Rain Dance by Terri Farley Page B

week of summer vacation. Without fans to fawn over her, Rachel would crave some other kind of entertainment. And her daddy wasn’t there to give it to her.
    â€œGram always says if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all,” Sam reminded herself out loud.
    â€œShe’s right, of course,” Mrs. Coley said. “And I do try to remember it’s not entirely her fault that she is who she is. It’s a matter of upbringing.”
    Sam wasn’t so sure. She thought of her first days at Darton High School. Rachel had purposely broken a camera with which Sam had been entrusted, then let Sam take the blame.
    â€œMaybe,” Sam said.
    Even if she’d been given everything she ever wanted, Sam didn’t think she’d be that mean. Or that stuck-up. Rachel really believed expensive clothes, high-maintenance hair, and loads of money made her better than others.
    â€œSince Linc’s not there to drive her to Reno for a manicure and since I have other work, Rachel’s harassing Ryan something awful.”
    â€œEven she should understand that a baby animal needs looking after,” Sam said.
    â€œYou’d think that would be the case,” Mrs. Coley agreed.
    â€œRyan will stay with Hotspot and the foal,” Sam said, but she wasn’t sure she was right.
    Ryan was a nice guy, and handsome. Raised in England by his mother, he was smart, polite, and not nearly as stuck-up as his sister.
    Jen had a serious crush on Ryan, but Sam wondered if he really liked Jen or if he was just going along with her. Sometimes it seemed Ryan lacked what Dad called “backbone.”
    For example, he’d hidden Golden Rose, the long-lost Kenworthy palomino, when he knew she must belong to someone else.
    Ryan had never thought of training a mustang to race in the Superbowl of Horsemanship, either. But when he heard Jake planned to gentle a pinto running wild on tribal lands, Ryan had suddenly jumped at the idea. He’d talked Mrs. Allen into letting him train Roman, one of the mustangs from her wild horse sanctuary.
    On the other hand, Ryan had spotted Tinkerbell’s natural jumping talent, and that had helped give the draft horse a better life.
    Ryan wasn’t exactly dishonest, but would he have the guts to stand up to Rachel? Eventually his twin might wear him down and convince him it was safe to leave the new colt alone.
    â€œI’ll be fine without you, but I think you’re right. Ryan could use someone else on his side,” Sam said.
    â€œAll right, then,” Mrs. Coley said. “I’ll leave my cell phone here for you—”
    â€œYou don’t have to,” Sam began, but Mrs. Coley made a dismissing motion with her hands, so Sam didn’t argue.
    â€œAnd you’ve had your talk with Dr. Scott,” Mrs. Coley went on, “so you know what today will be like?”
    â€œHe said mostly eating and sleeping for the horses,” Sam told her.
    â€œPlenty of both,” Mrs. Coley agreed. She stoodnext to the box stall and watched the mare and foal. “That little Tempest will want to be fed two or three times every hour. Poor Sunshine,” Mrs. Coley said, clucking her tongue as the mare sized her up, then blew through her lips, dismissing her as a threat.
    A breeze blew in from outside. It smelled like rain.
    â€œAre we supposed to get another storm?” Sam asked.
    The early morning air was so warm that Sam wanted to replace her sweatpants with shorts, but high desert weather changed quickly.
    â€œI really couldn’t tell you, Samantha.” Mrs. Coley looked surprised at herself. “I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had time to turn around, let alone listen to a weather report. I’ll tell you what, though—when the telephone repair folks come out, ask them. If there’s anyone who keeps an eye on the weather as much as a rancher, it’s folks who climb electrified poles for a