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about?”
    Now that Sam had Jen’s full attention, she didn’t really want to tell her.
    â€œI’m talking about a dead horse that was found onthe range, Jen, just a few miles from Nugget.”
    Jen’s silence made Sam feel awful, but neither of them could dodge the truth. Something had just killed one horse, and she might not be the last.

Chapter Seven
    â€œT ake found a dead mare on the range,” Sam explained to Jen. “She was a big beautiful paint that I’d seen just last week for the first time. Jen, she didn’t look at all sick then. Her coat was glossy. She was just prancing around. That’s what worries me. A horse could be sick and you might not even know it.”
    â€œAnd they think it was disease,” Jen’s tone turned scientific. “What exactly?”
    Dad called from the living room, “Time to go to bed, Sam.”
    â€œBut it’s vacation,” Sam protested, then lowered her voice to keep talking to Jen. “They’re not sure, but there were no marks on her.”
    â€œIt could be congenital, then,” Jen said thoughtfully. “Something she was born with. Like people, you know, who have a heart defect and except for that they’re healthy.”
    Suddenly Dad was in the kitchen. “Vacation or not, it’s time for you to skedaddle. You can talk with Jen tomorrow.”
    â€œJen, I have to get off.” Sam made her tone pitiful. “And I can’t go to Nugget tomorrow until I do algebra—for two hours.”
    Sam noticed Dad didn’t look the least bit apologetic. And he kept standing there.
    â€œSo,” Sam continued, “I’ll call you the instant I finish and we’ll start out at the same time.”
    â€œI should leave right now,” Jen fretted. “What if she was in contact with that mare and it’s some condition that, with treatment—”
    â€œSam.” Dad’s voice was like a whiplash.
    Sam turned away from him and cupped her hand over the space between the phone’s mouthpiece and her lips.
    â€œThere’s nothing you can do up there in the dark, idiot. It could be dangerous,” Sam whispered. She sneaked a peek at her father’s face. He wasn’t furious yet, but he was getting there. “I’ll call you first thing tomorrow.”
    â€œNow.” Dad growled.
    â€œBye.”
    Â 
    Sam woke up struggling with her sheets.
    She was swathed in them, wrapped tightly as a mummy. What had she been dreaming? Something that made her feel imprisoned and scared.
    But it was just a dream. She kicked at the sheets tangled around her ankles and finally wiggled free.
    Okay. She was in her room.
    It was still dark. She blinked at her bedside clock, brought the numbers into focus, and saw that it was only four o’clock. Downstairs, she heard the heater click on. It must be cold, because Dad didn’t get up and turn it on until five-thirty.
    Go to sleep , Sam told herself. Who but an idiot got up at four A . M . on the last Saturday of winter vacation? Not Sam Forster, that was for darn sure.
    Sam closed her eyes again, but just for a minute.
    In searing white light the clacking skeleton stallion that had chased her through her dreams suddenly reappeared on her closed eyelids. That nightmare image brought her fully awake. He wasn’t just after her. He was after the Phantom.
    Her horse needed her.
    She had to go to his valley. That’s what the dream was telling her. The Phantom and his herd were threatened by two dangers: the horsemeat dealers and disease.
    Sam sat up, shivering. She kept the blankets draped around her as she pulled her legs up against her chest, and propped her chin on her knees.
    What was that? She felt chills, as if she were being watched. She sensed, rather than heard, a repeated clack. But it wasn’t bones. Not a skeleton horse. It was the sound of a hoof on the woodenbridge to River Bend Ranch.
    Sam leaned close to