A/N: Some parts, the plot, and the characters belong to Terri Farley's Phantom Stallion - The Wild One. I take no credit.

There was a spark in the air today. Jake could feel it the minute he woke up. An undercurrent of electricity, promising a storm buzzed around him as he rushed through his barn chores. He wanted to ride over to River Bend as soon as he could, he wanted to see how the night had gone.

As he haphazardly tossed corn and grain towards the chickens, he couldn't help but think of what his day could hold. Jake had spent the spring volunteering with his grandfather at a Shishone seminar. The tribe was partnering with some local institutions to show why it was important to preserve their way of life, their traditions. Jake had worked in the kitchen as a busboy, he hadn't had the chance to attend most of the panels, but his grandfather had made sure to get him when the horse training forum had begun.

Jake had sat in the back of that full conference hall, scribbling down what he could in his black and white marbled composition notebook. He had dreams of becoming a renowned Shishone horse trainer for the police force. Every time he was in the saddle, he remembered his own training, when his grandfather taught him about the connection you could have with a horse. He could feel the connection as if it flowed from his head through his fingertips to the horse's body. The sway of its gait, the flicker of its ears, and the relaxing of its neck told Jake if the horse was feeling it too or not.

There was a lot of stuff Jake had never heard of at the seminar, things he was itching to try. He knew his friend Sam had just gotten a foal, a beautiful black colt that she ignorantly named "Blackie." Jake knew a horse with his conformation deserved a more noble, less stupid, name. He was pushing for Tornado, like from Zorro, but it didn't seem to be working. The least he could do for that horse was teach Sam about the secret name Shishone warriors gave their horses to solidify their bond. Maybe he'd get a less embarrassing name then.


In the weeks that followed the Shishone seminar, Jake spent all of his free time teaching Sam and Blackie. Most of the training took place in the river that ran beside Sam's family's ranch. The techniques they used were working better than Jake could have hoped. After countless trust-building and familiarizing exercises, last night had been the first exercise Jake couldn't be a part of. All of that hard work had led to this apex, and he was itching to see how it had turned out. The final step before really riding the colt had been to spend a full 24 hours with him, shadowing his movements and showing him they were one. One team, one heart.

It had taken a lot of convincing to get Wyatt Forster to agree, there were chores to be done and safety to be considered. In the end, his grandfather, Mac, had been the one to sway him. Mac had explained the process, weighing the likely benefits to the slim-chance of harm, and it was decided. The deal was struck with the concession that if things hadn't gone perfectly through the night, Wyatt would take the training into his own hands.

By the time Jake finished the last of his chores at Three Ponies Ranch, the sun was well into the sky and the electricity in the air had calmed to a dull hum. Maybe the weather would hold out after all.

Riding over the bridge onto River Bend Ranch was so familiar. The amount of time he spent there growing up at least equalled the amount he spent at his own ranch. At Three Ponies, he was the youngest of seven brothers, the bottom of the totem pole. Here at River Bend, he was free from that role, free to explore his interests and for once not have the worst chores.

Sliding out of his saddle and tying Witch up to rest, Jake took his time even as he saw Sam bouncing up and down by the corral, obviously excited to share her experience. Jake was a little excited, too, but cowboys didn't bounce and they certainly didn't gush, so when Sam began Jake could feel his annoyance seep in.

"Brat," Jake greeted his friend with a nod and a smirk at the nickname.

"Oh, Jake, it has just been the most magical night!" Sam started, ignoring the jab. He could see her practically vibrating in her boots.

"Well what happened?" Jake inquired, giving into his curiosity.

As Sam yammered on about the energy she felt between her and her horse, Jake took in the colt before him. He had grown since they started training, filled out a little in his chest. There was no denying the way he looked at Sam was unique. It was intense, and the farther into this they got, the less Jake liked it.

"And the bridle? You introduced him to the bridle again a few times?" Jake interrupted both his inner musings and Sam's in-depth description of Blackie's treats and rewards for including Sam in his "herd."

"Of course I did," Sam sassed, insulted at the inference that she would forget such an integral part of the exercise. "I had it around my arm all night, and three or four times I put it on him for a few minutes. You should have seen how great he was! He responded just like you said he would!"

She continued on, oblivious to her friends careful evaluation of the colt in the coral. Blackie was munching on some hay dropped in a net for him, keeping one ear focused on Sam's voice. The other was turned toward the range, where the wind had started to pick up. The hum of the air had accelerated back to a buzz, and it made both Jake and Blackie uneasy.

"So if you wouldn't mind doing that for me, I'll be all set to tack up in like five minutes," Sam finished, catching Jake's attention once again.

"Brat, about that…" Jake started, trailing off at Sam's answering groan.

"Oh come onnnnnn Jake! We've been training for this! We've worked so hard, we HAVE to do it today! If not, this whole night will have been for nothing, and my dad won't let me do it again!" She did have a point, they had put a lot of time and energy into Blackie's training. The weather wasn't ideal, but maybe that was better anyways. It's no use having a horse you can only ride in the perfect conditions. Out here in the desert, that would probably be only a handful of days all year.

"Fine, but we're still doing this my way. He's not ready to trust the saddle for a long amount of time, you'll have to ride bareback…"

"Done."

Jake shot her a look, earning a sheepish smile in return. "I don't want to use the bridle he's not familiar with. I know you said he did okay last night, but that was without you up there tugging at his mouth. It has to be soft, a bitless bridle."

"I know exactly what I can use, remember that cloth we used when we were teaching him…"

"Sam." This time it was Jake who cut Sam off. She looked over at his serious tone, her euphoric smile fading as she took in his expression.

