her window, eyes straining through the night. From this angle, she couldnât see the entire bridge. The part she saw was empty.
The sound came again.
Itâs him. It has to be him.
But it canât be.
Sam jammed her feet into slippers. Sheâd need them in the freezing January night.
Never had the Phantom come to this side of the river. Was he looking for the pinto mare?
Please donât let Dad hear me , she thought, sidestepping the creaky board in the hall. Or Gram , she thought, skipping every other step. Or Brynna .
No fair , she thought, tiptoeing down the last three stairs, another pair of ears to listen for every move I make .
When she reached the kitchen, Sam realized the clopping sound wasnât that of advancing hooves. The Phantomâif it was him, and how could it not be?âwas pawing at the bridge. Was he anxious? Impatient?
Sam held her breath and turned the doorknob to the right, millimeter by millimeter. It opened onto the porch.
The porch boards wore a thin frosting of snow. No way could she have gone out barefoot. Just the thought made her toes curl. She was so glad sheâd put on slippers.
Exhaling slowly, she crept out the door and onto the porch.
An owl hooted in the frosty night. The sound was so near, she expected to see a plume of breath.
If it wasnât for Cougar, sheâd leave the door open. It was a windless night. The door wouldnât blow closed and alert the household to her absence.
If she closed it, they might hear.
If she didnât, her tiny kitten could be lost or eaten by a coyote. Or an owl.
Sam pulled it closed. She didnât hear a sound, but the silken rustling of wings told her the owl had heard.
The pawing had stopped. She had to hurry if she was going to see him.
She counted off ten more seconds. If Dad had heard her, heâd be down the stairs by now. She took two steps. Blaze didnât bark from the bunkhouse, and that was good enough for her.
Only a few snowflakes were falling as Sam started down the driveway. Cold clamped on her neck and stabbed through her nightgown, but she kept moving. If the Phantom was on this side of the river, he was here for her.
Animals did ask for human help. Even Jake had admitted it on the night the Phantom had allowed her to poultice his injured leg. Why should there be anyâ
A splash stopped her thoughts. There he was!
A ghost in the night, tail streaming pale against the darkness, he headed for the river.
Donât go! She could only shout the words inside her mind. Zanzibar, Iâm here!
Heâd reached the wild side of the river by the time she got to the near shore. La Charla rushed full and steady while the Phantom sped up and down the far bank.
What is it? she wanted to ask. The stallionâs frenzied gallop threw fresh snow into the air. He wheeled in a haze of icy crystals, then stopped. A cloud of hot breath swirled as he tossed his head in her direction.
What was he doing here alone? Had he left his herd, or had they gone ahead and heâd stayed behind with the dying mare?
I want to help you. The ache behind her breastbone turned into a sharp stab.
He was soundless, beautiful. He needed her.
When she did nothing, he turnedânot toward the Calico Mountains, but south. He ran toward War Drum Flats.
Like a white feather blowing through snowflakes, he grew smaller and then he was gone.
Sam wrapped her arms around her ribs. Heâd given up on her and vanished. Why did it feel like she was leaving him behind?
Taking careful steps, wishing for the rubber soled boots she kept for winter barn work, Sam recrossed the bridge.
Although she was sad, the white two-story house looked welcoming. With cold winding around herarms and legs, she longed to get back inside. And then she noticed a light upstairs. It hadnât been on before. She was sure of it.
Unless she wanted to freeze, she had no choice. She climbed the porch steps, opened the kitchen door silently,
The sound came again.
Itâs him. It has to be him.
But it canât be.
Sam jammed her feet into slippers. Sheâd need them in the freezing January night.
Never had the Phantom come to this side of the river. Was he looking for the pinto mare?
Please donât let Dad hear me , she thought, sidestepping the creaky board in the hall. Or Gram , she thought, skipping every other step. Or Brynna .
No fair , she thought, tiptoeing down the last three stairs, another pair of ears to listen for every move I make .
When she reached the kitchen, Sam realized the clopping sound wasnât that of advancing hooves. The Phantomâif it was him, and how could it not be?âwas pawing at the bridge. Was he anxious? Impatient?
Sam held her breath and turned the doorknob to the right, millimeter by millimeter. It opened onto the porch.
The porch boards wore a thin frosting of snow. No way could she have gone out barefoot. Just the thought made her toes curl. She was so glad sheâd put on slippers.
Exhaling slowly, she crept out the door and onto the porch.
An owl hooted in the frosty night. The sound was so near, she expected to see a plume of breath.
If it wasnât for Cougar, sheâd leave the door open. It was a windless night. The door wouldnât blow closed and alert the household to her absence.
If she closed it, they might hear.
If she didnât, her tiny kitten could be lost or eaten by a coyote. Or an owl.
Sam pulled it closed. She didnât hear a sound, but the silken rustling of wings told her the owl had heard.
The pawing had stopped. She had to hurry if she was going to see him.
She counted off ten more seconds. If Dad had heard her, heâd be down the stairs by now. She took two steps. Blaze didnât bark from the bunkhouse, and that was good enough for her.
Only a few snowflakes were falling as Sam started down the driveway. Cold clamped on her neck and stabbed through her nightgown, but she kept moving. If the Phantom was on this side of the river, he was here for her.
Animals did ask for human help. Even Jake had admitted it on the night the Phantom had allowed her to poultice his injured leg. Why should there be anyâ
A splash stopped her thoughts. There he was!
A ghost in the night, tail streaming pale against the darkness, he headed for the river.
Donât go! She could only shout the words inside her mind. Zanzibar, Iâm here!
Heâd reached the wild side of the river by the time she got to the near shore. La Charla rushed full and steady while the Phantom sped up and down the far bank.
What is it? she wanted to ask. The stallionâs frenzied gallop threw fresh snow into the air. He wheeled in a haze of icy crystals, then stopped. A cloud of hot breath swirled as he tossed his head in her direction.
What was he doing here alone? Had he left his herd, or had they gone ahead and heâd stayed behind with the dying mare?
I want to help you. The ache behind her breastbone turned into a sharp stab.
He was soundless, beautiful. He needed her.
When she did nothing, he turnedânot toward the Calico Mountains, but south. He ran toward War Drum Flats.
Like a white feather blowing through snowflakes, he grew smaller and then he was gone.
Sam wrapped her arms around her ribs. Heâd given up on her and vanished. Why did it feel like she was leaving him behind?
Taking careful steps, wishing for the rubber soled boots she kept for winter barn work, Sam recrossed the bridge.
Although she was sad, the white two-story house looked welcoming. With cold winding around herarms and legs, she longed to get back inside. And then she noticed a light upstairs. It hadnât been on before. She was sure of it.
Unless she wanted to freeze, she had no choice. She climbed the porch steps, opened the kitchen door silently,
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