loud. While she knew Jake would have ridiculed her, it really helped her to talk these things out. Another perk of working alone. “You're a horse I just met, and I have to convince you humans aren't all bad. You have no prior experience to base this off- well, no, that doesn’t work. You have several negative experiences convincing you the opposite is true.”

Her stream of chatter was working. The Phantom flicked an ear toward her, indicating he was paying attention.

Sam took a cautious step towards him. She had learned, partially from Jake's direction and partially from Windy’s behavior, a lot about how her body language spoke to the horses. It was complex and difficult to put into words, although Jake had managed it just fine. Sam didn’t know why he didn’t talk more. He said some really good stuff sometimes.

She had to be soft, giving. Approach and retreat. A lot of different words and phrases bounced around in Sam's head as she took another step towards the Phantom. He wasn’t like Windy. He wasn’t anything like Ace, either. Sam didn’t know what to expect from him anymore, much less what she herself should be doing.

When the Phantom did acknowledge her presence, he didn’t give any signs he was pleased about it. Sam paused anyway, citing some tidbit Jake had told her about “when to push and when to give”. It wasn’t like she could be angry with the horse- she was frustrated, yes, and she wished she could get closer to him, but the betrayal in his eyes shone like the North Star. Despite her best intentions, Sam had broken their trust. She had to earn that back, one small step at a time.

She learned another lesson right then and there: she could say whatever she wanted about starting over, but that wouldn’t make the Phantom forget.

There was no halter in her hands; Sam made herself as non-threatening as possible. Not surprisingly, the Phantom reacted to her approach anyway- he was both sensitive and somewhat vindictive. Sam didn’t let that bother her- some instinct told her that would only make things worse- but instead followed him as he trotted around the pen. He wasn’t running in a blind panic, like Windy had when he first arrived at River Bend. He was making a statement, and that statement was get f*cked.

At least he was beautiful. The mental scars ran deep, but physically, the Phantom was well on his way to recovery. His previous war zone of a wound was reduced to a pale pink crescent above his knee, and his limp was steadily getting better. He looked more like king of the mustangs than a patient these days, but Sam knew it was too late to go back, just like she knew she had made the right choice in the first place.

Still, Sam shrank away, not wanting to push him into a run. No matter how much better he looked, she would still be treating him like he was made of glass just in case. The Phantom slowed, then stopped along the fence line, although his tense muscles didn’t give an inch. It pained Sam to have him look at her like she was an enemy, like she didn’t love him more than life itself.

Forget starting over. Forget being strangers. Sam pulled out the big guns.

“Zanzibar.”

Her heart was pounding as she murmured the secret name, but her voice was clear. This was it, her last hope. Everything else that held her and the Phantom together had been tainted. All she had left was the name, the very foundation she’d trained him on since Day One.

The Phantom couldn’t have forgotten that.

Sam knew she certainly never could.

She waited with bated breath for the Phantom’s response and found herself disappointed. He turned his head towards her, but that was the only acknowledgement she got. No steps were taken, no softening of his deep brown eyes. The message was clear: he knew, he remembered, and it wasn’t enough for him to forgive.

Sam's throat clogged up, but she made her best effort not to cry. She’d made her choice, right? She had just imagined the consequences would be limited to not having a birthday party and spending her college fund on vet bills. Not this. Never this.

But there was no anger. Sam didn’t have it in her to be angry at the Phantom, not when she understood him so well. All she could do was be patient with him and give him everything she had. Love conquered all, right? And if Sam knew one thing in this world, it was that she loved the Phantom.

She turned away from him, offering her back to make her approach less intimidating. It was a tactic that had really helped with Windy, although the Phantom was a different story. He wasn’t scared of people, like an untouched mustang was. He was angry, and that made him all the more dangerous.

Still, he tolerated Sam's shuffling backwards steps without so much as an ear flick. He even held when she stretched her arm out towards his nose, her fingers shaking despite her best efforts to stay calm. She wouldn’t really be able to relax until what she’d broken was truly repaired, and she knew they were still a long ways from that.

Looking back on it, there were signs. His left ear snapped to his neck for half a second. His nostrils flared and the muscles around his eyes tightened. But in the present, when she lived it, the change seemed so sudden, going from standing quietly to bolting, rearing up and bowling her over like she was a domino and he was a wrecking ball. Sam couldn’t not cry out, but her instinct to keep quiet kicked in almost as fast as the self-preservation instinct.

Actually, both stemmed from self-preservation. One was to keep her from getting hurt or trampled, and the other was to make sure her dad never found out she had almost been hurt or trampled.

Sam picked herself up off the ground carefully. She was shaking, but more from fear than pain. She had hit the ground plenty of times before and certainly would again, but ever since her accident- the one that had separated her and Blackie in the first place- her confidence had become much easier to knock. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she was scared to get hurt again- especially at the hooves of the same horse.

Once Sam was up, the adrenaline wore off and the pain kicked in. It was the dull ache that meant nothing was broken, but Sam still grimaced and clutched her elbow. She didn’t try to approach the Phantom again. It was perfectly clear he wasn’t ready, and quite frankly, neither was she.

Chapter 9: Give and Take

Chapter Text

“Is that duck face?” Kay-Lynn asked in a distinctly judgmental tone.

“It is not!” Sam said defensively. She swiped to the next picture. “See? Normal face, normal pose.”

“Aww, Windy looks so cute in that one,” Tasha cooed.

“What about me?” asked Sam.

“Don’t push it.”

“You look…sweaty,” Kay-Lynn admitted.

“Hey!” Sam protested. “It’s summer! What’d you expect?”

“I'm just saying, a little bit of leave-in conditioner goes a long way,” Tasha snickered.

“You're the worst,” Sam told her, shoving her phone back in her pocket, although let the record show that she didn’t mind the ribbing all that much.

“Hey! Don’t stop showing us horse pictures just because you're mad!” Kay-Lynn complained.

Sam turned to her, mind blown. “You mean you sat through all those presentations of Selfies With Tasha and Pebbles and you still want more horse pictures?”

Kay-Lynn shrugged. “One, I happen to be Windy’s biggest fan. Two, it’s a slow day, alright?”

“Well, okay then,” Sam agreed. She dug her phone back out of her pocket. “This is the one with Jake in the background…this one…”

Tasha was not happy with this turn of events. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Samantha Anne Forster, what's all this about you not liking Selfies With Tasha and Pebbles?”

Sam was staring down the Phantom again. Well, trying to. The stallion seemed unaffected by her gaze, continuing to eat hay like nothing was going on. He was, of course, still aware of Sam's presence and every move. He wouldn’t have made it in the wild if he didn’t notice these types of things.

Sam had been in the pen with him twice since he knocked her down, once by herself and once with Jake's supervision. It had gone better, but the bar was low. “Better” meant that he hadn't caused her physical harm, not that she’d been able to halter him or touch him beyond brushing his nose with her fingers as he spun away.

It was disheartening. Sam maintained that she loved the Phantom more than anything, but she could only be knocked down (literally and figuratively) so many times before she stopped wanting to get back up.

“I hope all you need is time,” Sam murmured, more to herself than to the horse in front of her. The slight flick of his left ear let her know that he'd heard anyway.

Sam's phone started to ring from her pocket, and the Phantom definitely heard that. He raised his head abruptly, a piece of hay still swinging from his mouth. “Oh, you're fine,” Sam scolded, pressing the phone to her ear. “Jen?”

“You're not gonna believe this,” Jen began, because why would you start with “hello”? “Ryan and I broke up.”

“What?” Sam did her best to sound surprised. “Again?”

“Yes, again,” Jen huffed. Over the phone, she sounded more annoyed than sniffly, which Sam took as a good sign. “It was the dumbest thing. As usual. I'm so mad at him.”

“What’d he do?” asked Sam. She switched the phone to her other hand and leaned on the fence. She got the sense they might be here for a while.

Jen let out an exasperated sigh and dove into the whole thing, which involved a breach of contract, her parents, and a chestnut mare. Sam felt like she got whiplash just from listening to it, and to make matters worse, Jen concluded with, “So anyway, I'm going to dye my hair blue.”

Sam didn’t mean to, but she gasped. She regretted it instantly, knowing that in Jen’s current state, disapproval would only fuel her fire. “You are not.”

“I'm serious!” Jen insisted. Sam knew she was. “That’s why I called you.”

“It wasn’t to share your major life event?”

“No, it’s because I need to get out of here but I don’t want to go to the drugstore by myself.”

Sam switched tactics. “The logical, rational Jen Kenworthy I know would not make a big decision like this without sleeping on it first. Maybe even making a pros and cons list.”

Jen loved making pros and cons lists. That one had to sway her.

She did sound notably perkier when she replied. “That’s the science of breakups! Emotional distress can temporarily alter your brain! Thus the dopamine hunting, the seeking validation, and the need for an adrenaline rush. Anyway, were you mad because I said blue? It could be red. I'd look good as a redhead.”

Sam paused, trying to think of a tactful way to approach this. “You know, you and Ryan have been through a lot together. What if you manage to work this out, then you're stuck with the breakup dye job?”

Of course, Jen had an answer for that too. “Easy. I’ll just dip-dye it now so I can do a pixie cut if I change my mind. Or, wait. What if I just did a pixie cut now? Like, what's stopping me?”

“Common sense, I hope?” Sam asked. Jen sounded deadly serious, and she was obviously in a disturbed state of mind, so Sam brought out the big guns. “You said you wanted an adrenaline rush? Then come help me pony Tempest on a trail ride- I promise it'll make you forget all about dumb ol’ Ryan and blue hair.”

Jen sounded dubious. “How am I supposed to get an adrenaline rush from that?”

“I haven’t worked Tempest in two weeks.”

“Perfect, I'm on my way.”

Sam's phone beeped as Jen hung up. She slid it back in her pocket. “Blackie, my dear, it looks like you're getting the afternoon off.”

The Phantom shook out his mane, which Sam took to mean he was relieved. “Don’t get too comfortable, though,” she warned. “I'm not giving up on you. One day off changes nothing!”

It did not seem she had convinced him. The stallion went back to his hay, although Sam thought perhaps his expression towards her was a little kinder than it had been before. Although that certainly could have been wishful thinking.

Sam had Ace saddled and Tempest tied to the hitching post well before Jen arrived at the ranch. That turned out to be a good choice. Tempest felt the need to protest the idea of being brought in to work, and she tugged at the end of her rope like a fisherman trying to land the world’s biggest trout. Sam was used to these shenanigans, and she stayed back; it was usually better to let the horse work through such things on her own.

Once Tempest quit with the acrobatics, Sam approached and started brushing her. The little filly leaned into the currycomb, reminding Sam how much easier it was to work with a mustang that had never been wild. Tempest had a crazy streak- that was perfectly clear- but at heart, she was soft and gentle.

And beautiful Sam couldn’t deny that either. When the Phantom was two, he'd still been pitch-black, but cracks were starting to show in Tempest’s ebony coat at three. The transitional coloring was perfectly accompanied by her awkward teenage body, her back that was too tall for her front and the head that looked like it belonged on an entirely different horse. She was still beautiful, though. It was not up for debate.

Jen and Silly arrived with a bang- a fast canter that turned into a sliding stop. Gravel flew; Sam shielded her face with her arm. If she needed more proof that Jen was out of sorts, this was it.

“I like your shirt,” Sam commented as she swung into the saddle. Jen was wearing a pink-and-white tie-dyed shirt that had “boys suck” scrawled on it in Sharpie. Her blonde hair fortunately remained unaltered.

“Thanks. It’s a small comfort,” Jen replied, sounding dead inside. “Where are we going?”

Sam had thought that through. “We’ll follow the river north until we get to Three Ponies, then loop around and come back.”

While the proximity to Jake had to be a disappointment, Jen looked pleased with that plan. “A water crossing? Excellent. The river should still be pretty high.”

“Why do you sound excited that it might be dangerous?”

“It’s challenging, not dangerous! And would you rather I dyed my hair blue?” Jen retorted.

At least she was aware she was being unhinged. Sam sighed. “I really wouldn’t. come over here; squeeze Tempest between out horses.”

It was a precaution that may have been necessary, but it was also the best way for the two girls to talk. Jen sidepassed Silly over neatly and Sam wrapped Tempest’s lead around the saddle horn. Ace wasn’t exactly a roping horse, but Sam knew he'd do his best to hold his ground if Tempest got squirrely. That was his mustang heart shining through.

Despite Sam's earlier comment, she had no reason to think the water crossing would be dangerous- because of Tempest, at least. The black filly had grown up near the water, and Sam had been taking her to play in the river basically since Day One, so she knew what she was doing.

The actual problem was Silly. Jen’s palomino mare was what one might call “selectively bombproof” and today, she had not selected “water”. When she reached the river bank, which was fairly high as Jen had predicted, she snorted and shifted dramatically backwards, like she might spin and bolt at any moment. Of course, Jen found this challenge amusing and just laughed as she encouraged Silly to take a step towards the water.

The mare refused. Quite dramatically, actually. She dug in with her hind end as if to indicate there was no way, under any circ*mstances, she would take another step forward.

“Do you want us to lead?” Sam asked innocently. Her horses, of course, were completely unbothered by the babbling brook in front of them. Jen let out a frustrated snarl in response. Sam took that as a sign to be quiet for a while.

It took several minutes of encouraging, commanding, and getting smacked on the butt with a split rein before Silly made her move. As with everything else she did, it involved major dramatic flair. She took a flying leap from where she stood and launched herself clear over the river, not in a graceful arc or anything, but braced in a rearing position like a kangaroo. Jen barely managed to stay in the saddle.

“Say nothing,” she ordered as Sam and her horses waded through the water without anything resembling an issue.

The tables turned soon enough when a jackrabbit scampered in front of them and scarred Tempest for life. She few as far backwards as her lead rope would allow, testing Sam's saddle horn and Ace’s patience. Even when the rabbit was long gone, Tempest regarded every clump of grass suspiciously and snorted at every tumbleweed.

Despite the rocky start, the trail ride ended up being fun and somewhat therapeutic on Jen’s part. Dealing with equine shenanigans seemed to loosen Jen up, and she began to talk about what was really bothering her. Sam was happy to listen. Given the circ*mstances, it was pretty clear she needed it, and no matter how much Sam liked to tease the on-and-off nature of Ryan and Jen’s relationship, she really did want them to work things out. For the six or seventh time now.

“I guess I'm not really that mad at him.” Jen confessed. “Well, no, I am. But more than that I think he's really stupid.”

“And part of you really wanted that chestnut mare, right?” Sam asked sympathetically.

“Yes!” Jen wailed. “She has medals! Olympic medals!”

Sam reached out and patted her on the shoulder- which was really quite a feat, considering they were on horseback and Tempest stood between them. “You don’t even ride dressage.”

“I could learn to!” Jen insisted. She let out a sigh, and her shoulders slumped. “I don’t know what I'm going to do.”

“Give him lessons on financial decision making and eventually forgive him?” Sam suggested.

Jen made a face. “I'm more worried about getting my parents to forgive him.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not like he actually bought the horse! Or signed that contract!”

“Yeah, but he would have if-”

Jen never finished her sentence. Out of nowhere- or so it seemed- Silly reared. An experienced rider, Jen reacted correctly and promptly by throwing her arms around the mare’s neck. Sam's horses also reacted promptly but not necessarily correctly- Ace spooked hard to the left and Tempest spun to the right. Sam did her best to keep things under control, but there was only so much she could do. The rope she’d wrapped around the saddle horn unwound and Tempest sprinted away, right back across the river.

Ace calmed down immediately after- while he enjoyed testing his rider, he was actually quite reliable- but Sam still felt her heart pounding in her chest. “What’d she spook at?” she asked Jen, although she was still watching Tempest’s mad dash across the desert.

“I have no clue,” Jen replied, pinching the bridge of her nose like she felt a headache coming on. “I'm…so sorry. She's a problem. An embarrassment. A disaster.”

As if to prove Jen’s point, Silly let out an Arabian stallion-style snort.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sam told her, although she herself was worried about it. Tempest was dangerously close to disappearing over the horizon, and the last thing Sam needed was for her horse to get eaten by wolves. “We’ll chase her down. What were you saying about an adrenaline rush?”

Fortunately, Tempest was fairly track-down-able. Sam and Jen got ahold of her before she made it all the way back home, so nobody else even had to know it happened. After the chase, both girls felt much better, and Jen even intended to start speaking to Ryan again.

Time passed. Some things got better; some things got worse. Sam watched as Windy grew into an entirely different horse, one that was a lot more confident and eager to do as she asked. The Phantom, on the other hand, continued to keep his distance. He was curious, just not quite curious enough to approach her.

But that was all about to change.

It was Sam's birthday, a scorching day at the end of June. She had greatly reduced her birthday expectations- given how stern her dad and Brynna had sounded, she was pretty sure nothing would happen beyond Jen texting her “happy birthday” and maybe cinnamon rolls for breakfast. But she had one goal. Jake had agreed; it was going to happen.

They were getting a halter on the Phantom.

Sam approached him in the round pen with a new confidence. Despite every training session so far being a technical failure, she had learned from it, and despite his best efforts, the Phantom had too. He was ready. They were both ready.

Rope halter in hand, Sam took a step to her left, encouraging the Phantom to face her. He obeyed. She took a step backwards, and he followed. Good. On the sidelines, Jake had a face like a stone, but Sam could feel the approval as clearly as if he'd said “you’re doing amazing and I'm proud of you”. She was getting something right, finally.

Sam raised one hand and clucked. The Phantom began to trot around the pen, his tail streaming behind him. Not a chase. Not a push. A dance between the two of them.

Sam did her best to stay calm, but her heart was racing. It was like the whole world was screaming at her, “THIS IS IT! THIS IS HAPPENING!” and the pressure was getting to her a tiny bit. Even with Jake there, it felt like this was all on her, and it had never been more important she get this right.

It was almost like he'd never been hurt. The limp was gone, the wound had closed, and the hair was starting to grow back. Majestic, elegant, and regal, the Phantom looked like he belonged on the range with his herd. Sam wished more than anything he could be there, and he might have done anything in her power to set him free had she not found the moment of connection between them so beautiful.

She stopped and turned away, inviting the Phantom into her space. He accepted the invitation and followed her eagerly, but Sam still didn’t rush. She waited until the Phantom bumped her arm with his nose, indicating he wanted attention. Then she turned, facing him head-on and holding her breath, hoping he wouldn’t run away.

He didn’t. Sam had known it early on; this time was different. He wasn’t going to run away. He was going to trust her, because she’d earned it. Obviously there was still a chance she could screw it up, but Sam hadn't gotten this far to make a dumb mistake now.

“Hold it,” said Jake.

Sam had been thinking the same thing. She paused, feeling quite small in front of the stallion, and gave both of them a moment for their heart rates to slow. No rush, she reminded herself, even though she was undeniably in a hurry to reach other, to connect. But rushing things had a way of ruining them- not like she knew that from experience or anything.

She took it slow. She reached out with one hand, and when the Phantom reached toward her in kind, she pulled back. The dance continued, push and pull, give and take, until Sam made the final leap of faith and pressed her palm to the Phantom’s forehead.

She was holding her breath. She didn’t mean to be, but she was. Keeping the unspoken promise she’d made, Sam removed her hand and took a couple steps back. At that point, she was pretty sure she heard Jake say “good”, but she was far too mesmerized by the Phantom to invest any energy in that.

It wasn’t like Windy. It wasn’t like Tempest. The only way Sam could get a halter on the Phantom was if he genuinely, fully wanted her to. Without his consent, she wouldn’t get any further than she already had.

She took the halter in her right hand and held it up slowly, not wanting to test the Phantom’s reaction time. Recognition flashed in his eyes- he fully knew what a rope halter was, and he'd known that Sam was holding one even though she’d kept it out of sight, but there was something different about seeing it up close and personal. He hesitated- didn’t run, just hesitated. Sam drew back again once a moment had passed. This time, she was sure she heard Jake say, “good”.

She repeated the process, asking the Phantom for a little more each time until she finally pulled the noseband over his muzzle. Again, Sam held her breath- this was the moment of truth, after all- but nothing happened. The world went still; they had reached an understanding. When the Phantom looked at her, there was a new awareness in his eyes, and something Sam thought was even more wonderful.

Forgiveness.

She didn’t get co*cky at her first glimpse of success. She stayed methodical and slow, flipping the crown-piece over his neck carefully and tying the knot as if he might explode at any moment. Her heart pounded in her chest even though it was going well, all things considered- it wasn’t the Phantom that was stressing her out; it was the fact that Jake was boring holes into her skull with his eyeballs.

Sam didn’t let go of that breath until the knot was tight and she’d taken a couple steps back. Only then could she relax and fully believe they weren’t going to fall apart. “Thank you, Zanzibar,” she whispered. Her voice was almost completely inaudible, but she was confident that he heard- his ears swiveled towards her, showing how carefully he was listening.

The spell was broken. Sam was now free to burst out of the round pen and essentially tackle Jake in a hug. This seemed to surprise him a little bit- it wasn’t exactly something she did often- and he had to steady himself on the gate. “Jesus, Brat! What's that for?”

Any self-consciousness she might have felt was nudged aside by the euphoria of absolutely nailing it. She did not release Jake from the hug and if anything, squeezed harder. “CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? WE DID IT!”

“Was it really that hard?” Jake questioned as he squirmed away. Sam found it amusing that his cheeks were bright red, but she couldn’t tease him for it- she was blushing too.

“It’s not that it was hard,” Sam declared. All things considered, the act of putting a halter on the Phantom had been quite easy. “It was just special. You only halter a horse for the first time once.”

“Well, then you're eight years late with your celebration,” he grumbled.

“This is different. You get that this is different, right?”

“Oh, shut your mouth.”

It was something of a relief when Jake put her in a headlock, because that peculiar tension between them dissolved. Instantly, they were kids again, messing with each other like they were brother and sister. Sam didn’t usually need reminding of how their relationship worked, but she was glad to have it today.

Jake stayed for dinner. Although Wyatt and Brynna had told her quite seriously there would be “no birthday celebration”, there was at least a little bit of fanfare involved. Gram had made Sam's favorite foods and used the good china- if that wasn’t a celebration, Sam didn’t know what was.

“How did it go with the horse?” asked Wyatt as he scooped potatoes onto Cody’s plate. He tried to sound casual and failed miserably. Sam wouldn’t have been surprised if he'd been watching from the window the whole time.

Jake shrugged. “No casualties.”

“It was a lot better than he makes it sound,” Sam assured everyone. “It was a really beautiful moment. He's so worth it.”

Embarrassingly, her throat threatened to clog up as she said it. Sam had no issue with getting emotional, especially over her horse, but really? At the dinner table? On her birthday? She quickly changed the subject and marveled over the green bean casserole.

Some people- namely Jake- seemed determined to prevent that from happening. He glanced at Sam before turning to Wyatt. “She did a really good job with that horse.”

Her cheeks burned, and she wasn’t sure if it was from talking about the Phantom again or the unexpected compliment. It wasn’t like Jake to sing her praises. She tried to brush it off, but he pushed on. “If it had been me in with him, we wouldn’t have got anywhere. But for her? It’s like…”

He trailed off, as if suddenly realizing he was not the kind of person who said those kind of words. Relief mingled with curiosity; Sam couldn’t help wondering how he might have finished that sentence and perhaps coming up with some ideas of her own.

She shut that down quickly. That conversation= over. Her focus= green beans. Unfortunately, as soon as Sam took her first bite, Wyatt spoke up with a furrowed brow. “So you're saying he's dangerous?”

“DAD!” Sam burst out, forgetting she was halfway through a mouthful of green beans. Gram immediately started lecturing her about chewing with her mouth open while Jake attempted to take his words back. Wyatt did not seem to be very receptive.

“He's not dangerous!” Sam eventually decided to just talk over everyone, because they were clearly getting nowhere. “He's just cautious. And slow to trust, which is normal for what he's been through, right, Jake?”

Jake nodded enthusiastically, grateful for the way out she’d offered. Wyatt let out a little “hmmph” that showed he didn’t totally buy it. Sam knew her dad wouldn’t be satisfied until the Phantom was tame enough to be led around by little Cody or maybe a dog.

“He didn’t do anything dangerous- no kicking, no biting, no nothing,” Sam reiterated. She knew that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable, but she made the executive decision not to share that. “Right, Jake?”

“Yep,” said Jake.

Wyatt said “hmmph” again but in a slightly more agreeable tone. Sam hoped that meant the conversation was really over this time- it seemed like every time she opened her mouth, she stuck her foot in it, and she didn’t want to risk blowing it in a way that cost her the Phantom. Still, it irritated her that things had gone downhill so quickly, and on her birthday of all days!

They moved past it. Brynna brought up Pepper’s latest cooking video (he had recently gone viral on TikTok) and that kept everyone from minding Sam's business. Actually, dinner was downright pleasant until out of nowhere, Cody coughed a large mouthful of green beans across the table. It landed in the biscuits.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Sam wrinkled her nose and wondered if talking with her mouth full really seemed so gross now. Then Cody started to retch and suddenly the world was moving very fast again. Wyatt whisked the toddler from his high chair and ran to hold him over the garbage can. Brynna was right at his heels, and Gram instantly ordered the two teenagers to wait outside while she “wiped up”.

Sam had no issue with that. Actually, the whole “vomiting toddler” thing had more or less wrecked her appetite. She should have known something was up as soon as Cody started eating his vegetables.

There was a possibility Gram had not meant for “outside” to be taken literally, but both Sam and Jake preferred that interpretation. They retreated to the front porch, which was notably cleaner and quieter. The sun was just beginning to set, bathing the grazing horses in a delicate golden light- including the Phantom, head raised proudly and fortunately still sporting the rope halter. He was beautiful. Sam wished she had her camera on hand; a blurry cell phone picture would do him no justice.

It was enough just to watch him, leaning against the porch rail. Her gaze shifted to Windy in the round pen next door, nibbling on his hay net. It wasn’t all that interesting, realistically, but Sam heard a shriek and a hack from inside that encouraged her to really pay attention to the horses.

The railing creaked as Jake leaned on it too. Sam didn’t have to look to know he was close to her- there was only so much room on the porch, so it wasn’t realistic to avoid each other, although Sam still felt weird about it in some way. Like she was a little too aware of her own breathing and the positioning of her elbows. She kept quiet about it- that was the way things worked between her and Jake.

“I don’t have a birthday present for you.”

Sam blinked in surprise. She hadn't expected Jake to talk of his own volition, especially about something clearly under the category of “personal”. Despite their deep connection, their conversations were typically surface-level- except, of course, those moments they blew up at each other and put it all on the line. Bringing up her birthday didn’t fit neatly into either of those categories.

“I didn’t expect you to,” Sam said once she’d recovered from her shock. “…but you do, actually.”

He gave her a look, no words necessary. Eyebrows raised, half a scowl on his face. What?

Sam nodded towards the Phantom, specifically towards the halter on his proud head. “Him.”

“I didn’t give you that.”

“You helped.”

Sam surprised herself by leaning into Jake then- not a hug, exactly, but a willful brushing of sides. Jake surprised her by tolerating it. He'd never been the touchy-feely type, unless you counted shoving each other’s faces in the snow when they were little or games of Ely Tackle Football, which was actually more aggressive than regular tackle football.

Would they have stayed like that? Would something else have happened? Sam never got to find out, because Gram bustled through the screen door, plates in hand. “Thought you two might like some cake!”

Sam and Jake jumped apart like they'd been shot- not like they'd been doing anything wrong, but by unanimous, wordless agreement, they did not want to share it with Gram. Sam accepted a plate of cake even though she was full of questions. “Is Cody okay?”

“Of course he is- you know how kids are.” Sam did not, actually. “One minute everything agrees with them, next they're puking. He’ll bounce right back.”

Sam hoped so.

She looked down at the plate she was holding. “I thought we weren’t doing anything for my birthday.”

It was hard to tell looking at a single piece of cake, but she was pretty sure the “PPY” on her slice was part of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM”.

Gram winked at her- actually winked. “No presents, no party…I don’t think this counts for anything! Sometimes, a grandma just feels like making cake.”

Truer words had never been spoken. Sam thanked her for the non-birthday cake and Gram excused herself shortly after, citing a desperate need to clean the kitchen that Sam would never understand.

She took a bite of cake which was, of course, fantastic. Beside her, Jake’s slice was almost completely gone already.

Sam's cheeks warmed as she remembered how close they'd been standing just a few minutes before. If she concentrated, she could still feel Jake's elbow brushing hers on the railing, the only kind of touch a person could tolerate on a sticky summer evening.

But why would she concentrate on something like that?

That would be weird, right?

Right?!

“Happy birthday dear Sammy…happy birthday to you!”

Sam wrinkled her nose at the use of “Sammy”, and she had to admit, Jen’s singing voice was not all that great, but she brightened when her friend tossed a package onto her lap. “For me?”

“Who else would I be singing to?” Jen asked rhetorically. “Go on, open it!”

Sam untied the ribbon and pushed the wrapping paper aside, revealing a t-shirt that said “Redhead Girlboss” with a six-gun decal. “Uh…thanks?”

“Oh, that’s from my mom. You don’t have to wear it,” Jen assured her. “My present to you is attempting to socialize the Phantom.”

Sam left the shirt on the counter. “You're doing God’s work, Jen.”

The Phantom lifted his head when they approached, while Windy greeted them with a neigh. The tumbleweed of a two-year-old was becoming quite sociable, while the older stallion maintained a surly attitude. That was not to say he hadn't grown since being haltered- he had. However, he was not yet willing to commit to being a tame horse yet, and that was where Jen came in.

Sam armed her with a handful of carrot slices and a lead rope. Jen took them gratefully and entered the round pen, ready for whatever life might throw at her. Despite being a fairly loud and zany person in real life, Jen’s attitude around horses was a cool, quiet confidence. Sam had seen that approach work for her many times, and she hoped the Phantom would be no exception.

Jen approached the gray respectfully, but not submissively- that was the key. The Phantom was an experienced leader; he was well-versed in all intimidation tactics. If he thought he could have his way, he was going to give it his best shot.

“Not too fast,” Sam cautioned. She’d learned that lesson many times before: don’t rush.

Although Jen wasn’t known for taking orders well, she checked her pace. Sam nodded approvingly, enjoying her new position as instructor rather than student. No wonder Jake enjoyed telling her what to do so much.

“How long did it take you to get his halter on?” Jen asked. Sam knew what she was doing- calm, conversational tones would help keep the Phantom relaxed. It was like a white noise machine but for horses.

“Technically, a number of weeks. But that particular session was only…ten, fifteen minutes long?” The whole thing was a blur to Sam now. “It wasn’t hard. He was ready.”

Sam had gone into that training session with relative confidence. Admittedly, she wasn’t quite there yet with this one, but the rules were the same for her as they were for Jen: don’t show weakness and don’t be intimidated.

“When’s he getting gelded?” Jen asked conversationally. She was nearly to the Phantom now- he hadn't moved an inch.

“The fifth of July. Bright and early, too.”

“And what's going on with you and Jake?”

Sam's eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. “Nothing. Nothing is going on with me and Jake.”

Even though she was in the middle of something that could be considered important, Jen took the time to roll her eyes. “Right. Nothing.”

“Yes, nothing! Why are you using that tone?” Sam demanded.

Jen shot her a look, once again taking her attention off the horse, a decision she would later regret. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I'm talking about. You have to know what I'm talking about, at least a little.”

Annoyingly, Sam started to blush. She shook her head as if that would get rid of it; she had no intention of fueling Jen’s fire. “We’re not, like, secretly dating if that’s what you're trying to imply.”

