Wild Honey (16 page)

“I will,” Sam said. She turned to go.

“No need to if you don't feel like it,” Dallas added, “but I'd surely like to know that everything's all right.”

T
he phone rang just minutes after Sam walked into the house with Blaze romping at her heels. She must have stared at it like it was a rattlesnake, because Blaze lowered his head and growled. His tail swung low and uncertain.

“Hello?”

“Honey, it's Dad.”

“Good,” she said. Sam wanted to say more, but her throat tightened and all she could do was press the telephone so tightly against her ear.

“It's just false labor,” he said. “Everything's okay, but in case it turns into something else, and since we live so far out, they want us to stay awhile.”

“How long?” Sam asked.

“That depends. The doctor said she could leave as early as tomorrow afternoon, or late as Sunday morning. Course she's puttin' up quite a fuss.”

Dad's voice sounded almost proud.

“Brynna's fine, then? And the baby?” Sam felt embarrassed by her eagerness. For a long while she'd resented Brynna and the baby that she feared would take her place in Dad's heart, but now she ached at the thought that something bad could happen to either of them.

“Fine as frog hair,” Dad joked, but then his voice dropped, “and that is a relief.”

“For me, too,” Sam admitted.

They finished their conversation by talking about chores, vaccinations, and fastening the shutters and barn door because of the high winds kicking up all over Darton County.

 

“It's just a fall windstorm,” Sam muttered to Blaze. “Wind gusts of forty-five miles an hour—which is what Dad said—are no big deal. We might lose some shingles, but not the roof.”

Blaze stared up at Sam, brown eyes fixed on her face, ears pricked to catch every word. “You can sleep in my room if you want,” she told him, and the dog's tail wagged. “No chasing Cougar across my bed, though, understand?”

As Sam hurried across the ranch yard to tell Dallas, Pepper, and Ross about Brynna and the baby,
the wind felt like a warning. It snatched her hair out behind her, then blew it back in her face. A tumbleweed bounded prickly and huge across the ranch yard and Sam wondered why the weather always took a turn for the worse when she was home alone.

“Already fastened everything down,” Dallas said after Sam told him the news and mentioned Dad's concern for doors and shutters banging in the night. “Don't you worry.”

Excited by the blustery weather, the horses in the ten-acre pasture galloped and snorted, jostling shoulder to shoulder across the dry autumn grass. Spooked by this first storm in his new home, Blue pressed close to Popcorn and Ace, then burst into a run that ended with a worried neigh.

Sunny and Tempest stayed silent. In the falling darkness, Sam couldn't see their outlines, so maybe Dallas had locked them into the barn for the night.

Sam ate canned soup and toast for dinner. She opened the cookie jar, took out two oatmeal cookies, and poured a glass of milk. She felt restless.

After one bite, she knew what was wrong. She was worried about Ally.

Sam stared at her reflection in the kitchen window. Darkness had turned everything beyond it black and dust spat at the glass, but the light overhead showed her safe and warm, even if she was alone.

It was Friday night. Was Ally facing an entire weekend alone with a madman?

Okay, that's overdoing it,
Sam told herself.
He's not a madman.
She slapped her palm against the kitchen table.
He's a choir director.

She was starting to stand up, to get something to sop up the milk that had splashed over the lip of her glass, as the phone rang. If it was Dad again, the news couldn't be good.

“Hello,” Sam said. For a minute there was no response, but then she heard Ally speak. The voice that had been rich and sweet as milk chocolate when Ally had sung the national anthem on the first day at school was now raspy from tears.

“Sam, I don't know whether to be happy or—” Ally's sentence stopped in the middle, but she went on. “My dad bought me a mandolin.”

“Wow, Ally, that's great!”

So why was she crying? Sam wondered.

“Kind of,” Ally said. “The car was just packed with stuff. He made about a dozen trips back and forth, fighting the wind, carrying all kinds of groceries—steaks and fresh raspberries, and pink boxes tied up with string from that French bakery. One was filled with cream puffs sprinkled with powdered sugar and the other had little chocolate éclairs.”

“Maybe he's trying to say he's sorry,” Sam said, but some instinct told her to be suspicious. Mr. McClintock's sudden generosity was too much.

