Wild Honey (12 page)

“Everyone's an expert on the criminal justice system as it appears on TV,” Preston joked. Then he looked around. Suddenly he seemed to realize where he was and who he was talking to. “But I can tell you guys aren't hardened criminals.”

If that was supposed to be an apology, it didn't work.

Jen couldn't have lifted her chin much higher. She was insulted on Sam's behalf. And Jake just stared at Preston as if he was waiting for an excuse to fight.

Dr. Scott stood up from examining the mare. He wiped his hands on the front of his jeans, then spread them as if pointing out the palomino's quiet temperament.

She couldn't possibly be a wild horse, the vet's gesture said, and that's when the sheriff turned to Sam.

“Why did you do it?” Sheriff Ballard asked.

Why did I?
Sam thought, but she didn't know. It was like trying to remember a dream. When you first woke, it was so clear and vivid that your muscles still shook from some marathon-across-the-moon you'd run, or the green horse you'd ridden. Then, as real life crowded in to fill up your mind, you couldn't remember the story of your dream. In fact you might forget you even had one.

Why did I do it?
She wondered again, and suddenly she remembered. In memory, she saw the palomino galloping across the range, veering around rocks and jumping sagebrush. Her creamy mane billowed and her golden legs matched the Phantom's silver ones in a wild and beautiful race.

“I had a reason,” Sam said.

Then, Dr. Scott asked, “Couldn't you have asked me for help?”

His injured tone underlined the question, and for a second Sam felt guilty. But then she looked at Mrs. Allen. She'd trusted her, too.

Sam shrugged.

“Samantha, I'd like you to go out and sit in my car,” Sheriff Ballard said.

“Are you arresting her?” Jen demanded.

“Of course not. You all can go with her.” The sheriff's gesture took in Jen, Jake, and Darrell.

“Ballard?” Preston asked sharply.

“I've known this girl's family since before she was born,” Sheriff Ballard said, “and I've come to know Sam pretty well lately.” The glance he shot her added,
A little too well.
“One thing I've learned is that Samantha Forster might not always be right, but she's always kind. If she brought your horse in from the range, the mare needed help. And there's no way on God's green earth she was involved in a horse theft ring!”

“When you look at the timing and circumstances…” Preston began, but his voice tapered off and Sam could tell he didn't even believe himself anymore.

“Preston, I know you're used to makin' snap decisions—right, wrong or good, bad—that's part of the job. But give this a few seconds to play out. Take a minute to think. You won't be sorry.”

Gently, Jen gripped Sam's arm and nodded toward the barn door. Sam knew her friend was
right. If Preston wanted to back down, he wouldn't do it in front of an audience.

They were almost through the barn door when Preston's few words told Sam he knew she hadn't stolen Honey from a corral in California. He knew she'd been roaming the range and that Sam had wanted her to stay free.

“She didn't belong out there, you know.”

Sam faced him. “If you could have seen her…”

Preston turned his back on Sam and looked at his horse. He mumbled a few more words. Sam wasn't positive, but she thought Preston said, “I wish I had.”

W
hen Sam arrived home, she saw Fluffy the rooster and his River Bend counterpart play-fighting. From opposite sides of the fence Gram had erected, the roosters made flying feints at each other, then retired to take noisy, squawking dust baths with their hens.

Those were the last pleasant sounds Sam heard for hours.

Once Sam got inside the white ranch house, Dad told her he was disappointed in her.

Gram said Sam had let her down.

Brynna claimed she was sad and stunned, and wondered if Sam had considered that her actions could get Brynna fired.

Sam decided she'd rather have spent the night in one of the chicken coops.

She didn't like Sunday evenings, anyway. With the weekend over and homework to do, she always felt melancholy, but this was the worst Sunday night she could remember.

Preston had agreed not to press charges if Dad came to get her, so it was a good thing that Dallas had already taken Ace home with Amigo.

When Dad arrived, it was clear that Mrs. Allen had already told him something.

Face hard and unmoving as dark wood, Dad had banished her to the cab of his truck while he talked with Preston and Heck Ballard.

From there, she couldn't hear anything. It was like watching television with the sound off, except that it was the drama of her life playing out, and she had a lot of interest in what was happening.

When she saw Dad shake hands with both men, Sam figured he was coming back to the truck to yell at her. Before he did, though, he took both of Mrs. Allen's hands in his and leaned forward to speak in what might be regret that Sam was his daughter.

At last he stalked back to the truck, yanked open the driver's door and, without a glance at Sam, climbed in.

“Dad? What did they tell you?” she had asked.

He'd started the truck as if he was inside it all alone.

“How was I supposed to know the mare wasn't wild?”

Dad eased the gear shift into reverse and backed around to leave Deerpath Ranch. Once they were headed out the gate, he still didn't respond.

“I would've told Brynna, but I knew she'd have to bring her in, and she's the Phantom's lead mare,” Sam explained.

The truck bounced over ruts and onto the smooth highway and still Dad said nothing.

“I trusted Mrs. Allen, and she didn't tell me I was doing anything wrong. Then, out of the blue, she just told Lieutenant Preston the palomino was his. If he hadn't shown up, no one would be mad at me and the horse would be out where she belongs.”

