Free The Wildest Heart by Terri Farley Page B

prowled the perimeter of the blaze flickering up the mountain.
    The storm had moved on, leaving behind destruction and the good, clean smell of storm-hammered sage.
    With a strange detachment, Sam wondered if the sky would have dropped the same lightning bolt, even if horses and people had never settled here. Probably so. Nature wasn’t out to get them. Storms happened whether living things were helped or hurt by them.
    Sam could still see grass all around. It looked as if there was still plenty of graze for the horses. That was good.
    It seemed weird to her that there were suddenly so many people around and no one had spoken to her.
    Weird, until she realized, with a sickening certainty, that they’d seen her crouched near the mustangs and left her alone to grieve.
    But she wasn’t grieving! The horses weren’t dead.Any minute they’d stand up, kick their heels, and gallop for home.
    As if he’d seen in his mind what she had in hers, the Phantom’s eyes opened.
    â€œHey, boy,” Sam whispered.
    Even before he raised his head off the ground, the stallion’s eyes flashed brown and fierce. They might have been the eyes of an eagle.
    His nostrils flared as his muzzle lifted. His head rose away from the ground, crinkling his dappled neck. For an instant, the stallion’s eyes met hers and he gave a soft nicker.
    He must have felt safe, because once he scrambled to his feet and faced away from her, he didn’t bolt. He must be trying to recover from his shock.
    Forelegs braced apart, head hanging, the stallion winced. Something hurt. A pulled muscle from his fall, Sam hoped, or a scrape so small she couldn’t see it.
    But why were his ears twitching forward, then back and forward again, with such crazy energy?
    Then the stallion shook his head.
    At first Sam thought the Phantom was only sending his forelock out of his eyes, but he shook his head again. Standing behind him as she was, Sam noticed he shook so vigorously, his entire tail swung with the movement.
    The stallion’s neck curved. His head jerked toward his shoulder. Then his front leg struck out,but it didn’t come near his head. Still, his gestures reminded her of Blaze trying to get a foxtail out of his ear.
    â€œDid you see that?” Sam asked the vet.
    When he didn’t answer, she glanced at Dr. Scott. His fingertip pressed against the nosepiece of his glasses and he gave a curt nod.
    â€œWhat’s he doing?” she asked.
    The stallion snorted. This time he shook his head so hard his ears made a faint flutter.
    â€œHe could have something in his ears,” Dr. Scott suggested. “Debris from the explosion.”
    The vet didn’t sound convinced, and Sam found herself snatching looks at him, trying to read his expression, while she watched the Phantom.
    When the stallion’s gaze shifted to the pasture and he uttered a longing neigh, Dr. Scott slammed his hands together in a loud clap.
    Sam jumped, touching her chest at the sudden stampeding of her heart, but the silver stallion didn’t shy or even look back over his shoulder.
    Despite the nearby fire, Sam felt cold.
    The Phantom should have bolted or even wheeled around to charge. She’d seen him do that to Jake under much less stressful conditions. But the stallion had given no sign of fear, rage, or even annoyance.
    The ever-alert mustang only stared into the pasture and gave a long, melancholy neigh.
    The second time Dr. Scott clapped his hands, Sam wasn’t startled. She was heartsick.
    She knew what the vet was doing. He was giving her horse a test, and the great gray stallion had failed.
    â€œI don’t think he can hear us,” Dr. Scott said softly. “Sam, I’m afraid the explosion has made the Phantom deaf.”

Chapter Eight
    T he Phantom pawed rapidly, scoring the black ground with his mark.
    He looked kingly and tough. Sam knew Dr. Scott had to be wrong.
    But then the Phantom wheeled right. He