“I hope you're right, but he got me a new dress, too. It's—I don't know—like a prom dress or something, all glittery green.” Ally was quiet for a minute. “It's beautiful, but Sam—I saw the price tag. It costs more than he makes in a—”

Suddenly there was silence.

“Ally?” Sam said.

“I've got to hang up,” Ally whispered. “Here he comes.”

Sam's scalp tightened in alarm. She waited for Ally to say more.

She heard only a dial tone.

For a few seconds after she hung up, Sam fought to convince herself that Ally was fine.

After all, her dad had apologized by giving her loads of gifts, hadn't he? But Ally was right there in her house. She'd know if her problems had blown over. If they had, she wouldn't have sounded scared as she whispered, “Here he comes.”

Sam knew what she had to do. Ally would hate her for it, but that didn't matter as much as her safety. Sam dialed the number for Three Ponies Ranch, praying Jake wouldn't answer. He wouldn't ask why she was calling or hint she should tell him why she was asking for his mom, but he'd be curious and Sam couldn't get through this twice.

As the phone rang, Sam pictured Jake's mom. Small, blond, and brainy, she ruled her family of men as easily as she did her history students. Sam was
sure Mrs. Ely would know what to do.

Luckily, Mrs. Ely answered, and Sam blurted out everything she knew, starting with her darkroom conversation with Ally on Monday, ending with the creepy end to their talk two minutes ago.

Jake's mom listened in silence, then drew a deep breath.

“This is a pretty serious accusation, Sam,” she said.

Didn't Mrs. Ely believe her? Had she heard about Cha Cha Marengo and decided Sam wasn't trustworthy?

No secrets were safe in Darton County. She'd just proven that herself.

“I believe you, of course,” Mrs. Ely went on. “But I wish she'd come to me herself.”

“She didn't want anyone to know,” Sam said. “She said she'd deny it.”

“That's not unusual, but the school nurse will want to look for bruises.”

Sam groaned.

“Sam, this will sound harsh, but I have to ask. Are you certain this isn't something Ally's doing for attention?”

Sam didn't have to think about that at all.

“I'm positive,” Sam said. “She didn't want to tell me. It was almost like she couldn't help it. And she's going to hate me for this.”

“That's all I needed to hear,” Mrs. Ely said,
sounding sympathetic.

“What will you do next?” Sam asked.

“I'm calling her right now—”

“Don't!” Sam said, feeling a surge of panic.

“I'm going to ask her if she thinks she'll be safe over the weekend,” Mrs. Ely said. “If she thinks she is, she'll have time to get mad and cool down, and maybe by Monday she'll realize her dad needs help and so does she.”

Then, in a voice so warm Sam imagined Jake's mom hugging her, Mrs. Ely added, “Sam, you're doing the right thing. Some secrets have to be told.”

 

Mrs. Ely's gentle words were no consolation when Ally called back ten minutes later.

“I hate you!” Ally said in a voice that was almost a growl. “You promised you wouldn't tell, but you did. You couldn't wait to ruin my life. I hate you, Sam Forster, and I'm telling everyone you're a liar. You're never going to live this down. Ever!”

Ally slammed the phone down before Sam could say a word. She thought about calling back.

To say what?
Sam asked herself. She had told Ally's secret, just as Mrs. Allen had told hers. But it had been the right thing to do.

As Sam put the uneaten cookie back in the jar and threw the one she'd bitten to Blaze, she wondered if Mrs. Allen had felt the same sad sense of rightness when she'd broken her promise.

 

Strangely, Sam had no trouble falling asleep, but Blaze woke her with his barking after midnight.

Cougar yowled and jumped off her bed. Sam heard his claws skittering on the floor, trying to get away as Blaze plopped his paws on the edge of the bed. Dog food breath blasted into Sam's face.

“What?” she complained, pushing at the Border collie. “It's only the wind.”

When Blaze didn't accept her explanation, Sam rolled over, looked at the clock, and told herself that she had no choice but to get up and see what was going on. She was the only one home.

This was a down side to being in charge, Sam thought as she rolled out of bed and pulled on a robe.

