Red Feather Filly by Terri Farley Page A

She wasn’t sure what to tell him.
    â€œReady?” he shifted from foot to foot as if she’d been stalling for hours.
    â€œExcuse me,” she said, slipping past him. “I’m taking the bus home.” She paused, feeling guilty because he looked so surprised. “You know Gram will go nuts if I just take off without asking permission.”
    It was true, but it wasn’t the reason she didn’t want to go with him. Somehow, Jake seemed to know.
    â€œOkay,” he bit the word short and headed down the hall.
    â€œWhat if…” Sam said, before he got too far.
    Jake turned and Sam hurried after him. They were outside now. She could see the bus idling, waiting.
    A gust of warm spring wind blew from behind her, sending her red-brown hair into a frenzy around her face.
    Frustrated, she pushed it back with both hands, then ordered her brain to come up with something.
    â€œSince we saw the filly in the morning at Monument Lake—”
    Sam stopped, filled with disbelief for what she’d nearly said. Jake raised his black eyebrows, but he didn’t meet her gaze. In fact, he seemed focused on her hair. Probably so she wouldn’t see the disappointment in his eyes.
    â€œWhy don’t we go tomorrow before school,” she blurted.
    Say no, say no, say no, she begged silently.
    â€œGood idea.” Jake nodded slowly. “Dad won’t complain about undone chores, either, since I’m not doin’ anything at five A.M. Pick you up then.”
    Stupid, stupid, stupid. Sam wondered if she was weaving with shock as she started toward the bus.
    â€œHey, Brat?” Jake called after her.
    Sam whirled, hoping no one had heard the babyish nickname.
    â€œWhat?” she hissed.
    Jake used one hand to make a vague smoothing gesture at his hair. “Do somethin’. You look kinda like, uh, what’s that flower with the petals goin’ every which way? Like a chrysanthemum.”
    If she hadn’t already been so embarrassed her face hurt from blushing, Sam would have screamed.
    With a little planning, she could have picked a better friend than Jake Ely. A friend who didn’t mock her or force her to get up early.
    Civilized human beings didn’t get out of bed at five o’clock in the morning twice in one week, she thought, as she trudged up the steps, onto the bus. The rooster didn’t crow that early. It was still night!
    She found a seat and squinted at her reflection in the windowpane. She couldn’t see much except her outline, so she smoothed both hands over her hair, then leaned her forehead against the cold glass.
    She could probably catch a catnap now, and store up sleep. But there was no way she was going to take a chance of missing a glimpse of the wild horses.
    Once the bus had stopped at the junior high school to pick up a few more students, it rolled out of Darton. They passed the mall, the scattered gas stations, mini-marts, and most of the other bus stops and rolled onto the highway, then Sam began searching the far hills.
    She couldn’t see much without binoculars, butshe watched for movement. When the bus stopped at Clara’s Diner to let off a few students, Sam sat up straighter. Lost Canyon, Arroyo Azul, and War Drum Flats were east of here and she’d seen the Phantom’s herd here before.
    There! Sam bounced up in her seat. Below the ridgeline, in a clump of juniper that was starting to green up, she thought something moved. Something s .
    â€œDid you see those antelope?” crowed a voice behind her. “My dad says there’s enough of ’em to crowd out the nags this year.”
    Sam twisted and glared over the seat back. If looks could kill, whoever was back there was dead meat.
    â€œThe what ?” she demanded.
    Two younger boys shrank away as far as their seat would allow, then stared up at Sam, openmouthed.
    â€œThe, uh—” His chin ducked as he swallowed. “I don’t know