Free Run Away Home by Terri Farley Page B

that.
    â€œYou can do the same thing,” she said, seeing the skill in a flash of memory. “When you told me about the three Indian ponies your ranch is named for and the star shower—”
    â€œI don’t use that sad smile to make people go gooey-eyed.”
    Just leave, Sam told herself, and she stepped off the porch.
    â€œYou guys will work it out,” she said airily, but Kit’s wistful expression as he recalled boosting little Jake up to reach things crowded out her good intentions. “Jake, that’s a real smile.”
    Just as he’d welcomed Witch’s misbehavior, he welcomed Sam’s.
    â€œAnd you’d know that, better ’n me,” Jake scoffed, “after spendin’ how much time with him?”
    Jake was rarely sarcastic, so she tried to stay calm. But when he leaned against the house with hisarms crossed and gave a scornful sniff, that did it.
    â€œI know ,” Sam snapped as she marched closer to Jake, “because I was paying attention when he was talking about you before you and Nate came into the room—”
    â€œDon’t point your finger at me, Samantha.”
    â€œOkay,” she said, then poked her index finger against his chest.
    Jake sidestepped and left her hand hanging there until she dropped it to her side.
    Then she tried being sympathetic. “Jake, I know it must make you crazy when Kit calls you Baby Bear—”
    â€œHold your voice down.”
    Sam took a deep breath. His request made her even madder. Did he think she wanted his family as an audience to this ridiculous discussion?
    â€œWhat,” she whispered, “did he have to gain by saying nice things about you when you weren’t there to hear? Huh?”
    â€œThis,” Jake said, and now he was the one pointing. “You standing up for him.”
    â€œI am so sure—” Sam broke off and stared into the lavender sky. Spotting the evening star, she made a hurried wish that she could smooth things over. “Jake, a twentysomething-year-old man doesn’t care if a high school sophomore takes his side against his brother!”
    Jake was in over his head. He didn’t like to talk ,let alone dissect relationships.
    So Sam gave him a minute. She heard Ace nicker. She made out the garbled noise of the television inside the Elys’ house. She saw Jake scuff his boot toe in the dirt as he muttered, “I don’t know.”
    Sam looked down to snap her coat closed just as the front porch light suddenly glared down on them.
    The kitchen door swung open, nearly striking Jake.
    â€œSam, don’t go,” Mrs. Ely said. “I’m not a gossip. Well, not usually,” she corrected with a sheepish grin, “but honey, believe me, you’ve got to see this! You, too, Jake. I wish Luke were home,” she fretted, glancing toward the ranch gates.
    Then she turned to go back into the house.
    Sam only stared at Jake for a second. Was he going to say something to erase his hostility?
    â€œWhat?” she encouraged him, and then Sam waited.
    She didn’t want to be impatient, but her curiosity was stronger than her desire to continue their stupid conversation. So, when Jake mumbled “Nothin’” and stepped aside to let her squeeze past him, Sam slipped back into the house.
    Â 
    â€œThat son of a gun had it coming!”
    Sam followed Nate’s crowing voice back into the living room.
    Everyone was staring at the TV, but it took Sama few seconds to make sense of what the reporter’s voice was saying. She recognized Lynn Cooper’s throaty tone at the same time that she recognized two of the three men on the TV screen.
    Linc Slocum, dressed in a brick-colored Western suit with embroidery on the lapels, stood outside the sheriff’s office in Darton. He stood next to a businesslike man she didn’t recognize, but nearby she was pretty sure, yeah, that was Sheriff Ballard.
    Linc’s