Moonrise Read Online Free PDF

distressed nickers to Dark Sunshine and Tempest.
    â€œTell you what,” Dad said. “Saddle up Amigo and trail them. With any luck, Ross and Pepper will run across ’em and push ’em on home, but if they don’t, you can take a try at it.”
    Goose bumps pricked her arms and legs like a thousand cold, tiny needles. Dad was sending her out alone to bring back the saddle horses. Did he really expect her to be able to do it?
    She tried to look confident, but Dad must have seen her hesitation.
    â€œOnly one way you learn to be a buckaroo,” Dad told her, “and that’s the hard way.”
    Sam almost stopped breathing.
    A buckaroo wasn’t just a cowboy. A buckaroo never drove when he could ride, never lost pride in his skills, and never let his ranch become a farm.
    Sam only knew three buckaroos and they were all men: Dad, Jed Kenworthy, and Jake.
    Being a buckaroo wasn’t a matter of bloodlines, either. Jake’s dad, Luke, was a good rider and rancher, but he also worked for a mining company in town. Luke wasn’t a buckaroo, but Jake definitely was.
    Once, Sam had heard Dad tell Brynna that he knew Jake for a buckaroo the first day he saw him mount an unbroken horse.
    â€œHe was so good, so soon, it was amazing,” Dadhad said. And that’s why he’d hired Jake to help with horses.
    Sam wondered if she’d misunderstood Dad when he said she could be a buckaroo.
    There was no time to ask.
    She grabbed the halter and lead rope hanging over the hitching rail and strode toward Amigo. The old gelding tossed his graying muzzle skyward and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t resist.
    Penny, Brynna’s copper-bright mare, was another story. Confused by the chaos, she squealed and rose into a half rear when Dad stood before her.
    â€œHey, little girl, you get back now. You’re going nowhere. Brynna’ll have my hide if I lose you.”
    The blind mare’s ears pricked forward. Was it Brynna’s name that made her stop rearing and shift from hoof to hoof?
    While the mare calmed down, Dad kept talking to Sam.
    â€œI’ll be along on Penny, soon as I check the lock on that gate,” Dad said as he slipped a rope around the mare’s neck and led her into the barn stall.
    Sam grabbed the tack that was still sitting out on the porch. With luck, it would fit, so she wouldn’t have to go to the barn in search of Amigo’s gear.
    Close enough , Sam thought as she adjusted the headstall to Amigo’s larger head. She smoothed on the saddle blanket, hefted the saddle, and grunted as she boosted the saddle onto Amigo’s back. The cinch hadto be fastened on a looser notch, but the saddle fit fine.
    Sam managed to mount, in spite of feeling as if a giant hand held her by the ribs and waggled her back and forth. Was it her heartbeat? Her runaway pulse? Or the realization that Dad thought she could be a buckaroo?
    He hadn’t made any big deal over it. In fact, he acted as if he hadn’t said it at all, but Dad touched his hat brim and lifted his chin toward the range.
    See you out there , his gesture indicated, but as she rode away, Sam heard Dad mutter, “I know I closed that danged bolt.”
    Â 
    Amigo was taller than Ace, and narrower. Although Sam knew the gelding was well fed, age had whittled him down. He was about fifteen years old and, according to Dallas, the best cow horse in the state.
    There. Just as they jogged off the bridge, Sam saw the brown-and-white blur that was Sweetheart. Gram’s mare trailed the dust raised by the other horses, and Amigo was eager to catch up.
    It looked as if the saddle horses were slowing, spreading out, meandering with indecision. Would they follow the river toward the Three Ponies Ranch or cross the highway and head for Deerpath Ranch?
    â€œWhoa, boy,” Sam told Amigo. “Let’s wait a minute and see what they do.”
    If the horses made a break for the road to