Free Moonrise by Terri Farley

her mother to rub her muzzle on Sam’s cheek.
    â€œIs that a kiss, pretty girl?” Sam crooned to the filly.
    Tempest’s brown eyes caught the faint light from the stars overhead. She didn’t step away when Samgently hugged her neck.
    Gratitude glowed in Sam’s heart. No one had a better life than she did.
    â€œYou’re soft as velvet,” Sam told the filly, but when Tempest suddenly stiffened against her, she knew why.
    Something had moved on the hillside.
    Sunny stared into the darkness.
    Inch by inch, Sam lifted her arms from Tempest and strained her eyes until they felt hot from trying to see beyond the fence.
    While Sam searched the night, Tempest rocketed into her circling gallop once more.
    Was it a survival response? Generations of mustangs had run from sounds in the night. Maybe Tempest did the same.
    Once, on the stormy night of Tempest’s birth, the Phantom had descended the path from the ridge. But Sam really didn’t think he’d do it again. For his own safety, she had whirled her arms and yelled to drive him away.
    But something was up there now.
    And Gram had gone back into the house.
    Whatever it was, Sam knew she was out here with it alone.
    Dark Sunshine gave a snort of recognition. She saw whatever it was and moved to confront it.
    The next time Tempest raced past, Sunny clacked her teeth in warning. Tempest slid to a stop and scampered a few steps off. Out of reach, she bucked indefiance. Only when Sunny threatened a real bite did Tempest tuck close to her mother’s body.
    There! The dark shape was no creation of moonshine and shadows. It was much larger than a dog; Sam was certain it was a horse.
    Suddenly Sam saw him.
    The mustang stood halfway down the ridge, just where the Phantom had watched on that stormy night. In profile his mane moved like a flame. His head was dished like a hot-blooded Arabian. His legs were long and sculpted for speed. It must be the Phantom.
    But then, as the clouds parted, Sam saw that the wild horse was black.
    â€œNew Moon,” she whispered.
    Sunny saw him, too, and issued a ringing neigh. Sam stumbled as the buckskin’s shoulder grazed her, but she got her hands down in time to catch herself and push back up to her feet.
    Sunny raced toward the far fence, veered right just before colliding with it, then whirled back to challenge the stallion.
    He answered with a coaxing nicker. Sam didn’t have to be a horse to understand that New Moon had just told Sunny not to be so mean.
    Sam froze. If the breeze shifted, Moon would catch her scent and probably gallop away. He had no bond with her as the Phantom did.
    Dark Sunshine had drawn him to River BendRanch, but she wasn’t interested in eloping. Did she remember him as a young upstart who’d been banished from the Phantom’s band?
    Sam saw no movement behind the young stallion. Linc had claimed he’d seen a black stallion with two fine mares, but Moon seemed to be alone. If Moon didn’t yet have a herd of his own, he might be here to start one.
    Moon’s single step forward crossed an invisible boundary. Sunny bolted forward against the fence, then wheeled and lashed out with her heels.
    Sam winced. Sunny was only trying to drive Moon away, but nothing good could come out of splintering that fence.
    What if the stallion jumped over the lower rails and drove her out with hooves and teeth? Sunny might change her mind and go with him. At the very least, Sam knew she’d be responsible for fixing the broken fence rails.
    Then Tempest whinnied and changed everything.
    Moon’s voice rang in a commanding neigh. Sunny swerved away from the fence, head lowered.
    Oh no , Sam thought. The buckskin mare had made a submissive move no stallion could miss.
    â€œSunny, no!” Sam shouted. All three horses startled as if she’d wakened them from a dream.
    In a blur of black, Moon shied, then leaped up the hillside.
    Tempest wanted to follow.
    Sam’s