quick look around and added, âYou wonât be doing this much longer. Iâm making headway with Jenâs dad.â
Now, Ace shifted impatiently beneath Sam. He tossed his head as high as the reins would allow, then pawed the dirt. He didnât move toward the water, because he wasnât thirsty, but he was bored.
âOkay, boy,â Sam said. âLetâs go find Pam.â
When she just kept sitting there, Ace swung his head around. For a second, his brown eyes met hers,then he concentrated on the toe of her boot.
Sure, it had been over a year since sheâd seen her friend from California, but Sam knew sheâd recognize her. So why was she feeling shy?
Pam and Sam. Kids at school had joked about their rhyming names, but neither of them cared. It had suited their tight friendship.
The two of them had spent hundreds of hours in each otherâs apartments on the same San Francisco street, more at basketball practice and games. And, Sam thought, if she added in the many movies and museums theyâd gone to, they might as well have lived in the same family.
Samâs fingers toyed with the horsehair bracelet on her left wrist. Woven of the Phantomâs hair, it usually comforted her, but today its magic didnât work. She should feel better, since sheâd seen the Phantom just that morning, but seeing him had only made her long for the stallion more.
âThere they are, Ace,â Sam said.
Near the mouth of Lost Canyon, Sam caught a flash of something so bright, she squinted against the shine.
She lifted her reins and wheeled Ace around. Sam touched her heels to the geldingâs sides and leaned forward in the saddle. As the bay took off, Samâs brown Stetson flew back on its stampede string and she was smiling into the wind, leaving her shyness behind.
Chapter Seven
F or over a century, the legend said, Lost Canyon had been haunted by the ghosts of murdered Indian ponies. But the sounds echoing from its high stone walls as Sam and Pam greeted each other must have cheered even those sad spirits.
âPam!â Sam shouted. In her hurry, her boot twisted in her stirrup. If Ace hadnât been such a good horse, she might have fallen. But he was and she didnât. The little mustang stood ground-tied as Sam rushed at her old friend.
Somehow they managed to hug, talk, and jump up and down at the same time.
âYour hairâs long again!â Pam said, shaking Sam by the shoulders.
âOh my gosh, youâre so much taller!â Sam said, tilting her head back as if it were the only way she could see up to Pamâs face.
âGiraffe girl, thatâs me,â Pam laughed. âWow, you only come up to my collarbone! How funny is that!â
âBut you look just the same,â Sam said with satisfaction. She stepped back to take in Pamâs appearance. Though a twisted red bandanna held her cap of brown hair away from her face, it still sprang out in the every-which-way curls Sam remembered. Pamâs green eyes and freckles were the same, too.
âYou, too, exceptâ¦â Pam licked her lips and tilted her head to one side. âThereâs something different. You look older. No, thatâs not it, but kind ofâ¦â
âCapable.â
Both girls turned to face Pamâs mother.
Dr. Mora OâMalley had the same green eyes and brown hair as her daughter, but her hair was wound into a no-nonsense knot at the back of her head, thick glasses magnified her eyes, and she handled her height like a model.
âYeah, thatâs it,â Pam agreed. âYou do look kind of in charge.â
Sam shook her head. âIt must be the boots,â she said, stomping to displace some of their dust coating. âOr maybe the muscles Iâm getting from all the chores I have to do on the ranch.â
ââOn the ranch,â can you believe it?â Pam crowed as she squeezed Samâs shoulders again. âYou
Now, Ace shifted impatiently beneath Sam. He tossed his head as high as the reins would allow, then pawed the dirt. He didnât move toward the water, because he wasnât thirsty, but he was bored.
âOkay, boy,â Sam said. âLetâs go find Pam.â
When she just kept sitting there, Ace swung his head around. For a second, his brown eyes met hers,then he concentrated on the toe of her boot.
Sure, it had been over a year since sheâd seen her friend from California, but Sam knew sheâd recognize her. So why was she feeling shy?
Pam and Sam. Kids at school had joked about their rhyming names, but neither of them cared. It had suited their tight friendship.
The two of them had spent hundreds of hours in each otherâs apartments on the same San Francisco street, more at basketball practice and games. And, Sam thought, if she added in the many movies and museums theyâd gone to, they might as well have lived in the same family.
Samâs fingers toyed with the horsehair bracelet on her left wrist. Woven of the Phantomâs hair, it usually comforted her, but today its magic didnât work. She should feel better, since sheâd seen the Phantom just that morning, but seeing him had only made her long for the stallion more.
âThere they are, Ace,â Sam said.
Near the mouth of Lost Canyon, Sam caught a flash of something so bright, she squinted against the shine.
She lifted her reins and wheeled Ace around. Sam touched her heels to the geldingâs sides and leaned forward in the saddle. As the bay took off, Samâs brown Stetson flew back on its stampede string and she was smiling into the wind, leaving her shyness behind.
Chapter Seven
F or over a century, the legend said, Lost Canyon had been haunted by the ghosts of murdered Indian ponies. But the sounds echoing from its high stone walls as Sam and Pam greeted each other must have cheered even those sad spirits.
âPam!â Sam shouted. In her hurry, her boot twisted in her stirrup. If Ace hadnât been such a good horse, she might have fallen. But he was and she didnât. The little mustang stood ground-tied as Sam rushed at her old friend.
Somehow they managed to hug, talk, and jump up and down at the same time.
âYour hairâs long again!â Pam said, shaking Sam by the shoulders.
âOh my gosh, youâre so much taller!â Sam said, tilting her head back as if it were the only way she could see up to Pamâs face.
âGiraffe girl, thatâs me,â Pam laughed. âWow, you only come up to my collarbone! How funny is that!â
âBut you look just the same,â Sam said with satisfaction. She stepped back to take in Pamâs appearance. Though a twisted red bandanna held her cap of brown hair away from her face, it still sprang out in the every-which-way curls Sam remembered. Pamâs green eyes and freckles were the same, too.
âYou, too, exceptâ¦â Pam licked her lips and tilted her head to one side. âThereâs something different. You look older. No, thatâs not it, but kind ofâ¦â
âCapable.â
Both girls turned to face Pamâs mother.
Dr. Mora OâMalley had the same green eyes and brown hair as her daughter, but her hair was wound into a no-nonsense knot at the back of her head, thick glasses magnified her eyes, and she handled her height like a model.
âYeah, thatâs it,â Pam agreed. âYou do look kind of in charge.â
Sam shook her head. âIt must be the boots,â she said, stomping to displace some of their dust coating. âOr maybe the muscles Iâm getting from all the chores I have to do on the ranch.â
ââOn the ranch,â can you believe it?â Pam crowed as she squeezed Samâs shoulders again. âYou
Similar Books