“Well, the thing is- hey!”

It was a good thing Jen had lightning-fast reflexes. She yanked her arm away right before the Phantom clamped down on it, all while Sam gaped. Instantly, the horse seemed to regret his decision; he whirled away and trotted off briskly. It wasn’t exactly an apology, but it was remorseful in some type of way.

Jen clucked at him and made him trot around the pen. “I'm sorry about him!” Sam called sheepishly. She couldn’t tell if she was surprised or not- while the Phantom was difficult in many ways that often seemed purposeful, physical aggression wasn’t usually his style. “Please don’t tell my dad!”

“Not telling your dad can be your real birthday present, because I doubt I’ll get anywhere with the Great White here,” Jen prophesied.

In the end, she wasn’t entirely right. Eventually, the Phantom started to angle towards her and focus one ear on her, aka the bare minimum of respectful acknowledgement. Both girls had learned their lesson from earlier- this time, when they got a good note to end on, they took it. Jen dropped the carrot slices in the Phantom’s feed pan and retreated to the safety waiting for her outside the gate.

Sam shifted to make room for Jen, leaning on the same panel. “Thanks for trying.”

“No problem. I love putting my life at risk for largely ungrateful animals.”

Oddly, Sam didn’t really think she was joking. Her thoughts were distracted by the Phantom- he snorted and shook his head, coming dangerously close to slipping the rope halter over his ears. Sam sucked in a deep breath. She was going to have to do something about that, and soon.

Jen cleared her throat. “So, back to our earlier conversation…”

Sam pretended not to know what she was talking about. “Are you going to sing Happy Birthday again?”

“Regarding you and Jake…”

Sam sighed deeply. “I don’t really know what to tell you, honestly.”

“Well, keep in mind that I'm really, truly, neutral,” Jen informed her. Sam didn’t know if she could believe that. “I just want to know if I'm right.”

Sam blinked a couple times. That one caught her off-guard. “Right about what?”

“You like him.”

She didn’t even phrase it as a question, which gave Sam the impression she was screwed. She gnawed on her lip before answering, not in words, but in the form of a tiny, almost-imperceptible nod.

It would have been better if Jen celebrated her rightness with a war cry. Her evil grin that channeled the Grinch made Sam so embarrassed she buried her face in her hands. “Stop! I'm not even sure! And nothing has happened between us!”

Jen patted her on the shoulder in a way that was probably meant to be comforting. “It’s okay if you're not sure. Not to sound like your grandma, but anyone with eyes can see it.”

“Oh, stop!” Sam complained. She paused. “What do you mean, sound like my grandma?”

“Anyone with eyes can see it,” Jen repeated. “It’s a small town; people talk.”

“Tell me you're exaggerating.”

“I'm exaggerating, but not that much, really.”

Sam responded by rolling her eyes. She was used to people teasing her about her friendship- for that was what it was, a friendship- with Jake. It had started more than a decade ago, ever since their classmates started to understand the concept of cooties. She’d learned to ignore it. Only recently had it started to bother her again, and she took that as a sign- or perhaps a giant waving white flag- that something was changing between them.

It was only on her end; she was almost certain. Jake was…Jake. He wasn’t interested in a relationship, with her or anyone else. Sam didn’t even know if she was interested in a relationship, for crying out loud. There was just something about looking at him that made her a tiny bit curious about what it would be like to kiss him or possibly what he looked like with his shirt off. Normal stuff like that.

She didn’t bother explaining it to Jen. It was highly unlikely she would understand.

Chapter 10: Awestruck

Chapter Text

Sam cautiously pressed her palm to her horse’s forehead, and finally, he didn’t flinch. Their trust was coming back; she could feel it. She still had to be careful of the way she moved around him, but there was an overall sense of comfort that had been missing for the longest time. The Phantom wasn’t captive anymore- he was home. Good would come out of his injury, and all the sacrifices Sam had made for him.

It was only with her, though. The Phantom maintained that everyone in the world besides Samantha Anne Forster was “out to get him”, which was not helpful or true. Jen’s experienced with him was not unique- he snapped at Jake through the fence a couple times, although that was potentially personal to some degree.

But for Sam, he was a totally different horse.

She ran her hand down his face slowly, watching how his expression shifted when her fingers brushed the halter. That small reminder of being tame still grated on him, even though there had been a time when that tameness had come so naturally to him. Sam hoped they could go back to that someday, when she was an overconfident pre-teen and he was simply Blackie.

Her fingers closed on the loop of his halter, under his chin. That realistically offered her very little control- if he wanted to pull away, he would- but it was technically better than nothing. With her left hand, she unsnapped the clasp on the lead rope and brought it up to the loop. It wasn’t the first time she’d done such a thing- he'd been tame for his first two years, after all- but everything with the Phantom still felt fresh and new, even though it had been close to a month since he rejoined civilization, albeit reluctantly.

She allowed herself to take a deep breath then, feeling like she’d accomplished something important, even though it would have been absolutely nothing special for any other horse on the property- as always, the Phantom forged his own path. He relaxed as she did, letting out a deep shuddery breath that showed how calm he was. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

The next part was the easy part. Sam took a step forward and knew that he would follow. The Phantom was certainly full of issues, but when it came to leading, their bond shone through. He followed her around the circle on a loose lead, perhaps thinking this sort of task was beneath him, but obeying all the same.

It was beneath Sam too; she quickly got bored of walking in circles. They were good at that and only needed so much practice. Instead, she worked on desensitizing the Phantom to touch and picking up his feet. She’d held off on the foot thing thus far, not wanting him to lose his balance or put too much weight on his injured leg. Not to mention, a horse on three legs was vulnerable, and it took a good deal of trust to hold that position.

That was why it was key to move slowly, no surprises involved. Sam considered herself almost an expert in that field, running a hand down each leg gently. As a colt, the Phantom had been very good about this sort of thing- he'd actually had a reputation for falling asleep while the farrier was working on him. Sam hoped he would someday be that comfortable around human beings again, but she wasn’t holding out for it by any means.

He tried. For her, he really tried. He was fairly agreeable when it came to his front feet- which was pretty typical- but a bit unsure regarding the hinds. Sam didn’t push it. This horse had already kicked her in the head once; she didn’t want it to happen again.

It didn’t bother her. She’d grown up since she was eleven and asking Blackie to do things he wasn’t ready to do, since that gate slammed shut and she was falling, falling, falling. Waiting was the easy part. Waiting, she could do.

Sam rested hand on the Phantom’s neck. Training was over; they were simply enjoying each other’s company. There were others things she should have been doing, maybe. It was about time to feed the chickens, and the horses’ water tanks were getting low, but she stayed, absentmindedly running her fingers through the Phantom’s mane. A couple days ago, she’d spent an hour untangling it by hand, and she appreciated her hard work now, the way it shimmered in the sunlight, strands of silver and ivory and a few stark black ones mixed in.

The Phantom sighed and co*cked one hind foot. Sam smiled. “Maybe we’ll make a decent horse out of you yet.”

She was joking, of course. In her eyes, at least, the Phantom had far surpassed “decent”. Even if she never rode him again, she would maintain that he deserved the world, and she would do her very best to give it to him.

Jake's expression was grim as he unlatched the gate, which did nothing for Sam's confidence. She coiled the lead rope in her hand, nervous, but trying not to let it affect Windy. Fortunately, her little tumbleweed seemed completely oblivious to his handler’s stress. He opened his mouth and tried to chew on the chinstrap of his halter.

Jake tilted his head, asking are you ready? Sam gave a slight nod and forced herself to be. She clucked at Windy and took one step forward, then another, until they stood clear of the open gate.

The scenery was the same, but it felt entirely different outside of the fence. Windy picked up on it now; his ears turned forward and he looked around wide-eyed, as if he could tell he was a little bit closer to freedom than usual.

“Breathe,” Jake commanded. While both horse and handler were visibly tense, he somehow managed to look bored. Sam both resented and appreciated him for that.

She breathed. It helped. She felt confident enough to take her first step forward, and the world didn’t end, so she took another. Windy followed along like a dog, quickly forgetting what he'd been so worried about.

They kept it simple, walking around the outside of the round pen so Windy still had a visible boundary. This was his first time leading outside of a fence, after all- Sam didn’t want him to panic or turn their walk in the park into tug-of-war.

Her worries were for nothing. A couple laps, and Windy settled right down, just like he did on their regularly scheduled walks in the pen. Sam relaxed too, and they ventured away from the corral to explore the rest of the yard.

Everything was new to Windy. He'd never seen a barn cat up close before, and the front porch of the little white farmhouse was a whole new world to him. Sam was patient with him as he sniffed and inspected each new object. She felt no need to rush. And when Jake fell into step with her- casually, almost coincidentally, as he did everything- she slowed down even further. There was no place she’d rather be.

“Put him back?” Jake suggested after a thirty-minute walk. They had made it all the way to River Bend’s famous bridge, and Windy had even been brave enough to step onto it with his front feet.

Sam nodded and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Even though the walk didn’t demand that much energy, it was hot and humid enough she felt like she was melting. She needed an ice cream cone or at the very least a glass of water.

Still, she patted Windy’s neck and praised him before turning around. “You’ve done really good, short stack.”

She could practically hear Jake rolling his eyes. Sam shot him a questioning look and he quickly put his hands in his pockets, pretending he hadn't said/done/thought anything.

“He has done really well,” Sam said defensively, starting to walk back towards the pen. “Don’t you think so?”

“Didn’t say he hadn't,” Jake replied.

“You were thinking it.”

“I was thinkin’ that horse doesn’t speak much English.”

“Well, he's still better to talk to than you are,” Sam retorted, thinking she had finally got the upper hand.

“Brat!”

At first, she thought Jake was scolding her. Then, her arm was almost ripped out of its socket as Windy lunged at the Phantom in his round pen, his teeth snapping down on empty air. The gray stallion responded in kind, pinning his ears and launching himself at the fence, which clanged and groaned but fortunately did not give.

Before Sam could get a proper grip on the rope, Windy wheeled around and ripped it from her hand entirely. He was gearing up to kick at the Phantom, and Sam's heart clawed its way into her throat. She could see it already- a hock stuck between fence rails a gouge on the Phantom’s chest. She waved her arms like a madwoman. “WINDY!”

Did it solve the immediate problem? Yes. Did it create an entirely new one? Also yes. Windy spooked at Sam's actions- which, to be fair, were intended to be spooky- and seemed to realize he was in over his head. He abandoned the notion of walloping the Phantom, which had been ridiculous anyway, and bolted, lead rope trailing behind him. Sam could only watch as he sprinted out of the yard, clearing the river in one defiant leap.

She couldn't stay frozen for long- Windy showed no sign of stopping, and she certainly wouldn’t be able to catch up with him on foot. Almost in sync, Sam and Jake both sprinted to the barn for their saddle horses. Sam didn’t think she’d ever tacked up so fast. Her fingers flew over the leather, tucking this and tightening that.

As fast as Sam was, Jake was somehow faster. By the time she led Ace out of the barn, he already had a foot in the stirrup. It would have annoyed her had she not been in such a hurry. She swung into the saddle and clucked at Ace, setting off at a brisk trot.

Windy was out of sight- not surprisingly, considering the breakneck pace he'd taken off at. Still, Sam would have felt a whole lot better if there was even a glimpse of him, instead of literal and figurative dust in the wind.

Sam knew she didn’t have actual cause to be worried yet. Although he didn’t exactly look thrilled to be there, she was accompanied by the best tracker in the state. If Jake couldn’t find Windy, nobody could.

They crossed the bridge without speaking; the horses’ hooves clip-clopping seemed almost deafeningly loud. Sam chewed on her lip, but she knew better than to voice any concerns out loud. Jake's severe expression made it clear he was concentrating, and Sam didn’t want to do anything that could mess him up.

Although Sam knew little about tracking, she knew that the hard-packed desert sand wasn’t the best surface for evidence, especially in the middle of the day. It hadn't rained for a while either- but looking at the thick, heavy clouds gathering on the horizon, that might not be true for long.

“C’mon,” said Jake. Sam obeyed instantly. Her natural defiance left her when she had a horse to worry about.

Witch loped along casually while Ace side-stepped and threw in all sorts of extra moves. He'd felt neglected while Sam put more energy into her two wildest mustangs, and he was making sure she knew that now. Sam gritted her teeth and rode it out. It really wasn’t the time for such antics, but there was no telling Ace that.

A stiff breeze alarmed Sam into looking up instead of down at the track. Those thick clouds in the distance? They were rapidly approaching, courtesy of the cold front that sent goosebumps up her arms. Sam tightened her grip on the reins. The low-hanging thunderheads, the crackling in the air, it all promised a storm. If she’d had the option, she absolutely would have run back to the ranch and taken shelter, but she wouldn’t even consider leaving Windy behind.

There was one perk of Nevada’s overall dull, flat landscape. She caught sight of Windy when he was still a miniscule dot on the horizon. Sam felt instantly relieved, even though she knew the battle was far from over. Just because she could see Windy didn’t mean she’d be able to catch him- that was a totally separate issue.

Without thinking, Sam cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted, “WINDY!”

Two issues with that. First of all, Windy was not a dog, and it was unlikely he would respond to his name. Second, Sam should not have taken her hands off the reins, because Ace took advantage of his newfound freedom by ducking his head and playing with the idea of throwing a buck.

In the few seconds it took Sam to get her horse under control, Jake seemed to go through all five stages of grief. He stopped his horse. Without speaking, Sam knew what the plan was. She hopped off Ace and passed one of her split reins to Jake, so he could hold one bay pony while she wrangled the other.

Her horse was scared; Sam could tell from a mile away. The braced neck, the way he took a couple steps one way then stun to the other. Windy was having second thoughts about his little escapade, but one wrong move and he'd surely take off again.

For that reason, Sam approached him slowly and cautiously. He was a ticking time bomb, but rushing in would knock seconds off the clock faster. She took one soft step at a time, staying consistent but not very fast at all.

“You're okay, Windy,” Sam murmured in what she hoped was a comforting tone. It was more for her benefit than the horse’s anyway. “I'm right here. Just stay. Stay.”

Windy’s perked ears indicated he was at least curious about the sound of her voice. Sam took that as a good sign and quickened her pace the slightest degree- ticking time bomb, remember?

He let her get close, but Sam noticed him tense up when she reached for the trailing lead rope. Immediately, she withdrew her hand. If Windy ran, it would be oh-so-over for them. She softened her approach, turning her shoulder towards him like she had those first few days in the round pen. The space was bigger now- infinite, realistically- but the concept remained the same.

Closer, closer, there. It felt sudden, going from out of reach to feeling Windy’s hot breath on her shoulder. Sam slowly crouched down- she knew grabbing at his face would activate his flight instinct- and closed her fingers around the lead rope. She was just as cautious about standing up, but when Windy stayed calm and let out a deep sigh, she knew that she had won.

Then the sky opened up, and all thoughts of victory vacated her mind.

Cursing freely, Sam clucked at Windy and jogged back to Jake and Ace. Windy had never been ponied before, but he was simply going to have to learn. She took her rein back and swung into her now-soggy saddle, coiling the lead rope around the saddle horn. Jake may have given her an approving nod, but it was hard to tell in the pouring rain.

All the spring in Ace’s step was gone. He trotted back towards the ranch with his head low and ears pinned, making his stance on the weather very clear. Sam fared no better. Soaking wet in a t-shirt and jeans, she was freezing, and she found herself wishing for the rain poncho tucked in saddle bags she hadn't had time to grab.

Only Windy seemed unaffected. In his two years on the range, he'd surely been caught in the rain plenty of times before, so this was just another day for him. Aside from learning to be ponied. That was new, but he took it well in stride, at least compared to Tempest.

The ride back to River Bend seemed to take twice as long as the ride out. The rain was still going strong when they got back, so Sam and Jake rode their horses right into the barn. Being indoors was new for Windy as well, but by that point he'd had enough of the rain, so he didn’t protest.

Sam deposited Windy in a nearby stall and tied Ace up to untack. Her saddle (along with her hair, her clothes, and her boots) was soaked almost all the way through. She could sense tack cleaning in her future- regardless of the circ*mstances, her dad would have something to say about her riding in the rain, which still showed no sign of letting up.

After scraping the excess water off Ace and basically wringing out her saddle blankets, Sam hauled everything to the tack room to dry. She met Jake there, who somehow did not look all that much like a drowned rat. Although, she had to make an effort not to marvel at the way his shirt clung to his shoulder muscles when it was wet. That careful observation seemed somewhat inappropriate, and she tried not to dwell on it.

In its place, she made an effort to joke. “Pretty good for a first walk, huh?” It didn’t really work. Actually, it completely fell flat. It wasn’t so much Jake's reaction (he didn’t really have one) as her own disappointment, the way her hair was sticking to her neck, and the futility of it all.

Jake did react when her expression began to crumple. He laughed. Well, it was more of a chuckle, but it did give Sam permission to acknowledge that the whole ordeal- the sassy horse fight, the desperate search, the sudden rainstorm- was a little bit funny if you thought about it.

“Thanks,” said Sam, when she began to feel better. “For enduring that. I'm sorry you got all wet.”

Jake just shrugged. He trained horses for a living; he had seen worse. Then a small smile crossed his face, the kind that indicated a particularly good or amusing thought. “I got somethin’ that might make it better.”

“Is it a towel?” Sam asked sarcastically. Jake didn’t answer, just left the tack room. He came back a moment later with his hands behind his back. Sam raised her eyebrows suspiciously. “Seriously, what do you have?”

“Your birthday present.”

She gasped. “You said you didn’t get me anything!”

“I said I didn’t have anything for you. It wasn’t ready then.”

She tried to get a peek at what he was holding behind his back. “What is it? It’s not a towel, is it?”

Jake responded by stepping back against the wall, jingling the bridles. “Jesus, Brat! Why would I get you a towel?”

“I don’t know; Jen got me a weird t-shirt!” Sam retorted. Her distraction tactics were apparently not very effective on Jake, because when she lunged for the present again, he stepped neatly out of her reach with perfect timing.

She got a stern look for that one. “If you'd quit acting like a dog, I might give it to you.”

Trying to offend Sam Forster? Animal comparisons were not the way to do it. “Might?” she repeated snarkily, and Jake finally relented.

When Sam saw what he'd gotten her, all the sass left her body. She couldn’t possibly be anything other than grateful or perhaps awestruck. She took the leather halter from Jake's hands almost reverently, admiring the way the crownpiece felt butter-soft in her hands and the brass buckles were polished to sparkling. The only flaw (if you could even call it that) was the somewhat-crude stitching, as if it had been done not by a machine but by a person who wanted to give another person the best birthday present ever.

“It’s not much” Jake said gruffly, perhaps mistaking her awe for disappointment. “Just wanted to see if I could do it. Here.”

He dug around in his pocket and produced a small brass charm; it perfectly matched the buckles on the halter. Sam turned it over and found it to be labeled “Blackie”.

She almost felt like crying. It was just a halter- a nice halter, yes, and made nicer by being a gift from Jake, but still, just a halter! She barely managed a “thank you” without her throat clogging up. That didn’t seem like enough, so she ended up throwing her arms around him, the halter swinging from her elbow and actually smacking Jake in the side. It didn’t matter- it was their moment.

Within that moment was a smaller moment in which Sam was pretty sure she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. Then Jake awkwardly returned the hug, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Relief mixed in with the butterflies and Sam tried to commit every nuance of this one specific hug to memory, even the bridle hook digging into her forearm and the fact that they were both soaking wet.

The beautiful, intimate moment was completely and utterly destroyed when the tack room door banged open. Sam jumped away from Jake immediately- even though nothing illicit was happening, she felt highly illicit- and struggled to look her father in the eye. “Dad!” she exclaimed. He did not look thrilled. Distraction was necessary. “Look what I got for my birthday!”

“Mmm,” said Wyatt. It took a very grumpy and unpleasant person to be unimpressed by Jake's hard work, but Wyatt was pretty sure he'd just prevented an unplanned pregnancy, so Sam had to cut him some slack. “Dinner.”

“Oh, great! I'm starving!” Sam declared. That was not the actual truth- even if she was hungry, it was a distant second to “cold” or “needs a change of clothes”- but it was a good excuse to get moving. Despite her previous thoughts about wanting to commit every nuance to memory, Sam could not wait to get out of the tack room, possibly to never return.

She was fine with leading the way, although she kept half an eye on Jake. He shoved his hands in his pockets- Sam could think of very few things less pleasant than wet jean pockets, but to each their own- and furrowed his brow. Sam knew him well enough to tell he sure didn’t want to stay for dinner at the Forsters’, but the rain still pounding on the tin roof made it awfully hard to refuse.

The rain made for a good excuse not to chit-chat. Sam jogged to the house with her hands over her head- not that it really made a difference, considering she was already soaking wet, but it made her feel better on some level. Stepping into the house should have felt like a breath of fresh air, but it actually just called even more attention to how sticky she was and how desperately she needed to run a brush through her hair.

Those things, Sam decided, could not wait. “I’ll be down in a minute!” she hollered as she thundered up the stairs, ignoring the tempting scent of spaghetti and meatballs coming from the kitchen.

By the time Sam had herself looking and feeling somewhat presentable, everyone else had already gathered at the table. She shouldn’t have been paying attention, but she couldn’t help noticing Jake had also procured a change of clothes. His borrowed t-shirt declared him “World’s Best Dad” and his expression declared him uncomfortable beyond all reason. Sam expected his social battery had run out a long time ago.

“Sorry I'm late!” she announced as she pulled out her chair. No one even acknowledged her arrival- they were all too busy heaping food on their plates and passing the salad bowl around.

Once Wyatt had said grace- it was apparently a “man of the house” thing even though Gram was the religious one- then they got to talking. “I see you got caught in the rain,” Brynna commented.

Even with the fresh clothes and the hairbrush, there was no denying it. Sam nodded, somewhat embarrassed. “Windy took off; we had to go after him.”

“But you got him back?”

“If we hadn't got him back, we’d still be out there.” Sam was pretty sure Jake intended it as a joke, but his deadpan tone made it come out a little too serious. Awkward.

“I think it’s supposed to rain all night,” said Wyatt.

Sam nudged Jake. “Have fun riding home in that.”

“I already rode in it once,” he shot back, the tiniest hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You have spaghetti sauce on your face.”

“Nonsense!” Brynna declared. At first, Sam though she was talking about the spaghetti sauce thing, which would not have made any sense. “There's no need to ride home in the rain! Jake, you'll stay here for the night.”

He shook his head. “That’s not necessary. A little rain never hurt anybody.”

As if on cue, a loud burst of thunder- which had, on occasion, hurt somebody- crackled overhead, and lightning flashed outside the window. Cody immediately started crying, and while Wyatt went to comfort him, Brynna gave Jake a stern look. “You'll be staying here tonight.”

Jake didn’t protest this time. “Yes ma’am.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Truth be told, she didn’t love the idea of Jacob Ely staying the night at her house, even though it certainly wasn’t the first time he'd slept at River Bend. When they were younger, “sleepovers” had been a regular occurrence, but now that they were teenagers- a legal adult, in Jake's case- it just seemed weird. Sam's feelings towards Jake were very complex, and she felt that having him one room over for eight hours straight might force her to confront some of them earlier than necessary.

She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready for that, and she knew Jake wasn’t ready for it either. What if he walked in on her brushing her teeth? Or something worse?

Sam's dad clearly wasn’t pleased with this development either; he ate his (fantastic, homemade) spaghetti with an expression usually reserved for those trying to conceal a gunshot wound. His discomfort made Sam uncomfortable because he clearly thought something was going on but nothing was going on! Did she want something to be going on? Maybe! But that was another complex emotion she had yet to delve into, and the place to delve into was certainly not the dinner table.

As soon as she could, she excused herself. She had the perfect excuse ready. “My saddle got wet earlier,” she told everyone. “I want to get it oiled before it gets all stiff.”

A chore she had been dreading became something of a relief. It was funny how that worked. Sam plunked herself on a five-gallon bucket (the only seating available that wasn’t a horse) and propped Ace’s saddle on her knee. She took a sponge with foamy saddle soap and scrubbed all the leather she could reach, even going the extra mile of pulling the stirrups off and cleaning them separately. It was simple work, but not exactly easy. Sam had to put a lot of elbow grease into her scrubbing, removing weeks of grime and sweat.

She was so focused, she barely noticed Jake walking in. In her defense, it wasn’t like he had knocked or anything, but in his defense, the tack room wasn’t really a place where one could expect privacy. Sam had learned that earlier, thanks.

“Hey,” she said, looking up from her cleaning briefly. It was definitely easier to stare down her saddle fenders than to make eye contact with Jake- not that that was anything new.

“My saddle got wet too,” he said. “Do you mind?”

Sam shook her head, even though she had come out here with the intention of being alone. Jake, quietly sharing her space and working alongside her, didn’t seem to count. He was a comfortable-if-not-comforting presence, although it was quite frustrating how he could be so engrossed in his work but still notice the split-second she stole a glance at him.

She didn’t know why she felt compelled to look at him, only that she did.

“Are you mad about somethin’?”

Sam balked. He couldn’t have been further from the truth- as far as she could tell, that was the exact opposite of what was happening right now. “No!” she said quickly. “I'm not mad.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

It was unfortunate, really, that Jake could read her so well. Sam shook her head fervently. “I'm really not mad!” she insisted. “I just…I don’t know.”

“Cause I could call Quinn, probably, and he'd come pick me up. Witch would stay for the night, but-”

“No!” Sam blurted out. “You don’t have to do that. I just, I don’t know. I don’t want it to be weird.”

“Why would it be weird?”

“I don’t know.” Technically, it wasn’t lying if she wasn’t able to articulate the actual answer, right?

She didn’t know. The truth was, she didn’t know.

Mercifully, Jake dropped it after that, but it turned out he was right. It wasn’t weird. It was comfortable silence, aside from the hum of sponge-on-saddle, and there wasn’t anything weird about it. Sam let herself relax, enjoying this new kind of peace and quiet she hadn't known she needed. Despite the tedious nature of the task, Sam found herself wishing it wouldn’t end, and when the time came, she scrubbed her split reins for far longer than necessary.

Chapter 11: Fireworks Show

Chapter Text

Things did start to feel weird as they were all in the house getting ready for bed, but Sam got through it. She just tried not to think about Jake in the room next door, although that proved to be a relatively impossible task. The next morning, she got up before everyone else to get a head start on her chores, and when she got to work, she hoped everything would just feel fully back to normal.

“Do you think I could pull this off?”

Kay-Lynn shoved her phone into Sam's face. Sam squinted at the picture. “Blue hair? Kay-Lynn, that is not you.”

“No, just the haircut!”

Sam squinted again. “Still no.”

“Are you guys having fun without me?” Tasha demanded as she hurried across the office. Kay-Lynn reiterated her question about the hairstyle and Tasha wrinkled her nose distastefully. “Sweetie…no.”

Kay-Lynn huffed and took the phone back. “Why don’t you guys think I'm cool?”

“You are cool,” Sam assured her.

“But not “shaved sides” cool,” Tasha clarified. As the most hip of all of them, she would know. “You're like…2012 cool. In the most endearing way possible.”

Kay-Lynn shrieked her indignance at basically being called a has-been. Sam wondered who she was trying to impress. She and Tasha had both seen the puppy-and-kitten umbrella. No amount of shaved sides would erase that memory.

Tasha and Kay-Lynn reached a truce by looking through Pinterest haircuts together. Never mind they were supposed to be working- it was a slow day at Willow Springs, and all three of them were taking advantage of it.

Sam's tangent could at least be considered work-adjacent. She was researching bite wounds in horses. Even though the Phantom was fully healed, the incident didn’t sit well with her. She wouldn’t really be able to rest easy until she knew exactly what had attacked her horse, and she knew it was dead.

It seemed harsh, especially coming from known animal lover Sam Forster, but she meant those harsh words with every fiber of her being. Her passion for the animal kingdom absolutely included canines, but horses trumped all of them, and Blackie trumped every other horse in the world. The choice seemed clear.

None of the information she found online was really helpful, although it was certainly interesting. Sam was so engrossed in her reading she didn’t even notice the lobby door opening or the gentleman approaching the desk until he oh-so-kindly cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Sam's eyes widened, not because she’d been caught not-really-working, but because she recognized that “hey”. “Jake?”

“Well, yeah,” he replied. He was either a little bit disgruntled or a little bit embarrassed because he kept rubbing the back of his neck. “Um. Brynna forgot her lunch.”

He slid a paper bag across the desk as if it was the most humiliating action in the world. Sam was immensely relieved she had remembered her own lunch. “Oh, and Dad sent it with you ‘cause…”

“Yep,” Jake confirmed.

“Right.”

Sam was fully aware of her coworkers eyeing up the situation and inching closer to the front desk. Tasha had a look in her eye that was downright predatory. Even Kay-Lynn, who Sam was pretty sure was a lesbian, seemed curious about the new arrival. Sam instantly knew she did not want these two worlds to collide, so she quickly grabbed the paper bag. “Brynna’s in a conference call right now, but I’ll make sure she gets this. Thanks, Jake.”

“Yep,” he replied again, shifting towards the door. “See you later, then?”

“Yeah, probably,” said Sam. Then she basically held her breath until Jake actually left the building and Kay-Lynn and Tasha swarmed her.

“Who was that?” Tasha demanded.

Kay-Lynn jostled her out of the way. “Yeah, who’s your friend?”

Sam drummed her fingers on the desktop. Could she lie about this? She could try. “Oh, um, he's my stepbrother. From Brynna’s first marriage.”

“My what?” Brynna asked as she breezed by. “Oh, my lunch! Is that why Jake Ely was just here?”

Tasha and Kay-Lynn instantly got out their phones and started searching on Facebook. Sam clenched her teeth. “Yes.”

“I didn’t think he brought his truck last night.”

“Dad must have lent him ours.”

“Mm. Alright.” Brynna snagged her lunch off the desk. “I have another call to make. Thanks for holding down the fort!”

As soon as she shut her office door, Kay-Lynn and Tasha started making fun of her. “Stepbrother, huh?”

“And he stayed at your house last night…?”

“Stoppppp,” Sam complained. Her cheeks were flaming red. “He works for my dad. He's just a friend.”

“You lied to us before,” Kay-Lynn said sternly. “The only way to know the truth is the internet.”

“I don’t think he uses social media,” Sam said weakly.

“Too late, I found him!” Tasha crowed victoriously. “Darton High graduate…track team…oh my god, how did you not tell us about this guy?!”

“This reaction may have been a factor.”

Kay-Lynn’s tone was almost reverent. “Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.”

Sam mimicked her tone. “Just. A. Friend.”

“How?” Tasha demanded. “How do you not look at this hunk of a man and not immediately think he needs to be my boyfriend!”

Sam paused. “That’s not what I said.”

“So you like him!”

“That’s not what I said either!”

It was, however, the truth. The fact that Kay-Lynn and Tasha had deduced this within all of five minutes of knowing Jake made that all the more clear to Sam.

Brynna’s door creaked open, and Sam shot her friends a look that hopefully implied a slow and painful death. Tasha chose to ignore that and instead listed every synonym available for “attractive man”, starting with “stud” “heartthrob” and “sweet prince of love”. At least she did it quietly.

“Forgot my coffee!” Brynna said cheerfully, completely oblivious to the intense workplace drama going on. Sam hoped it stayed that way.