Her ears hurt. In the tight confinement of the truck cab, her own voice ricocheted off the windows and windshield and bounced back at her.

“You know I didn't steal her, don't you?”

Dad had given a curt nod, but that was all. He hadn't told her what he would have done for the mare if he'd been in her place. He hadn't agreed that Preston should be grateful to her for finding his long-lost police horse. He hadn't even answered when she asked if she'd be punished.

Dad had just stared out the truck's windshield until they pulled across the bridge over the La Charla River and drove into River Bend's ranch yard.

He stopped the truck and put on the emergency
brake. Without looking at her he said, “I am downright embarrassed by you, girl. That's all I'm gonna say.”

Sam had run from the car to the front porch, aware of Dallas, Ross, and Pepper watching from the bunk house and of Ace neighing from the ten-acre pasture.

Eyes clouded with tears, she'd tripped going into the kitchen, but when she tried to run upstairs and close her bedroom door against everyone's disapproval, Gram had called her back to tell her what a mistake she'd made. Then Brynna had joined in, and the worst part was that Brynna had tears in her eyes when she talked about losing her job.

Now, tears ran into Sam's ears as she lay crying on her bed.

Honey was fine. Dr. Scott had said so. He'd admitted that Jake had done a good job of tending her cut. He said there was nothing a vet would've done that Jake hadn't. So if Mrs. Allen hadn't broken her promise to keep the mare's presence a secret, none of this would have happened. Sam wouldn't be in trouble. No one would have forgotten every single good thing she'd done in her life and focused on the bad.

Best of all, the honey-colored mare would be poised to return to freedom. In days, the Phantom's lead mare would have been back where she belonged.

But Mrs. Allen hadn't kept her promise. Sam
stared up at her bedroom ceiling, but her mind didn't conjure images of horses cavorting among clouds. She saw no fantasies at all, only swoops and whorls of old plaster.

She would never tell anyone's secrets. Sam sniffed, reached for a tissue from the box on her nightstand, and accidentally knocked her alarm clock to the floor. When she rolled over to get it, she bumped Cougar and he yowled.

“I'm sorry. Come here, baby,” Sam said, trying to draw the cat's soft body close for comfort. But the cat didn't want a hug. He squirmed and growled, and when she tried to coax him to stay, he gave her knuckles a quick bite that drew blood.

Sam sucked at her knuckles and listened to the sounds of voices and footsteps waft up from downstairs. She stopped crying and strained to hear what they were saying. They were probably talking about her and how they'd punish her. Why didn't they just come up, tell her, and get it over with?

The torture of waiting was part of the punishment, Sam decided, but suddenly her mind was filled with Jake's face. And Jen's. Then Darrell's.

Her friends were the best. Sam remembered them lining up beside her and almost started crying again. Tomorrow at school, everyone was getting hugs whether they wanted them or not.

Sam turned on her left side and stared toward her bedroom window. Dusk wasn't far off, so why hadn't
someone come up to explain what was going on? She didn't want to leave her room to shower because she was afraid someone would call her down to dinner. Or bring it up to her, if she was confined to her room. They had to feed her, didn't they? She'd refuse whatever they offered, of course, but wasn't it kind of medieval to starve her for punishment?

Finally, Sam couldn't stand her dirty hair and sticky skin anymore. She showered, did her homework, searched her backpack for food, ate the gross packet of peanuts Brynna had given her from her last plane trip, and crawled into bed.

More than anything, thought Sam, she wanted to call Jen. But then she revised her wish. More than that, she wanted to walk down to the river and find the Phantom there waiting for her. She wanted him to kneel in the shallows and invite her to climb upon his back, and then they'd gallop away to his hidden valley where nothing bad ever happened.

Sam yawned. Her eyes closed. Just as she fell asleep, the mattress dipped. Cougar crept across her quilt, curled up in the crook behind her knees, and settled down for the night.

 

Dad drove her to the bus stop Monday morning.

As soon as Sam climbed into the truck and closed the door, she noticed Dad hadn't brought her a cup of cocoa to sip on the way. In fact, he hadn't even brought himself a cup of coffee.

Trying to head off a lecture, Sam asked, “Can we just not talk about this?”

“I reckon that's what I'd like, too,” Dad said. Then, before her shoulders could sag in relief, he went on. “But this isn't something we can skip over. You thought you knew what was best for that horse, but the horse wasn't the only thing to consider. The horse is never the only thing to consider. This time, you mighta thought of Preston and Heck Ballard. And Trudy Allen.”

Sam shifted in her seat. Dad didn't know how Mrs. Allen had let her down.

“Really think about Trudy a minute, will you? And her rescue ranch, and her already under investigation for animal cruelty before you dumped a wrecked horse on her. And what about Jake?”

“Jake can take care of himself,” Sam said, smiling.

“Oh yeah, I heard he wanted to have it out with Preston, a retired cop. Heck had himself a chuckle over that, but I don't happen to think it's a bit cute. What if they'd really gotten into it and Jake had been arrested for assault?”

