Kidnapped Colt Read Online Free PDF Page A

loved Hotspot and Shy Boots, Sam thought. He must be hiding tears.
    â€œAll right,” Sam said. “But we have to hurry.”
    Minutes later, Hotspot and Boots had been reloaded into the trailer, Sam had gathered a staple gun and a roll of plastic fence, and she was giving thanks that she hadn’t run into Dallas while she wasgathering them. But she still had to face Gram. If she sneaked away without saying where she was going, she’d be grounded for life.
    Since Gram was busy baking for the HARP girls’ arrival, maybe she’d be too distracted to pay close attention. Hoping so, Sam started talking the minute she opened the kitchen door.
    â€œGram, I’m going to help Ryan—”
    Gram blew a wisp of gray hair away from her eyes as she turned, holding a sheet of cookies she’d just taken from the oven.
    â€œMy word, what have you done to your cheek?”
    Gram set the hot cookie sheet down with a clatter.
    â€œIt’s nothing. In fact, I forgot all about it. I hurt it when I was working with Tempest,” Sam admitted.
    â€œGo wash your face. Then, bring me the hydrogen peroxide, some gauze, and”—Gram frowned in concentration, clearly judging the size of the cut—“a big Band-Aid should do it.”
    â€œRyan needs me to—” Sam began.
    â€œRyan can wait. I don’t want you getting some sort of infection.” Gram reached for a spatula. “Besides, he’ll forget his impatience when you bring him some cookies.”
    Without another protest, Sam did as Gram asked.
    She turned on the water and was about to splash her face when she saw her image in the bathroom mirror. No wonder Dallas, Ryan, and Gram had all mentioned the injury.
    â€œYuck,” she told her reflection.
    Tempest’s hoof had sliced an inch-long cut over her cheekbone. The spot was swollen and dusty. Blood had smeared all around it.
    She gingerly dabbed water to tidy the wound. When it was pretty clean, she descended the stairs, not really looking forward to Gram’s tending.
    â€œWhere are you two going?” Gram asked, after she’d squeezed a stinging fizz of peroxide over the cut, wiped it, and smoothed on a bandage.
    â€œHe wants me to show him how to get to High Grass Canyon,” Sam explained, moving her cheek experimentally. It felt stiff, but it didn’t hurt.
    â€œYou could draw him a map, but I’m sure that wouldn’t be half as much fun,” Gram mused. “Leave those things and I’ll put them away,” she said, waving toward the first aid supplies. “You just worry about hurrying home.”
    With that, Gram turned her attention back to baking.
    One minute later, Sam was sitting in the front seat of Ryan’s truck, watching him munch oatmeal cookies as the truck bumped over the bridge and onto the highway.
    â€œI promised to be back before Brynna and Dad get here with the new HARP girls,” Sam warned.
    â€œYou will be,” Ryan vowed.
    Sam was examining her puffy cheek in the truck’srearview mirror, when Ryan leaned to one side and his image replaced hers.
    At first she thought he was looking at himself, but his hopeful expression surprised her.
    She turned toward him and saw his hand lift to wave.
    The truck coming toward them was huge and yellow. She didn’t recognize the driver as it passed by.
    â€œWho’s that?” she asked.
    â€œKarl Mannix.”
    It took a minute for Sam to remember the name.
    â€œThe guy who sold your dad the deerhounds?” Sam asked. “Are you friends?”
    Just last week, the Louisiana deerhounds had caused Dad’s horse to fall with him. Not long after that, the hounds had cornered a mustang foal. Deer-hunting dogs were illegal in Nevada, but only the near disasters had convinced Linc to send them back where they belonged.
    â€œNo, we’re not friends. Why would you think that? He just works for my father. He’s supposed to be a