“There's nothing there,” she said, but she was talking to herself. Blaze had already bolted downstairs and stood scratching at the kitchen door.

Then, above the banshee howl of the wind, Sam heard Dark Sunshine scream.

“Oh, no.”

Chills covered her arms at the cry she hadn't heard since the buckskin's first days at the ranch. The sound reminded her of Flick, the cruel man who'd popped his whip under the buckskin's nose, refusing to let her join the mustangs he was hauling off for slaughter. He hadn't acted out of kindness. He'd kept the little buckskin to use as bait, over and over again.

Sunny's scream came once more. Sam had a hard
time believing the mare was just frightened by the storm.

Sam opened the kitchen door. Blaze burst through the opening and streaked across the yard as the wind slammed the door in Sam's face. Shouldering it open, she made it outside.

Blaze had vanished in the tossing shadows of cottonwood branches, but a volley of barks told her he had something cornered. Lights flashed on in the bunkhouse, and all three cowboys came stumbling out in stocking feet.

“What is it?” Ross shouted.

Sam thought she heard a yelp, but she wasn't sure.

“Blaze—” she began, but the wind snatched her words away just as it had the dog's sound.

As she started for the barn, Pepper fell into jogging steps beside her. Ross swung a flashlight's beam over the horses in the ten-acre pasture. Their eyes glowed red and surprised, but nothing in their shuffling looked terrified. Dallas walked toward the bridge, glancing all around as he went.

Sunny's screaming had stopped. Sam and Pepper found the mare and Tempest restless but safe inside the barn. Tempest shoved her mother with her muzzle, asking for a snack as long as she was awake.

Sunny's eyes rolled. Her ears twitched in every direction as if she wasn't sure where the sound that had disturbed her had come from. She stumbled
away from her foal, then stopped and sniffed her all over.

A pigeon fluttered in the rafters. Dust danced in the bright overhead lights. Then, sucking sounds of the filly nursing filled the barn.

“What do you suppose that was all about?” Pepper asked.

Dallas entered the barn, still bootless, and shook his head.

“That dog's got something going on,” Dallas said, bending to pull a sticker out of his sock.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Don't know. Either he's taken to seeing ghosts—which I doubt—or there's something sniffing around here he don't like. With all his comings and goings and barking in the night, though, there's no doubt about it. Something's up.”

Sam felt her fingernails bite into her palms, then purposely opened her fisted hands.

“Everything's okay now, though,” Dallas said, trying to reassure her. “Might as well go back to sleep.”

Yeah, right,
Sam thought as she walked back to the house.
I've got nothing on my mind but a million secrets, including one my dog is keeping.

She paused on the front porch, putting her hands on her hips.

“Blaze!” she called into the darkness, but she didn't see the dog again until dawn.

 

Sam fell asleep on the living room couch, but woke when she heard Ross leave in the old truck, bound for Alkali. The wind still blew, but she heard geese honking in the early morning, so the gusts must not be as violent as they'd been last night. Geese had to know better than to fly into a gale.

She'd already had hot chocolate and cold cereal and she was washing her dishes, wondering what she should do until Ross returned, when a scratch sounded at the door.

“Blaze!”

The dog bolted past her to his water dish, lapped until it was empty, then threw himself full length on the kitchen floor and closed his eyes.

Guessing he was still thirsty, Sam refilled his water dish.

Even as he drowsed, though, his tongue kept licking out. She bent close enough to see a small cut next to his tender nose.

“Maybe you did have something cornered,” Sam said quietly.

It wasn't her voice that startled the dog awake—it was the phone.

The first thing Sam did was look at the kitchen clock. Seven
A.M
. was pretty early for phone calls.

“Please let Brynna and the baby be all right,” she whispered, then picked up the phone.

“Sam.” The whisper was so faint, Sam had to wait
for it to come again before she was sure it was Ally. “Sam?”

“Are you all right?” Sam whispered back.

Then, she felt puzzled. If Ally hated her, why was she calling so early? Why did she sound so urgent?

“I'm fine, but I found out what's going on with my dad.”

Sam sucked in a breath. Did she want to hear this? What if it was something illegal?