Red Feather Filly by Terri Farley

to find an excuse to tell Jen.
    During their lunch hour, both girls stood outside, munching sandwiches and apples. For months, theweather had been so harsh, they’d had to eat in the cafeteria. Now it was cool and sunny.
    They were enjoying the warmth of sun on their cheeks and talking as usual when Jen mentioned she’d received a message in her last class.
    â€œI forgot, I have a dentist appointment,” she said with a pout. “I guess riding Sky will have to wait until tomorrow.”
    â€œDo it when you get home, Jen. I don’t have to be there to watch. We have less than two weeks.”
    â€œYeah, I know. I wouldn’t be worried, except for Roman. What do you remember about him?”
    â€œNot that much,” Sam said slowly. “He’s dark chestnut with a pretty extreme Roman nose and he acts like a stallion.”
    â€œI was just thinking—oh, forget it. I’m beginning to sound like you.”
    â€œOh, now I really have to hear it,” Sam said. “Spit it out.”
    â€œWell, the race runs over the Phantom’s territory, right?” Jen asked. “And this is the time of year herd stallions guard their mares against other stallions. They’re superjealous, right?”
    â€œWhy didn’t I think of that?” Sam wondered aloud. “There are bound to be some stallions in the race. What if the Phantom challenges them?”
    â€œI don’t think it will happen,” Jen said as the bell rang for the end of lunch hour. “The noise and riders would scare off the usual mustang.”
    As she walked toward Journalism, her last classof the day, Sam was thinking that she and Jen both knew the Phantom was a very un usual mustang. She’d raised him from birth and he’d lived as a domestic horse until the accident that had put her in a coma and set him free.
    While Sam lived in San Francisco, recovering, the young stallion had run wild, but he hadn’t forgotten her.
    He might have been easy to recapture and gentle, if his encounters with people hadn’t taught him fear.
    The silver mustang’s beauty had drawn humans who wanted to capture him. Some, like Linc Slocum, hadn’t cared if they’d scared and injured him.
    Suddenly a charge of excitement flashed through her. Of course the Phantom hated some humans, but he trusted her as much as a wild thing could.
    The situation could be exactly the same for Jake and the filly.
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    Sam couldn’t get her mind off horses. The current events quiz in Journalism didn’t do it and neither did typing her story for the next issue of the Darton Dialogue .
    Her fingers lifted right off the computer keys when an idea struck her.
    Saturday night, she’d dreamed of the Phantom. This morning, she’d noticed she’d scratched her wrist. Even in her sleep, she’d been checking her wrist for the lost bracelet woven of the stallion’s hair.
    What if he’d come to the river Saturday andSunday nights, but she’d been sleeping too deeply to wake completely? Could she have half heard him, and woven his call into her dreams?
    It was possible.
    Sam typed another sentence, then stared into the computer screen. Jen wouldn’t get off the bus with her today. She’d be walking home alone. If the Phantom was nearby he might come to her.
    â€œForster! Take a nap on your own time. I need that story!” Mr. Blair shouted.
    Frowning at the screen, as if she was concentrating, Sam waved one hand to let Mr. Blair know she’d heard.
    She glanced at the classroom clock. Fifteen minutes until she could leave. Another twenty-five, or so, until the bus dropped her off.
    Sam’s fingers danced on the keys, faster than ever before. She had to finish this story now. If Mr. Blair kept her in and she missed the bus, she’d miss a chance to see the Phantom.
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    After class, Jake was waiting outside.
    Sam fiddled with her backpack, adjusting it to sit just right.