Rain Dance (2 page)

C
hills rained down Sam's neck and arms, but she tightened her grip on the lead rope.

As Sunny answered the neigh, her body vibrated and her weight shifted between her front hooves.

It couldn't be him,
Sam thought.

Sunny pawed three times, and dirt pelted Sam's jeans. She braced her legs apart, standing firm in case the mare bolted. She'd seen too many horses break loose and run for the range not to be prepared.

“Sunny. Sunny girl.”

The mare's ears pointed toward La Charla and the wild side of the river.

“You can't go back, girl,” Sam told the mare. “Just let yourself be happy here, okay?”

An engine roared from the highway. It slowed and downshifted. Sam didn't recognize it by sound and it was a bad time to be distracted.

So, instead of standing on tiptoe to see, Sam walked in the opposite direction.

“Let's check out your new pasture,” she invited Sunny.

The small pasture off the barn had been double-fenced for safety. Dad had stapled wire mesh over the wooden rails. The mesh went down to the ground so not even the tiniest, most determined foal could scoot underneath and get in trouble.

“We're moving you over here tonight, Sunny. Won't this be great?”

The mare wasn't listening to her. She was distracted by the sound of the approaching vehicle. Sam hoped it wasn't Mrs. Allen, who drove like a crazy woman, or Linc Slocum, who thought about nothing but himself.

Slow down,
Sam ordered herself.
Walk.
Every pulse of worry would telegraph up the halter rope to the mustang's sensitive head.

Against her will, Sam imagined Dark Sunshine scared and rearing. What if she wrenched her neck, or slipped and fell? With only days until she was due to foal, Sunny couldn't be allowed to panic and struggle. It could endanger her baby.

Stop it
, Sam ordered herself. There was no reason to be so paranoid. She chanced a quick glance back
and noticed Blaze scratching frantically at the front door, begging Gram to let him in.

Sam sighed in relief. There was only one visitor Blaze tried to avoid.

Dr. Scott, the veterinarian, wasn't due to give Sunny her checkup until that afternoon. But apparently he'd arrived early.

The vet's truck bumped over the River Bend bridge, confirming her guess.

“Hey, Sam,” he called from his truck.

Dressed in jeans and a dirt-smeared blue-and-white-checked shirt, Dr. Scott climbed out. Watching Sunny, he closed his truck door gently, then sauntered toward them.

Dr. Glen Scott was a young, blond veterinarian. He wore black-rimmed glasses and a smile. A hardworking bachelor, he was always hungry, and Gram loved to feed him.

It was almost lunchtime. Sam wondered if that was why he was early, until he explained.

“Don't know if it's the humidity or what,” Dr. Scott said, “but I've had more crazy animals this morning. Some people who were just traveling through on their way to California stopped with a cat who'd been yowling for over two hundred miles. Nothing was wrong, but since Kitty didn't seem to be enjoying the drive, I gave her something to calm her nerves. Then your friend Jen called—”

“Oh no!” Sam said.

“Again, no big deal,” Dr. Scott soothed her. “Just that new palomino Rose decided to get her head stuck while reaching for a few extra oats from the feed room. Jed needed some help and no one was tall enough except Slocum, and he was no help at all, so they called me. Since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to pay your mama-to-be a visit.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. She noticed he still stood a few yards away, giving Sunny time to get used to his presence.

Dr. Scott had only been a vet for two years, but Brynna had been so impressed with his emergency work at the rodeo, she'd hired him to oversee the health of the mustangs at the Willow Springs holding corrals.

“How's she doing?” Dr. Scott asked. “Notice any changes?”

“She's hungry all the time,” Sam said. “And I think she's worn out from carrying that baby around. Still, even when she looks too tired to eat, she keeps grazing. Gram's been cooking up bran mash with carrots like you suggested.”

“She'll need all those calories—for the birth and for feeding her foal. How's her temperament? Since you're the closest thing she's got to a friend, you're the best judge.”

“She's less sociable with the other horses. She wants them around, but she hasn't been standing head to tail with Popcorn, swishing flies, like she did before. I think it hurts his feelings. Not that
she's cranky,” Sam added, “just sort of distracted.”

