The Challenger by Terri Farley Page B

sailboats on the small creek.
    Then there was a splash.
    Round rocks rolled, and a black mustang walked down the creek to give a snort of challenge.
    â€œMoon!” Sam gasped. She turned to Jake, but he was frowning.
    His eyes ran over Moon with such concentration, Sam wondered what he was trying to figure out.
    â€œBlackie’s herd?” he asked, under his breath.
    â€œYes.”
    Once, the Phantom had been known as Blackie. He’d been born on River Bend Ranch, son to two captive mustangs named Kitty and Smoke. Sam had raised the colt by hand, and when Jake had helped her train him to saddle, he’d still been called Blackie.
    Months ago, Mrs. Coley had spotted Moon running with two other bachelor stallions. She’d called him New Moon, because he was night black and had no white markings at all. Neither had Blackie.
    Jake considered Moon as if the horse was a ghost. Sam knew he still felt guilty over the accident that had made her fall from Blackie, suffer a concussion, and leave River Bend for a long recovery in San Francisco.
    Sam wanted to shake him and say it still wasn’t his fault. He wore a protective look as he turned to her, but Sam cut him off before he could say a word.
    â€œBlackie’s son,” Sam whispered. “His name is New Moon.”
    That quickly, Jake’s expression changed. He gave her a disgusted look. He thought it was wrong to name wild things.
    â€œHis dad tear him up like that, do you think?” Jake muttered.
    â€œYes,” Sam said.
    Dark red bites marked Moon’s rump and neck. His mane was ragged where the Phantom had grabbed and pulled.
    When Ace and Witch answered his snort, Moon forgot his challenge. He leaped onto the bank and trotted closer.
    He needs a herd, Sam thought. Moon tossed his forelock away from his hopeful eyes. He was drawn by the two horses, even if he feared their riders.
    Then, as if a door in his memory had opened, the mustang slid to a stop. Did he remember the rustlers who’d caught him, herded him into a truck, and kept him prisoner until Brynna had him released?
    Moon turned, galloped back up the riverbank, then vanished among the trees.
    â€œHe’s a beauty,” Jake agreed before Sam could ask.
    â€œBrynna and I saw him fight with the Phantom the other day when we went into Lost Canyon.”
    â€œThanks for telling me all about it,” Jake muttered.
    â€œThat’s not fair,” Sam said. “You won’t even talk with me, half the time.”
    â€œThis is the other half,” Jake explained. “Whenyou have something worth sayin’, I’m all ears.”
    Sam shook her head at Jake’s contrariness, then told him about the stallions’ fight and Brynna’s concern that the Phantom’s herd was on Indian land.
    â€œDon’t know nothin’ about that,” Jake said.
    â€œI didn’t expect you to. Brynna will look it up on a map.”
    â€œI do know there’s some other property in dispute,” he said. “Dad said Slocum was complaining that some of what we fenced for Mrs. Allen belongs to him.”
    â€œWhat?” Sam thought of the hours she, Jake, and his brothers had spent working with wire and fence posts. “He can’t take back the mustang sanctuary. Not even part of it.” But she knew Mrs. Allen had sold some of her property to Slocum. “Can he?”
    Jake wasn’t listening.
    â€œThere,” he said, pointing at a patch of riverbank where brush crowded near the water.
    Sam saw only one cougar print. To her, it looked like an impression made by a dog’s paw, though the toes might be rounder and more widespread.
    Feeling her rider’s excitement, Witch trotted up the bank as Jake leaned from the saddle. His lips moved. He read the prints as if they were words.
    At last he looked up, but his triumphant expression had vanished. Jake’s jaw was set hard. He looked angry.
    â€œTell me what kind of