Kidnapped Colt by Terri Farley

do what he liked with the horses, because they belonged to him. Why would he go to the trouble of movingthem from the box canyon corral and away from Gold Dust Ranch?
    Sam supposed her soft heart counted as a motivating factor, but she knew she hadn’t stolen the horses.
    Besides, she’d thought, as she’d turned her pillow over and pounded it for the last time last night, all three of them had alibis. It had to be someone else.
    Now, Sam yawned as she eased the bunkhouse door closed, trying not to wake Mikki and Gina.
    â€œHave you got the flyer?” Jen asked.
    â€œYeah,” she whispered loudly, then took long strides to catch up with her friend.
    Holding the flyer carefully so it wouldn’t wrinkle, Sam wondered where Hotspot and her colt had spent the night, then told her brain to focus.
    Last night, she and the other girls had combined Gina’s suggestions with Sheriff Ballard’s and designed a brochure to alert people to the danger of horse thieves, and seek information about Hotspot and Shy Boots. Right this minute, she couldn’t do anything but see if Brynna thought it would help.
    Falling into step with Jen, Sam glanced at her watch.
    â€œWe’re not very late,” she said. “It’s only 5:33. I’ll be surprised if Brynna’s in the kitchen yet.”
    â€œBut look.” Jen pointed at the hitching rail.
    Witch, Jake’s black Quarter Horse mare, stood tethered there.
    That’s it , Sam thought. She had to get Jake up to the box canyon. He’d be able to read all the signs the horse thief had left behind.
    Witch flattened her ears as Sam and Jen approached.
    â€œHow is it,” Jen said through a yawn, “that Jake can gentle every horse he touches, except his own?”
    â€œShe never gives him a bit of trouble,” Sam said. From habit, she stomped the dirt off her boots on the porch before going inside.
    Sam smelled sausage frying and heard dough slam against Gram’s breadboard as she and Jen came into the kitchen. After the counselors’ early-morning meeting with Brynna, they’d rouse the girls and all have a big breakfast together.
    Jake sat with both forearms on the kitchen table, hands overlapped where they met. He stared down into a cup of hot chocolate as if reading a crystal ball. His well-worn green-and-black plaid flannel shirt was open over a white T-shirt. As usual, his clothes smelled as if they’d just come out of the dryer, and his black hair, tied at his nape with a leather string, was still damp from the shower.
    Sam tugged at the hem of her rumpled sweatshirt, and pushed her hair behind her ears.
    â€œWere you just born to get up early?” she asked him.
    Jake sat up straight. He lifted his cup for a drink, then looked at Sam across the brim.
    Was he formulating a great answer? Sam wondered.
    â€œDon’t mind it,” he said.
    â€œGood morning,” Gram greeted the girls, handing them each a mug of hot chocolate. “I’m sure Brynna will be down in a minute.” Gram pointed up. Sam looked. She saw only ceiling, but she heard Brynna’s feet scurrying overhead.
    Slumped into chairs around the kitchen table, the three counselors waited in silence. Jake never had much to say. Jen turned half away and her fingers flew as she rebuttoned the fuchsia shirt she’d donned in the cabin’s darkness. Sam wondered what Brynna would think of Gina’s useful, if illegal, expertise.
    â€œSorry to be late,” Brynna said as she strode into the room. Dressed in a khaki uniform with her hair tucked into a neat French braid, Brynna looked ready for the day, but her freckles stood out like sand on her pale cheeks.
    â€œI may be getting a touch of the flu,” she said, shaking her head “no” as Gram offered her coffee. “Which makes it even more important that this meeting is productive.”
    â€œGot it,” Jen said.
    As Brynna opened the folder she carried,