Sam looked down at her folded hands and wished the miles would pass faster beneath the truck's tires.

Finally Dad pulled over to the side of the road. Sam looked up. They'd arrived at the bus stop. She could see Jen in a hot-pink blouse and jeans. Standing on tiptoe, trying to see Sam, Jen looked like a flamingo.

When Sam grabbed for the door, Dad's hand touched her arm, but it was his cold eyes that stopped her.

“Louise always thought she knew what was best, too, and it got her killed.”

Sam sucked in a breath. Dad almost never talked about Mom. This wasn't fair.

“You think that's harsh? It is, but it's true. You do not always know what's right.”

Sam stared at her hands lying limp on her knees as she waited. Her fingers were pale, as if all her energy had drained out and they'd wilted.

“To give you time to think this over, you won't be riding this week. Not at all, so don't ask. You go to school and you come home. Anyone wants to see you, they can come over, but no secret talks will go on. You'll sit at the kitchen table. Same goes for telephone calls. Someone will be listening to everything you say.”

“Don't I deserve some privacy?” Sam asked.

“You can have all you want when you're alone. Other than that, no. You pretty much gave it up when you kept the mare a secret.”

“But you didn't ask! I came home after riding out early in the morning and you didn't even ask!”

“Samantha, you know staying quiet amounted to a lie. I just won't have it. One other thing. I hear you were pretty rough on Trudy Allen. You're phoning her with an apology.”

“Oh, no, I'm not.”

“Samantha—”

“She lied to me, Dad. She promised to keep a secret and she told!”

“How old are you Samantha, fourteen or four? Some secrets just can't be kept.”

“But she promised.”

Dad sounded worn out when he said, “She promised before she knew Preston's police horse had been stolen and you had it! Cat's sake, girl, use the brain you were born with. Now, here comes the bus. Go to school and learn something useful.”

Sam felt like a sleepwalker as she climbed out of the truck. She closed the door and leaned against it for a minute, her mind spinning.

When the bus driver tapped his horn to hurry her along, Sam saw Jen had already disappeared inside the bus. She sprinted to join her friend.

“So, how'd that go?” Jen asked once Sam was settled next to her.

“How'd what go?” Sam asked, wishing she'd develop a tougher skin. Just because she hadn't burst into tears when Dad was yelling at her didn't mean she hadn't felt like doing it.

“Well, the truck was kind of jouncing around and you and your dad were leaning toward each other and unless you had the radio turned up really loud, I kind of heard—”

Sam gave Jen a friendly shove to make her hush.

“It was terrible,” Sam said.

“Let me distract you with my mom's struggles trying to get Golden Rose ready for this weekend's parade,” Jen said. “I'm not sure she'll disgrace the Kenworthy palominos forever, but…Want to come live with us?” Jen asked when Sam kept staring out the bus window, watching the range slip past.

Sam pretended to consider Jen's offer.

“Your dad doesn't like me,” she said finally.

“Sure he does,” Jen said. “He just thinks you're sassy, have the Forster stubborn streak, and that you're a bad influence on his darling daughter.”

“Ha!” Sam said and Jen laughed.

“Little does he know,” Jen said in a sly tone. When she went even further to amuse Sam with an evil laugh and waggling eyebrows, Sam remembered that she owed her best friend a hug.

 

The school day passed quickly. Sam was a little baffled that she hadn't seen Jake or Darrell all day, but the order and structure of classes and bells had Sam feeling almost normal by the time she reached Journalism class.

“Ally!” she said as soon as she saw the girl who'd called on Saturday.

Allison looked even more delicate than usual. Besides the violet veins that showed in her hands and temples, dark shadows covered the tender skin under her eyes. She stood just inside the classroom door,
holding her school books in front of her like a shield. Sam wondered why she hadn't taken a seat yet.

When Allison didn't say anything, Sam touched her arm. It always surprised her that the other girl was actually taller than she was.

“I'm so sorry I didn't call you back,” Sam said, talking over her shoulder as she moved toward her desk. “I had the worst weekend!”

“Yeah?” Ally said weakly, but she didn't follow along. “Me too.”

Sam didn't really think about what Ally had said. She was too eager to take some film into the darkroom.

As photo editor, Sam had a choice of using digital or traditional photography in the school newspaper, and though digital was easiest, she loved traditional black-and-white photography. Even more than that, she adored the darkroom.

She liked the solitude and the process of swishing the photo paper around in chemicals and watching things develop. In the quiet little lab, she controlled the amount of darkness and light, and enlarged what she thought was important.

After Mr. Blair had taken roll, Sam slipped inside the darkroom and sighed at the peace and quiet. It was a haven, especially today.

Sam realized she'd been humming when Ally appeared beside her in the darkness and she fell silent. Sam waited for Ally to convey a message from
Mr. Blair, but Ally just stood there.

“What's up?” Sam asked, finally.

“When you didn't call Saturday, I thought I might get a chance to talk to you at church yesterday.”

Rather than pour out the details of the desensitization class, Sam said, “I had this horse thing to do. Sorry.”