Sam tried to put Kay-Lynn and Tasha’s (as well as her own) attraction to her best friend out of her mind and just act like everything was normal. It was a years-old tradition to spend the Fourth of July with the Elys, and she didn’t want to mess it up just because of the phrases “abs for days” and “bootylicious” that her coworkers had put into her head. That said, Tasha was extremely unhinged for verbalizing either of those and Sam hoped she didn’t do anything drastic.

It was a scorcher of a day, typical for the desert in July. Sam sipped her lemonade while Maxine Ely puttered around nearby. She had offered to help in the kitchen, because the alternatives were chopping firewood or playing with Cody, who was currently in a biting phase. It was becoming more and more clear she’d made the right choice- despite her multiple offers to help, Maxine had politely but firmly declined, but if Sam looked out the window, she could see half the Ely brothers sweating their butts off with hatchets. She wanted nothing to do with that.

“Have you been out to see the cow yet?” Maxine asked, distracting Sam from her primarily-Jake-related thoughts.

“Huh?” Sam replied. She wondered if Mrs. Ely was mixing up farm animals again.

“Quinn’s cow,” Maxine elaborated. “He bought it to show at the county fair- that thing costs more to feed than all the horses combined!”

Quinn was the second-youngest Ely brother, only about a year older than Jake. It consistently impressed Sam how quickly the Elys had produced children.

“Oh, wow,” she marveled aloud. “What does he get if he wins?”

“A blue ribbon, a plaque from the beef association- nothing too crazy, really.”

“Oh.” Based on the comment about the feed bill, Sam had assumed at the very least there was some prize money on the line. But, she supposed, Quinn was an adult with a job. If he wanted to spend the majority of this paychecks on cattle feed, that was well within his rights.

“Her name’s Kirsten. You’ll have to go check her out.”

Sam nodded her agreement. If there were animals, she was interested. “Is Jake going to show anything?”

Maxine shook her head. “Not unless he's kept it very well hidden. All Jake cares about is horses- these days, it seems like he spends more time at your place than ours.”

Privately, Sam hoped that was not exclusively horse-related, but she was not interested in sharing that with his mom. Instead, she pointed out, “He could show horses.”

Maxine just laughed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. Jake has strong opinions on how the county horse show is run.”

On the outside, Jake kept quiet and seemed fairly agreeable, but he was quite the fusspot deep down.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam promised, taking another sip of lemonade.

“Want to help me carry all this out?”

Sam agreed, lining up a pile of serving bowls on her arm like a natural-born waitress. It was pretty clear they were going all-out for this meal- they had potato salad, watermelon, multiple types of baked beans, and a number of salads Sam assumed were Ely family classics. That didn’t even count the Forsters’ contributions (corn on the cob and blueberry pie) or anything that was actively on the grill.

They had a folding table set up under a tree that would be home base for food. Sam organized the bowls and platters while Maxine shuffled around the serving spoons. The older woman let out a nostalgic sigh Sam could see coming a mile away. “You know, I remember when you were about this high.”

She gestured around the height of the folding table. Sam nodded her acknowledgement.

“That was the first time your parents brought you over for Independence Day. Do you remember? You kids had a water gun fight, so much fun.”

Sam remembered. Quinn had somehow convinced her it would be a good idea to play boys against girls, and she ended up drenched before she even got the chance to shoot her water gun. Fortunately, Jake had defected to the girls’ side and combined, they were able to hold their own.

Apparently, Maxine didn’t quite remember it like that, so she just said, “Shoot, I forgot my Super Soaker this year.”

It was like Maxine hadn't even heard her. Despite not wearing her glasses and having grown her hair out of the Karen-cut, she looked more like a history teacher than ever- or maybe a philosophy professor, based on what she said next. “Your mom and I were such good friends, even though she was so much younger than me. Isn’t that funny? You and Jake remind me of that sometimes.”

Sam pursed her lips. Since she was acknowledging her feelings for Jake these days, she didn’t really want to remind Mrs. Ely of her mother.

“Hey, Ma!” one of the Ely boys called. Bryan, Sam was pretty sure, but she wasn’t one-hundred-percent confident in identifying the boys other than Jake and Quinn, who she’d gone to school with. When Maxine looked over, he opened his arms. “Wanna hug?”

After chopping wood for an hour, he was covered in sweat. Sam and Maxine had the same reaction. “Ewwww.”

Probably-Bryan and his brothers all thought that was hilarious (privately, Sam saw the humor in it as well, but publicly, she remained disgusted) and Maxine scolded them lightly. Despite acting like toddlers the majority of the time, all six of them (Kit hadn't come home for the Fourth of July because he lived in Hawaii) were legal adults and genuinely good guys at heart. It was highly unlikely Bryan would have followed through with the sweat-hug-thing.

The boys piled inside to change (thank the lord) while Sam and Maxine finished setting up the buffet. As soon as food was on the table, Sam's family appeared out of nowhere, Cody leading the way with Wyatt in tow and Brynna and Gram following serenely behind.

There were a couple picnic tables that they all crammed into, paper plates laden with food. Sam found herself squeezed between Jake and Seth, who she couldn’t say she knew all that well. It didn’t matter, though- they were all friends here, and if Sam were to mix up any of their names or personal details, she certainly wouldn’t be the first to do so.

“After supper,” said Sam, directing her statement towards Quinn. Quinn was easy to tell apart because he was tall and lanky compared to the rest of them. “I would like to meet the cow.”

“Adam’s right here,” Quinn replied, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from his brother. “Okay, seriously, I would be happy to introduce you to Kirsten.”

He put so much emphasis on the name Sam raised an eyebrow. “So why’d you name her Kirsten?”

All the brothers looked to Quinn expectantly, as if implying he should be embarrassed by this particular anecdote, but Quinn was unabashed. “My first girlfriend in college was named Kirsten. She cheated on me so I named a cow after her. Personally I like this Kirsten a whole lot better.”

Nate muttered something that resulted in Jake shoving him off the bench. Sam asked what it was, but Nate cruelly refused to repeat it. Jake seemed awfully keen on changing the subject after, so Sam assumed it was something wildly inappropriate, which actually made her even more curious. She knew that was an argument she wouldn’t win, though. Even though she was seventeen, the Ely boys were all determined to see her as a little kid.

Quinn kept his promise and introduced Sam to his prize cow. Bovine Kirsten turned out to be a delightful and charming young Holstein who had nothing in common with Human Kirsten. Sam expressed her distress at the idea of eating Bovine Kirsten, but Quinn informed her that Kirsten was a dairy prospect and had a long, happy life ahead of her.

The sun was just starting to set, so they had some time to kill before the fireworks show. It promised to be an impressive spectacle- Quinn and Adam had planned quite the display, courtesy of Utah’s lax laws on aerial fireworks. Sam wasn’t sure what to expect, but they were really hyping it up and eager to do it.

Luke (the Elys’ dad) insisted they wait until sundown to start the show, so they built up a bonfire with the wood they'd split earlier. It was still too warm out for a fire to really be considered a perk, but as the sun sank lower in the sky, Sam found herself inching closer and closer to the blaze.

To pass the time, they told stories. As the youngest non-toddler, Sam was more or less expected to sit this one out. She didn’t mind, not really. She was more than happy to listen to her dad’s tale of accidentally letting all the cows out as a child (spoiler alert: he got in a lot of trouble) or Maxine’s college antics. As one of Maxine's students, it felt weird to even acknowledge she’d had college antics, but Sam was overall okay with that mixed emotion. She poked another marshmallow onto her roasting stick and tried not to laugh out loud as Seth Ely produced a shockingly-accurate imitation of his youngest brother.

(Not that it was hard to imitate Jake. If you just grunted instead of saying words you were basically there.)

“What about you, Jake?” Quinn prodded when there was a lull in the conversation. “You're in college now. Has anything interesting happened to you?”

Jake's little “tuh!” made the answer perfectly clear. He might have been one of the coolest guys Sam knew, but he was very genuinely at college for studying reasons only. She didn’t want the others picking on him, though. “Hey!” she cut in when it looked like Quinn was gearing up something sassy. “Interesting stuff does happen to him! Last week we chased Windy down on horseback in the rain!”

“Alright, that’s kind of interesting,” Quinn conceded.

At the same time, Bryan was waggling his eyebrows. “And that was the night our Jake didn’t come home, wasn’t it?”

Emergency, red alert, nine-one-one. Sam's cheeks flamed and she scrambled for a response that wouldn’t fuel Bryan’s fire. Unfortunately, correct answers were few and far between, and her squeaky “shut up” had the boys rolling with laughter.

The only person more embarrassed than Sam was Jake- or, possibly, her dad. She was making a point of not looking in his direction. Whatever face he was making, she didn’t want to see it. For whatever reason, it was easier to look at Jake, although not by much. Jake's “shut up” was considerably icier than hers, but no more effective at getting Bryan to quit giggling.

“Oh, knock it off, boys,” Maxine scolded. “Obviously you're not saying anything we haven’t thought before-”

What?

“-but that doesn’t mean it’s an appropriate topic of conversation.”

She was way off, obviously. No way did people think things about her and Jake! Shockingly, when she looked around, everyone was nodding along with Maxine's completely ridiculous statement. What was wrong with them?

“Alright, we’ll lay off,” Quinn agreed, even though (for once) he had not been the one to start it. He still winked at Sam as he said it, making it clear he wasn’t completely repenting for his sins.

She tried to look at Jake and instantly regretted it. His stony face gave no indication of what he might be thinking, and Sam didn’t know why she’d expected any different. It was the tale as old as time. For as long as Sam and Jake were friends, people would tease them for being more. As such, Sam had no idea how they could possibly make the leap to actually more than friends when it had been the punch line to a joke her whole life.

Not that being more than friends was on the table. Sam could dream and the others could poke fun, but the bottom line was, Jake thought of her as a little sister. That was about as un-romantic as it could possibly get.

It was a relief when Luke Ely spoke up. “So how ‘bout that fireworks show?”

Everyone was ready to shift gears. Sam took her final s’more to go and parked herself on one of the blankets in the hayfield. Due to a slight timing error with the irrigation system, there were only a few dry quilts on which to sit on. Sam wanted to make sure she scored one to avoid the tragedy known as “wet jean shorts”. This was the one day of the year she wasn’t dressed in riding clothes, and she didn’t want people to think she’d peed herself.

The others gradually made their way out to the hayfield too. There wasn’t as much of a rush as Sam had thought; the mortar was taking longer to set up than anticipated. Sam didn’t think it could possibly be more American: it was a device intended to throw flaming objects into the sky, and the men were refusing to read the instructions. Quinn occasionally called out stuff like, “no, that lever!” or “are you sure that fits there?” which did not make Sam feel any better about the safety of the whole thing.

Sam almost jumped out of her skin when Jake sat down beside her. For a six-foot guy, he was uncannily stealthy- a skill learned from his years of tracking. Or maybe it was just that Sam was lost in her own world looking at the stars, and Jake was the last person she’d expected to join her. After the ribbing by the campfire, she’d expected him to avoid her like the plague, not wanting to give any credence to the rumors their families were apparently spreading.

But there he was.

He didn’t say anything- obviously. If something could possibly be left unsaid, there was zero percent chance Jake was going to say it. Sam decided to take a leaf out of his book and not say a word about what both of them had to be thinking.

Quinn shouted “Eureka!” a few minutes later, and the fireworks show could finally begin. It certainly lived up to the hype the boys had created, but Sam was embarrassed to admit she was more than a little distracted by Jake's had-to-mean-something presence beside her. It was never easy to tell what was going on in his head. When she snuck a glance at him, he was looking at her too.

Sam shook it off and oohed and aahed at the fireworks with everyone else. A burst of red and green, pink pinwheels crackling in the air. But if her position on the quilt shifted, if she found a certain someone’s shoulder awfully comfortable to rest her head on, that was no one’s business but her own.

Chapter 12: Ryan Slocum Wearing Only A Towel

Chapter Text

The next day was right back to business. To Sam, the whole Fourth of July party was basically just a dream- it hadn't happened and she didn’t think about it. Nor did anyone else, hopefully, because she had other things to worry about.

“Sam, you're assigning human emotions to horses again,” Brynna said sternly as the screen door swung shut behind. “Equine males do not form attachments to their testicl*s.”

“Yeah, but, I like him as a stallion,” Sam protested. “I like that he has kids.”

“I'm sure he has a dozen colts on the ground with more on the way! Is that not enough for you?”

Sam frowned.

“Do I need to read you all those articles about ethical breeding and land stewardship again?"

“No, you don’t,” Sam sighed. She knew Brynna was right. “I just…I don’t know. It seems like a big change.”

“Well, if it’s any comfort, being gelded after years of breeding means he’ll probably maintain many bad testosterone-related behaviors.”

“Thanks.”

Dr. Scott would soon arrive for the big event. Brynna was just there for moral support- and also because it was her job, this being mustang business and all. Sam wasn’t sure if her presence would help or actually stress her out more, but regardless, she was grateful Brynna was there to support her.

Sam ran through the supply checklist in her head- she may have gone a bit overboard. Bucket of water, check. Tarp, check. Fleece blanket in case he got cold, check. And arguably most importantly, the black lead rope that had served her well thus far. The Phantom was still wearing his rope halter.

She climbed through the fence while Brynna leaned on the gate, knowing where the boundary lay. The Phantom snorted a greeting- by some higher power, he understood something was up. He stood still anyway as Sam clipped the lead rope on. The past few weeks of training had granted him something that wasn’t quite obedience, but was pretty close in most senses of the word.

“Good boy,” Sam told him. When it was just her and Brynna, there was no need to pretend she didn’t have full-blown conversations with her horses, especially this horse.

She brushed the Phantom until he shined, a step that probably wasn’t necessary for surgery, but one that was important to her nonetheless. She wanted to remember him in all his glory, gleaming and proud with his head held high. His leg had healed beautifully- the puncture was reduced to a barely-visible white scar, blending in with his dapples.

Sam gestured for Brynna to join her in the round pen. Her stepmother didn’t hesitate, something that could not be said for many people who knew the Phantom. “Yes?”

Sam passed her the lead rope. “Hold him still.”

A look of alarm crossed Brynna’s face, but she did as she was told. Sam took a few steps back and held up her camera, dangling from a strap around her neck- like she said, she was determined to remember this moment! She adjusted her shutter speed, made sure the angle was perfect, and clicked.

Her timing was perfect. As soon as she got the shot, Dr. Scott’s beat-up Tahoe rumbled down the driveway. Sam quickly switched places with Brynna (who looked quite relieved to no longer be responsible for the wild thing) and prepared herself for the hard part.

Surgical kit in hand, Dr. Scott approached the round pen and eyed up the horse inside it. “How well do you think this is going to go?”

Sam could only shrug. She’d done everything she could to prepare for this moment (as had Jake) but there was no guarantee when it came to horses, especially this one.

“We’ll give it a shot anyway,” Dr. Scott decreed. He shuffled through his kit and measured out a dose of sedative. “Hold still, big fella.”

Ordinarily, the vet, the biologist, and the animal lover made pleasant small talk during these appointments, but they were all quiet now. The only sound was Sam's gentle words to the Phantom, encouraging him to tolerate the injection and not kill the vet. Unfortunately, he did not listen- as soon as Dr. Scott approached, he pulled as far as the lead rope would allow him, and Sam hauled on the end of it. It was a warning- obviously, if the Phantom wanted to, he could knock Sam off her feet in a second.

They tried a couple more times, but when the Phantom resorted to kicking, they called it off. Sam mixed up another pan of laced grain and hoped he hadn't caught onto that trick yet.

Luckily, the Phantom fell for it. It was a mustang thing- horses that had gone hungry before rarely let food go to waste, even if it tasted a little funny. Once he got good and sleepy, Sam put the rope back on him, and Dr. Scott was able to plunge the second dose into his neck. With that, the Phantom’s knees began to wobble, and Sam and the vet did their best to guide his fall onto the tarp.

Sam felt a little sick seeing her horse like that, helpless on the ground. A horse was most vulnerable lying down; she hadn't seen the Phantom go prone since he arrived at River Bend. Now he didn’t have a choice.

It’ll be over soon, she reminded herself. For now, she had a job to do. It was a race against time, getting the whole surgery done before the Phantom began to stir. It wasn’t something you wanted to rush, exactly, but it also wasn’t something the horse would tolerate if he was conscious. Call it a hunch.

Sam grimaced as Dr. Scott made the first cut, but she found she couldn’t look away. At least it didn’t come with the horrible smell that branding did. As much as Sam wanted to be there for her horse, that might have been more than she could bear. She just tried to focus on passing tools to the vet and not the blood, which helped to some degree.

It was a huge relief when the job was done and they could all step away from the horse, letting him wake up on his own time. Sam watched him carefully even as Dr. Scott explained the aftercare, like she was worried blood might start gushing from his incision. Sam knew this was a risky procedure for an older horse like the Phantom. There was a reason horses were usually gelded before they were full-grown, but he’d been Blackie the Breeding Prospect back then. How could they have guessed what would happen to them? How could they possibly have known?

“Don’t let me catch you feeling sorry for him, Sam,” Dr. Scott warned. “He's going to be sore, yes, but what he needs is exercise to keep the swelling down. Got it?”

Sam nodded very seriously.

“Fifteen minutes of trotting, twice a day. If the incision reopens or looks infected, call me,” he instructed. Then his serious expression softened. “Don’t worry too much. He’ll be fine and probably a better horse for it. Otherwise, I’ll check him over when I come back to float teeth.”

By the time Dr. Scott pulled out of the driveway, the Phantom was back on his feet. He shook out his mane, still groggy, but a welcome sight to see.

This is your new normal, buddy, Sam thought. Do your best to enjoy it.

Jen’s wild mare didn’t seem to understand the concept of a countdown. She protested the delay with half-rears and sassy foot stomping, which Jen only found amusing. Ace, on the other hand, was comparatively quiet and tame. He was still champing at the bit, but he managed to keep all four feet on the ground until Sam and Jen shouted, “GO!”

The horses took off without any additional prodding- they knew how this game worked. Sam just tried to hang on and avoid whiplash, letting Ace do his thing. He was a powerhouse in a small package, streaking across the desert while Silly struggled with the concept of straight lines. All of the enthusiasm, none of the strategy.

As Silly began to get it together, Sam and Ace had to fight for their lead. He was more than a hand shorter than Silly; he couldn’t compete with her stride length. He'd have to win with heart, or perhaps some moderate unsportsmanlike conduct, if Sam could even think of a way to cheat at horse racing.

Sam clapped her legs to Ace’s sides, encouraging him to stretch out to his full potential. Ace snorted in reply- he was already giving everything he had! It was Silly who controlled the outcome of the race; the only reason she wasn’t already winning was because she seemed to be unaware they were racing at all. What the others saw as a race, Silly saw as an opportunity to express herself. Creatively. With bendy shapes.

In Sam's eyes, they both won. How do you really decide the outcome of a race when there's no set start or ending point? There was no fair way to do it, so they simply let the horses run until they began to slow down of their own accord. It took a while- Powerhouse Silly and Lean, Mean Running Machine Ace were both in good shape and used to working in the searing July heat. If necessary, they could have gone many miles more, but Sam and Jen pulled them down to a walk to catch their breath.

“Wow, I needed that!” Jen exclaimed, tossing her brad behind her shoulder. “It’s just been the craziest week!”

At first, Sam just thought she meant the Phantom getting his nuts cut off, but Jen elaborated with a gleam in her eye. “Ryan and I are back together!”

“What?!” Sam's jaw dropped. “I thought he was too stubborn! And unable to keep up with you intellectually!”

“The second one is true,” Jen conceded, although it no longer seemed to bother her. “…but he proved he was less stubborn than me by asking me out at the fireworks show! I'm not even going to tell you what he said; it was so cheesy…”

Sam could take a guess. While Ryan Slocum struggled with many basic American phrases, he was a walking cheeseball that contrasted perfectly with ever-practical Jen. Sam was equal parts cringing and jealous. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I am telling you!” Jen retorted. “I had to make sure we didn’t break up again.”

“Oh. That’s fair,” said Sam. She concluded she was more jealous than cringing. Having never been in a relationship before, serious or otherwise, she found this sort of discussion fascinating, sort of in the way most people thought about science projects. “Jen?”

“Hmm?” Jen replied.

“Is it weird that you two, like, live together?”

Jen scoffed. “My parents think it’s weird. And it was weird when we were broken up. But now, no. We were living in the same house before we ever dated, and don’t forget this isn’t some little condo we’re sharing. There's a Kenworthy Wing and a Slocum Wing. We don’t even have to see each other if we don’t want to.”

Her tone implied that they very much did want to see each other, which did not surprise Sam at all. She knew by now Ryan and Jen were “all or nothing” when it came to each other. As soon as they agreed to move past a fight, it was like it never happened.

Sam wondered what it would be like to argue with Jake about something other than her personal safety. She dismissed the unbidden thought immediately. “What if you run into him after a shower and he only has a towel on?”

“There are three bathrooms in each wing. You know that.”

Sam did know that. Although they usually preferred to hang out at River Bend, she had been to Harmony Ranch for a few sleepovers. The mansion was just as spacious and intimidating as Jen made it sound, and fortunately, Sam had not, at any point, run into Ryan Slocum wearing only a towel.

“Why are you asking all these questions?” Jen asked suspiciously. “Did something bad happen with the Phantom? Are you just trying to distract yourself?”

“No, he's great!” Sam insisted. He was recovering well from surgery and even seemed to enjoy his twice daily trotting sessions. “I'm just…I don’t know…making polite conversation!”

“If it’s just polite conversation, why would you mention the shower thing?”

Sam shrugged helplessly. “Does a person really have to be responsible for all their actions?”

“Yes, Sam.”

“Fine. I have no excuse.” Sam grabbed her reins and smooched at Ace again, encouraging him to take off running. Jen hollered in protest- this sort of thing could be considered cheating, after all- and spurred Silly onward. Sam just looked back and laughed. With their head start, there was no way they'd catch her now.

“Sorry I'm late!” Sam exclaimed, jumping into the Jeep and slamming the door behind her. The apology didn’t seem to make much of a difference- Brynna had a face like a stone, and she put the car in gear without any of the usual pleasantries.

“I thought I was doing good on time,” Sam continued, struggling to fill the awkward silence that suffocated the car. “But Windy! He got his foot stuck in last night’s hay bag and I had to pull him out. It was scary, definitely, but also? Such a bay-gelding-coded thing to do.”

Still no reaction. Brynna was pursing her lips and frowning, which Sam doubted was because of the hay net thing. She spoke up hesitantly. “Brynna? Is something wrong?”

The words came out slowly, as if Brynna really didn’t want them out in the open. “I got a call while I was waiting for you,” Brynna admitted. “From work. A horse turned up dead this morning.”

Sam felt like her heart might explode within her chest. Somehow, she knew exactly what her stepmother was going to say next.

“And Sam, she was ripped apart with dog bites.”

For the most part, Sam had been able to put the killer canines out of her mind. There had been no incident in the past month, and the Phantom was safe- that was all that really mattered, right? Instantly, Sam knew that wasn’t true. There was only one horse for Sam, yes, but she loved his herd (and every mustang on the range, realistically) like they were her own.

What if the pack went after one of those horses next? What if the dead mare was one of them?

Sam didn’t bother asking- if it was a mare from a different herd, it would only be marginally better. Her love for mustangs included each and every one of them, and she would grieve for this one no matter what.

“Were the dogs still there? Was somebody able to get them?” Sam asked anxiously.

“No. Not yet.” Brynna sounded no more pleased about this than Sam was. “We don’t have much information as of right now. We’ll send a BLM representative out there- maybe a vet for an autopsy.”

Sam hated the word autopsy.

“And then…animal control in some form.”

Sam was no fonder of that term, but it was necessary under these circ*mstances. She had come to terms with it.

Brynna briefly took her eyes off the road to look Sam square in the eye. “You're not coming with this time.”

That could have been either because last time Sam went on a work trip she came home with a mustang or simply because she didn’t want Sam to witness a gory death scene. Sam didn’t argue. She felt sick to her stomach just imagining it- seeing it in person would do her no good.

“Just tell me what you find out,” Sam requested as they pulled into the Willow Springs parking lot. Brynna agreed that she would.

Unfortunately, what Brynna found out could basically be summed up as “nothing”. Aside from learning that the dead horse was one of the oldest on the range, it was all the same as that early-morning phone call had reported it. A horse was dead; the bites indicated canine. There was no trail to follow.

There was one piece of information, one little factoid Sam found disturbing. Much of the muscle tissue had been left on the horse- it wasn’t eaten. Obviously, Sam didn’t think anything should be bringing down horses, but she did have some degree of respect for the circle of life and all animals needing to eat.

Predators killing for fun, though? That was worse. That was so much worse.

Nothing could be done about the dogs until they showed their faces. Sam was much more wary of riding out alone, and she certainly didn’t sleep well at night, but life had to go on. The summer was rapidly slipping away from her- she had a whole lot to do before she was back in school.

Part of that included turning Windy out with the rest of the herd. It was time. It was past time, actually; Sam was just babying him. She knew this, but it seemed like a huge step to take. The round pen he lived in was so safe and secure, while the ten-acre pasture represented The Great Unknown.

Realistically, Sam knew she didn’t have anything to worry about. Even at his worst, Windy had never been the type to test the strength of the fence. She’d had no difficulty catching him, even without a halter or catch rope, and his years in the wild had given him a strong grasp of social skills. She had no reason to think anything would go wrong.

Regardless, Sam was going to be prepared for the worst. She had spent several days walking the fence line and introducing him to the other horses from the outside, and if any conflict were to arise when he was actually turned loose, she had Jake standing by with a lunge whip.

(She was surprised Jake had agreed to play this menial role, but she supposed to some degree he was getting paid to humor her.)

As if they could tell something was going on, the other horses came running up to the gate as soon as Sam and Windy approached it. There were eight of them: Ace, Tank, Buffalo, Jeep, Nike, and two mares Jake was training when he wasn’t humoring Sam. Strawberry was usually in that pasture too, but in the interest of Windy’s safety, Sam had moved her into a smaller paddock with Amigo, the only horse old and cranky enough to keep her in line.

Sam waved her hand at the crowd of horses, encouraging them to give her and Windy space. When she had room, she pushed the gate open and brought Windy in. Luckily, he seemed more curious than afraid- he had come out of his shell so much since he arrived at River Bend. Sam hoped she could trust him to stay out of trouble as they took this next step.

“Behave,” she instructed, untying his rope halter. She took a step back; Windy froze. He wasn’t sure what to do with all the new space around him or the horses that wanted to know exactly what he smelled like. Sam was aware this was probably the calm before the storm, but she stayed in the pen anyway. Maybe it was dangerous, but if a stampede broke out, she was determined to protect her little tumbleweed.

Nike reacted first. She was the most precocious horse in the herd (with Ace a close second) and felt the need to have a say in basically everything that happened. Before she even sniffed Windy, she decided she was not a fan. She pinned her ears and snapped at him- not biting him yet, but letting him know it was a very real possibility.

Windy got the message loud and clear. He shied away, which unfortunately ran him into Jeep, Nike’s second-in-command. The Appaloosa gelding swished his tail- a warning if Sam ever saw one- and Windy decided he’d had enough. He pushed through the crowd, which was impressive on its own, and took off running, a blur of bay against the yellow-green pasture. Sam cringed as a slew of worst-case scenarios flashed through her mind, while Jake somehow stayed stoic about the whole time.

Of course, the rest of the herd gave chase. They had no impulse control in their walnut-sized brains. Sam couldn’t really expect anything more of them. She just hoped if they caught Windy they wouldn’t pin him down and kill him.

It wasn’t something she had to worry about. Her horse was flying! His little legs stretched out almost parallel to the ground with every stride, like he was a Thoroughbred on race day instead of a scraggly mustang fresh off the range. None of the other horses could keep up with his joy at the first taste of freedom in more than a month- that and his fear of getting his ass whooped.

Slowly, after a number of hot laps around the pasture, the pace settled down from a full-speed-ahead gallop to a mellower lope. Windy’s lead shrunk until they were all running as one herd, together. Jake stood ready with the lunge whip, but they never needed it. Aside from a few casual nips, which were a normal part of the introduction process anyway, it was an expression of joy more than anything else. A herd of horses, varying levels of wild and tame, kicking their heels up and running for the fun of it- to Sam, there was nothing more beautiful.

“He’ll do just fine,” said Jake. Sam didn’t need his reassurance this time- she could tell just by looking that Windy had it under control- but she knew it was a habit for him to reassure her. That made her feel…appreciation wasn’t a strong enough word.

“I know,” she replied lightly, elbowing him in the ribs. All in the name of friendliness, of course. Or maybe in the name of keeping things comfortable and easy between them, which was feeling less comfortable and easy as the days went by.

The setting sun, the horses playing in the field, Jake beside her. The photographer in Sam craved a picture of this moment- something she could have and hold to remember it by. Considering Jake's last reaction to her taking selfies, Sam felt it wise to hold back. It was enough to live it, maybe. Even without a picture, it was unlikely she would ever forget.

Chapter 13: By Moonlight

Chapter Text

Fifteen minutes of trotting, twice a day. Despite his excess energy, the Phantom was growing more and more tired of that regimen as time went on. He hated circles! Sam knew his patience was wearing thin, but she would never go against vet’s orders on this one. She was already paranoid about the Phantom’s incision getting infected; she didn’t want to take any risks.

Instead, Sam did her best to make the fifteen minutes interesting. They worked on transitions and reversals, and today, Sam made a big leap: she added a lunge line to the process. Maybe that was a bad choice. The Phantom didn’t seem to like it very much. He swung his head from side to side, nipping at the rope but not quite being able to reach it. Sam clucked at him, encouraging him to stride out nicely, an idea he was not fond of at all.

“How much time do we have left?” she called.

Jake was helping by being the timekeeper. “Eleven minutes.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah.”

Sam just shook her head. She took a step to her left, cueing the Phantom to change directions. He obeyed but still made his feelings known by taking off broncing like a colt. Although he was a beautiful animal, he was not ever going to be docile, with or without his testicl*s.

“Easy,” Sam said sternly, trying to bring him back down to a trot. At least this burst of energy was proof he was feeling well.

The Phantom ignored her request and in fact kicked up his speed another notch. Sam tugged on her end of the lunge line, and he gave in for a moment, but eventually he just carried on with his canter. Sam gave up. He was so beautiful when he ran, and he had to feel so cooped up in this round pen after living wild for so long. She could let this one slide.

Once he'd lulled her into a false sense of security, the Phantom slid to a stop and reached through the bars to bite Jake. Fortunately, he couldn’t quite get his head far enough to take a chunk out of Jake's arm, but the clanging of the rails made it sound like all hell was breaking loose. Jake still jumped back and swore- he was normally so good at keeping his temper under control. If she wasn’t so busy freaking out, Sam might have found it funny.

“Sorry!” she cried, yanking the Phantom’s head back towards her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunted. “Don’t even know why I'm here. He hates me.”

“Maybe you're just here to call nine-one-one,” Sam joked. For whatever reason, Jake didn’t find that very funny.

Luckily, the rest of their fifteen minutes went more or less without a hitch. Jake was still in a big hurry to leave, and Sam didn’t blame him, but she chose to linger at the round pen. It was amazing, how quickly having the Phantom home had gone from an impossible dream to reality. Under the worst of circ*mstances, of course, but now she couldn’t imagine things any other way.

She just hoped, someday, he would be happy at River Bend. She knew he wasn’t happy yet- how could he be, locked in a small pen by himself?- but she wanted to believe things would get better. They'd find their connection and it would all go back to the way it was before the accident, like it had never even happened.