“Eleven months of pregnancy seems like forever to her, too. But she's nearly finished. Can you get her to come a little closer?”

Sam clucked to the mare and started forward.

For the first time, the mare took a good look at Dr. Scott. With a startled squeal, she jerked back on the rope.

Sam felt ligaments stretch to hold her arms in her shoulder sockets. She braced her legs to keep Sunny from pulling her off her feet.

“She remembers me,” the vet said. His lips twisted in a way that said he wished she weren't scared, so Sam didn't mention that Blaze had tried to escape, too.

Both animals remembered their shots better than they did Dr. Scott's kindness.

“You okay?” the vet asked as Sam rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the muscles after the sudden jerk.

“Sure,” Sam answered.

When Dr. Scott just nodded, Sam grinned. If Dad or Jake had been watching, they would have fretted, then tried to take over.

“C'mon, girl.” Sam clucked to calm the mare. “No shots today.”

As if she understood, Sunny relaxed, standing with one hind hoof cocked. Taking that as permission, Dr. Scott crooned and ran his hands over the
mare, paying special attention to Sunny's udder.

“She's getting plenty of milk for the foal. That means we're really close.” The vet glanced toward the small pasture near the barn, but his hands kept smoothing Sunny's coat. “You got all the weeds pulled, looks like. I hope you didn't find any fescue?”

“Not a bit,” Sam said. “And we all looked.”

Dad had taught her to recognize the spiky bluish weed that spelled trouble for mares and their foals. Not only could the weed cause mares to carry foals too long, so that they were too big for a simple birth, but mares who ate fescue could fail to produce milk.

As Sam pictured the entire family patrolling the ten-acre pasture and the new pen with eyes downcast, ready to yank up the weed, Sunny's head snapped up. She rolled her eyes as if she really could sense Sam's feelings.

“It's okay, girl,” Sam said, smoothing her hand over the light patches of hair left on Sunny's neck by her freeze brand.

That surge of anxiety and the mare's reaction made Sam think about her decision. Since Dad and Brynna wouldn't help, maybe the vet would.

“Dr. Scott, you know it's time for our cattle drive.”

“River Bend, Gold Dust, and Three Ponies,” the vet listed the three adjoining ranches. “I heard Maxine Ely will be holding down the fort over at Three Ponies and Ryan, Slocum's boy, will take charge over at Gold Dust.” Dr. Scott paused, looking
a little skeptical since Ryan Slocum was a teenager newly arrived from England. “Who'll be taking care of things here?”

“Well, it might be me. Do you think I should stay and watch out for Sunny?” Sam asked.

“All alone?”

Sam sighed. There went all the trust she'd thought Dr. Scott had in her.

“I mean,” the vet amended, “the mare would probably be fine. Mustangs have been giving birth alone for centuries. I was thinking of you.”

The young vet blushed as if he felt awkward considering the welfare of a creature with fewer than four legs.

“Well,” Sam admitted, “Mrs. Coley will come over and stay with me, but I'd be in charge of the horses.”

“That's fine, then,” Dr. Scott said.

Sam made an effort not to roll her eyes. That always annoyed adults. But today was her fourteenth birthday. Anyone should be able to see she didn't need a baby-sitter.

Dr. Scott's hands soothed Sunny as he hunted for the position of the foal. He did this each time he visited, and though he kept talking, his eyes took on a distant, unfocused look.

“I talked to your dad a couple weeks ago. Guess he was thinking about hiring Jake Ely to watch over the ranch, but then he decided he couldn't do it. Said that on a drive, Jake was like his right hand.”

Sam felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach.
What about me?

Luke Ely had six sons at home, all older than she was, to help with his herd. Dad only had Pepper and Ross. She wasn't an experienced cowgirl yet, so of course Dad needed Jake. Still, it hurt. She'd give anything to hear Dad call her his “right hand.”

Sam turned away, blinking. If she wanted to be treated like an adult, she couldn't cry like a baby. Dr. Scott didn't seem to notice he'd hurt her feelings.

“Either way,” he said, straightening to pat Sunny's shoulder, “I think she'll be fine. But I bet you're planning to stay around.”

“I haven't exactly decided,” Sam said.

