Golden Ghost by Terri Farley Page A

before he spoke, she demanded, “What does it look like?”
    â€œIt’s not the Phantom. That’s for sure. Or that young black you took a fancy to.”
    A sigh of relief rocked Sam.
    â€œIt’s a paint mare, red-brown spotted,” Pepper said. He made a wide gesture over one side of his chest, showing how the horse was marked. “A young horse, probably has—uh, had, some draft blood.”
    The description sounded familiar, but it wasn’t one of the pintos belonging to Mrs. Allen, the lady who owned the Blind Faith Mustang Sanctuary. Neither Calico nor Ginger could be mistaken for young animals.
    â€œDied between here and Three Ponies Ranch. Jake found her, saw me and Ross comin’ by, and flagged us down. Thought Brynna should be told.”
    That almost guaranteed the horse was a mustang. Jake had a phenomenal memory and a great eye for detail. If the horse had belonged to a neighboring ranch, he would have recognized it. And he was right, since Brynna worked for the Bureau of LandManagement, the government agency charged with keeping an eye on all wild horses, she should be notified.
    â€œHe thinks she died of something bad,” Pepper added. “Illness or something.”
    Sam was so startled, her shoulders jerked.
    Illness? When Linc Slocum hatched a plan to build a resort, a super dude ranch, he’d tried to create a Western mood by putting out hay along the highway, baiting wild horses so that out-of-town investors would admire them.
    Even though he’d been arrested and punished for the illegal activity, Sam had assumed a mustang had come along looking for hay, and been struck by a car. Horses didn’t always look both ways before crossing a street. Especially wild horses.
    The thought of illness, on the other hand, made chills race down Sam’s arms. Because they lived in close communities, disease was always a threat to mustangs.
    Suddenly, she remembered the horse Pepper had described.
    â€œI hope I’m wrong,” Sam said. “But last week, when I saw the Phantom’s herd, he had a new lead mare. A red-brown paint.” Sam swallowed hard. She didn’t want to ask the next question. “Did this horse have a flaxen mane and tail?”
    Pepper stood quietly, but not from uncertainty. He frowned and kicked his boot toe in the dirt.
    He nodded. “Yep.”
    So the mare had been with the Phantom’s band, just days ago.
    If it was something contagious…if it was deadly…Sam’s mind swam with awful possibilities. Not only could disease wipe out Phantom’s herd, it could infect domestic horses who’d been around them. Ace. Witch. Chocolate Chip, Quinn Ely’s gelding. Queen, the red dun who’d once been the Phantom’s lead mare.
    Sam was so involved with thinking of domestic horses that might be in danger, she didn’t notice Dad until he stood beside her.
    â€œWhat kinda nightmares are you giving yourself now?” he asked.
    Sam shook her head. Why should she pile her misgivings on Dad? He had little affection for the wild horses who competed with the cattle for grass. After all, cattle supported the River Bend Ranch.
    â€œYou’re afraid this is one of the Phantom’s band. Am I right?” He paused until Sam nodded. “We won’t bury the mare until Brynna takes a look, but I’m gonna drive out and make sure she wasn’t killed by that cougar. Do you want to ride out there with me?”
    It was a gruesome offer, but Sam appreciated it. Dad must have stopped thinking of her as a little kid.
    Of course she didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to see any dead horse, but she had to know if a disease could be spreading through the Phantom’s herd.
    â€œI’ll go,” Sam said. “I think I should.”
    Â 
    Sam had no appetite for dinner that night. Her mind couldn’t erase the image of the big paint mare, who’d been fierce and bossy just