Well…maybe not quite like that. Sam's accident had so drastically altered the course of her life that she couldn’t really envision life without it. Maybe it would make an interesting book.

Sam was still deep in thought when Pepper and Ross ambled up to the fence. Even though it was early in the afternoon, Sam knew they'd already put in a hard day’s work branding cattle- something she wanted no part in, personally. Actually, she took an extra little sidestep away from them because she could still smell burnt hair on them and it was gross.

“Where’s Dallas?” Sam asked. It wasn’t totally off the table, but more often than not, the three ranch hands stuck together.

“He's fixing the lawn mower. We couldn’t take it,” Pepper answered. He tipped his head towards the round pen. “How’s the stud muffin?”

Sam shrugged. “Well, I don’t think he really likes when you call him that. But he's fine I guess.” She paused. “How’re the cows?”

The two cowboys made eye contact for a moment before either of them spoke. Sam took that as a sign they were going to say something she didn’t want to hear, and she was right. Ross flinched. “Well…”

Sam flinched too. “Oh no. What?”

The two boys looked at each other again. They were definitely trying to hide something from her. “Well…” Pepper wheedled. “They were a little riled up. Never had such a hard time splitting calves.”

“Maybe it’s the weather?” Sam tried. In truth, she didn’t know that much about cattle. Despite growing up on a cattle ranch, she had made an effort to disconnect herself from it. If she got too attached or involved, she’d never be able to eat any River Bend beef, and she was pretty sure her dad would kill her if she went vegetarian.

“I dunno,” said Pepper. “I think, more like, something’s been chasin’ em.”

Sam's stomach dropped. “Like…a pack of dogs?”

Both boys nodded, but Pepper immediately backtracked. “Don’t look all worried. Maybe it’s nothing. Numbers were good, so nothin’s been eating them.”

That didn’t make Sam feel any better. “They must just be biding their time.”

Dogs and coyotes probably weren’t capable of that kind of thinking, but Sam had a hard time not thinking of them like people. This had been personal for her ever since the Phantom got bit. Her family’s cattle being involved wasn’t exactly worse than that, but it certainly wasn’t better.

“Well, we know something’s lurking around,” Ross conceded. The older of the two cowboys was always quiet, but now he seemed on edge too. “You heard what happened to that horse?”

Sam nodded. She remembered, and she still felt sick to her stomach thinking about it. She looked at the Phantom, and she remembered what happened to him too. He was safe now, but it just as easily could have been him who died. The thought threatened to send her into a full nervous breakdown.

“Yeah, something’s definitely skulking around,” Pepper agreed. He sounded casual, but Sam wasn’t blind. She could see the worry behind his eyes, the tense way he was holding himself. Pepper was more concerned than he was letting on.

“But why hasn’t anyone seen them?” Sam blurted out. “It doesn’t make any sense, right? They're taking down all these animals, but no one’s seen them. Even Jake couldn’t track them. Isn’t that weird?”

“Well, yeah,” said Pepper.

“Animals like that, they're good at hiding,” Ross put in. “And coming out of a year-long drought like we are…everything’s hungry.”

They were no longer trying to make her feel better. Or if they were, they were doing a horrible job of it.

“Somebody’ll get ahead of ‘em eventually,” Pepper declared, stepping away from the fence. “Most likely a pissed-off stallion or a rancher with a gun. We better get going. Got a TikTok to make.”

“Again?” Ross complained.

“Do you want me to keep feeding you or not?”

They left. Sam stayed, watching her disagreeable-but-safe-and-healthy horse nibble at his hay. She’d done such a good job of pretending it wasn’t happening, but the truth was, it wasn’t over. Actually, as far as she could tell, it was only just beginning.

Gram had a hair appointment, Brynna had a job, and Wyatt had cattle to brand. On a Wednesday in summer, that left one person to watch the toddler, and that was Sam. There were worse things, she supposed, but she was keenly aware of the phrase “terrible twos”. At exactly two and a half, Cody could be a little monster sometimes, and let’s just say Sam didn’t want to get bit.

After lunch (grilled cheese, the only thing Sam was genuinely good at cooking) they went outside. As a farm kid, Cody was a big fan of the outdoors. He could be entertained for hours with the barn cats and a couple leaves- at least, Sam hoped he could be. She didn’t have many ideas beyond that.

The barn cats were all used to Cody picking them up and petting them in the rough way toddlers did. His favorite was Willow, a shorthair calico that was willing to accept and even enjoy any sort of human interaction. If there was a cat heaven, Willow would absolutely be going there, because she was much more tolerant of Cody’s hugs and kisses than any cat could really be expected to be.

Sam got bored of watching Cody lug Willow around long before he did. “Hey, Codester,” she said when there seemed to be a lull in the cat-carrying. “How ‘bout a pony ride?”

“Pony ride” was a magic word in the Forster house. Cody’s eyes lit up and he repeated it in eager toddler-speak. The two of them exclaimed “pony ride!” back and forth while Sam called Ace in from the pasture. Cody didn’t have a mount of his own yet; her spunky bay was the closest thing they had to a kid’s pony. They would have to do something about that soon- a ranch kid needed his own horse.

Sam's first thought was Windy. Yes, she had committed to selling him at the end of the summer, but if they had a reason to keep him, if he'd have a job…She put the thought out of her mind immediately. Windy was a barely-tame mustang, not a kid’s pony prospect. It would be years before he was grown enough to ride, and years more before he was safe for a child. The only reason it crossed her mind was that she didn’t want to let him go.

When Brynna recommended Sam train a mustang, she hadn’t considered how attached Sam would get. Sam hadn't considered it either. She’d been so excited by the idea of helping a horse, and Windy had been such a pain at first, that it hadn't even really been on the table.

But here they were now.

“Get on! Get on!” Cody insisted as Sam heaved the saddle onto Ace’s back.

“He's not ready yet!” Sam insisted. “I'm hurrying!”

She led Ace outside and boosted Cody into the saddle. He scrabbled for the stirrups even though there was no way he'd be able to reach them. His stubby legs weren’t even close to the shortest stirrup setting.

“Just hang onto the horn,” Sam told him instead. Cody agreed eagerly, his chubby little fingers barely able to close around the heavy-duty roping horn.

Walking up and down the driveway was almost as boring as watching Cody pick up cats, but Sam found it far more pleasant. Ace was not as excited about it- he snorted loudly every couple steps, letting Sam know being a kid’s pony was not a permanent career. Despite being close to ten years old now, Ace had yet to grow up, and Sam liked him just fine that way.

Things got more interesting when a truck pulled into the driveway- a single-cab pickup the color of old blue jeans, to be exact. Sam led Ace into the ditch, making room for the truck to pass and supporting Cody with one hand. Sam wondered what Jake was doing here, arriving so late- she’d assumed he was already at River Bend, branding cattle with the others, but apparently not.

She (along with Ace and Cody) met Jake right as he was getting out of his truck. He looked annoyed. He usually just looked neutral, so this was a surprise. “What’re you doing? Aren't we going to work your horses?”

Sam gestured to her little brother. “I have to watch Cody. Gram’s in town.”

Jake groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you were busy!” she protested. “She’ll probably be back soon. Why don’t you work Mouse or Rain and then we can work Windy and the Phantom?”

He shook his head. “Got somethin’ special planned for them later.”

“What?”

Finally, Jake cracked a smile. He could never stay annoyed at her for long. “Some kinda trust exercise. You'll see, later.” He scuffed the ground with one boot. “Don’t really feel like goin’ home. Mind if I play with Tempest while we wait?”

Sam agreed to that readily. “Dad would probably love that.”

Now that Windy was living out with the herd (which he loved) there was an available round pen. Jake set up camp there, and Sam positioned herself, Ace, and Cody so she could watch. Ace found a patch of grass to nibble on, and Cody was so happy to be on a horse he didn’t seem to care if they were moving or not.

Sam raised her eyebrows when Jake brought out a saddle. Tempest had worn a surcingle before, and Sam had been resting saddle pads on her back since she was a yearling, but she had never been fully saddled. Knowing Tempest’s wild streak, this had rodeo potential, but if Jake thought it was a good idea, Sam wasn’t going to say anything.

Tempest was quite demure coming into the round pen. She’d always had a soft spot for Jake, a fact that both amused and annoyed Sam. Obviously, she also had a soft spot for Jake, but when Tempest did it, it felt kind of sexist.

Jake tied Tempest to the fence and started brushing her down. He didn’t really pay attention to Sam, but she was fine with that. If he'd been ignoring her, sure, it would have been a problem, but she knew how Jake got when he was training horses. He was concentrating, and Sam wasn’t going to begrudge him that. Besides, it gave her free rein to check him out a little, which wasn’t something she normally had the opportunity to do.

Sam knew Jake was handsome because she was a human being and she had eyes. She wasn’t one of those girls who had been mooning over him since eighth grade, but she certainly wasn’t blind, either. Dark mysterious eyes, broad shoulders, and ripped arms…she could maybe do without the ponytail, but a lot of guys at her school had mullets, so it could obviously be worse.

The weird, new (or maybe not-so-new; maybe it had been lying in wait this whole time) affection for Jake was more than skin-deep, though. Sam couldn’t explain it. Her whole life, she’d thought of him as an overprotective older brother figure- she didn’t think of him that way anymore. He still protected her, yes, but they were a partnership now, and Sam felt they understood each other in a way no one else could.

Was she wrong for thinking they had potential to be more than friends?

Wrong, no. Crazy, maybe. Sam's view had changed, but Jake still looked at her like a little sister. He still called her “Brat”. Would he call her Brat if he liked her that way? Probably not.

But a girl could dream.

Tempest was fine with the saddle pad tossed over her back- she’d done that part many times before- but she sidestepped warily when Jake introduced the saddle. He didn’t just throw it on there; he wasn’t crazy. He started by letting her sniff the saddle, then gradually lifting it over her back. After a couple dry runs, Jake actually set the saddle on Tempest’s back, letting her feel the full weight of it. Being incorrigible, Tempest reached around and nipped at the stirrup, which obviously got her nowhere.

Jake was a gentle but masterful horseman. He took his time when he needed to and pushed when he needed to push. Sam felt almost in awe watching him, his sense of timing, his careful, controlled movements, the way he effortlessly convinced Tempest getting cinched up was no big deal. Sam felt clumsy just watching the procedure, even though she was certainly capable of saddling a horse herself and had done so less than an hour ago.

Saddling wasn’t the difficult part, though. Almost every horse was alright with bearing a saddle while standing still. It was when you added movement that the cinch and the saddle strings started to bother them, occasionally spurring them to take off bucking. Even with all the prep work Sam had done with Tempest, it was a very real possibility.

It didn’t happen- at least, not at first. Although hesitant, Tempest obeyed Jake’s instruction to walk out on the lunge line, something she had plenty of experience with. Jake's calm demeanor convinced her to take it easy, even though the weight of the saddle obviously had her uncomfortable to some degree. She offered a nice trot, too. Then Jake asked her to switch directions, and all hell broke loose.

Sam had known Tempest was fast- with parents like the Phantom and Dark Sunshine, she was basically guaranteed to turn out a speed demon. She had not known the little black filly had the devil in her. Tempest bucked like she had a full-blown mountain lion on her back, not a relatively-lightweight colt starting saddle. She hunched her shoulders and pushed off with her back feet, a move that would have sent many a rider flying from the saddle. She didn’t just do it once or twice, either- she made her whole circle like that, fighting to remove the weight that was unfortunately quite well strapped to her.

Ace looked up from his grazing. As captivating as Tempest was, Sam found her gaze more drawn to Jake. How would he handle the explosion? This wasn’t how they'd broke Blackie.

Not that Sam expected him to do things the same way they had with Blackie. Obviously that hadn't gone well. Even if it had, that was six years ago now. Jake had learned a whole lot about horse training since then.

Jake handled it like he always did- calmly and quietly. He clucked at Tempest, pushing her forward without really acknowledging the bucking thing. That was something she had to work out on her own- and she did, after about half a dozen laps in bronco mode. Turns out, bucking was a lot of hassle, and when Tempest realized that, she started to slow down and engage with Jake again. “Easy,” he said, just barely flexing his fingers on the lunge line. Tempest slowed from a lope to a trot, and after that, it was easy. She understood what was expected of her.

Sam felt they deserved a round of applause, but she didn’t want to cause a distraction. Cody had no such qualms. He clapped his chubby hands together and yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”, ignoring Sam's request to hang onto the saddle horn. Jake did look at them then. A pleased half-smile crossed his face and almost turned Sam to mush right then and there.

Luck was with Sam that day. Gram’s ancient Buick LeSabre rumbled over the bridge just as Jake was finishing up with Tempest. Sam was able to hand Cody off (he was ready for a nap anyway) and fall into step with her friend. “That looked pretty good.”

Jake declined the compliment. “You raised a decent horse.”

“It was a team effort.”

“I guess.”

They unsaddled the horses and turned them out. Ace pulled a Tempest and took off bucking and kicking, a move he rarely pulled under saddle. Tempest, on the other hand, walked calmly to the water trough as soon as she was set free.

Sam lingered by the gate, knowing she should probably be grabbing Windy’s halter and getting ready for training. “Jake,” she said, tearing his gaze away from the horses on the horizon. “Are you really going to let me help work with Mouse and Rain?”

No response, just an affirmative nod.

“What are we going to do with them?”

A knowing smile, the kind of secret Jake liked to keep. “You'll find out after sunset.”

Sam and Jake rode horses together all the time. That was normal, when it was Ace and Witch. It was also normal when Sam lunged Windy while Jake watched and guided, or they wrestled the Phantom into some task that would have been easy for any other horse. This, after dark on Jake's client horses, was decidedly not normal. Sam had yet to decide if that was a good thing or not.

Their rides together were tradition. Training Windy and Phantom was something her dad had asked Jake to do. But riding Mouse and Rain? That was Jake, inviting her explicitly into his world, and that wasn’t something he often did. Ever since Blackie and the accident, Jake had preferred to keep her on the sidelines and out of danger. Did it mean something that he had asked her to help him? Realistically, it probably meant his “trust exercise” would be easier with a second rider, but she was still determined not to mess it up.

They went back outside after dinner and a couple hours of killing time. Jake had joined the Forsters for a rousing game of Scrabble, which was somehow weird and completely normal at the same time. For someone who didn’t talk very much, he knew some awfully big words.

Jake took Mouse’s halter; Sam got Rain’s. Under the cover of darkness, Rain was the easiest horse to spot in the pasture. She was mostly white, almost glowing, with a dusting of gray speckles around her neck and shoulders. She was very much the picture of a foggy day, but “Rain” made for a prettier name.

Both mares were easy to catch and saddle. Sam shortened the stirrups on Jake's heavy saddle by six notches to have any hope of getting her boots in them. She hadn't ridden in his saddle since he got back from school; it felt so odd and so familiar at the same time.

“Alright,” said Sam, meeting Jake at the barn door. “What are we doing, really?”

He was enjoying it, keeping her in suspense. “You ever had a blindfold on?”

“Well, yeah, Jake,” she replied somewhat irritably. “We were all eight once. We've all done the piñata thing.”

“For the record, I have never done that,” he informed her before moving on. “Horses are good at seeing movement, not so much at running around in the dark. People do alright with just starlight, get me?”

Sam nodded affirmatively, thinking of Brynna’s horse Penny and little Faith. “It’s a trust exercise.” He’d already told her as much.

“Right. Nothing crazy, though.”

Jake shut the lights off and they both mounted up. Sam blinked a couple times, letting her eyes adjust ass he settled in Rain’s too-big-for-her saddle. Up until then, she hadn't thought to be nervous- should she be nervous? She’d never ridden Rain before.

Maybe this was a trust exercise for her, too.

Jake- the one with the plan- took the lead. He was on Mouse, a buckskin mare who was much larger than the name implied. Sam nudged Rain, and they followed towards the bridge. Of course, Rain responded perfectly and Sam had nothing to worry about- Jake had trained her, after all.

The night was cold. Sam wished she’d brought a sweater, but she forgot about that when she looked up at the stars. Something about that night, the sky, it had never been so beautiful. Sam looked up until her neck started to ache, and when she looked back at Jake, the stars were still reflected in her eyes.

“You good?” he asked.

Sam nodded, even though he probably couldn’t see her very well. “Never better.”

There was no destination. They just played around on the riverbank, testing the horses’ confidence around different obstacles. Sam's worries drifted away- she knew this area like the back of her hand, and speckled Rain turned out to be a trustworthy mount. Jake had a little more trouble with Mouse, but he might have just been trying to show off.

“Jake, she's perfect!” Sam called after she got Rain to execute a trio of perfect lead changes. In the darkness, with no one else around, her voice felt way too loud, but it didn’t feel right to be quiet, either. “What's she even in training for?!”

“She's ready to go home. This is her last test.”

Sam was taken aback. “And you trusted me to do it?”

A little smirk, visible even by moonlight. “You're the test.”

“Hey!” Sam protested, reining her horse over so she could swat at her dear friend. “What's that supposed to mean? If I can handle her, anyone can?”

Jake laughed, a fuller, realer laugh than the little chuckle she usually heard from him. He steered Mouse away from her effortlessly. “Not what I said.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you mean, exactly?”

“No comment.”

That was Jake's response to almost anything, whether he stated it explicitly or not. Sam tried to glare at him, but it turned into a grin. She found she wasn’t annoyed at him. Even if she was just there to test Rain, there wasn’t anywhere she’d rather be than under a sky full of stars with Jake, riding and leaving the real world behind.

She saw it happen in real time- Jake's mischievous expression flipped back to guarded in half a second. “We should probably get back to the barn, Brat.”

“But I'm having such a good time!” she protested, although she had felt the shift in the air around them too. She had to push his buttons a little- it was in her nature. “Jake, doesn’t this remind you of something?”

“Not really.”

Sam knew he wasn’t going to ask what exactly she was talking about, but she was going to tell him anyway. The chill in the summer breeze, the glowing moonlight, even the mosquitoes buzzing around her bare arms, it all brought her back to another July, long ago. “Remember when we slept in the pasture?”

Jake groaned. “Don’t talk about that like it’s a good memory. They thought we were missing. They called the police.”

“Oh, we were like eight! Everyone else is over that by now!” Sam insisted. “It is a good memory.”

A game of hide-and-seek at River Bend had gone wrong. Sam and Jake had hidden too well, lying low in the long grass of the ten-acre-pasture. Kit and Nate couldn’t find them, and after a long session of stargazing, the two youngest had fallen asleep.

They'd gotten in trouble, yes. And Sam had found close to a dozen ticks on her scalp later, but there had been something so magical about waking up to the old broodmare, Rosie, nudging her leg. Sunrise surrounded by the horses, Jake complaining about how cold he was, the dewy grass brushing their legs as they trekked back to the house. It was one of Sam's favorite memories.

Not long after that, her mom had died. A few years later, her own accident. Everything had changed since then, but the night view and the wind rustling through her hair brought her back to that night.

“Regardless of how you think about it,” Sam began. “You have to admit, the sky looks just the way it did that night.”

“Yeah,” said Jake. “I guess it does.”

Something was missing.

Sam couldn’t tell what it was, but she could tell it wasn’t there.

It frustrated her to no end.

The Phantom was quiet. Placid, even. His incision was mostly healed; he no longer had to trot for thirty minutes twice a day. There was still a waiting period before he could be turned out with the herd, but he was one step closer to being a functioning member of society. In the controlled environment of the round pen, Sam didn’t think he'd changed at all- that was a relief, because she had worried she wouldn’t even recognize him, and she did.

But something was missing.

Sam gently pulled a brush through the Phantom’s silvery tail. She’d tackled the mane ages ago, but the tail was more intimidating, a thick club of co*ckleburs and twigs. Five years without any hair maintenance left quite a mess.

“You're disgusting,” Sam told him, not really meaning it. He was a horse who lived outside- there was a difference. She flicked a co*cklebur off to the side before parting the hair again.

It wasn’t entirely true to say he'd gone without any hair maintenance all those years. Sam remembered that night she’d stood by his side, painstakingly combing through his mane with her fingers. That was when she’d made her braided bracelet, which she still considered her most valuable possession. Although, now it wouldn’t be so hard to make another one.

The Phantom had a halter on now. He hadn't had one that night in the desert. Sam suddenly realized what was missing.

“Of course it feels different now,” Sam murmured, taking a step back. The Phantom’s gaze followed her, possibly just because she had his lead rope hooked over her elbow. “You listen to me, you work with me now, but you don’t have a choice. Back then, you had a choice, and you still wanted to spend time with me.”

It all made sense now. Those brief glances, those moments of connection the years he lived wild, they were all testaments to Sam's bond with her horse. Their love was never meant for a round pen he couldn’t leave- it was meant for the desert, a thousand empty acres around them, for the biggest pasture, where a black foal had a whole world to explore but only wanted to follow her and nudge her pockets for treats.

He still loved her- Sam knew that deep down. But he hadn't chosen her. Circ*mstances had taken that choice away from him, and nothing would be right again until he decided she was what he really wanted.

If she was what he really wanted.

Sam untied the halter and put the brush away. Nothing manmade looked right on him anyway. Maybe she’d come to regret that, when she was struggling to get the halter over his nose for training and Jake was drumming his fingers on the gate. This was the lesser of two radical options, though.

The first, of course, was flinging the gate open and letting him go, regardless of whether he'd come back or not. Sam loved him enough to let him go, and she’d absolutely do it if she could, but circ*mstances reared their ugly head yet again.

Chapter 14: Weak Spot

Chapter Text

On the first day of August, Jake declared he was going to trim Windy’s hooves. He insisted Windy was ready. Sam wasn’t sure she was ready herself, and in fact, she would have liked a little more warning, but she knew better than to argue with Jake when he was in one of those moods.

That was how Sam found herself petting Windy’s neck while he leaned against his halter, letting her know he'd rather be anywhere else. Jake was still working on the very first of four feet, but Windy had already decided he wasn’t a fan of the process. Sam had done what she could to prepare him for it- holding up his feet, tapping on the soles with a hoof pick- but no practice could really prepare him for the sensation of his hooves physically being clipped. All things considered, he was doing a decent job of standing still.

For the most part, ranchers were expected to do their own farrier work. Sam had avoided learning the trade so far, partly because it was stereotypically “men’s work” but more so because her dad was so ridiculously nitpicky about how the job was done. Wyatt’s “if you want something done right, do it yourself” attitude made him a poor teacher. The few times Sam had attempted to take a rasp to a horse’s hooves, it had been stressful for all involved.

Jake didn’t have that problem. He'd learned first from his older brother Kit, then from an apprenticeship one of the summers Sam spent in California. He knew what he was doing, and his effortless way of connecting with horses didn’t hurt either, but he was undeniably off his game today.

“Hold still, short stack,” Sam murmured as Windy tried to pull his leg away. The nickname no longer felt totally accurate- in his two months at River Bend, Windy had grown close to a hand. The mental growth was less tangible, but probably even more dramatic. Inside and out, Windy was a totally different horse.

That said, he wasn’t all that into having his feet and legs messed with. Sam had to talk him out of rearing when he realized Jake wasn’t going to let him go until he was done.

When Jake did finally release the hoof, Sam pursed her lips at the same time she petted her horse’s neck. “Is something…bothering you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Who else?”

“You talk to horses sometimes.”

“I do, but I was using my people voice and I know you can tell the difference,” Sam huffed. “I’ll ask again. Is something bothering you?”

“Course not.” Jake lifted Windy’s foot onto the stand and started rasping the toe, perhaps a little more aggressively than he needed to. Windy, having never done this part before, let out a highly dramatic snort. “Quit asking.”

Sam didn’t believe him. She’d said before that Jake could basically read her mind, and while that didn’t exactly work both ways, she had a decent intuition towards him as well. He was quiet, but it wasn’t his normal quiet. He even looked annoyed; Sam could tell just by his posture, and no, she wasn’t crazy.

The “not crazy” thing also meant she wasn’t going to prod him about it too much. Trying to get Jake to open up about something was like arguing with a tree. Not in a metaphorical way or anything. It was the exact same experience. The only thing prodding him might accomplish was making him mad at her instead of Quinn or the world or whoever had pissed him off this morning.

Jake set the first foot down and switched sides. Sam, holding the lead rope, sidestepped out of his way. It was an unspoken rule that the horse handler gave the farrier plenty of room to work and also, physical proximity to Jake was not something that felt like a super good idea. Especially when he was doing arm stuff. The urge to reach out and touch would potentially be too strong.

Sam was fully aware that was a thought she absolutely needed to keep to herself. She could only imagine the mental breakdown Jen would have if she heard that.

The silence made her uncomfortable- that wasn’t typical for Sam and Jake. She had to say something. It was so awkward for them to not be talking, right? Sam scrambled for something normal to say and, in a fit of genius, came up with, “So how are his feet?”

Jake gave her something of an odd look before going right back to work. “They're long on the inside, but that’s normal for a horse that’s never been trimmed. You don’t have to worry.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried. I was just…” Sam trailed off, unsure how she should finish that sentence. Making conversation? Bothering you? Trying to chat with Jake “Strong, Silent Type” Ely was probably her first mistake, but she felt strongly that this was his fault, so she would not be pursuing that angle.

Windy got more fidgety when it came to the back hooves, an effective distraction for both Sam and Jake. Sam held onto his halter clasp instead of the lead rope, a not-that-helpful measure when it came to keeping him still. Windy wanted to fidget, so he was going to fidget. They could either work with him or give up, and Sam knew Jake wasn’t going to give up when they were only halfway through the job.

Luckily, Windy settled down as time went on- interestingly, just as Jake seemed to drift out of his own bad mood. Sam knew better than to comment on it, but she was undeniably relieved that everyone was getting along. Even though she certainly would have liked to know what was going on in Jake's head, at this point, it was not up to her.

Jake set the last hoof down and gave Windy a pat. “He’s good.”

“What about you? Are you good?” Sam asked, unable to keep her concern to herself.

His expression turned irritated again. “I told you; I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No, I mean, like, do you need some water?” Sam clarified, gesturing to the general sweatiness of Jake.

“Oh. Water sounds good.”

Sam turned Windy out (he was so excited to be back with his friends that he tried to play chase with Nike, which did not go well for him) and then went into the house. She wondered if she should offer Jake a new shirt. She eventually decided not to.

The house was oddly quiet, but not for long. Sam and Jake had just sat down when the screen door banged open and her dad walked in. He looked both annoyed and pleased to see her, which was a Wyatt Forster specialty and never a good sign. “Oh, good. I need the two of you to go to town.”

“What for?” Sam asked at the same time Jake said, “Both of us?”

“Yes, both of you. The parts for the snow blower came in and it'll take two people to carry them.”

“Why are you working on the snow blower in August?” Sam complained.

“Because if I waited ‘til there was snow on the ground to fix it, I wouldn’t be able to get out the driveway to pick up parts!” Wyatt retorted. He pulled some cash out of his wallet (kind of a lot of cash, honestly) and handed it to Sam. “Get yourself a snack after. As you mentioned, I have plenty of time to get that snow blower fixed.”

Was every male on the planet in some kind of mood today? No, Windy had been normal. Sam stuffed the money in the pocket of her jeans and turned to Jake. “You ready?”

“May as well be,” he replied. He gulped down his water, and they headed back out.

They took Wyatt’s truck to town, but Jake drove. Even though Sam had learned to drive in that very truck, she wasn’t completely comfortable with the manual transmission, and she didn’t want to embarrass herself. Jake probably wouldn’t say anything if she screwed up in front of him, but he did make some very judgmental faces.

Wyatt had made the right call sending two people to the hardware store. The package waiting for them at Tony’s was easily the size of a mini-fridge and much heavier. Sam's back protested as she and Jake shuffled out to the truck with the cardboard box hoisted between them. “I think my dad misspoke earlier,” Sam panted. “I think this is actually a whole new snow blower.”

Jake just grunted in reply. When they got to the truck, he awkwardly shifted the package so he could use one hand to open the tailgate. “We should have brought the Buick,” Sam joked. Despite actively accruing chronic back pain, she saw the humor in this. “Lower entry.”

“And how exactly would we get this out of the Buick?” Jake asked sarcastically. He had a point. At least with the truck, they could just have someone get in the bed and push. “Three…two…one…”

They both heaved, and miraculously, the corner of the cardboard box cleared the tailgate. A few more good shoves, and Jake was able to close it up. As soon as it was secure, they jumped back in the cab and turned the AC as high as it would go.

Sam counted what was left of the money from her dad. The snow blower parts had eaten up more of it than she expected- so much for turning that snack into lunch. “Um…you want malts at Clara’s?”

“Sure,” Jake agreed. He put the truck in gear (something Sam would not have accomplished without a few more clunk-clunks than necessary) and made the couple-blocks drive to Clara’s.

Sam's favorite thing about the diner (aside from the food) was that it was basically a time-capsule of the fifties. Even though it had opened this century (it was still run by the original Clara, who couldn’t be more than forty-five) it had the checkered floors and brightly colored booths that made the whole place feel vintage.

Sam and Jake ordered their malts and sat down at the corner booth. They easily could have taken them to-go, but Clara kept the air conditioning at a crisp sixty-two, and when it was pushing a hundred degrees outside, that was worth a couple minutes of their time. Maybe they'd even loiter.

Sam took a sip of her malt. She’d made a bold move of choosing strawberry instead of her usual chocolate. It tasted fantastic, but considering the hot day and the heavy lifting, Sam probably would have enjoyed a milkshake of pureed carrots. Realistically, that might have more nutritional value, and she happened to be starving.

Jake had vanilla. How boring of him. He had a moody look on his face again, and Sam was determined to get to the bottom of it this time. She rested her chin on her hand. “When do you go back to college?”

He didn’t flinch, so it wasn’t that. “A week after the county fair. Don’t worry, plenty of time to get Windy where he needs to be.”

Sam wrinkled her nose. “That wasn’t why I asked.”

In any case, it was a relief to know. Not that she would admit that out loud.

“Mm.” Jake didn’t seem to believe her. He drained his malt in all of three seconds and stood up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Sam assumed he was just going to the bathroom, but he actually returned with a pair of burger baskets. Before she could even ask, he set one down in front of her. “Eat.”

Sam was definitely hungry, but she didn’t touch a single fry. “What's all this?”

“Lunch?” Are you dumb? was implied, but Jake wasn’t one to waste words.

“I'm not paying you back,” Sam warned, her hand hovering over the fries.

Jake looked offended. “Well, yeah. I'm treating you to lunch. Is that a crime?”

“You don’t usually treat me to lunch.”

“And I never will again.”

“You didn’t get me any ketchup.”

Grumbling under his breath, Jake returned to the counter and filled a paper cup with ketchup. “Happy now?”

“Thrilled,” Sam replied, and she meant it. Jake was right- he didn’t usually treat her to lunch. The gesture made her feel special and honestly a little flustered. She knew she was reading too much into it- she paid for a snack, Jake was still hungry, and it would have been rude to not get lunch for her too. It was fairness in action and nothing more.

She wondered if anyone passing by might think they were on a date.

Sam's phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket just in case it was something important. She was pleased to see a message from her aunt, who she sort of kept in touch with, mainly by sending each other TikToks.

Aunt Sue: It just occurred to me: you’re 17 now, so we have to watch Mamma Mia again with new meaning

Sam: Because of dancing queen?? Sophie isn’t 17 in the movie.

Aunt Sue: Well, the alternative is me taking you to an ABBA concert

Aunt Sue: And my Swedish has gotten rusty

“Is that Quinn?” Jake asked abruptly.