“Have you got that foaling kit together that I told you about? Whoever stays should know where to find it.”

“I've got it all together. Do you want to check it?”

“No,” the vet said, reaching into his medical bag. “I'm sure you got it right, but I've got another list for you. Give me a call if you notice any of them.”

“Okay.” Sam took the list and looked it over.

The more she read, the more afraid she got. Could she stay and handle this alone? Her head was spinning.

“Don't go all pale on me now,” Dr. Scott said.

If the mare's abdomen suddenly sagged and seemed to develop a sort of point at the lowest part, if she began to look anxiously toward her abdomen, if she pawed the ground and began sweating for no
apparent reason…

“I'm not,” Sam said, but her voice sounded faint, even to her. So much could go wrong.

“Those things are unlikely, but it's her first foal and if the weather gets hot in a hurry, that would increase her odds of an early birth.”

“I don't want to rush her,” Sam said.

“I'm thinking it will be in three or four days. You've got my cell phone number, so you can get me any time.”

He buckled his bag and lifted it, then gave Sam a considering look, as if he knew she couldn't make up her mind.

“My medical opinion is that Dark Sunshine will probably be fine alone. My personal opinion is, I think you'd get a kick out of staying with her. Birthing foals is like nothing else on earth, and you're a natural with horses. You can read them because you care what they're thinking. Dark Sunshine couldn't have a better midwife than you.”

 

Sam was still flying high on the vet's praise at dinnertime. She hadn't completely made up her mind, but she was getting closer.

Seven chairs barely fit around the kitchen table. The swamp cooler that kept them all from heat stroke made a loud, windstormy sound.

Sam watched Jake and Dad poke at her birthday dinner with tentative forks. Gram just laughed at them.

Dad wore a pressed blue shirt with pearl snaps down the front and at the cuffs. Jake's black hair was still damp from a shower and he'd driven over to River Bend Ranch instead of riding. Clearly, they'd both gone to some trouble to look nice for her party, but they were unsure about dinner.

“For heaven's sake, you two,” Gram said. “You'd think you'd never eaten a salad before.”

“Not instead of dinner,” Dad muttered.

“It
is
dinner,” Brynna said, rolling her eyes in exaggerated delight. “And it's wonderful!”

Crisp green lettuce was piled high on each plate and topped with ham, cheese, and hard-boiled eggs, for chef's salads.

“I agree!” Jen said. “Even in this heat”—Jen pulled at the neck of her sleeveless turquoise dress to show how hot she was—“my mom's making fried meat and potatoes because that's what Dad likes. This is a civilized meal.”

Sam caught Jake's look of disagreement. Maybe he didn't say anything because he'd given Jen a ride to River Bend and had to share the truck cab with her when they left, too. But it was more likely that he didn't want to offend Gram.

Sam watched Jake, noticing how his lips pressed together when he considered the wicker basket of bread sticks. He'd just have to survive on those, his expression said.

“It's a good thing I didn't ask for sushi,” Sam joked.

Jake's head snapped up from studying his meal.

“Raw fish?” he asked. “You don't actually eat that, do you?”

Typical,
Sam thought. Jake bit his tongue to keep from saying something rude to Gram, but he didn't mind staring at her as if she were nuts.

“It's good,” Sam said. “Aunt Sue was just introducing me to it before I left San Francisco.” She considered Jake's grimace. “Actually, Jake, I bet you'd like
unagi
.”

“Yeah, I just bet,” Jake said. He ate a matchstick-sized piece of cheese before curiosity got the better of him. “Okay, what is it?”

“Eel,” Sam said, then laughed along with everyone else when Jake recoiled. “So buckaroos don't eat sushi?”

“Not this one,” he said. He shook his head more than the statement required, maybe trying to dispel the image of bite-sized eel.

“Rest assured, we'll have no eel on the trail, Jake,” said Gram.

“That's good news,” Dad said.

Sam glanced around the kitchen. It looked as it had this time last year when she'd just arrived from San Francisco. Back then, she'd barely noticed the white plastered walls and oak beams because of the cardboard boxes stacked against one wall. Then, she'd wondered what was inside. Now she knew they were packed with the foodstuffs and utensils Gram
would need for the cattle drive.