Free Gypsy Gold by Terri Farley Page B

Probably.
    â€œNo, but where we’d just ride on past a patch of dirt, he looks down and reads it as if someone hadscratched out a five-paragraph essay with a sharp stick,” Sam explained.
    â€œI get it.” Nicolas stared toward the black horse and dark rider with surprised appreciation. “That’s something I should learn before my next journey. It would be useful, being out in the wilderness like I am. I haven’t had any bad experiences, but I could know what was”—Nicolas made a circular motion with his hand—“going on. I’ve been surprised a time or two and if I’d known the signs to look for, I might not have been.”
    Nicolas broke off with a short laugh. “Sorry, I was just sort of thinking out loud. I mean, a tracker probably wouldn’t have been startled when a sheepherder and his flock showed up at his campsite. I didn’t know they were coming until the guy shouted hello.”
    â€œYou knew we were coming,” Sam said.
    â€œSending two horses on ahead provided kind of a big hint,” Nicolas said.
    â€œYou sound like you’re going to do this again,” Jen said.
    â€œI might,” Nicolas said, then shrugged. “A lot depends on how things go between here and Sacramento.”
    Sam saw Nicolas rub his wrist. Was it sore, or was he thinking of a watch and the time he’d waste riding to River Bend Ranch?
    With a loud snort, Witch gave in to Jake’s order to walk as the colt ran for the big paint mare.
    The staccato hammering of small hooves made Sam swallow hard. The little guy was so glad to be back where he belonged. Lace obviously felt the same way. She tossed her mane with such enthusiasm, it sounded like a flag flapping on a windy day.
    â€œGo ahead, girl,” Nicolas said.
    He slackened the reins so Lace could trot forward to meet the colt. Even though he wasn’t hers, the mare greeted the little dun with a nicker that tugged at Sam’s heart and made her push away the reminder that it was almost time to wean her filly Tempest.
    Jake hung back until the colt and mare quieted.
    Was he tipping his head forward that way on purpose? Did he know his face was shadowed by his black Stetson?
    He had to be curious about Nicolas, his beautiful horse, and the unusual wagon, but Jake only touched the brim of his hat in greeting and waited for someone else to say something.
    â€œThanks for bringing the colt back,” Nicolas said and when Jake just shrugged, Nicolas held out his hand. “I’m Nicolas Raykov.”
    Jake rode close enough to shake hands.
    â€œJake Ely,” he said, accepting Nicolas’s hand-clasp.
    Sam glanced at Jen. Nicolas had been a little standoffish with them, and he sure hadn’t been friendly with Slocum, but he seemed different with Jake.
    Jake didn’t return Nicolas’s smile and Sam hoped Nicolas understood it only meant Jake was shy. He had friends, but most days when she saw him on campus or in the hallways of Darton High, Jake stood at the edge of a circle of guffawing guys, with a quiet grin lifting one corner of his mouth.
    As Nicolas and Jake’s handshake broke, they both looked away. Sam caught Jake’s eyes darting between the girls and Nicolas. Was he wondering how she and Jen had ended up riding home with a stranger?
    Sam was set to tell Jake about the coydog, Slocum’s trigger-happy killing, and everything else, but for some reason she put it off a few more minutes.
    â€œNicolas is driving from Seattle to Sacramento,” she said.
    â€œYeah?” Jake asked.
    Nicolas gave a proud nod.
    â€œThat wagon he’s driving is known as a vardo,” Jen explained, “and the mare is a Gypsy Vanner horse. There are fewer than a hundred of them in the entire country, but he was lucky enough that she was imported especially for him by his grandparents, because he’s a gypsy.”
    â€œNaw, really?” Jake said with a straight