Sam looked up from her phone. “Quinn and I don’t text.” They did, however, have a seven-hundred-day SnapChat streak, but it seemed childish to admit that. Guys like Jake were way too cool for Snapchat streaks. “Why would it be Quinn?”

Jake looked annoyed again. “I dunno. I'm just guessing.”

Sam waved her phone in his face. “It’s Aunt Sue. See? Nothing underhanded going on.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Sam popped a fry into her mouth thoughtfully. She decided she was not going to let his bad mood ruin her good day. “I'd only text Quinn if he, like, bought me burgers or something.”

Jake made a face. “You see me every day. You don’t have to text me.”

“I see my dad every day, and I still text him,” Sam pointed out. Her conversations with her dad were almost exclusively composed of the thumbs-up emoji, but Jake didn’t need to know that. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“You better not.”

“Friday, then?”

“Knock it off, Brat,” Jake told her, but he couldn’t hide the smile behind his eyes. Worst case scenario, he found their banter amusing. Best case scenario, they might keep talking when Jake went off to college.

The smile slipped off her face when she realized just how quickly that was coming up. Plenty of time, Jake had said, but it was really only three weeks. Sam wasn’t ready for the summer to be over- not even close.

She forced a smile and pulled herself together. All good (and mediocre) things would come to an end. She would just have to make the most of it.

Sam: I triple dog dare you to bring me donuts this morning

Sam put her phone right back in her pocket, knowing Jake probably wouldn’t answer. She didn’t expect him to bring her donuts, either, but it would be a nice bonus if he did. Jake Ely did love to surprise her.

It was early, that gray period right before sunrise. Sam hadn't meant to be up before dawn, but her dad had woken her up clomping down the hallway in his work boots, and she couldn’t fall back asleep after that. It seemed like fate, anyway- all the other Forsters had early-morning errands to run. Finally, Sam had the privacy to train the Phantom her way, without anyone asking if it was a good idea.

Realistically, it was not a good idea. Sam knew that. But her relationship with the Phantom was more or less founded on bad ideas and risks taken. Only recently had she begun to do things by the book, and that was only because of Jake's intervention. Not to mention, that wasn’t exactly going very well.

Sam wasn’t crazy, though. She wasn’t going to just open the gate and let the Phantom run free, even if that was what she actually wanted to do. That, unfortunately, was a federal crime. She would have to start with something tamer: going for a walk.

It really didn’t seem like a big deal, but the Phantom hadn't left the round pen since the Elys chased him into it in May. Then, the fact that he'd lived wild for so many years. That was what made it a big deal- the chance he'd rip the rope out of her hands and take his freedom back by force.

And he could do just that. Physically, it would be very easy for him. Sam just didn’t think he would have the heart to. Maybe she was naïve for that, but just like Jake had told her way back on their first day of training, the Phantom wasn’t nearly as wild as he thought he was. He knew how to walk nicely on a lead, and even though his connection with Sam wasn’t what it had been before, he had some respect for her as a handler.

If none of that panned out, Sam did have quite the knack for hanging onto a bolting horse. Windy had taught her that.

“Hey, Zanzibar,” Sam murmured, grabbing his halter off the fence. Ever since she’d impulsively taken it off during the Phantom’s hair appointment, she’d had surprisingly good luck putting it back on each day, so she was optimistic about it now.

The Phantom looked up at her and nickered. In general, he was much happier to see her these days, which Sam also took as a good sign. Even though he certainly wasn’t the Blackie of days past, he was like a whole different horse from when they'd chased him off the range in May. Back then, Sam hadn't even been sure if he would make it. Now, he was all but back to full strength.

That was a big deal; it really was. But just as much as Sam needed him to be strong and healthy, she needed him to be happy, and she wasn’t totally sure he was there yet.

The Phantom stood still as she tied the rope halter on him. He didn’t quite lower his head into the noseband like he had as a colt, but that would have been a lot to ask of him now. Sam was grateful just to be able to catch him, which had been a struggle for a long time.

They did a short “practice walk” in the round pen. The Phantom was thoroughly sick of circles, but he did as Sam asked of him, just with no enthusiasm whatsoever. His ears pricked forward when she fumbled with the gate latch. He was smart enough to know what that meant.

“I'm not letting you out,” Sam warned, just as much for herself as for the Phantom. She would have liked nothing more than to see the Phantom free again, sprinting back to his herd and his family, but for many reasons, that was not an option anymore. She would have to make the best of that too.

Sam bumped the gate open with her shoulder so she could keep both hands on the rope. A needless precaution- the Phantom stayed with her willingly, although his stiff neck and raised head betrayed his vast interest in the world beyond the round pen. Sam let him look around and take it all in; she wasn’t in any hurry.

Only when the Phantom was ready and settled did they begin their walk. First, they walked along the outside of the round pen, keeping some familiar scenery while they got comfortable. The Phantom was perfect every step of the way, so Sam felt brave enough to “explore” the rest of the yard. She knew better than to cross the bridge, though- a glimpse of the open range would probably be enough to convince the Phantom to abandon her, and she wasn’t interest in taking that particular risk today.

The Phantom let out a deep sigh, and Sam copied his action. He was doing fine, and this was exactly what their relationship needed. Maybe someday- Sam hadn't even allowed herself to hope until now- they would gallop across the range again, but for now, a walk between the house and the barn was fine enrichment for both of them.

“Get out of here, Blaze!” Sam called when the collie ventured out from his sleeping spot under the porch. No risks, remember? And the Phantom escaping because he wanted to beat up the dog was not something she wanted to explain to her dad.

Blaze obediently crawled back under the porch. Sam praised both him and the Phantom, even though, realistically, the horse had done nothing to earn it. She led him to a patch of grass in front of the barn and loosened the rope so he could graze freely. How long had it been since the Phantom had fresh grass? It made Sam happy to see him happy, and that was exactly what she had set out to accomplish.

Looking back, Sam should have seen (or rather, heard) what was coming, but she didn’t. She was too focused on her horse; she didn’t react until he reacted, and by “reacted”, she meant “shied and launched himself to the end of the lead rope”.

He wasn’t serious about it, at least. If he'd wanted to, he easily could have dragged her around the yard, but he yielded when Sam made herself an anchor at the end of the line. A small stroke of good luck followed my something very, very bad.

The Phantom had not spooked just for fun. He'd spooked at a pickup truck rattling over the bridge, specifically a pickup truck bearing one Jake Ely, who had definitely seen the whole thing. As the Phantom relaxed and went back to grazing, Sam only grew more worried. She knew Jake wouldn’t like what she was doing- that was why she had specifically done it when he wasn’t there, and Sam was pretty sure he wouldn’t like that reasoning either.

She had to come up with something quickly, because Jake was getting out of his truck and he was mad- no, it was worse. Jake's expression was deadly calm, but his clenched fists and tightly set jaw betrayed that he was upset. And why wouldn’t he be? Sam had lied to him, basically, or at the very least gone against their agreement for the summer. This was exactly the kind of thing she wasn’t supposed to do on her own, but of course she’d done it anyway, because…why, exactly? Because she wanted to prove she could? Because she didn’t think Jake would listen to her idea?

That wasn’t fair and Sam knew it. Jake had been reasonable this whole time, even trusting her with one of his client horses, which nobody said he had to do. Yes, he was protective, but hadn't he trusted her with Windy, the first time he went out of his pen?

It was different with the Phantom, Sam's weak spot and the thorn in Jake's side.

Sam didn’t know exactly what to expect from Jake, but it definitely wasn’t, “Are you okay?”

She studied him carefully, wondering, aren't you mad at me? Why aren't you yelling yet? Then she found her voice. “Of course I'm okay. We’re just going for a walk.”

“I saw him jump.”

“No big deal.” The rope burn on her hands said otherwise, but she would have to be ten times dumber to tell Jake that. “Stuff happens.”

She didn’t even manage to convince herself, much less the mind reader that was Jake. All of her “precautions”- not leaving the yard, keeping the dog under the porch- seemed more like feeble excuses. This was the calm before the storm.

Sam tugged on the Phantom’s lead rope, pulling his head up from the grass. “I’ll just…put him away now.”

“Sam.”

She winced. Using her actual name wasn’t a good sign. “Uh-huh?”

It would’ve been better if he yelled. His grave, serious tone made Sam want to shrivel up inside, and that was far more uncomfortable than lighting up her temper.

“For once in her life, could you use some common sense?”

She shrank back. He wasn’t wrong- Sam had known that in her gut the second she saw the truck- but he wasn’t being nice, either. “Nothing happened!” she insisted. “For once in your life, could you just trust me?”

“What if something did happen?”

“But-”

“Nobody’s home, right? What if he got away and you had to round him up on your own? What if-” For the first time, Jake's calm exterior wavered. “What if I got here and had to find you bleeding out again?”

It was a low blow to bring up the accident. Sam clenched her teeth. “It’s just a walk in the yard!” she burst out, startling the Phantom again, but fortunately not to the point of bolting. “It’s not the end of the world! We’re all fine! I'm seventeen; quit treating me like I'm still eleven!”

They'd had a version of this argument a hundred times before. Sam wanted to be seen and heard as an adult; Jake wanted to protect her. There were different outcomes, different levels of who was right and who was overreacting. Sam was mature enough now to see his point sometimes, but each time they were in the middle of this argument, she got stuck digging herself in a deeper hole and saying things she’d regret later.

Jake was more controlled than that- usually. Right now, he looked on the edge of losing it, and Sam felt a pang of guilt for pushing him so far.

“You want me to quit treating you like a sixth grader?” Jake asked. He didn’t wait for her to answer. “Then quit acting like one.”

Who was acting like a sixth grader? Sam resisted the urge to stamp her foot. “Forget it,” she muttered, stalking towards the round pen. “Just forget it. I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

Chapter 15: That Kind of Trouble

Chapter Text

“-and then he just drove away! Can you believe that?” Sam ranted into the phone.

“I mean, I believe that it happened,” Jen replied dubiously.

Sam paused, frowning. “Jen, I really need you to back me up here.”

“Oh, sorry! Jake sucks and you are undeniably one-hundred-percent in the right!”

“Jen.” Sam wished they were having this conversation in person. It seemed like Jen needed a smack. “Are you…taking his side?”

“I am a completely neutral party!” Jen reiterated in a not-that-neutral tone.

“I thought you hated Jake!”

“As a person? Yes,” said Jen, completely unabashed. “But Mr. Ely and I share one common interest: keeping you alive.”

Sam winced at her bluntness. She had called Jen looking for someone to tell her everything was Jake's fault, but she’d known all along that she had screwed up. “…was it really that stupid?”

“Taking your wild stallion out for the first time while no one was home, you mean?” Jen asked. Then she softened her tone. “Obviously I would never call you stupid, Sam.”

Technically, the Phantom was neither wild nor a stallion these days, but Sam didn’t feel it would be helpful to bring that up. She just groaned. “Okay, I can admit it was not my best idea. But he didn’t need to act so self-righteous!”

“Mm-hmm,” said Jen. She sounded disturbingly like she quite believe Sam.

Sam scratched Cougar’s head absentmindedly. She was sprawled in bed with three fans pointed at her, escaping the mid-day august heat. “Jen, you are not quite giving me the external validation I am looking for.”

“Neutral party, remember?”

“Quit being a neutral party and be my best friend!”

She could almost see Jen rolling her eyes- her sense of right and wrong was too strong to push aside even to comfort Sam. “You know what? I think you're just talking to me to avoid talking to Jake.”

“Absolutely not,” Sam lied blatantly. Apparently Jen knew her a little too well.

Jen continued. “Actually, I think you already know you need to apologize to him, and you're using me as an excuse to put it off!”

Sam physically recoiled. “I am not apologizing to Jake!”

“Oh, yeah? What's your plan, then?”

Sam didn’t have a plan. The “out for a walk” incident should have proved to everyone she did not think before she acted. “I guess I’ll just pretend nothing happened?”

Now it was Jen’s turn to groan. “You're hopeless, Sam. Absolutely hopeless.”

It worked, though. Jake showed up again the next day, once they'd both cooled off, and by mutual unspoken agreement, they continued not to speak of it. Instead, Sam suggested they practice loading Windy in the trailer. Jake offered her a stale donut from Phil’s Fill-Up. That actually made Sam feel more guilty about going behind his back, but they weren’t talking about that, remember?

Jake hitched his truck to the smaller of the Forsters’ two trailers, a rust-colored three horse that rarely left the yard. Sam acted as spotter, and he backed directly up to the gate of the round pen they were working in. That way, if Windy panicked and ran off, they wouldn’t have to chase him more than fifty feet. After what happened the first time they took him outside, it seemed like a reasonable precaution.

Sam got the horse; Jake got the supplies- a rope, a lunge line, and a bucket of oats. Hopefully, Windy would lead as soon as she asked and they wouldn’t need any of that besides the rope, but it was always good to be prepared.

Not surprisingly, Windy regarded the trailer with some degree of trepidation. He'd seen trailers before- been chased into them, mainly- and had an overall negative impression of them. Sam couldn’t blame him. She just hoped his trust in her would be enough to change his mind.

“You know, this is going to be a totally different experience,” Sam told him, resting a hand on his neck. He was a whole new horse these days- he didn’t flinch away from her touch in the slightest. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

Jake cleared his throat irritably. “Quit talkin’ to him and bring him to the trailer.”

There was more of an edge to his voice than usual. It was subtle, but of course Sam noticed.

She clucked at Windy and tugged on the lead rope. While he was normally an in-your-pocket pony, he wasn’t super keen on following her this time. Sam persisted, and Windy eventually took a reluctant step towards the open trailer. Sam made a big fuss over him while Jake rolled his eyes.

One step at a time, Windy approached the trailer. His eyes were wide and rimmed with white, but at Sam's request, he sniffed the bumper cautiously. When he seemed comfortable with that, Sam took the next step: she walked into the trailer herself, hoping he would follow.

He didn’t follow. The sound of the trailer shifting was too much for him; Windy spun around at top speed and bolted. Sam tried to hold on, but when she stumbled out of the trailer, the rope seared through her hands. Ignoring the rope burn, she grabbed the trailer with one hand to avoid falling on her face.

“You good?” asked Jake. Sam could hear the strain in his voice there too, although in a different way this time.

“Yeah, fine,” Sam panted. In truth, her hands hurt and she was no longer optimistic about getting Windy in the trailer today. “I’ll try again.”

It was like teaching him to lead all over again- one step forward, two steps back. The second time Windy spun, Sam managed to keep ahold of him, a major victory. Gradually, he came around to her way of thinking. Although he was still visibly wary of the whole procedure, Windy gave the trailer a chance. When he first lifted one foot to paw at the bumper, Sam wanted to cheer for him, but she held back just to avoid spooking him.

There were two schools of thought towards a horse making a big accomplishment- you could either give them a long break as a reward or build off that momentum and ask for more. This was where Sam and Jake tended to butt heads. With the air tense between them, neither of them wanted to introduce the possibility of an argument, so they both bent over somewhat backwards to please each other. Jake hesitated to prod her along, and Sam did her best not to hold up the show, and the balance seemed to suit Windy well.

He got a little bit braver every time. After pawing at the trailer for a few minutes, he was bold enough to test his weight on it- three of four feet safely on the ground, of course. Once he got both front feet onto the lip of the trailer, Sam knew he was ready. Jake knew it too. “Send him this time, Brat,” he instructed as she backed Windy a few steps. To get all the way in the trailer, she expected they'd need some extra momentum.

“You can do this, tumbleweed,” Sam told him. It was unlikely (but not impossible) that he could understand her, but he seemed to draw courage from her words regardless. Jake didn’t complain or even roll his eyes this time- it seemed he understood this was something both of them needed.

Sam went for it. A series of confident strides, all the way into the trailer. She didn’t hesitate on the outside, but she did say a little prayer inwardly, and she braced herself for Windy to slam to a stop at the end of the line.

It didn’t happen. Sam didn’t hesitate, and Windy didn’t either. He followed her seamlessly into the trailer, one brave step after the other. The clanging of his hooves on the floor unsettled him visibly, but he calmed down with just a quiet word from Sam.

They didn’t linger. Sam knew the longer they stayed in the trailer, the more likely it was that something would go wrong. She turned Windy slowly, knowing he would spook when his back end brushing the side. He impressed her, though- while he did tuck his tail and hunch up his back, he refrained from bowling her over, which was honestly what she had expected.

When Windy stepped down from the trailer, then they were allowed to celebrate. Sam wrapped her arms around her pony’s neck, more proud than words could possibly explain. She thought back to a couple months or even just a couple weeks ago, when he had been so scared of everything including her. When had her little tumbleweed gotten so grown up? Her summer with him was slipping through her fingers rapidly.

After a few minutes of hugging, Jake cleared his throat. “You wanna try that again, Brat?”

Sam stepped back from Windy. “Why? He did so good!”

Jake conceded her point- a River Bend Ranch rarity. “Yeah, he did good…one time. You don’t get good at something by doing it once and then quitting.”

Why did he have to make so much sense? Sam relented. “Oh, alright. We’ll go back in.”

She clucked at Windy and led him back to the trailer. It went even smoother the second time, so smoothly that Sam decided to load him a third time. Instead of turning Windy around, she boldly asked him to back out of the trailer- a task made difficult by the combination of blind spots and drop-offs.

Of course, Windy rose to the challenge, hesitating over the lip of the trailer, but stepping down when Sam asked to. What a prince he was! Sam showered him in praise and pets, thrilled beyond measure that he'd done so well with so little practice.

Her excitement was dampened when she noticed Jake's hard expression. They were doing so well; why did he look like he'd just swallowed a lemon? Sam voiced that thought, and Jake flinched. “Well…I just worry.”

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. Again with the worrying! They'd just fought about this! “What, that I might get hurt? In a controlled environment with adult supervision?”

“That you're getting too attached.”

That wasn’t what she was expecting. It stunned her into silence, if only momentarily. Was he right? Yes. Sam didn’t even have the heart to deny it. While he was no Blackie, Sam had to admit her relationship with Windy wasn’t all business. He'd won her over with his spooks and acts of defiance, then with the blind trust he'd grown to have for her. He definitely wasn’t just a summer job to her anymore.

Sam knew she still had to sell him at the end of the summer, no matter how attached she was. Even if it wasn’t set in stone like her contract with the Phantom, it was the only way things could possibly work out. If not for the Phantom’s return, Sam maybe could have written him off as a foster fail, but she knew without even trying that would not fly now. She had too many horses- her dad had made that more than clear. Besides, with the Phantom’s vet bills and adoption fees, her college fund could really use the boost of selling a horse.

She didn’t want to explain all that to Jake, so she just said “shut up” and buried her face in Windy’s mane.

Jake didn’t take her grumpiness personally- a small victory. Actually, his voice was soft when he spoke next. “I don’t know what any of us expected,” he said gently, and truer words had never been spoken. “You trained a decent horse, Sam.”

She’d been “Brat” all day. Why was she “Sam” now? She looked up to try and get a read on him, which was no more helpful than usual. “We trained a decent horse,” she corrected. Now that they were fighting, it seemed fair to give him some of the credit. “You'll miss him when he goes too, won't you?”

Jake shook his head. “When would I have time to miss him? I’ll be gone too.”

Sam's stomach dropped all the way to her boots. She wasn’t ready for that either.

Every time the phone rang, Tasha, Kay-Lynn, and Sam all crossed their fingers. Although life had moved on in many ways, the Willow Springs employees had yet to move on from the horse that turned up dead and mauled by a dog. Because of that, productivity had sunk to an all-time low. Most of their work hours were spent conspiracy theorizing about the perpetrator. By this time, they had already discussed every normal thing possible, so the theories were getting pretty out there.

Boomer took a big chug of coffee. It was a gray, drizzly day, so there was little that could be done outside in the stockyard. Or maybe that was just the excuse he was using to loiter in the office to fawn over Brynna- Sam still hadn't decided. “I think we all know who’s really behind this, right?”

“Uh…wild dogs? Coyotes?” Sam guessed. Boomer was an interesting character, and it was hard to guess where his train of thought was going, if it had even left the station.

Boomer shook his head, then enunciated the words carefully. “Linc. Slocum.”

Sam groaned. Kay-Lynn and Tasha, who were not originally from Darton, both asked, “Who?”

“He's a guy who’s in jail for tax fraud. He used to cause a lot of trouble around here,” Sam answered, although that was nowhere near the whole story. “In jail. Boomer, how could he be behind the dog attacks?”

He just shrugged. “I don’t know! But this is the exact sort of thing he used to get mixed up in, isn’t it?”

Sam couldn’t deny that. Linc Slocum’s carelessness had hurt plenty of mustangs before, and if Boomer was somehow right, this wouldn’t even be the first time a pack of dogs was involved. “If he was out of jail, we would know. If he was somehow able to make stuff happen from in jail, why would biting wild horses be his priority?”

“I didn’t say he was doing the biting! Obviously he has an accomplice!”

“I still think it’s a cougar,” Tasha declared. “I know your vet said canine, Sam, but how different can the tooth and claw marks really be? It could be a cat.”

“I've been attacked by a cougar,” Sam said bluntly. “I know what that looks like.”

Tasha’s jaw dropped. “I'm sorry, what?” Kay-Lynn asked in a squeakier voice than usual.

Sam gave a brief recap of her misadventure with the mountain lion. Kay-Lynn made serious eye contact. “You have lived an extremely interesting life.”

“Not on purpose!” Sam insisted. “This kind of stuff just happens to me!”

Boomer socked her in the shoulder. “Quit bragging and get back to the matter at hand!”

“I wasn’t-”

“Obviously, it’s dogs doing the biting,” he continued. Finally, something they could all agree on. “But isn’t it weird there's no tracks, no reports of howling or sightings, and only an attack once in a while? That’s not how a pack of animals works. That’s calculated. That’s human.”

A pit began to form in Sam's stomach. She hadn't planned on taking Boomer seriously- that had never been applicable before- but what if he was right? What if there was something more sinister going on than unfortunate cruelty of nature?

Ever since Linc Slocum got locked up, Sam had more or less stayed out of trouble. She had not been held at gunpoint, tailed a suspect, or at any point set foot on a crime scene. Realistically, Sam liked her life better without detective work in it, but she would happily throw herself back into that kind of trouble if that was what it took to protect the horses.

Her dad would not be happy with this new development.

“Or- look at this.” Boomer held up the work iPad so everyone else could see it. “See? Tiger escaped from Portland Zoo, still at large.”

So much for taking Boomer seriously.

“We already agreed it’s not a cat!” Kay-Lynn huffed. “And really? Portland? There’s no way a tiger would go all the way from Portland to Nevada!”

“It’s been on the loose since Mother’s Day! He had time to travel!”

“The first attack was only two weeks after Mother’s Day, though,” Sam pointed out. “Tasha, how many miles is it from here to Portland?”

Tasha got out a map, but before they could get a solid read on the tiger’s miles per hour, Brynna power-walked out of her office. “Are you guys wasting company time again?”

Brynna’s job actually involved real work every single day, so she had strong feelings on how much time they should spend talking about the dog pack no one could prove existed.

Tasha gestured to the map. “Of course not. This is constructive brainstorming and problem solving.”

Obviously, Brynna did not buy that. “Uh huh. Sam, go make more coffee. Boomer, go outside!”

“But it’s raining!” he complained.

“Take an umbrella!”

“Yeah, you can borrow Kay-Lynn’s puppy and kitten one!” Sam offered.

“Hey!” Kay-Lynn protested. “That’s not yours to lend out!”

Too late. Boomer was already grabbing the precious puppy and kitten umbrella. “Alright, I’ll go. Thanks, Sam!”

He left and went outside to work on something. Sam hoped it would get sunny out so he'd return the umbrella sooner and Kay-Lynn wouldn’t be mad at her. But maybe that was a lot to ask for.

The Phantom trotted around his prison aka round pen. He hated circles, yes- but he hated submission even more. While he fully understood what Sam was asking him for (join-up) he obviously intended to make both of them work for it.

Sam didn’t mind, really. It was a labor of love for her; nothing was more beautiful than the Phantom when he moved, now more than ever. She could still so easily close her eyes and picture him lurching along with a knee the size of a cantaloupe. It was such a relief to see him now, gliding around smoothly as if nothing had changed.

Except, everything had changed. He was a tame horse again, a gelding now. He would never run free again. Soon, when they could trailer him and be reasonably sure he would load up to go home, he would be marked with a BLM freeze brand.

There was no going back, and on some level, Sam was okay with that. It was a choice she’d made, after all. She would always miss the way things had been, but there was such potential in their future, too. She saw herself astride the Phantom, flying across the desert with just a neck rope for control. She saw him growing up to be the best roping horse any of them had ever seen, and protecting the herd of saddle horses from the other side of the fence this time.

For everything they gave up, the universe would give them something back. Sam really believed that.

Now she just had to convince the Phantom.

He raised each hoof in a prance, flaunting his newly-returned strength. How good it was to see him showing off again! Sam could have watched him for hours, but her instructor seemed to have a problem with that. “Wake up, Brat! You have to push his buttons a little!”

“I am pushing his buttons!” Sam complained, while in reality the only buttons being pushed were Jake's. Sometimes her dreamer’s nature took a toll on him.

They still had yet to discuss their fight, the most serious one they'd had all summer. At this point, Sam didn’t think they needed to. How many times had they had the same argument with the same conclusion? I’ll back off. That was what they always agreed, and they could agree to it perfectly well without saying it out loud.

At least, Sam was pretty sure that was what was happening. There was still an odd tension between them, but it could have been related to something else.

She decided it would be better to focus on the Phantom. She smooched and waved one hand at him, encouraging him to keep going. The Phantom responded by tossing his head; he didn’t need her telling him what to do. Sam knew this, and she softened. Joining up wasn’t supposed to be a command that he obeyed. It was more like a dance between the two of them, matching each other’s steps and movements.

The Phantom watched her carefully, and Sam returned the favor. Connection had to go both ways. She took two steps backward, willing him to follow, and he did. The mighty Phantom slid to a stop and faced her, chocolate-brown eyes boring into hers.

He was listening. He was trying. It might not have seemed like that much, but it was such an improvement from where they'd started that Sam felt almost giddy from it. “Don’t act all co*cky; you're not done yet,” she told him. Jake wasn’t allowed to tell her not to talk to the Phantom. This was one situation where she absolutely knew better.

She sent the Phantom off in the opposite direction. He skipped the trot and went straight to the canter, his silvery tail streaming behind him. A thing of beauty, but an unruly one.

He ran for a long time- not from fear or disobedience, but from the sheer joy of it. This was a horse with way too much pent-up energy and no practical way to expel it. Sam wondered briefly how she had managed to lead him outside of the pen without dying.

As his coat began to darken with sweat, the Phantom gave signs he was ready to join up. He slowed his pace to a lazy trot and curved his neck towards her, checking in every few strides. Sam was hesitant to believe him, but as a rule, horses did not lie. The only other choice was to trust him, so she took three steps back, inviting him into her space. The Phantom accepted the invitation eagerly, following her until her palm brushed the whorl on his forehead.

Sam took another step back, and he followed. A step to the side, and he matched that too. They were well and truly connected now, and Sam didn’t think she’d ever forget that feeling. He'd forgiven her, at least enough to trust her again. Sam hadn't thought they'd ever get to that point again.

When she was sure it was all real, she turned to Jake, grinning. He was more reserved than she was- always had been, always would be. But he was smiling too, and in that moment, Sam couldn’t think of anything more perfect.

Sam met Jen at the halfway point between their two houses, which they had marked with a spray-painted pink fence post a couple years ago. As always, Silly looked wound up and ready to fight a bitch. Jen would surely have her hands full.

“Where are we going today?” Sam asked. As the one with the more flexible schedule, she usually let Jen call the shots.

“Let’s go to Arroyo Azul,” Jen suggested. “I need a long ride to burn some energy off this crazy creature.”

That sounded fun to Sam, and Ace was up for anything. They set off at a brisk trot, knowing they had a lot of ground to cover.

“You'll have to stop at the ranch before you go home,” Jen told her.

Her knowing smile convinced Sam to ask why. Jen’s grin broadened. “We got a new horse!”

Sam gasped. “The chestnut mare? The one with the Olympic medals?”

Jen shook her head, noticeably disappointed. “No, like a normal horse. She’s still great, though.”

“Let me guess- a palomino?”

“There's no point trying to surprise you anymore.”

“You know, my dad always says not to buy horses based on color.”

“Well, your dad doesn’t run a color-based breeding program,” Jen shot back. “And if it makes you feel any better, she's a lovely horse outside of color. Great conformation, great pedigree- she just also happens to be the color of a Vanilla Wafer. Which is her name, ironically.”

“Your horse is named Vanilla Wafer?”

“We call her Nilla.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Sam declared. “I'm so jealous!”

“You're jealous? You, owner of a fabled wild stallion, are jealous of Vanilla Wafer?”

“He's not a stallion anymore.”

“Oh, whatever.”

“Want to run for a while?”

Jen wasn’t a weenie; obviously the answer was yes. They spurred their horses onward. Ace stretched into the higher gait eagerly; Sam hadn't been taking him out nearly enough this summer. In addition to having extra horses to worry about, the idea that something on the range was taking down horses made her hesitate to ride out alone.

Although, having Jen and Silly didn’t really make their odds in a fight that much better. It was more of a mental thing.

Everything was going really well. They let the horses run maybe longer than they should have, all the way to the foothills of the Calico Mountains. Sam was just about to suggest they slow down and enjoy the scenery when Silly spooked- not lightly, either. The yellow mare reared to full height and spun one-eighty, tossing Jen forward in the saddle. Jen made a valiant effort to recover, but when Silly spun a second time, she tumbled off her left shoulder. She landed with a crunch that made Sam turn positively green, and Silly took off towards home.

Ace sidestepped rapidly, but Sam was able to get him under control. She swung off to help Jen, who was clutching her wrist and muttering swear words through gritted teeth.

“Are you okay?” Sam demanded, kneeling by her side. “What spooked her?”

One thing at a time. Jen held up her left arm weakly- her wrist hung at an awkward angle. “I think this is broken.”

Sam swallowed hard. “I think so too.” Her minimal knowledge of first aid spun around in her head. Ambulance? No, they were in the middle of nowhere. A splint? “Okay, let me just find a big stick…”

She looked around, but all she saw was rocks, which would not be very much use as a splint. Jen groaned and awkwardly leaned into a sitting position. “Forget it. Find a small stick I can bite and take me home.”

“There aren't any small sticks either.”

Jen swore again. “Alright, fine. The hard way.”

Sam grabbed her by the good arm and helped her up. She was in a hurry to get out of there, and not just because her friend needed medical attention. She had a sudden but undeniably feeling they were being watched, and she would feel better as soon as they were on their way. As long as they managed to stay in the saddle this time.

It was no small feat getting both girls on Ace. With a useless left hand, Jen couldn’t pull herself up by the saddle horn like she normally would, and holding her arm to the side majorly threw off her balance. Sam had to stand next to her and push.

“There's a hole under those rocks,” Jen observed as Sam was fighting for her life.

“Don’t care. Get on the horse.”

“It looks pretty big. I bet you or I could fit in there.”

“GET ON THE HORSE!”

Jen huffed and awkwardly scooted behind the saddle. It seemed fair that the person with two working hands be put in charge of steering, but Sam had a heck of a time getting on without kicking Jen in the gut. Ace was a saint for standing still throughout the whole process.

