she did, she felt dizzy all over again.
At least Jake wasnât watching when she winced.
âI notice your rack,â the sheriff said, nodding at the gun rack that spanned the truckâs back window. âGot a rifle in here?â
âNo,â Jake said. His face stayed expressionless, but Sam heard the insulted tone in his voice and Sam knew Jake thought he was being accused of something.
Sheriff Ballard must have noticed that tone, too, but he didnât try to make Jake feel better. With his shaggy brown hair, mustache, and alert eyes, the sheriff gave the appearance of a trapper, waiting patiently for Jake to step into a snare.
âReason Iâm here is on account of an anonymous call saying someone was plinking at wildlife out this way,â the sheriff explained.
Sam held her breath for a second. How could there have been a call? She and Jen had been the only ones out here, hadnât they? The hermit wouldnât report himself.
If she didnât tell the sheriff sheâd been out here, Jake might. She shot him a quick glance.
Oh, yeah. Jakeâs eyes said heâd definitely tell.
âThere was,â Sam admitted.
âWas what?â the sheriff asked.
âSomeone shooting at mustangs and antelope,â Sam said.
âDid you get a look at him?â
âNot a very good one,â Sam admitted. When the sheriff stood there, waiting, she added, âGood enough to know it wasnât anyone I recognized.â Still, Sheriff Ballard stayed silent. âIt was a man.â
âYou didnât see a vehicle, I suppose?â the sheriff asked.
âIâm pretty sure there wasnât one, or a horse.â
âThe call didnât say much, either,â the sheriff said. âNot enough to go on. Weâre having it traced, though, so maybe weâll get something more from the caller.â
Sam bit her lip. Could it have been Jen? It would be like her to report something dangerous, but why had she made the report anonymously?
âI saved the shell casing,â Sam offered. Both the sheriff and Jake looked at her with amazement. Had she said it wrong? âYou know, the brass thing that goes around the bullet?â
âThatâs the shell casing,â Sheriff Ballard said, nodding. âYou picked it up?â
âIn a plastic baggie,â Sam said.
Sheriff Ballard shook his head and laughed. âJust when I get irritated with TV folks for making police work look fun and easy, something like this happens.
âAnd you still have it?â he asked.
âAt home,â Sam blurted.
The sheriff chuckled again.
âIf I picked you up after school tomorrow, do you think you could give it to me and we could go to my office for a talk?â
Sam almost cheered. This was exactly what she needed. Professional help. Sheâd bring Momâs note along, too, and since the sheriff was taking her seriously, sheâd bet heâd help unravel the snarl of trouble her mother had been investigating.
The sheriff stayed to make sure Jake could back the truck out of the ruts and start home.
Once they were on their way, Sam glanced at the glowing turquoise numbers on her watch. It seemed like forever since sheâd left River Bend, but it was only eight thirty.
When she yawned, Jake glanced over at her.
âHowâs your head?â he asked grimly.
Sam felt so impatient with him, she thought about faking a faint. But that would be a really bad idea.
Jake still blamed himself for the head injury sheâd suffered when he was helping her gentle Blackie, thecolt whoâd grown up to be the Phantom.
âItâs fine.â Sam sighed, but she could tell Jake was drowning in guilt because heâd been driving, now, when she hit her head again.
They drove in silence for a few minutes and Sam was just beginning to think Jake wasnât going to act paranoid and overly protective when he exploded.
âAre you
At least Jake wasnât watching when she winced.
âI notice your rack,â the sheriff said, nodding at the gun rack that spanned the truckâs back window. âGot a rifle in here?â
âNo,â Jake said. His face stayed expressionless, but Sam heard the insulted tone in his voice and Sam knew Jake thought he was being accused of something.
Sheriff Ballard must have noticed that tone, too, but he didnât try to make Jake feel better. With his shaggy brown hair, mustache, and alert eyes, the sheriff gave the appearance of a trapper, waiting patiently for Jake to step into a snare.
âReason Iâm here is on account of an anonymous call saying someone was plinking at wildlife out this way,â the sheriff explained.
Sam held her breath for a second. How could there have been a call? She and Jen had been the only ones out here, hadnât they? The hermit wouldnât report himself.
If she didnât tell the sheriff sheâd been out here, Jake might. She shot him a quick glance.
Oh, yeah. Jakeâs eyes said heâd definitely tell.
âThere was,â Sam admitted.
âWas what?â the sheriff asked.
âSomeone shooting at mustangs and antelope,â Sam said.
âDid you get a look at him?â
âNot a very good one,â Sam admitted. When the sheriff stood there, waiting, she added, âGood enough to know it wasnât anyone I recognized.â Still, Sheriff Ballard stayed silent. âIt was a man.â
âYou didnât see a vehicle, I suppose?â the sheriff asked.
âIâm pretty sure there wasnât one, or a horse.â
âThe call didnât say much, either,â the sheriff said. âNot enough to go on. Weâre having it traced, though, so maybe weâll get something more from the caller.â
Sam bit her lip. Could it have been Jen? It would be like her to report something dangerous, but why had she made the report anonymously?
âI saved the shell casing,â Sam offered. Both the sheriff and Jake looked at her with amazement. Had she said it wrong? âYou know, the brass thing that goes around the bullet?â
âThatâs the shell casing,â Sheriff Ballard said, nodding. âYou picked it up?â
âIn a plastic baggie,â Sam said.
Sheriff Ballard shook his head and laughed. âJust when I get irritated with TV folks for making police work look fun and easy, something like this happens.
âAnd you still have it?â he asked.
âAt home,â Sam blurted.
The sheriff chuckled again.
âIf I picked you up after school tomorrow, do you think you could give it to me and we could go to my office for a talk?â
Sam almost cheered. This was exactly what she needed. Professional help. Sheâd bring Momâs note along, too, and since the sheriff was taking her seriously, sheâd bet heâd help unravel the snarl of trouble her mother had been investigating.
The sheriff stayed to make sure Jake could back the truck out of the ruts and start home.
Once they were on their way, Sam glanced at the glowing turquoise numbers on her watch. It seemed like forever since sheâd left River Bend, but it was only eight thirty.
When she yawned, Jake glanced over at her.
âHowâs your head?â he asked grimly.
Sam felt so impatient with him, she thought about faking a faint. But that would be a really bad idea.
Jake still blamed himself for the head injury sheâd suffered when he was helping her gentle Blackie, thecolt whoâd grown up to be the Phantom.
âItâs fine.â Sam sighed, but she could tell Jake was drowning in guilt because heâd been driving, now, when she hit her head again.
They drove in silence for a few minutes and Sam was just beginning to think Jake wasnât going to act paranoid and overly protective when he exploded.
âAre you
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