Before they rode off, Sam spotted the crevice Jen was talking about. She shuddered. It was not a “hole”. It was a den, with scratches carved in the rocks around it, and Sam had a bad feeling she already knew exactly what lived there.

Chapter 16: Trepidation

Chapter Text

Jen’s wrist was absolutely broken. She had to go to the ER for a cast and X-rays. Sam felt terrible about the whole thing, even though Jen actually remained in pretty good spirits, so the next day, Sam went to the community college and picked up Jen's homework for the next couple weeks.

(Sam still found it baffling that Jen actively sought out homework during the summer months, but to each their own.)

Even after almost three years, Sam still found it a little intimidating to knock at the mansion door instead of the ramshackle-but-comfortable cabin the Kenworthys had once lived in. The wooden double doors were oversized and firmly unwelcoming, despite the wreath of lavender flowers hung on them, and Sam briefly considered just trying to crawl through Jen's window.

It was Lila, Jen's mom, who answered the door. “Oh, good, you're here. Jen’s already going stir-crazy!”

Sounded like Jen was being a little dramatic. “She can still go outside, can't she?”

“She wanted to, but these doors are really heavy. Come on in!”

Jen's room was on the second floor of the west wing. The concept of “wings” was still so wild to Sam; that was something normal people did not have. But the Kenworthys had earned that by years of working for Linc Slocum. They deserved a mansion with wings more than anyone else Sam knew.

“Come in!” Jen called.

“I brought you a present!” Sam announced. “It’s homework.”

“Oh, good.” Jen let out a big sigh of relief. “I've been so bored since I got home.”

She was in bed with her left arm propped up on a stack of pillows. Her wrist was encased in a bulky cast, and National Geographic was playing from her laptop. Overall, she looked like a comfortable if not happy camper.

Sam sat down at the foot of the bed gently. She knew Jen had a better pain tolerance than most, but she still didn’t want to disturb her wrist any more than necessary. “How are you holding up?”

“Oh, fine,” Jen said almost dismissively. As if a broken bone wasn’t a major life event for most people. “Not my first fracture. I was disappointed I didn’t need surgery. That could’ve kick-started my career.”

“Aren't you going to be a vet?”

“Hey, fracture care is severely underdeveloped in equines! I’ll take any opportunity to learn something.”

“You are very…dedicated,” Sam eventually decided. She thought that would be the easiest word to take as a compliment. “What about Silly? Is she alright?”

Jen rolled her eyes quite dramatically. “Oh, she's fine. A little saddle-sore, maybe, but she came right home and got over it.”

“Typical mare.”

“Yeah. Dad’s going to ride her ‘til I get better. That’ll be a sight to see.”

“Silk Stockings working cattle? Yeah, somebody’s gonna die.”

Jen turned off National Geographic. “So you're going to go back there, right? Where I fell?”

Sam blinked a couple times. “What, like, to take a commemorative photo?”

“No, for researcg. Something was up about that place- Silly doesn’t just spook for no reason.”

Sam stared her down. Jen relented. “Fine, yes she does, sometimes. But what happened yesterday was weird, right?”

“Yeah, it was,” Sam admitted. She’d been trying not to think about what she’d seen, but she couldn’t totally get it out of her head, either. Maybe that was a sign she needed to go back to the scene of the crime, even though she certainly didn’t want to. “I won't go by myself, though. I’ll bring Jake and see if we can, you know…”

Normally, Jen's face soured when Sam brought up Jake, but her expression didn’t waver this time. “That’s good. You know, just in case…”

Neither of them dared say it out loud, but they both knew. It wasn’t just an unsettling place. It wasn’t just Silly being Silly. It ran much deeper than that, and it was up to Sam (and Jake, if he'd be agreeable for once in his life) to put a stop to it.

Luckily (or maybe unluckily, as things turned out) Jake was already at River Bend by the time Sam got back from Jen's. He was riding the buckskin mare, Mouse, in the round pen, while her dad looked on and coached. That should have been the first bad sign. When Jake and Wyatt got together, they often became serious and difficult to get along with, which Sam knew from multiple experiences.

Sam parked the Buick and approached the round pen- now or never, right? She didn’t interrupt, though. It was rare to see Jake take advice from anyone (not just because he was hard-headed; he also just didn’t really need it) and she wanted to enjoy it while she could. Maybe she’d learn something.

Jake's jaw was set in concentration. His hands were soft on the reins; most of his cues came from his legs, sending Mouse in one direction and then the other. Sam knew Mouse was going to be a cutting horse someday- not the kind that worked on a ranch, but the kind that went to big shows and made a lot of money. Sam thought that was a lot to ask of Jake, who had never shown a cutting horse in his life, but if the pressure was getting to him at all, he didn’t show it.

Personally, Sam thought of Jake as more of an artist than a horse trainer- that was so embarrassing; she would never admit it out loud. He made everything look effortless; he never had to push or shove to get the result he wanted. It was like music, horse and human working in perfect harmony.

Sam would have been jealous if she didn’t see that same potential within herself. She was younger than Jake, and she’d lost two years of riding in San Francisco, but she was rapidly catching up.

After a few more minutes of spins and rollbacks, Jake loosed the reins to the point of drooping and patted Mouse’s neck. Time to cool down, which meant there was a chance to start a conversation. Wyatt turned to Sam before she could even say anything. “You weren’t thinking of going riding today, were you?”

Sam shifted from foot to foot. “I kind of was.” Her dad frowned. “But not on my own!” she added right away. “It’ll be fine; I promise!”

Jake looked over, not talking, but always listening.

“I don’t like it, Sam,” her dad stated. “Dead horses, broken arms- with our luck, it could be you next!”

Jen had broken her wrist, not her arm, but Sam didn’t feel it would be appropriate to correct him on that. “I'm careful!” she promised, ignoring the fact that Jen had been careful too. “I’ll stay out of trouble!” Ignoring the fact that she’d been planning to go right back to the site of the last wreck.

Jake scoffed at that one. Honestly, fair, but not helpful. Sam beamed shut up directly into his brain. She was beginning to wish she hadn't told either of them about Jen getting hurt, but with the way small-town gossip worked, they would’ve found out before long anyway, and then Sam would still be in trouble for keeping it from them.

Her dad didn’t seem to believe her any more than Jake did. “Well, trouble seems to find you anyway. I don’t want to be picking pieces of you off the range, Sam!”

“Dad!” Sam complained, even as she shuddered at the unpleasant visual. “That is not what's going to happen. It’s just a ride. I ride out every single day!”

“Nobody plans on getting jumped by wolves, Sam!”

“I’ll go with her.”

Thank you for finally speaking up, Sam thought bitterly. Why did Jake have to wait until the point of no return to share his thoughts with the group?

She was even more frustrated by the way her dad relented almost immediately. “And you'll be home for dinner?”

Both of them nodded their agreement.

“And if you see anything resembling danger…”

“Yes, Dad, we’ll come right back,” Sam huffed. Not totally true. If Jake agreed, they would be tracking said signs of danger. “Can we go now?”

The two guys locked eyes through the round pen fence. Sam was on the verge of stamping her foot childishly when they came to an agreement. “Go ahead. The sooner you're back, the better.”

Wyatt left- he had chores to do, Sam assumed. Jake got off Mouse and Sam opened the gate; they headed into the barn together. As soon as her dad was out of hearing range, Sam had to vent. “Seriously, what is with him?” she demanded. “Why is it as soon as you say the word, it’s alright to go out? Is he just that sexist? Does he think that low of me?”

Jake scoffed. “Let me put it this way- one of us has spent three weeks in a coma and one of us has not.”

That wasn’t a good enough answer for Sam. “He just as easily could have blamed you for that!”

“Get your horse, Brat.”

It wasn’t his argument to win or lose, so maybe that was a fair response. Sam caught Ace while Jake unsaddled Mouse. He certainly wouldn’t be taking the fancy show horse on the coyote-hunting mission, thank you very much. They might have been acting like what they were doing was totally safe, but they both knew that wasn’t the case.

By the time they rode to, Sam felt substantially better. Yes, the way her dad insisted she have a babysitter at all times was annoying, but she realized something. Jake would have no better luck fighting off a pack of wolves than she would. He wasn’t there as some sexist measure of protection- he was there to get eaten so Sam could escape. When she looked at it that way, it felt less insulting.

Sam took the lead; she was the one who knew where they were going. Ace dragged along lazily, bored with the same route two days in a row. Witch had no such qualms- she pushed at the bit, demanding more speed, but they would be taking the energy conservation route this time.

“You're sure it was a den?” Jake asked.

“Not positive,” Sam admitted. With her worry over Jen, she hadn't paid enough attention to the landscape- that was how they'd gotten into the mess in the first place. “But if not, it’s a really weird looking hole.”

“I don’t know why I bother asking.”

“Neither do I!” Sam retorted, spurring Ace into a reluctant canter. Witch refused to be left behind, and that set the tone for the rest of the ride.

This time, Sam was sure to pull up well before the foothills. She didn’t want a repeat of Jen's dismount, nor did she want to be snuck up on. It was better to stay slow and quiet, fully aware of their surroundings. There was that feeling again, like they were being watched. It made the hair stand up on Sam's neck. She snuck a peek at Jake, but he didn’t seem fazed at all. Typical.

Ace started to get fidgety as they neared the spot where Jen fell. Was he just recalling Silly’s outburst, or was there something more sinister going on? Despite her best efforts, Sam found herself getting nervous as well, but she did her best to hide it.

“This is the spot,” she announced, even though Jake could probably tell when they got there. Sam almost felt silly for being nervous. It wasn’t haunted or crawling with wolves. It was just the base of a hill, assorted rocks scattered around, and a hole in the ground.

Jake got off his horse and passed the reins to Sam. In general, Witch ground-tied fine, but considering what had happened just twenty-four hours ago, it seemed wise to keep a hand on the horses at all times.

Sam watched with bated breath as Jake crouched down to inspect the rocks and the hole. The scuffs and scrapes, claw marks in the rock, it would all mean more to him than it did to her.

“Do you want me to crawl in there?” Sam asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Jake shot her a look that said shut the hell up. He did, however, stick his head a few inches into the mouth of the den. He came back making a face. “Well, that’s vile. I can see why Silly took off.”

“It’s that bad?” Sam asked anxiously. She believed him. She saw no need to verify the smell for herself.

“It’s disgusting. But I don’t think what lives in here took your horse down.”

“Really?” She had been so quick to assume the worst. “Why not?”

Jake gestured to something on the ground- tracks, presumably, but Sam couldn’t really identify anything from on horseback. “It’s a wolf, yeah.” Sam's jaw dropped. “-but it's just one wolf.”

“It’s a wolf?!” Sam repeated, her voice an octave higher than usual. Wolves weren’t common in this part of Nevada- in any part of Nevada, really. “What's a wolf doing here?”

Jake shrugged. He really wasn’t as alarmed by this as Sam felt he should be. “We had a bad drought last year. A lot of places are in a drought right now. When prey starts drying up, critters come down from all sorts of places.”

Just like the cougar. Another thing Sam didn’t like thinking about. “But it’s just one,” she confirmed. “And wolves hunt in packs, right?”

“Right. Maybe a mom lookin’ for somewhere to have pups, maybe a young one separated from the pack.” Jake stood up and dusted off his knees. “One wolf on its own isn’t much threat to a fast horse.”

Sam wondered why that didn’t make her feel any better.

“I still think you'd be real smart to stay away from this place,” Jake told her, taking back his reins.

Sam shuddered. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Let’s get out of here.”

Jake stayed for dinner. The stove in the bunkhouse was out (Dallas had been trying all day to fix it) so the ranch hands joined them as well. The dining room felt crowded, but in a pleasant sort of way.

Sam and Jake told everyone what they discovered. Ross and Pepper laughed it off; everyone else took the news arguably too seriously. Wyatt had a face like a stone. Brynna said she’d make some calls. Gram and Dallas fretted back and forth, reminding everyone of events past.

Sam worried too, in her own way. She believed Jake when he said they were on the trail of a literal lone wolf, but something had gone after the Phantom. She didn’t want to wait until the next attack to find out what.

“You know, it might never happen again,” Pepper pointed out. “These dogs or wolves or whatever, they might just be passing through. That would explain why there's so little sign of ‘em.”

Sam didn’t believe that for a second. “With our luck? No way.”

“I thought you always looked on the bright side.”

“Not when my horses are in danger.” Privately, Sam thought of all the wild mustangs as “her horses”, or at least her responsibility. Perhaps that was not a healthy amount of pressure to put on herself.

“It’s always better to be on your guard,” said Dallas, and as the oldest of all of them, he would know. “And boys, I hope you know what I’ll do to you if I catch you lookin’ for trouble!”

Sam always found it funny when Ross and Pepper got scolded like little kids. They were both in their twenties! That said, the antics they had pulled on Pepper’s twenty-first birthday a couple months ago had proved they should not yet be treated like adults. (Hint: Ross threw up in a cowboy hat.)

Pepper waved off the accusation. “We’re not the ones you have to worry about! Sam and Jake are the ones-”

“Worry about yourself, Pepper!” Sam interrupted.

“I think you're all worrying too much over the wrong thing,” Gram said firmly, indicating it was time to change the subject. “Would anyone like some more meatloaf?”

Almost everyone went back for a second helping. Grace Forster’s meatloaf was far superior to any other food of the same name.

“So, Sam,” Brynna began pointedly. “When exactly the little mustang going up for sale?”

Sam shrank back from the question. Windy, the third and final thing she was trying not to think about. “Um…I don’t know. He's not quite ready yet.”

“Well, you might want to list him sooner than later. It might take time to reach the right buyer.”

Sam was counting on that, actually, but she nodded agreeably so Brynna would hopefully quit reminding her.

[Sam sent an image]

Tasha: !!!!!!!!

Sam: Jake said not to worry too much

Tasha: I'm inclined to agree with whatever hottie mcshawty says but come on

Sam: I wish you wouldn’t call him that

Tasha: THAT IS ABSOLUTELY WORTH WORRYING ABOUT

Tasha: have you told Brynna? Maybe alerted the neighborhood watch?

Sam: just Brynna. Country folk don’t have a neighborhood watch

Tasha: you're missing out

Kay-Lynn: I love you guys but you realize this is insane right?

Kay-Lynn: to anyone outside of willow springs this is not national news, it is a HOLE in the GROUND

Tasha: kick her off the group chat sam

Chapter 17: Fresh Start

Chapter Text

Sam no longer needed adult supervision to work with Windy. He wasn’t enough of a hazard to warrant it. Sam was proud of their accomplishments, obviously, but in a weird way she missed Jake's coaching. Another thing she could never admit out loud.

She caught Windy from the pasture and brushed him at the hitching post. That was something else he could do now- stand tied without choking himself out via the lead rope. It had been a long process- as had everything with Windy- but so, so worth it in the end.

Sam had one goal for this training session- lunging. Obviously, Windy had been started on lunging since basically Day One and he was actually pretty good at it, but that was just regular, in-the-round-pen stuff. Today, for something of a final test, Sam wanted to see how he would do in an open space.

Maybe it was a bold move, but Sam had faith in her little tumbleweed. He wasn’t just obedient- he trusted her. She was almost certain that trust would get them through.

She coiled her lunge line neatly and grabbed a whip, just in case. Windy had never needed a whip in the round pen, but she was going to be prepared no matter what. She even considered grabbing a stud chain and some leg wraps before realizing how excessive that was.

Sam led Windy out to the spot she thought would be best, a relatively flat area near the riverbank. She unspooled the lunge line and clucked, sending Windy trotting off to the right. He stepped high and pranced, showing off his beauty and confidence. He'd gotten taller since he arrived at River Bend. Sam barely even recognized him as the scared, skinny thing they'd picked up from the holding pens.

There were a few moments where he attempted to pull away, since he no longer had the outside boundary of the round pen, but Sam kept him in hand. Overall, Windy was actually really eager to please, and he stepped into a canter as soon as Sam asked him to.

“He's ready, you know.”

Sam didn’t react. She’d seen Jake approaching long before he said anything- he was quiet and stealthy, but he rarely escaped her notice. His statement didn’t surprise her either. She knew Windy was ready. He had checked every box, mastered every skill. In every possible way, he was an equine model citizen.

It was Sam who wasn’t ready. Saying goodbye had never come easily to her, and Windy might just be the hardest one yet. He wasn’t a horse she’d known in passing or one her dad had picked out- Windy was hers, absolutely hers. He was proof that she could do it; he was her best friend. That wasn’t something she could just walk away from, no matter how much she needed the money or needed the time.

“I'm not ready,” Sam said out loud. It felt good to admit it, even if it was only to Jake, who had probably already known. She tugged on the lunge line, bringing Windy to a stop. His soulful eyes met hers, and Sam's heart squeezed a little together when she thought about sending him to a new home.

“You don’t have much time left, Brat.”

Jake was thirty feet away, but his words pierced right into her heart and soul. For whatever reason, it was easier to look at Windy than at Jake. Maybe because she would miss Windy more than she would miss Jake? Sam wasn’t even sure if that was true.

She coiled up the lunge line. They were done training for the day; Windy had done beautifully. Sam almost wished he would knock her down or forget how to lope; it would be a fine excuse to keep him longer. It was unlikely, considering how hard they had both worked, but a girl could dream.

“I’ll go through with it,” Sam insisted. She had already promised it to herself, and that was the worst kind of promise to break. Not to mention she literally had no other option. “It’s just not going to be easy.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Huh?” Sam finally made an effort to look at Jake. Everything looked the same- cowboy hat, jeans, Carhartt work shirt- so why did it feel so different? “You're going to miss him too, you mean?”

For a brief moment, Jake looked like a deer in the headlights, but then he shook his head. “No, I just know what it feels like, that’s all.”

Dr. Scott requested the Phantom be worked on last, which Sam thought was fair. The Phantom was most likely to cause the vet bodily harm by a substantial margin. This way, if something went wrong, Dr. Scott could just go straight to the hospital instead of laboring through other exams.

Everyone else was good for having their teeth floated, even Windy, who had never had power tools in his mouth before. Why did he have to be so good at everything? He was practically begging to be sold on.

There was no chance of that with the Phantom- either being good for the vet or being sold on. Despite his recent change of heart, he still promised to be a handful. As a rule, wild horses were not fans of injections or power tools in their mouths, and as far as the Phantom was concerned, he was absolutely still wild.

Sam did not voice these concerns to Dr. Scott. The poor guy was under enough stress already. She haltered the Phantom (he tolerated it very well, considering he fully knew something was up) and invited the vet into the paddock. “He's acting tamer, at least,” Dr. Scott commented. “And he's recovered far better than I would have expected. The two of you have been very, very lucky.”

“Oh, we know,” Sam replied, although she didn’t totally feel lucky. This summer had come with its fair share of distress.

“Alright, hold him as still as you can.”

It was not a matter of physical strength. If it came down to that, Sam could already imagine herself being launched across the round pen, an outcome none of them wanted. Instead, she did her best to comfort and distract him, which was not easy when a needle was approaching his neck. Sam felt the Phantom’s muscles bunch up, preparing to bolt, but by the grace of God he stood still while Dr. Scott injected him with sedative. He tossed his head, but it was too late- he would be getting sleepy whether he wanted to or not.

As the sedative kicked in, Dr. Scott examined the horse, starting with the knee that had caused him to be pulled from the range. Sam knew from her own inspections that the original gouge had faded to a thin silver scar, barely visible unless you knew what you were looking for. “Very, very lucky” was right.

“He looks great!” Dr. Scott exclaimed. “Like nothing ever happened- almost. He moves alright, too?”

Sam nodded. “Like a dream.”

There was a lot more that could be said there, but the vet didn’t need to know about the hours she’d spent watching the Phantom’s gait, searching obsessively for any hitch in his stride. These days, she found nothing. He was back to who he was, just tame (ish) now, and with a penchant for kicking dogs.

Dr. Scott paused, like he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Sam assumed he didn’t want to get in any trouble with Brynna. “If that’s the case, then he's cleared for riding. Just, you know- sixty to ninety days of intensive groundwork first.”

Sam's heart leaped. Truth be told, she’d barely even considered the possibility of getting on the Phantom again. She was just so happy he was alive, and slowly beginning to trust her again. Riding him again would be arguably more than she deserved.

“You mean that?” Sam asked, as it still seemed too good to be true. “It won't hurt him?”

“If you're really worried, we can do x-rays, but we have every reason to think he’ll be just fine.”

Sam shook her head. “It’s not that I didn’t believe you. It just seems like a miracle, that’s all.”

“I recommend you treat it like one.”

The Phantom’s head drooped almost to the ground, and Dr. Scott went in with the grinder. Sam winced even though she knew it didn’t actually cause the horse any pain. “This isn’t too bad, really,” Dr. Scott commented. Sam was impressed he was able to make conversation in the middle of the procedure. “Looks like he's around seven-to-ten, and considering he's never been floated, he doesn’t have much for points or spikes.”

Oh, right. Dr. Scott knew Sam had a connection with the Phantom, but he didn’t know (or perhaps didn’t believe) that he had once been Blackie of River Bend. No wonder he thought it would take Sam multiple months to get on him.

“Wild,” Sam replied. All in all, she didn’t really feel like getting into it.

On Saturday afternoon, Wyatt and Brynna left for a date. Old people romance was objectively gross, but it gave Sam a marvelous opportunity when you considered Gram and Cody had gone to the zoo. She was all alone, and it was the perfect time to do something stupid.

It should have been obvious now that Sam had not learned a single thing since last time.

The Phantom met her at the gate- that was something he did now, now that they were friends again. It gave her a lot more confidence for what she was about to do. She tussled his forelock and slid the halter over his nose, checking furtively down the driveway to make sure no one was coming home early.

Dr. Scott had said sixty to ninety days of training, but Sam figured that was more of a friendly suggestion. He didn’t know her horse as well as she did. He didn’t know what that horse had been through, both as Blackie and the Phantom. Sam decided that meant this was a good idea.

That said, she wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed. She had never done something like this (a first ride that wasn’t actually a first ride) without Jake by her side. The Phantom’s original training felt like a million years ago- she’d been just a kid back then. She would have to make this up as she went.

She thought back to her more recent rides on the Phantom- that had been like magic, impossible to recreate in the round pen. Their bond wasn’t ready for that yet. Sam couldn’t imagine just jumping on him now, no tack and no control.

There had to be something in the middle, between absolute freedom and the safe, careful rides they'd had before the accident. Sam intended to figure out exactly what that was.

She looped the lead rope around the Phantom’s neck and tied it back to the halter. The Phantom flinched, then stilled. As much as he might want to pretend otherwise, this wasn’t actually anything new to him.

Sam stood at the Phantom’s shoulder, comparing his height to hers. She’d vaulted onto his back a couple times, but getting that kind of air time usually required an adrenaline rush and a sense of desperation. If their goal was a quiet ride around the pen (or maybe even just a moment astride the Phantom- if that was all she got, she’d still be happy) perhaps it would be better to climb aboard via the fence.

It was a little bit awkward, but Sam locked the heels of her boots on the third rung of the fence and pulled the Phantom in line with her. He complied, standing parallel to the fence. Sam smoothed out his mane, in no hurry to get on. She was fairly certain the Phantom knew what she was asking for, but she wasn’t interested in pushing him too far. That was the one lesson she’d managed to learn.

“Good boy, Zanzibar,” she whispered. She awkwardly turned from her perch on the fence. Her leg was shaking as she reached it over the Phantom’s back, but she didn’t truly waver until a voice from behind her scared the sh*t out of her.

“Are you really, really sure that’s a good idea?”

The Phantom spooked. Sam faltered. She hopped down from the fence, keeping a careful hold on her lead-rope-reins. “Jake!” she hollered, hands clenching into fists. “How do you always do that?!”

Jake, still on Witch and a good distance away, shrugged. “I think you just don’t pay attention.”

“I'm just not paying attention to you,” Sam muttered under her breath. She’d gotten a lot better at spotting Jake before he snuck up on her, but she’d been really focused on the Phantom this time.

Jake trotted Witch up to the round pen, surveying the situation. Witch bared her teeth at the Phantom, who swished his tail in the vague threat of a kick. Those two had never gotten along.

“I'm not gonna yell at you, if that’s what you think.”

“That’s what I was expecting,” Sam replied, attempting to play it cool when in reality she was super embarrassed to be caught mid-leap of faith a second time.

He didn’t argue. He just looped Witch’s reins around the fence and climbed over it himself. “Let me help.”

Three simple words, all easily definable, but Sam was stunned into silence. She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, wondering why on earth her heart was beating so fast. Eventually she found her words- well, one word. Sam said, “Okay.”

“Not here.”

Sam raised her eyebrows. Last time she had taken the Phantom from the round pen, it had been made into a national emergency, but now it was part of the plan?

Things had changed since then. They hadn't talked about it, but it had changed.

Jake held the gate open, and Sam led the Phantom through. There was undeniable unpleasant eye contact between Jake and the horse, but Sam chose to ignore it for the sake of her own mental health. If Jake saw a literal horse as a rival in any way, shape, or form, that was his problem, not hers.

Somehow, Sam knew exactly where they would end up. Knee deep in La Charla, boots kicked off on the shore. Was it safer or easier than getting on in the round pen? Maybe not. But it was where it had all started, and it seemed important to begin there for the second time too.

The Phantom splashed through the creek willingly- wild horses learned not to fear water. Besides, the water wasn’t nearly as high as it had been last time he crossed it, and he'd had a bum leg that time, too.

Jake held the Phantom’s head, an arrangement none of them were really pleased about. Sam stepped onto a rock, giving her the height she would need to swing a leg over the Phantom, but she didn’t do that just yet. She was too stuck in the past to make that big leap forward.

She remembered- she was sure they were all remembering- the very first time she’d climbed aboard the Phantom. She’d been in this same river, maybe even on this same rock. Back then, it had been her bright-red muck boots instead of barefoot- that was an event they'd planned for weeks, not an impulse that was supposed to have zero witnesses. Sam had begged Jake for what felt like years to get on Blackie, promising that they were ready and she would do everything he told her to.

Maybe, as it turned out, they hadn't been ready then. But they were ready now. Sam was as sure of it as she possibly could be.

She locked eyes with Jake, giving him one last chance to change his mind about being a help instead of a hindrance. She knew he wouldn’t. Jake was just like her- he kept his promises. And maybe, in some way, he felt he could erase the accident and San Francisco by giving them a fresh start now.

“You ready, Brat?” Jake asked quietly.

“It’s up to him, not me,” Sam answered, trying to keep her tone light. Old habits die hard, and nerves threaten to take over. It was so easy to picture the worst-case scenario, to remember exactly what it felt like to tumble over the Phantom’s shoulder. Briefly, Sam considered the pros and cons of breaking a horse in a padded room or perhaps a bounce house. She did not mention any of those thoughts to Jake.

“Quit worrying. He's ready.”

It was odd, really, how Jake's scolding actually made her feel better now. Another thing that had changed. He grounded her, or at the very least, distracted her from the tight bundle of nerves in her belly.

She took a deep breath. It came out a little shuddery, but she didn’t back away. She’d gotten this far for a reason, and she wasn’t just going to quit now. She leaned over the Phantom’s withers and did a test run, putting a little weight on his back and hopping.

Good call- the Phantom spooked to the side, splashing both Sam and Jake. Neither of them complained, just adjusted the horse’s position and tried again. A couple more test runs, and the Phantom held still without flinching. Sam petted his neck and looked to Jake for confirmation; he nodded. It was time, for real now.

Sam jumped, pushing on his withers for a little more momentum. When she got halfway up, her belly flopped over the Phantom’s back, she paused. It certainly wasn’t dignified, but it was a reasonable alternative to going too fast and overwhelming the Phantom.

When everyone’s heartbeat had settled, Sam swung her right leg over the Phantom’s hindquarters, pulling herself into a sitting position. Her heart sped right up again, and she grabbed a lock of his silver mane. This was real; this was happening. She’d never thought she’d be back in this place, but she was.

The seal was broken, and the nerves Sam had been feeling dissipated. Why had she been scared in the first place? Riding the Phantom felt more like coming home than anything else. Sam was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Forgetting the delicate nature and newness of everything, Sam wrapped her arms around the Phantom’s neck. “Oh, good boy! You're the best!”

She could practically hear Jake rolling his eyes, but when he stepped away from the Phantom, there was a soft smile on his face. It made Sam's heart twist in a not-totally-unpleasant way, and she was glad she already had an excuse to be grinning like an idiot. She didn’t want Jake to know the effect he had on her- nothing good would come of it.

“I'm sorry I didn’t wait for you,” Sam blurted out. He had given her more grace than she perhaps deserved for breaking their unspoken teamwork contract- twice.

“Don’t be,” said Jake, a full one-eighty from his usual stance on Sam apologies. “Pretty soon I’ll be gone again, and you'll be doin’ all this yourself anyways.”

The grin dropped off Sam's face. “Why do you always have to bring that up?” she complained. “Right when things are going well, too! Why can't we just enjoy the summer, and try-”

She cut herself off, no longer sure where that sentence was going. Getting too vulnerable or saying something she couldn’t take back wasn’t “enjoying the summer” either.

“Maybe I'm just tryin’ to get used to the idea.”

“You’ve left before.”

“It’ll be different this time.”

Why? Sam wanted so badly to ask why. The word stuck in her throat, along with a number of others threatening to spill out of her mouth. The truth- her version of it; she didn’t know what Jake thought- had been bursting at the seams since the beginning of this chaotic, too-close summer.

In the end, Sam couldn’t do it. Jumping on a half-wild horse was one thing, and telling her best friend she was going to miss him was entirely another.

“You suck,” Sam told him, instead of any of the other things actually on her mind. It was like a cold drizzle after days of sweltering summer- relief. That was how things were supposed to be between them, none of that odd tension or heat.

Jake looked relieved too, although his expression was undeniably subtler than hers. “You suck more.”

“Wow. How mature.” But it was safer that way too. Sam jumped off her horse, causing the Phantom to spook a little- he'd been a saint this whole time, so he was entitled to a bit of misbehavior now. Sam figured it was better to spook him by getting off than by starting a violent splash fight with Jake, which was exactly what she intended to do.

“Hey!” he sputtered. River water dropped down from the brim of his cowboy hat. “What are you, five?”

“You just hate fun!”

Jake splashed her back. The water was cold as ice and honestly not very clean, but Sam didn’t complain other than wiping her face with her arm. She was at a severe disadvantage here, since she refused to let go of the Phantom’s rope and splash with both hands, but she still gave as good as she got. Actually, it kind of worked out to use the horse as a shield, but when it seemed that might result in one or both of them getting kicked, she went back to shielding the Phantom instead.

They were all soaking wet- yes, including the horse- when they finally decided to call time. Sam was shivering as she stepped out of the creek, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. She snuck a glance at Jake and he grinned at her, although she couldn’t exactly say why.

It was good to mess around like that, like they were kids again. It made the whole other mess easier to bear.

As if to emphasize that point, Jake slugged Sam in the arm. “Thanks for that. Now I'm gonna have to ride home in wet clothes.”

“Why don’t you just lay out in the sun for a while?”

“Some of us like to keep our dignity.”

Sam had known him for too long to play that card. “Right. Remember when I was seven and you were nine and-”

Jake groaned. “Shut up, shut up, shut up.”

“But you were so cute in that little rat costume!” Sam teased. “Best Halloween ever. Squeak squeak!”

“God, I'm gonna kick your ass someday,” Jake promised, but based on the hearty laugh that came after, he didn’t really mean it.

Chapter 18: Trust Him, Trust Me

Chapter Text

The wind tossed Sam's hair behind her shoulders, offering her the smallest relief from the summer heat. Nature hadn't yet gotten the memo that it was mid-August and nearly fall now, not that Sam was complaining. It helped her stay in denial, about school starting, about moving on, about saying goodbye to everyone all at once.

She slung the halter over her shoulder but made no move to leave the gate. She loved watching the horses in the pasture, especially right after turning Windy out. He always liked to kick up a big fuss, chasing the other horses and trying to get them riled up. Unfortunately, he was the only youngster in the pasture, and most of them could not be goaded into playing with him. Mostly, he reared and nipped at one horse, then chased after another when he got bored. Sam wished she had her camera.

“You busy this afternoon?”

Sam groaned. “Ugh, am I ever. I got stalls to clean, I'm supposed to scrub all the feed pans, and Ace needs a bath.”

It was hard to tell, but it seemed Jake got quiet in a disappointed kind of way. Sam changed her tune. “But, you know, all that stuff could wait. I'm not really that busy.”

“Mm,” Jake replied. He really had a way with words.

“Jake, c’mon! What did you want to do?” Sam demanded.

Jake sighed, as if she was asking a great deal of him and not something he'd wanted to say from the beginning. “Quinn’s heifer is at the county fair. Thought you might wanna check it out. With me. Today.”

Was he…asking her out? The only way Sam could really know was by straight-up asking for clarification, and she was absolutely not going to do that, just in case the answer was “no”. Her answer would be “yes” no matter what, so she just nodded. “Yeah, that sounds fun! I just gotta change first.”

“Well, I'm wearing this, so…”

It was one of the world’s greatest injustices: guys like Jake could put in a day’s work and still look decent or even attractive at the end of it, whereas Sam looked and felt like a sweaty troll. “It'll just take a minute,” she promised, tossing him Windy’s halter. “Put that away. I’ll meet you at the truck.”

Jake didn’t argue- he was good that way. Sam rushed to the house and swapped her riding clothes for a moderately cute pair of shorts and a tank top. A shower would have been nice, but she didn’t want to keep Jake waiting, so she just splashed some water on her face and ran a brush through her hair before heading back out.

“Be back by eleven!” Gram hollered through the screen door. “Bring home corn dogs!”

“What happens if we get back after eleven?” Jake asked, putting the truck in gear.

“I die, probably.”

Sam very rarely got to ride in Jake's truck these days. They almost exclusively traveled on horseback, and if they needed to drive, they usually took Wyatt’s truck to save Jake some gas money- he was a broke college student; that kind of stuff added up.

The truck was a fairly accurate reflection of its owner. While the outside was dusty- there was no point in washing or waxing a truck that rarely left the gravel- the inside was kept painstakingly neat and tidy. There were only a couple personal touches that distracted from the auto-show appearance of it all- a feathered charm hanging from the rearview mirror, a spare Stetson resting on the dash, and a couple photographs clipped to the sun visor. A group photo of the track team. A picture of Witch Sam had taken a couple summers ago. Sam herself, leaning on the fence next to Jake. Maxine must have taken that one.

They didn’t talk much on the drive to the fairgrounds. Jake cranked the AC all the way up, and Sam put her face right up to the register, enjoying the sweet but temporary relief the Freon offered. When they got out in the parking lot, it was still stiflingly miserably hot, but sunset (and mosquitoes, unfortunately) would come out soon and they'd forget all about nearly burning alive.

They strolled to the cattle barn side-by-side. The crowd forced them to walk nearly in each other’s pockets- it seemed the entire sleepy town of Darton was out tonight, drawn by the promise of livestock shows and mediocre midway rides. Also, fair food. That was a huge novelty, thus Gram’s request for corn dogs.

Sam made them stop before they even got to the cows. She smelled funnel cake and suddenly realized how hungry she was. Jake made a big fuss about it, saying Quinn was waiting for them, but Sam knew it was all for show. She offered him a bite of the snack she bought, and all was well with the world again.

Quinn waved them down as soon as they set foot in the barn. He looked uncharacteristically nice- hair combed neatly, collared shirt, and jeans without holes in the knees. Kirsten looked nice too- she’d obviously been bathed and blow-dried; her coat was gleaming.

“Did you win anything yet?” Sam asked as they met in the aisle.

“Haven’t even got in the ring yet,” Quinn replied. “Glad you're here, though. Can you pin my number on?”

Sam took the cardstock number (six-hundred-eleven- lucky, according to Quinn) and pinned it to the back of his shirt. Jake stood off to the side. “What time do you show?”

“It’ll be an hour or so. I gotta stay with Kirsten, though,” said Quinn. “Hey would you guys mind going and checking out the rodeo? I placed a bet and I wanna know if I'm winning big tonight.”

“You're betting?” Sam exclaimed at the same time Jake grumbled, “We are not paying for rodeo tickets!”

None of that fazed Quinn. “If you go on the north side, you can watch through the chain link. And Sam, you'll be pleased to know I have not bet on any animals- I bet on two cowboys getting into a fight.”

“Alright, fine with me,” Sam said with a shrug. “C’mon, Jake.”

“Mm,” Jake replied, but he did follow her out of the cattle barn.

The streets were just as crowded as they had been earlier, maybe even more so. Jake took the lead; his six-foot-frame and physique made him ideal for pushing through crowds. Sam held onto the back of his t-shirt at first, but when a fat lady eating chicken tenders split them apart, Jake reached back and grabbed her hand.

It was weird. It made a spark run up her spine. More than anything, it made her wonder where exactly the two of them stood. They were not the type or friends that held hands- but were they even just friends? The line had blurred more than ever.

Where did Sam want them to stand? She wasn’t totally sure herself. Sometimes, she was certain she wanted more, but the strain it might put it on their friendship scared her. And what if Jake didn’t feel the same way? Maybe the chemistry between them was all in her head, a delusion brought on by being seventeen and never having a boyfriend. There was a chance she would put it all on the line and Jake would just be embarrassed. Or worse, pity her. Sam didn’t think she could ever recover from that.

As much as she wanted something to change (but stay exactly the same also), maybe it was enough to push through the crowd together, hands clasped. When Jake suggested they share a bag of mini donuts, that didn’t hurt either.

As promised, there was an open section of chain-link fence overlooking the rodeo arena. It was far from the best seat in the house, but it was free, and no one else had had that idea yet. It had to be the only place on the fairgrounds that wasn’t crowded. Sam and Jake settled down on the grass and watched bulls buck. Sam wasn’t actually a fan of such things- even though she knew the bulls were well taken care of, it seemed cruel- but she had promised Quinn, so she was going to watch.

“Are those guys fighting?” Sam asked, squinting and pointing across the arena.

“I think the one in black broke his arm.”

“Should we call an ambulance?”

“Rodeo cowboys walk it off.”

Sam remembered when Jake had broken his own arm. Yeah, that statement checked out.

They watched the rodeo for a while longer, until Quinn texted Jake that the cattle show was about to start. Jake offered Sam a hand as they got up; there was that pesky spark again that she didn’t really want to deal with.

This time, Jake reached for her hand before the crowd got too pushy. Did he mean anything by it? Of course he did. Jake was like a wild horse- he never did anything without a reason, even if she didn’t exactly understand that that reason was.

Sam found out it didn’t bother her that much, that she couldn’t comprehend the meaning in exact words. In her heart, she knew, and perhaps she’d known for a long time. They didn’t have to say anything out loud to let their friendship change and grow into whatever it was meant to be.

Those thoughts were a great comfort to Sam as she attempted to process these changes in her own head. They did not, however, help her at all when they ran into Kay-Lynn and Tasha at the ring toss. Sam wasn’t quite quick enough to drop Jake's hand, and Tasha zeroed in on it right away. “Oh my god, hi!” she exclaimed. Then a mischievous grin formed on her face. “Sam, it’s so cool that you and your stepbrother hang out! That’s so great!”

“What?” said Jake. Sam shot Tasha murderous look.

“Isn’t this the guy with the sandwich? Your stepbrother who brought in Brynna’s lunch?” Tasha asked innocently. Sam was going to kill her.

“I have no idea what you're talking about!” Sam declared. “They're just messing with us, Jake. C’mon, I don’t want to miss the cow show.”

“Cow show?” Kay-Lynn repeated. “That sounds way more fun than losing at ring toss. Tash?”

“I'm so there.”

Suddenly they were a group of four. As much as Sam liked Kay-Lynn and Tasha, she didn’t think this was a good idea. Jake was obviously uncomfortable around them, and Sam felt strongly that introducing Tasha to Quinn would lead to some very bad choices. That said, she was far too polite to tell them to beat it, so they would just have to deal with whatever consequences arose.

As predicted, Quinn and Tasha got along like a house afire. Jake did what he could to fade into the background, but Sam dragged him back by the arm. “You're my ride home,” she reminded him. “I know you hate this, but just hang on for a bit.”

Jake sighed like a petulant child. “I don’t hate it.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Fine, I hate it. Your friends are weird.”

Sam hoped he didn’t expect her to argue with that. “Yeah, I know. Just focus on the cows and have fun, alright?”

Sam had fun, and Tasha and Kay-Lynn definitely had fun. Even Jake came out of his shell a little when Kirsten was announced Grand Champion Heifer. Quinn made a big show of it, bowing and catching imaginary roses from the crowd. It was a good thing Tasha didn’t have access to actual roses, because she surely would have misused them.

It seemed like they might part ways after that, but Quinn threw an arm around Jake's and Tasha’s shoulders. “The night is young, people. Shall we investigate the Gravitron? Or, if you're all weenies, the Ferris wheel?”

“I hate the midway,” Kay-Lynn muttered. “It’s all just circles.”

“You're no fun,” Quinn scolded. “We’re doing the cool rides. C’mon, let’s go; tickets go on sale at eight!”

Jake pulled into the Forsters’ driveway at ten-fifty-seven. Both of them were yawning every couple breaths, but smiling, too. Sam couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun without it involving horses. She was exhausted, but the very air around her seemed to be sparkling; that was how perfect it had been.

Sam knew she should gather her things and head inside, but something pushed her to linger. She snuck a glance at Jake, his face transformed in moonlight, and he didn’t seem to be in any hurry, despite being merely seconds away from Sam's curfew.

Should she say something? The worlds almost stumbled out of her mouth, but she managed to rein them in at the last second. It wasn’t what they needed right now. The night had been so perfect as it was; why should she ruin it by jumping in with both feet?

But at the same time…what if?

Sam shook her head. She needed to extract such thoughts from her brain, everything that involved tan skin and kissing and that particular look on his face. They were just too close for comfort. Put some distance between them, and she’d forget all about it.

…right?

Sam broke the eye contact and consequently the trance Jake was holding her in. “Thanks for driving me!” she exclaimed, perhaps with a little more energy than was appropriate. “Tonight was really fun! Um…thanks.”

There she went again, making no sense. Sam wished for the power to just shut the hell up sometimes.

“Welcome,” said Jake. He wore a secretive little smile that Sam couldn’t quite place- maybe she didn’t even want to. “See you tomorrow, Sam.”

Sam. Sam, not Brat. Now why exactly did the sound of her own name make her so damn giddy? She needed to grow up, like, a lot. She grabbed her stuff (she had left home with only her cell phone and wallet, but she’d returned with an additional stuffed unicorn and a bunch of corn dogs) and opened the truck door with her elbow. “Yeah, sounds good, see ya tomorrow.”

She was rambling, and if balancing all her stuff on one arm didn’t demand so much of her concentration, she would have rambled more.

“Have fun cleanin’ stalls.”

“Oh, yeah. Tons.”

She didn’t take a real breath until Jake backed his truck out of the driveway. It wasn’t that she was relieved he was gone- she missed him, actually. It was just easier that way, so she didn’t have to think about the tangled mess that hung between them. The porch light was on, which made getting in the house a little easier. Sam was doing her best, but she really didn’t want to dump corn dogs all over the front porch. She was shocked (almost to the point of dropping said corn dogs, just as she’d feared) to see Brynna waiting for her in the entry. “Oh…hi.”

“So you didn’t get your chores done today, huh?”

Sam squeaked. “Were you eavesdropping?” Not that she and Jake had said anything bad. She had just assumed they were in private.

“Nope, I've just seen the state of the barn.” Brynna cracked a smile. “I like your unicorn. Cody’ll be jealous.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll share.”

“Did you have fun with Jake?”

Sam had no intention of saying anything that could be labeled as personal. “Yeah, lots of fun. Want a corn dog?”

The next time Sam sat on the Phantom, she planned ahead a little more. Most importantly, she involved Jake from the start, which he seemed to appreciate. Other than that, she dragged a bucket in to use as a step so she didn’t have to monkey around on the fence or get a leg-up. Although the Phantom was much more civilized these days, Sam was pretty sure he would not tolerate Jake messing around near his sides- that went beyond simple good manners.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Brat,” Jake drawled. He was on her side of the fence for once, but he was leaning on the bars in a way that made it clear he was taking a hands-off approach. Sam didn’t mind. Actually, she found his confidence reassuring.

“Who says I'm worrying about anything?” Sam retorted, stepping onto the makeshift mounting block.

“I can tell just lookin’ at you.”

“For your information, I'm not worrying. This is just…important.”

She was telling the truth. Sam didn’t have it in her to be scared of the Phantom, but she did fear her own ability to screw things up. She hadn't gotten it right the first time, so it was important she got it right now.

“Quit fussin’ and get on.”

It was quite impressive, actually, that Jake managed to get under her skin in so many different ways. One minute she was daydreaming about his arms, and the next she wanted to punt him like a football. Boys.

“I'm going!” Sam complained, but despite the prodding, she didn’t rush. She lined the Phantom up with the bucket carefully, tugging on his rope to pull his head towards her. He seemed bored with the whole thing- compared to their wild rides when he was free, this sort of thing was incredibly dull.

Sam hoped they could find that same kind of harmony again someday. It would just be a little different, possibly a little safer. That thought made Sam feel so grown-up she almost left the round pen to start doing taxes.

She leaned over the Phantom’s back, easing him into the idea he'd already been eased into. Then she vaulted onto his back in one smooth motion. The Phantom let out a deep breath at the same time she did; they were both more comfortable this way.

“See? Easy!” Sam announced, triumphantly, throwing her arms around her horse’s neck.

“Never said it wasn’t.” As always, Jake played it cool, but there was note of pride in that lazy, tomcat smile. “When are you gonna start riding him for real?”

Sam froze. “I thought you were supposed to tell me that.”

“Never asked for my advice before.”

“Never gave me the chance to need it,” Sam retorted.

Jake rolled his eyes. “Well, does he remember how to steer?”

Sam picked up her left rein, which was still just a lead rope tied to the halter on both ends. The Phantom obediently turned his head, bumping his nose to her knee. “Yeah, I think he does.”

“Both sides.”

Sam picked up her other rein and once again, the Phantom obeyed. “He's pretty good.”

“Is he alright with your legs movin’ around?”

Sam shuffled her legs on the Phantom’s sides, making sure he wouldn’t spook at her cues. He snorted once but settled quickly. They'd been through all this before; they'd just never done things the traditional way.

“Walk him, Brat.”

Sam clucked at the Phantom- he'd always been more responsive to her voice than anything else- and relaxed into his smooth stride. Most of their rides had been mad-dash-gallops or emergencies; it was almost a relief to find she loved him at the walk too.

“Is he moving alright, Jake?” Sam called. Even though it had been months since the injury and they had the vet’s blessing, she couldn’t help being paranoid; if there was any indication her horse was in pain, she would get off and never get back on.

Jake didn’t waste words. “Yup.”

Walking bareback in the round pen was step one of many- someday, Sam dreamed of running across the range again, or on a more practical note, rounding up River Bend cattle- but it felt like massive progress to Sam. They were getting through this. They were coming back from it, stronger and more connected than ever.

“SAMANTHA ANNE FORSTER!”

Sam would have recognized her dad’s voice anywhere, especially shouting at her from across the barnyard, but her thoughts went to the Phantom first. Blackie had never done well with loud noises, and riding was so delicate and new; of course he reared to full height and panicked. Bareback, Sam had little chance of staying on, but she wrapped her arms around his neck in a desperate attempt to do so.

In her head, Sam could see it all going south. He would hit the ground running; she would lose her reins again and history would repeat itself. The Phantom landed and skittered backwards, but he froze before Sam lost her seat completely, staring at Wyatt and Blue Wings with every muscle in his body tensed.

“You scare horses for fun, Wyatt?” Jake hollered. That had to be the most shocking event of all of them; Sam had never heard Jake snap at her father before. That tone only ever came out when he was protecting her, and Sam had a sudden feeling the next few minutes of her life were going to be very, very uncomfortable.

Wyatt did seem offended by Jake's rudeness, if only because he was so offended by the other thing that was going on. “What the hell is my daughter doing on that horse?”

What the hell are you doing home in the middle of the day? Sam thought but didn’t dare say out loud, seeing as she valued her life.

“The vet cleared him to ride!” Sam called out, even though she knew that wasn’t actually what he had a problem with. She swung off the Phantom, thinking maybe that would ease his temper.

“I didn’t clear him to ride.” Wyatt got off his horse too, having reached the pen. His narrowed eyes flicked from side to side before settling on Jake. “I asked you to work with her to prevent exactly this. I trusted you.”

As usual, the pair of them wanted to talk about her instead of to her. Sam decided she want going to have it today, and she cut right between her dad and Jake. “You know this isn’t something I just jumped on and did, right?” she asked. “We worked for this. We've spent all summer training for this, and I know he's ready!”

Wyatt flinched, but Sam kept going. “You told us to work with him, so we did! Did you really think we would bring him here and just look at him? You’ve told me what you think about useless horses!”

She was so angry. Her hands shook with it. Jake's hand on her shoulder grounded her somewhat, but she still felt adrenaline pumping through her veins. God forbid anyone hand her a baseball bat right now.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said when she felt she could take a civil tone. Her dad and Jake were both stunned into silence, so at least she had the option of taking her time. “Neither did Jake. Neither did the horse, for crying out loud! I know you look, and you don’t really see any of us, but trust me, we've all grown up since then!”

“Then” meant the accident, when the entire course of Sam's life had changed. She could only be so angry at her father, because she understood him; she was guilty too. Sometimes she looked at the Phantom and saw two-year-old Blackie, all leg and heart and a wild streak he hadn't really shown them yet. But he'd changed since then. All of them had changed.

“Dad,” she pleaded, when he still didn’t speak. “Jake's been on a hundred unbroken colts, right? I'm getting there too. Getting on him wasn’t nearly as dumb as you think it was.”

“She wouldn’t be on him if he wasn’t ready.” Finally, Jake spoke up. As grateful as Sam was to have him firmly on her side, she wished that just once her own word would be enough, that she didn’t need Jake or Brynna to vouch for her.

Wyatt exhaled. “You understand what I'm worried about, right?”

“Of course I do.” Sam remembered the fall and the accident way too well. “Believe me, I don’t want that to happen any more than you do. But I don’t want to sit still my whole life, either! I'm working hard! I want to take the same risks Jake and the hands do!”

“It’s different with you.”

“Because of the head injury or because I'm a girl?” Sam challenged.

“Because you're my kid. When Cody grows up, it’ll be the exact same rules.”

Sam wasn’t quite sure if she believed him, but she nodded shortly anyway. This felt closer to an agreement than they'd ever been before, and she had probably reached the limit on losing her temper for today.

“It’s not you I don’t trust, Sam,” her dad explained further. “It’s that horse. When you break Tempest, I’ll keep quiet about it. Break that little mustang too; I won't care. But this one…”

“Dad,” Sam said quietly, knowing she could never convince him. “You can trust him. Trust me.”

Old cowboys were known for their stubbornness, and Wyatt Forster was no exception, but when presented with the equine love of his daughter’s life, he gave a little nod that indicated he would try.

“That was…intense,” Jake said carefully when they reached the tack room.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sam announced, hanging the Phantom’s rope halter back on its peg. Her fingers brushed the leather one next to it, the homemade one with the charm.

“Sam Forster doesn’t want to talk about something?”

“Jake Ely has to be told to shut up?”

“I was going to tell you I was impressed, but go on, keep mocking me.”

“You were impressed?” Sam asked. That certainly hadn't been why she stood up to her dad, but it was a nice bonus.

As soon as Jake started to open up, he clamped his jaw shut again. “Eh. I guess.”

Sam jostled him with her elbow, unable to keep the pleased grin off her face. “You were! You really were! Jake, that’s so sweet!”

“Shut up, Brat. You made some good points, that’s all.”

It pleased her greatly to have Jake on her side. Not that long ago, they hadn't seen eye-to-eye on this issue and many others. Now, it finally felt like Jake was seeing and respecting her as the real, grown-up Sam who didn’t get in nearly as much trouble as she used to.

“Do you really think he’ll be this strict with Cody, though?” Sam wondered as they walked out to the ten-acre pasture. “No offense to the baby of the family, but the youngest always gets off easy. I'm pretty sure that’s how it works.”

“Oh, I think he’ll be worse,” Jake said confidently, holding the gate open for her.

“Worse? Why would he be worse?”

“Cody’s not gonna have me lookin’ out for him.”

“What?” Sam asked playfully. “You mean you're not gonna start following him around as soon as I graduate? I thought that was always the plan.”

“Catch your horse, Brat.”

By the time same brought Windy in from the pasture (he thought being caught was actually a fun game of chase), Jake had the trailer hitched up and open. This time, they weren’t backing it up to the round pen- if Windy broke away, they would well and truly lose him.

Although, Sam knew he wouldn’t do that. Because he was ready, and there wasn’t much point in pointing this off for any longer.

There was no fuss, no antics. Sam asked Windy to load, and he did, as if he'd done it a hundred times before instead of half a dozen. He made her proud. He made her sad. It was impossible to decide, and Sam wished more than anything she could just keep him forever instead of ever pulling that trigger.

“It’s time, Brat.”

Sam swallowed hard. She’d been putting this off for far too long, and Jake was right. “I know.”

“He's a good horse. He’ll make someone real happy.”

“I know.” Sam took a deep breath and turned back to Windy, fluffing his forelock and scratching the pie-shaped mark on his forehead. “Tomorrow. I’ll put him up for sale tomorrow. Take a picture, will you? I need one of us together.”

Jake obediently got out his phone and snapped a couple pictures. Sam did her best to smile, but it was hard when she knew exactly what was coming.

Sam banged her head on the keyboard, which came out more coherent than everything she’d typed with her hands. Why! Was! This! So! Hard!

“I see you're wasting company time again,” Brynna said dryly, passing by with an armful of file folders.

Sam shook her head. She understood how having Facebook open on the company computer could be misleading, but for once, she was being purposeful. “Nope. Working on Windy’s sale ad.”

Not that it was going well.

Brynna gave her an encouraging smile, but Kay-Lynn and Tasha both made noises like they'd been shot. “You're selling Windy?” Tasha cried, as if Sam had announced a death in the family instead of the planned sale of a horse she was contractually obligated to sell. “Sam, no! You can't!”

Sam shrugged helplessly. “I have to!”

“Sam!”

“I don’t want to, but I have to!” Sam insisted. “And you're not making it any easier!”

“I’ll buy him.”

Kay-Lynn. She had stood up from her desk, and she looked almost scared by the boldness in her own voice, but she made no attempt to take her own words back.

“You will?” Sam asked, trying not to sound too surprised. She really liked Kay-Lynn, obviously, but she had been under the impression her coworker was the kind of horse who looked at all the pretty horses but didn’t own any. “He's in a special program. You have to, like, apply with the BLM and stuff.”

“I already have,” Kay-Lynn admitted somewhat shyly. “I know I only met him for a couple minutes- and you showed me all those pictures, I guess- but he just seems so perfect. I could board him at the same stable as Pebbles-”

Tasha fist-pumped. “Yes!”

“-and I’ll take really good care of him, I promise,” Kay-Lynn concluded. “I mean, if you'll sell him to me. It’s up to you, who he goes to.”

Sam had not expected or prepared for this situation. Her first thought was that it was perfect. Kay-Lynn was an excellent horsewoman who would do right by Windy every step of the way, and he'd be close enough that Sam could still visit often. What more could she possibly ask for?

Nothing. This was every horse seller’s dream.

So why did she still want to say no?

And why were tears suddenly streaming down her face?

Kay-Lynn backed off immediately. “I mean…I don’t have to! Not a big deal at all!”

“No, I want you to!” Sam insisted, although it probably wasn’t very believable as she was actively sniffling. “Windy loves you! It’s just-I thought- I guess I thought I'd have more time.”

She was really reaching there, hoping the process of finding Windy’s new home would buy her a couple more days or weeks with him, but Sam was at the point where she’d take whatever she could get.

“One more week,” she announced, trying to pull herself together. This was a happy moment- deep down, she knew that, and she should treat it as such. “Let me spend one more week with him, and then I’ll hand him over to you. That’s fair, right?”

Kay-Lynn managed a solemn nod, although Sam could tell she was barely able to contain her glee beneath it. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Obviously Sam couldn’t actually do that. The time she needed would easily stretch into fall and winter and far longer than she was allowed. She had to set a firm end date and stick to it, or she’d simply never let him go. She promised that she would bring him over in just seven days, and Kay-Lynn hugged her with a very un-Kay-Lynn-like squeal. Tasha joined the hug too, and Sam wasn’t exactly sure why did that, but it did make her feel a little bit better about saying goodbye.

Chapter 19: Blissful Ignorance

Chapter Text

Later that day, Sam brought Ace in from the pasture with no intention of riding him. She felt bad about essentially making him a crash-test dummy, but somebody had to do it, and Sam was pretty sure Ace was most likely to survive the experience.

“Let ‘em sniff through the fence first.”

“I know that!” Sam complained, leading Ace up to the round pen. She truly hoped none of their precautions would be necessary- Ace and the Phantom had been friends before, so there was a decent chance they'd be friends again, right? That said, the Phantom was unpredictable, and Sam would be taking no risks where either of her horses were concerned.

The Phantom trotted up to the fence as soon as he realized he had a visitor. For the whole summer, the closest thing he'd had to company was Windy, who he hated, or Sam, who was not the same as a fellow equine. He snorted loudly- Sam chose to interpret it not as a challenge, but as a gesture of excitement. He reached over the fence to sniff Ace, and Ace blew air out of his nostrils curiously.

Sam braced herself, getting ready for the squeal-and-kick thing that was part of most equine introductions, but it never came. The two boys remained polite, only a swish of the Phantom’s tail indicating his flair for the dramatic. “Oh, yeah, they’ll be fine.”

Jake opened the gate. “Go on.”

No words of encouragement from him, of course. Sam waved a hand at the Phantom, preventing him from slipping out the gate as he was inclined to do, and brought Ace in. She unclipped Ace’s lead rope but left his halter on. It was another precaution she hoped wouldn’t be necessary, but if things did go south, she wanted to be able to get Ace out of there quickly.

Until then, Sam herself would be ducking out of the round pen and keeping a safe distance. She’d already been kicked in the head once in her life, and she didn’t feel like living through that again. She stood next to Jake and watched with bated breath.

It couldn’t go completely perfect, of course. The Phantom reared to full height, and Ace danced away, but on second glance, it appeared to be all in fun. It had been a long time since the Phantom had the chance to play- Sam was impressed he even remembered how.

The antics didn’t last long. After giving each other a once-over, the two geldings both drifted towards the hay net. Sam let out a breath she hadn't meant to hold. Realistically, she couldn’t have asked for this to go any better.

Jake seemed pleased too, although in typical Jake fashion, he only showed it in the slightest half-smile. “Not so wild now, huh?”

“Oh, he's still got it!” Sam insisted. “Just wait. He’ll show you.”

The Phantom did not seem interested in proving her right. He swished his tail at the flies and munched lazily on hay, impressing Sam with his ability to share. Jake's smirk got a little wider. “Mm-hmm. Real wild. Once Windy goes, he can probably go out with the herd.”

Sam tensed up. She hadn't told him yet- hadn't told anybody yet, except for Brynna, because she’d been in the room when it happened and there was really no avoiding that. Sam knew that wouldn’t work any longer. If she let it slide now, she’d be drifting into “lying” territory, instead of just “not talking about it”. She couldn’t lie to Jake, so she took a deep breath and told the truth. “Kay-Lynn offered to buy him.”

Jake didn’t show surprise any more than he showed anything else. “Your friend from Willow Springs? The little one with the glasses?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, her. She really likes Windy, apparently.”

“What's he still doin’ here, then?”

“I bargained.”

Jake didn’t question that. He knew her too well- this probably didn’t surprise him either.

Sam sifted through summer clothes on the clearance rack. Back-to-school shopping always felt a little bit like torture, but this year it was extra unpleasant. She was going into her senior year; this was the last time Brynna would take her to Darton’s little mall and tell her how good she looked in blouses Sam would never wear. This was the beginning of real life- applying to colleges, if she decided that was what she wanted, or maybe working full-time on the ranch. Sam's dreams were pulling her in several different directions, and she wondered if she could possibly have it all.

For whatever reason, Jake's face popped into her head. Sam did what she could to ignore it. She knew she couldn’t make any major life decisions based on the guy she liked, even if that guy was woven into every aspect of her life the way Jake was.

“What about this one?” Brynna asked, holding up a bubble-gum-colored tank top.

Sam grimaced. She was by no means a fashion expert, but she had some standards. “Brynna, redheads don’t look good in pink. You should know that!”

“It’s on sale for seven dollars.”

As tempting as that was, Sam repeated her “no”. They continued down the rack, picking up items here and there. Sam tried to focus on the clothes instead of the fact that the best summer of her life was coming to an end.

“This seems like enough,” Brynna observed. Her arm was starting to droop from carrying all the hangers. “Fitting room time!”

Sam groaned. “Do I have to? Can't we just return what doesn’t fit?”

Brynna ushered her calmly but firmly towards the fitting rooms. “If you're mature enough to drive a car, you're mature enough to try clothes on before you buy them. Come on!”

It took roughly ten minutes but felt like an hour. Sam was so over it.

Brynna was happy, though, and they left the store with bags swinging from their arms. “I'm really proud of you, Sam,” she said as they loaded it all into the Jeep.

“What, for trying clothes on? It wasn’t actually that hard.”

Brynna rolled her eyes. “Not just for that. For the whole summer- for Windy and the Phantom.”

Sam's instinct was to brush the compliment off. “It was nothing. We just did what needed to be done.”

We instead of I. Jake was part of the team even when he wasn’t part of the conversation.

“I disagree,” said Brynna, starting up the car. “You completely transformed both of those horses. That’s something to be proud of, really.”

It wasn’t that Sam wasn’t proud of herself, entirely. It was that the entire summer, every action she’d taken, had felt like a step on a path she was meant to be taking. There was no series of choices or anything noble behind it. If it had gone any other way, it would have been wrong, but Sam didn’t quite know how to put that into words.

“It was a lot of fun,” Sam admitted. Not just for mustang-related reasons, either. “Does that mean I get another mustang next summer?”

“Just one? I was thinking two or three.”

Sam couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. For the first time, she tried to picture her eighteenth summer, or really, anything beyond the end of the week. She could easily see herself with Brynna’s hypothetical trio of mustangs, gentling them and maybe even teaching them to ride. The Phantom would be fully trained by then; half her trail rides would be on him instead of Ace. Well, no, Sam couldn’t bear to leave Ace out. Perhaps Cody would be old enough to ride out with her next summer, and the thought filled her with joy.

Then, there was one major question mark that the next summer would revolve around. Sam felt she was getting closer and closer to answering that question, but for a little bit longer, she was going to revel in blissful ignorance.

The Phantom was ready for more than what they were asking for. Sam could feel it in her bones, the power and energy in his stride. But they had to wait, in the name of safety, caution, and several other things Sam was beginning to find quite boring.

It was so much better than nothing, though. And it was better than it had ever been before. Sam slid down from his back, patting him and showering him in praise. Even the dullest rides with the Phantom meant so much to her- it was something she never thought she’d have again.

Even Jake's regularly-scheduled sullenness couldn’t take these moments away from her. She could pretend they were eleven and thirteen again, and Blackie was a feisty young colt. A lot of things had changed since then, but much remained the same.

“Are you done fussin’ over him yet?” Jake called petulantly from the other side of the ring.

“You sound jealous!” Sam retorted as she fluffed the Phantom’s forelock.

“I can't leave until you're done with the horse.”

Sam didn’t want him to leave, even if he was in a bad mood for no visible reason. “Well, in that case…” She grabbed a handful of mane and summoned all her energy to vault back onto the Phantom. It was easy to swing onto a little horse like Ace, but the Phantom presented a problem for someone of her stature. Sam made up for her size with enthusiasm. She took a flying leap, and her boot sailed all the way over the Phantom’s back.

Too far, too much energy. Sam misjudged the leap, and her boot slammed into the round pen fence on the other side. It all happened fast after that. The Phantom darted forward (which no one could blame him for) and Sam scrambled for mane or rope or anything that might help her keep her seat as her foot caught between the top two rungs of the fence.

Sam didn’t stand a chance. When the Phantom leaped forward, she stayed put, ungracefully sliding off his hindquarters and hitting the ground with a thump. Somewhat mercifully, her foot untwisted from the fence, so she wasn’t strung up like a pig as well as in terrible pain.

Sam had the wind knocked out of her, but she scrambled to get up right away. The pain was secondary to proving she was fine, even if she was potentially, actually not fine. In hindsight, jumping on the Phantom was a dumb idea, and Jake was going to be mad at her, but the more hurt she was, the angrier he would be. That was how that worked, right?

It didn’t matter. Jake was already slamming the gate shut, running to her. She tried to tell him not to worry, that she was fine, but her voice refused to leave her lungs. The hand gestures she used to communicate that same message did not seem to be very helpful, although maybe that was for the better. At this point, Sam had no choice but to acknowledge she did not really feel “fine” and actually, she might throw up.

Jake's hand on her shoulder. It should have calmed her down, but it just made her more aware of the grit pressed into her t-shirt and the bruise that was absolutely going to form. He said something, concerned, but she didn’t really hear it. Maybe she shouldn’t have stood up so fast.

Sam coughed loudly, and her breath started to come back, albeit in ragged gasps. “I'm fine,” she panted out, although that was no more true than it had been a minute ago.

“Quit talking,” Jake ordered. His voice was soft, like music to her ears, and Sam let her weight sag against him. She felt like he'd given her permission. It wasn’t really how she’d intended to end up in Jake's arms, shoulder throbbing and lungs aching, but it was realistically the most comfortable place to recover.

“Anything broken?” Jake asked, not managing to sound neutral about it by any means.

Sam shook her head. Her shoulder hurt like hell, but she could still roll it without the pain knocking her down. “Just my pride, I guess.”

“See, this is exactly the reason I can't leave you alone.”

Sam's breathing was steady. She was pretty sure she could stand on her own now, but she couldn’t bring herself to step away. She was far too comfortable with Jake's arms around her, and there were definitely other things she should have been worried about besides biceps and how close the two of them were, and how much closer Sam would realistically like them to be.

Think about the pain. Think about how he's going to start yelling at you any second, Sam willed herself. The yelling thing was kind of effective, and she tried to meet Jake's eyes. “Please, please, please don’t tell my dad.”

“That you fell off, or the exact circ*mstances of you falling off?” He looked away when he said it, refusing to hold the eye contact.

And maybe that was a relief. “Both?” Sam tried. “Please? He was just starting to take me seriously. This would set me so far back.”

“You're asking me to lie to my boss?”

Sam winced.

“But just so you know, the reason I get so worked up about sh*t like this isn’t because I like seeing you get in trouble.” Jake sounded so aggravated; if Sam hadn't already been thoroughly humbled by this afternoon, she would have been humbled now. “I worry about you, Brat. And if you could just stay out of trouble long enough-”

He broke off abruptly, taking a step back from Sam. It was like a spell had been broken- she jumped back too, suddenly flustered by a position she’d found perfectly comfortable a moment ago. Her head was spinning, but not from the fall anymore. What had he been going to say?

She would probably never find out. Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and refused to look at her. “I'm gonna muck stalls.”

Should she protest? Sam didn’t even know what she would have said, or if she’d be able to find the voice to say it. So she watched Jake go, and she forced herself to move on.

First order of business was to apologize to the Phantom. While Sam and Jake were talking, he had drifted back to his hay, halter and rope looped around his neck. He gave Sam a sour look but ultimately let her approach. His issue was with the loud noise she’d made, not with Sam herself.

“At least I know you'll forgive me,” Sam grumbled, untying the halter. “What's Jake's deal these days?”

Unfortunately, the Phantom had no advice to offer her. He was kind of unhelpful that way.

If Jake was cleaning stalls, Sam might as well start on her own chores. She unwound the hose and started filling the trough in the ten-acre pasture. Even though she’d filled it first thing in the morning, the horses had drank it down to nearly empty. On these hot end-of-summer days, they needed to drink a lot to stay cool, and also, Windy liked to climb in the trough and play in the water.

Sam didn’t really want to run into Jake, so she decided to scrub out the Phantom’s tank instead of filling the water buckets in the stalls. She left the hose hanging on the round pen and started looking for a scrub brush in the barn. With all her other responsibilities this summer, keeping the tack room organized had kind of fallen to the side, and this did not promise to be an easy task. She found herself knee-deep in the closet, pawing through spare bandages and bottles of liniment from the eighties.

She sensed it before anything else. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, then, a piercing whinny from horses in the pasture, the clattering of hooves on the bridge. There could have been any number of normal explanations, but Sam knew in her gut that something was wrong. She left the closet in a heap and ran outside, in no way prepared for what she saw.

Mustangs- New Moon and a handful of mares. The Phantom was losing it, ramming his chest into the fence, and the horses in the pasture were galloping messy panicked circles. Wild horses in the barnyard would be enough of a reason to panic, but it wasn’t just that. The mustangs hadn't shown up alone- there was a wolf at Moon’s heels, bigger than Sam thought any canine had the right to be.

Cold fear struck Sam in the stomach, much more urgent than losing her wind after the fall. Instantly, she knew this was the being that had injured the Phantom. The hulking wolf was missing an eye, old and covered in scars that spoke of battles won. His enormous teeth gleamed as he curled his lip at Moon, a warning. It didn’t matter that there was only one of him. If there had been two of them, god forbid a pack, Sam wasn’t sure the Phantom would have made it out alive.

“JAKE!” she screamed. Forget that they'd been fighting. “GET THE GUN!”

She heard footsteps indicating Jake had heard her, but in a much realer sense, she didn’t hear anything at all. She stood frozen in the barn doorway until the Phantom reared up, intending to jump the fence. Then she screamed again, forgetting time and place and the fact that she wasn’t alone. “ZANZIBAR, NO!”

It was too late for him to stop, even if he had wanted to. His forelegs cleared the fence, but not much else. The rails bent under his weight, and Sam wished she could look away, fearing the worst at any second.

As the Phantom struggled to free himself, the wolf had Moon pinned against the bunkhouse. The black stallion was covered in foamy sweat; obviously he'd been running for a long time. Now there was nowhere to run- he would have to fight.

Sam knew she had to intervene. She couldn’t watch the noble horse get torn to shreds in front of her. She had to do something, but she wasn’t stupid enough to try getting between the two animals like she would if it was two barn cats tussling. There was a chance they would be more scared of her than interested in fighting each other, but that wasn’t a risk she could take. If she couldn’t get between them, what could?

The hose. The hose! Sam unfroze and sprinted to the round pen, fumbling with the nozzle and spraying the wolf in the face. It worked, if only for a moment. The two animals jumped away from each other, scared, but the wolf snarled again a heartbeat later. Evil, Sam thought. She’d thought people were evil before, but never an animal.

“Get the horse, Sam!”

Jake. The sound of a shotgun racking. A crash in the background Sam couldn’t look at. She obeyed without hesitation, turning the hose on New Moon. The stallion reeled backwards, vulnerable, and the wolf leaped for his throat, but now Jake had a clear shot.

His tracker’s eye made him an excellent aim. The wolf slumped mid-leap, leaving not a scratch on New Moon, although the mental scars would probably do a number on him, both from the harrowing chase and being treated like garden produce.

Another crash. This time, Sam had to look, and she felt her stomach drop all the way to her feet. The Phantom jumped again, and this time he cleared the bent-up fence. It was close- he caught his hind legs on the crooked top rail, scraping off skin and hair, but if it concerned him, he didn’t show it. He whinnied loudly, and Moon and the mares remembered. When the Phantom took off towards the river, the remains of his herd followed.

Chapter 20: The Slightest Semblance of Control

Chapter Text

Jake dropped the shotgun, a loud clang that wasn’t quite enough to knock any sense into Sam. “Get your horse! Come on!”

Sam couldn’t take her eyes off him, a blur of silver in the distance. He'd left her. He'd chosen freedom over her. In some way, Sam had known that was the choice he'd make, but she hadn't really been confronted by it until now. All this time, she’d avoided putting that choice in front of him, pretending that the answer would be her.

“Sam! NOW!”

Sam woke up. Forget her heartbreak, forget the mess they were leaving behind. They needed to go now. She didn’t even take the extra second to shut the hose off; she just ran to the barn for Ace. If the yard flooded a little bit, well, they had bigger problems.

There was no time for saddles, either. A pair of bridles, two sets of split reins, and they were off. Sam wasn’t all that comfortable riding bareback, but she didn’t complain. It seemed highly unlikely they would be able to bring the Phantom back, but if she didn’t give it her absolute best, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

Sam chewed her lip until it bled. Jake beside her offered no comfort. His jaw was set and his eyes narrowed, obviously not in the mood to tell her everything was going to be okay. And why would he? There was only the slimmest chance things would be okay, and neither of them was betting on that.

The horses were, of course, long out of sight. Sam couldn’t blame them- the experience at the ranch had been terrifying for all involved. Sam couldn’t even begin to process it, and she didn’t think she’d be ready to for a number of months.

She couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “Do you think we’ll be able to find him?”

“I don’t know,” Jake said gruffly. “A horse that jumps six-foot fences has to be pretty damn determined to get out.”

It was nothing Sam didn’t already know, but her hopes still sunk even further. She let out a shuddery breath and tried to focus on Ace. His little legs churned under her; it wasn’t all that comfortable. Under different circ*mstances, she might have found the breakneck speed fun, but now, she couldn’t think of anything but the Phantom.

She kept seeing him hung up on the fence, ramming his chest on the rails. Danger, stress, the heat of the moment- whatever the extenuating circ*mstances, he had still showed her exactly how he felt about captivity. Sam had never imagined him getting his freedom back this way. It had always been a gift from her, an opened gate and a promise to see each other again.

There had been no promises this time, no semblance of a goodbye. It was an impulse, a need, a flight instinct that couldn’t be ignored, heightened by the terrible wolf attack and the saddle horses flying around in their field. Sam couldn’t fault him for that- was her decision making much better?- but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

They would get him back- they had to get him back; it would be a genuine federal crime to leave him out on the range now, and Sam knew they wouldn’t get away with it a second time. She just didn’t want it to turn ugly, one of those helicopter round-ups she’d always loathed. That was why she and Jake had to take care of this now, before anyone else got involved.

But how could she help him if she couldn’t find him? Normally, Sam's heart steered her reliably towards the Phantom, but now that instinct offered her nothing but the heartache that threatened to overwhelm her.

It was Jake who kept it together, Jake who made sense of what little they had to go on. He followed the tracks and she followed him, far past the point they had chased Windy to just a few short weeks ago. She wished it was Windy who had gotten loose now. The stakes were so much lower then- with Windy, Sam had been sure he wanted to come home. She didn’t have that luxury with the Phantom.

When she spotted him, her heart leapt into her throat. Silver on sand, streaked with red from where he'd slammed into the fence. The Phantom wasn’t running at full gallop anymore, but he wasn’t exactly looking back, either. The only reason Sam felt any small spark of hope was that he was alone. Moon and the mares were gone. It didn’t necessarily mean the Phantom had resolved an intense internal conflict about where he belonged, but it still made her feel a little better.

When the Phantom heard their thundering hooves, he turned and faced them, head raised high. Sam still didn’t get her hopes up. He might have locked in the exact same way for a rabbit or even a tumbleweed. She still had to convince him to pay attention to her long enough for the two of them to actually connect.

They slowed their horses to a walk and approached him cautiously. He didn’t move, not one step, frozen. Sam felt frozen too, almost slowed to a crawl, but she didn’t stop Ace until Jake held up a hand. She understood then. This was something she had to do on her own.

She swung off Ace and passed her reins to Jake. He untied one split rein and passed it back to her. Sam blinked a couple times. “I'm going to catch him with a split rein?”

“The alternative is nothing.”

Sam took the rein.

“Just don’t lose your head,” Jake said softly. It was the same tone he used on the rare occasion he spoke to the horses, but it worked on Sam too. “He's not as wild as he thinks he is.”

He'd told her that before, and he'd been right then. Sam hoped the wisdom would still hold up. She steeled herself and turned towards the Phantom, undeniably scared out of her mind.

It wasn’t that she thought he might hurt her- she didn’t particularly care if he did. He'd already trampled her and kicked her in the head, so what was one more blow?

But if he ran from her?

That would hurt more.

“Hey, Blackie,” she said quietly. She obviously wasn’t going to sneak up on him- she might as well get him re-accustomed to the sound of her voice early on. “I know you probably don’t want anything to do with me right now, but just trust me. All I want is to help, okay?”

All she wanted- all she’d ever wanted, really- was what was best for the Phantom. There had been a time when she’d been ready to let him go, to love him from afar, but it would be harder to accept that now. She wanted so badly for him to be safe, for him to never go hungry again. When it came to his freedom or his safety, Sam knew what she’d choose.

But right now, under open sky, it wasn’t her choice to make. Just as she’d regret not chasing after him, she’d regret trying to force his hand now. The Phantom had been independent for too long to hear her voice over his own. That was the mustang in him. River Bend Ranch could be a prison if he was roped and dragged there, or a paradise if he chose it on his own.

“Zanzibar, please.”

Her voice softened his tense outline. Pain, fear, anger…and her. Sam wasn’t sure her offer of companionship would be enough to win over the tangled mess that was the Phantom, but she took one small step toward him, knowing she had to try.

The Phantom didn’t run at her initial approach, a good sign. He blew a harsh burst of air out of his nostrils, the same noise he used to make when he was a colt and he'd spotted something scary on the horizon. Sam was a little disappointed to be reduced to “something scary” when she’d always considered the Phantom her best friend, but obviously that wasn’t her main priority at the moment.

One more cautious step. Still, he didn’t run from her. Sam continued to speak to him softly, noting the way his ears swiveled to focus on her. He was listening, if nothing else. When she got about ten feet from him, he lowered his head.

Sam stopped, looking him over carefully. It was something Jake had taught her- you didn’t mess things up by going too slow. Besides, she wanted to remember every detail of the Phantom in front of her, just in case this was the last time she ever saw him. Her heart protested the very idea of it, but she had to be realistic. She couldn’t keep dragging him in and out of her world. She had to let him make up his mind and then abide by the decision, whether she agreed with it or not.

Preparing for the worst couldn’t quell that little spark of hope rising within her. After all, their connection had come through so many times before. Why not now, when it meant more than ever for both of them?

Sam answered her own question. Because she could only be so lucky, and she already won the lottery just by him surviving this long. She could ask for more, but the universe didn’t owe her a damn thing.

She reached out a hand, an offer and a question at the same time. Zanzibar, please. Choose me. She couldn’t make herself say it out loud; she didn’t want to beg him, but she also couldn’t quite stop herself.

The Phantom took a step towards her. Quiet, calm, only the slightest bit of hesitation. Now Sam really couldn’t speak. She matched his movements, one careful step at a time, until her fingers brushed his muzzle. The spell was broken- Sam knew he wasn’t going to run. He'd made his choice. He'd chosen her.

She ran a hand over his ivory neck. She might have hugged him if not for the gash across his chest, a souvenir from ramming the round pen fence until the rails bent. “What were you thinking, Zanzibar?”

He bumped her shoulder with his nose. Not quite an apology, but as close to one as a horse could give.

“It’s alright,” Sam murmured. She wrapped the split rein around his neck. It gave her only the slightest semblance of control; it was there to make Jake feel better more than anything else. Sam didn’t need ropes or halters to communicate with the Phantom- she never had.

Holding the ends of the rein in her hand, Sam turned back towards Jake and the saddle horses. The Phantom matched her step for step, showing no sign of pain despite the smeared blood. It took a lot more than multiple self-inflicted flesh wounds to slow the Phantom down.

“You were right,” said Sam. It wasn’t often those words left her mouth, especially to Jake. “He's not that wild. He just had a point to prove.”

Jake wasn’t exactly easy to read, but Sam had a feeling he was proud of her.

Sam let out a shuddery breath. Her mind knew everything was going to be okay, but her body still had to come down from the adrenaline rush. She looked from Ace to the Phantom, trying to decide the best way to do this. The Phantom had been ponied as a colt, but never with just a neck rope. Could she potentially fashion her rein into a halter? Would Jake lend her one the reins off his bridle for a rope?

“Aren't you going to ride?”

“Huh?” said Sam. “I haven’t decided yet. I might just walk.”

“Brat, come on. That horse is lookin’ at you like he's desperate for you to get on him.”

He wasn’t talking about Ace. He co*cked his head towards the Phantom, a gesture Sam wouldn’t have expected in a million years. She balked. “You're not serious! How can you go from telling me I can't be left alone to saying I should get on the horse you’ve always wanted me to stay away from?”

Jake exhaled sharply and looked away. “You think I can explain it myself? These days, Brat, I don’t have any idea how I'm supposed to act around you.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked. Jake turned Witch and started riding away, taking Ace with him. “Jake!”

He wasn’t really giving her any choice. Sam knotted the ends of her singular split rein and vaulted on the Phantom, careful not to overshoot it this time. She trusted him, and now that the wolf had been taken care of, she felt safe on the open range.

Even if she didn’t, safety was far from her biggest concern right now. Jake.

She nudged the Phantom into a fast trot until she caught up to Jake. “What does that mean?” she asked again, more demanding this time. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she wasn’t sure if it was from trying to sit a trot bareback or what she thought Jake might say to her.

I don’t have any idea how I'm supposed to act around you. It had been on the tip of Sam's tongue all summer, but she’d never had the guts to put it into words. She’d never considered that Jake might be thinking the same thing, much less that he would break before she did.

He wouldn’t even look at her, eyes locked on the path in front of him. Sam studied his side profile; it was obvious from the firm line of his mouth that he was troubled. She wondered somewhat boldly if his heart was pounding in his chest too. It hadn't seemed all that possible before, but it did now.

“Sam,” he said, almost as if it pained him. Sam, not Brat. “You're my best friend. I don’t ever wanna take that for granted. I don’t want to mess up-”

“Mess it up,” Sam interrupted. The words escaped her mouth before she could think better of them, and more seemed determined to tumble out after. “Ruin it. I don’t care.”

Her heartbeat slammed in her ears. Nothing mattered except for Jake beside her- forget that she was riding the Phantom with only a neck rope for control and that forty-five minutes ago a killer wolf had showed up at the ranch. Jake didn’t know how to act around her. Jake didn’t want to mess up their friendship, but Sam really hoped he would, because this could very well be the most important thing that ever happened to her.

“Sam.”

All he said was her name, but why would he need to say anything more? Sam could see it in his eyes, the hesitant but hopeful smile, the way he was leaning towards her- this was really happening! A spark jumped up her spine, equal parts excitement and awareness that she had no idea what she was doing. Was she even ready to kiss Jake?

She didn’t get to find out. The second before their lips brushed, Witch let out a squeal and spun to double-barrel kick the Phantom. It wasn’t like the Phantom to run from a fight, but Sam was glad he chose to dodge this time. She nearly slid off his back for the second time that day, just barely managing to save herself by grabbing mane.

Jake wasn’t so lucky. He had already been off-balance when Witch wheeled around, so he didn’t stand a chance. He managed to halfway catch himself on Witch’s neck, but he still hit the ground with an unpleasant thump.

“Are you okay?” Sam demanded right away. Jake was already getting up and brushing the dirt off his knees, cheeks flaming red. Fortunately, neither Witch nor Ace took this as an opportunity to escape.

“Fine,” he muttered. Sam had never seen him blush so fiercely. She found it adorable. “Forget all that. I’ll take you out properly, and we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” said Sam, unable to contain her grin. She was pretty sure she already had it figured out. “Need a leg up?”

“You shut up.”

Jake swung back onto Witch all but effortlessly, and Sam nudged the Phantom back into step with them. In theory, nothing concrete had changed, but the air between them felt entirely different, not at all in a bad way. Actually, it felt like they'd stumbled into something that was meant to happen, and everything now felt a little bit more right.

Sam thought back to earlier that day, to half a dozen incidents from this summer and the one before. I worry about you, Brat. His hand in hers at the county fair. A homemade leather halter. It seemed like Jake had been telling her he loved her for a long time, just not in those exact words.

Sam met Jake's eyes shyly, then looked away. He was still blushing like a fool, and it was still adorable to her. She wondered how it had taken so many years for this to happen. There had never been any other option, for either of them. There never would be any other option for them.

When it seemed the horses could be civil, Jake pushed Witch closer to the Phantom and bridged the gap between them. He didn’t need to say anything. Fingers laced together, Sam knew exactly what he meant.

Sam's dad was waiting for them when they got back to River Bend, looking, quite frankly, pissed. Oh, right. Sam thought back to the dead wolf and the shotgun they'd left in the yard, the running hose and the dented round pen panel, and the fact that she’d returned riding the Phantom and holding hands with Jake Ely. Turns out they still had a lot of explaining to do.

Chapter 21: Epilogue

Chapter Text

Sam shut the passenger door and buckled her seat belt while Jake finished closing the trailer. Maybe it was weak on her part, but she couldn’t bear to stay outside and meet Windy’s confused eyes through the slats. She would rather start Jake’s truck and open the sun visor to look at all his pictures. She smiled and reached up- that one was new, herself and Windy, posing at the end of a training session. She hadn't known he would print that one out, or that things would turn out the way they did for all of them. Now, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“Ready, Brat?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sam tried to joke. No matter how happy she was with the outcome, saying goodbye to Windy was going to be hard. That was just no longer a good enough excuse to keep her from taking him to his new stable.

Jake leaned in and kissed her gently. Sam smiled against his mouth. This was something that had changed a whole lot in the past less-than-a-week. As promised, Jake had “taken her out properly” and they'd “figured it out”. Sam had been so nervous when he picked her up that night, but dinner and a movie with Jake had felt like the most natural thing in the world. So had their fingers laced together on the drive home; so had that goodnight kiss on the front porch.

If only they had figured it out a little sooner, instead of right before Jake left again. Sam's heart ached with it, but she was determined not to let that ruin the time they left. Besides, time apart had never done any damage to their friendship- why should a romantic relationship be any different?

Windy was going to board at a place called Skylark Stables. It was a small, relatively private farm with a massive outdoor arena. All the horses in the pastures looked happy and healthy (Sam was able to point out Pebbles from all the slideshows Tasha had subjected her to) and she was confident her little tumbleweed would fit in just fine. Jake parked the truck in front of the barn and they both hopped out.

Kay-Lynn and Tasha found Sam before she even unlatched the back door of the trailer. It resulted in a very enthusiastic hug- Kay-Lynn was practically buzzing with excitement. “Oh, I'm so glad you're here! Did you find the place okay? Is he ready to unload?”

“Yes and yes,” Sam told her. Jake had mysteriously disappeared (to be expected) so she undid the latch and swung the heavy trailer door open herself. Windy whinnied at her, and Sam's heart swelled. She was learning now, it was possible to love him and say goodbye to him at the same time. In fact, it was beginning to seem like the only valid option. She led him out of the trailer and handed his lead rope off to Kay-Lynn, who was misty-eyed even with Tasha’s arm around her shoulder.

“Thank you so much,” Kay-Lynn said almost reverently, clinging to the lead with both hands. “For training him, for bringing him to me. You can visit anytime!”

Sam nodded eagerly. “I will! I mean, we have to keep hanging out once the summer’s over, right?”

“Obviously,” Tasha replied scathingly. “So lame that you're still in school, by the way.”

“Give it a year!”

Kay-Lynn changed the subject. “C’mon, I’ll show you where he's going to stay.”

When she led Windy off, she looked more confident than Sam had ever seen her. That made her feel even better about the whole thing.

Windy would be sharing a grassy paddock with a stocky palomino. The mare whinnied at him when Kay-Lynn brought him through the gate, and Windy trotted out to meet her as soon as the halter came off. He didn’t look back. It both stung and eased Sam's pain at the same time.

She knew Kay-Lynn would probably stay and watch him for hours, but she needed to get home. Sam promised to stay in touch and hugged both her friends goodbye. Tasha promised to supply Windy with treats and Kay-Lynn promised to keep Tasha in line. That was all Sam could really ask for, aside from an updated PowerPoint that included both Windy and Pebbles.

As Sam left the three of them behind, she knew it was going to be okay. It resonated deep within her bones, the knowledge that Windy would be well-taken care of and Kay-Lynn needed exactly the horse that he was. For some reason, that didn’t totally make her feel better, so when Sam got back to the truck (Jake had mysteriously reappeared and turned the AC on) she let herself cry.

It was back to business as soon as they got to River Bend. Sam, feeling much better and at peace, went straight to the Phantom’s round pen, and Jake went to the tack room for a lunge whip. Now that the Phantom’s mortal enemy had moved out, there was a spot for him in the ten-acre pasture, where he would surely be much happier.

The Phantom greeted her with a rumbling nicker. Sam grabbed his halter off the fence, the leather one with the charm, and went in to catch him. Getting ahold of him was no longer a challenge, but an ordinary part of their day. Sam smiled as she buckled the halter onto him, thinking about how everything had changed.

Bringing the Phantom back after he escaped the round pen had felt like a new beginning for both of them. It had given Sam exactly what she wanted- no, what she needed: the Phantom choosing her. He'd had the opportunity to run free again and make her life extremely difficult, but instead, he'd reached out to her. Ever since then, he'd been calm and quiet while still remaining himself, letting Sam know he was happy with the choice he'd made.

The wolf at River Bend had caused quite a stir. Sam still shuddered when she thought about it, although more than anything she was glad that it was over. Hopefully over. Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still lurking around, but Jake regularly assured her it had only been the one wolf haunting their little town. Based on the den they'd found, the gaps between deaths, and the lack of tracks, it did make sense. She just didn’t think she would ever get over the fear that had gripped her, watching the wolf leap for New Moon’s throat.

Technically, wolves were a protected animal in Nevada, but Sam and Jake had avoided legal trouble fairly easily. Sherriff Ballard had taken statements from both of them, poked around the yard, and confiscated the dead wolf, but he heavily implied right away that no one would be pressing charges. People and horses had been in danger. No one was going to begrudge Sam and Jake the action they had taken, technical felony or not.

(While Sam's action of spraying the wolf with a garden hose was not technically a crime by law, she would have absolutely taken half the trouble Jake could have gotten into for shooting it.)

Jake was waiting for her by the gate, lunge whip in hand. The Phantom snorted a little as they passed him but overall kept it together, more proof that he had grown up in the past few days. Realistically, it was about time.

The other horses caught sight of the Phantom and started to trot over. As much as Sam wanted to let this moment between them linger, she wanted to be safely out of the way before a stampede began. She unbuckled the halter and got out of the way, with Jake shutting the gate behind her.

Sam was prepared for drama, but it wasn’t as bad as all that. The Phantom snorted and arched his neck, but he didn’t actually assault any of the saddle horses. Sam was impressed even though that was really the bare minimum. She watched proudly as her Phantom greeted old friends and new before wheeling off at a canter. The other horses followed, but none of them could match the Phantom’s joy, finally getting to stretch his legs in a constructive way. There was no sign of a limp anymore, no evidence the terrible incident had happened at all, aside from the fact that they were both living completely different lives now.

He was so beautiful when he ran, wind whipping in his mane and coat gleaming in the sun. He was beautiful, he was safe, and he was hers. In that moment, Sam couldn’t think of anything left to want.

“So…Zanzibar, huh?”

Sam's eyes widened at the Phantom’s secret (or apparently not-so-secret) name. “Um…I don’t know what you're talking about!”

Jake shook his head, a soft smile on his face. “Don’t freak out. Just thought you should know I know.”

Sam shoved her hands in her pockets, frustrated. “I always knew you could read my mind.”

“I heard you yell it when the Phantom was jumpin’ fences.”

Of course there was a logical explanation. Sam's shoulders sagged. “Are you going to use that information against me?”

“How would I even…?” Jake scoffed. “Course not. It fits him; that’s all. You won't hear it from my mouth again.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know why I bother trying to keep secrets from you.”

“You kept that one for eight years. Gotta be some kind of record.”

If anyone had to find out the Phantom’s secret name, it really should be Jake. He was the one who’d taught Sam about giving horses secret names in the first place. Not to mention, Jake didn’t talk enough to spill any of her secrets.

Sam leaned against him, letting him wrap an arm around her shoulder, watching the horses settle down and start to graze. She loved the comfortable silence between them, but of course it couldn’t last long. Jake had to go and break it, with what Sam considered to be bad news. “I’ll bring Witch over tomorrow.”

“So you're really going to go?” Sam asked somewhat pitifully.

Jake threw his head back. “Brat, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Even though they were dating now, he still called her Brat. Apparently he had meant it to be affectionate this whole time.

“Is that your way of saying you're going to miss me?”

“You know I'm going to miss you.”

Not everything had changed since their wild ride and the Phantom’s return. They still drove each other nuts, occasionally on purpose.

“I'm going to miss you too,” Sam promised, even though she was pretty sure Jake already knew. If he could figure out the Phantom’s secret name, he really should be able to tell how hard it would be to spend eight months without him, especially now that they made out and stuff. “But you'll come visit every weekend, right?”

Alarm bells went off in Jake's head. “Every weekend? That’s five-hundred miles round trip!”

“Yeah, but I'm worth it, right?”

“You know, you got a driver’s license too.”

“I think Gram’s Buick might get even worse gas mileage than your truck,” Sam pointed out. “Besides, what would we even do if I went there? There's no horses on campus.”

“Good point.”

It wasn’t often Jake conceded to her points. Another thing that had changed when their relationship status shifted. It was all so new and wonderful; Sam wasn’t ready for everything to change again.

She took a shaky breath, shifting from bargaining to acceptance. She’d known this day was coming, and she knew they could handle it. It had taken them seventeen years to get together- going long-distance for the school year wouldn’t kill them.

Besides, Sam had plenty to worry about at home. The Phantom deserved even more of her time than he was getting, Tempest was almost big enough to ride, and Tasha had promised/threatened to teach her how to jump. Actually, all things considered, Sam was pretty sure the end of the best summer of her life was really just the beginning.