"Don't worry so much, Jake, it'll be fine."


As Sam scrambled to fashion an outgrown red flannel nightgown into a headstall and attach cotton rope reins, Jake continued observing her with her horse. Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe this bad feeling was just about how anxious he was to see their hard work pay off.

Jake was tightening Witch's cinch, making sure she wasn't blowing air out to keep it loose. She had got him with that trick too many times to count when he first got her, but they were an established team at this point. He hadn't gentled her as a foal, as Sam was, but Jake was comfortable in his bond with his horse. As they set out, Blackie looked flashy and responded to Sam's every command. He barely noticed Sam's small weight on his back, feeling the excitement of the two riders.

The more they rode around the pastures, the more Jake relaxed in his saddle. This was going so much better than expected. When Sam angled to head for the open range, Jake followed along, offering directions to help with Sam's coordination. He instructed her to comfort Blackie as he maneuvered Witch to open and then close the first gate behind them. He was only planning on going out a mile or so, but Blackie was doing great, so they just kept riding.

After about the third gate, Jake was getting tired of doing all the work. Sam was getting to just sit back and enjoy the ride, even though it was a lot of Jake's advice that allowed her to even be on that horse.

They decided to head back when they felt their stomachs getting hungry. After doing chores all morning and getting everything ready for the ride, Jake had worked up quite the appetite. On the way back, Jake held Witch back a little, allowing Sam and Blackie to surge ahead. The wind was picking up more, and blowing sagebrush was starting to make Blackie a little nervous.

Jake knew he could easily open and close all the gates for them again, but where was the learning in that? This ride had gone great so far, pushing Blackie's limits a little would make him a stronger, more sure horse.

"Ride in parallel to the gate," Jake yelled. "Parallel, Brat. Get him to face the hinge. That's it. Now rattle the gate. Whoa, keep him together. Now ride back and do it again. Parallel. Rattle it. See? He's not as scared this time."

He must have been too far away to notice Blackie tense, or else he never would have continued to push. At least, he likes to think he wouldn't have.

He continued to sit back and watch girl and horse figure out this new task together. He had been doing the job for so long he had forgotten how clumsy it felt to hold open the gate and ride through at the same time. After another ten minutes fighting with the same gate, Jake's stomach had had enough.

"Pull the gate towards you. Don't take your hand off it."

"Jake, it's too hard. He's scared."

Jake missed the quavering in her voice and the dance the colt did under her. He was looking past them at the two other gates to get through.

"Just back him through, or turn him," Jake barked out impatiently. "Don't take your hand off the gate, I said. Sam, get a grip."

"Jake, he's really scared. You have to get this gate. I can't," Sam said over Blackie's snorts.

"All right, you baby."

It was said with sarcasm and an eye-roll, but the split second after it left his mouth, Jake felt his stomach drop.

Sam whipped around on Blackie's back, turning her body to get a better vantage for yelling, "I'll slug you if you don't take it back!"

In that split second it took for Sam to yell out her indignant threat, Blackie fell apart. He charged into the gate. She lost her hold on it, causing it to swing into his body. His shoulders were only pinned for a minute, but he thought he was trapped.

Jake watched in abject horror as Blackie reared up, trying to escape.

It took another beat for his brain to start working again, he angled Witch towards the chaos, but it was too late. Blackie bolted backwards, slamming into the mare, sending her flying in the other direction. Jake turned Witch in a circle to regain control, all the while keeping his eyes on Sam riding out the bucks and rearing her terrified colt offered.

As soon as he was facing away from the gate and towards the open range, Blackie took off at a gallop, running faster than Jake had ever seen him go. He watched, as if it was in slow motion, Sam reached down on her left to grab the reins that had slipped out of her hands. Blackie caught a glimpse of her and veered a hard right.

Sam went one way, Blakie went the other, and his hind hoof caught her right in the head.

Blackie continued on, too scared to look back. Jake continued on, too scared to look forwards, but not having a choice. As soon as he got close enough, he dismounted and ran to Sam's side.

Time slowed down as he took in the scene before him. She was unconscious and there was a pool of blood forming under where her head lay.

So much blood.

Jake could see where the hoof had clipped her temple, but he didn't know what other injuries she could have gotten. As he looked down at his friend, he felt sick to his stomach.

He knew head wounds bleed a lot, but this was her blood. Sam's blood. Sam who was always tagging along with whatever Jake was doing. Sam who would hang on Jake's every word as he instructed her on how to handle her horse. Sam who he had held days after she was born. Sam who trusted him with everything in her.

What have I done?

It felt like Jake sat there staring at Sam for hours, but the accident and following assessment took only minutes. As Jake came back to the situation at hand, he ran through his options. He couldn't leave her here alone. What if Blackie came back and stepped on her again? Or a stranger horse who didn't know her? Or worse, coyotes that lurked in the brush. Coyotes were scavengers, they hunted what was left behind, what was already dead.

Jake shook himself out of that train of thought. She still had a pulse. He needed to decide what to do fast if he wanted to keep it that way.

His mind flashed to his father after his brother had taken a fall out of a tree, "No! Don't move until we know what's broke."

Making his decision, Jake grabbed Sam's hand, wishing he didn't have to leave her. "You hang tight, Brat, I'll be right back," Jake whispered, squeezing her limp hand before he started to move away. "Don't you do anything stupid like die on me," he choked out.

He glanced back at her one more time, "Sam, I mean it." He said more firmly. Only the thought of causing her more pain, or losing her forever moved him towards his saddle.

As he galloped through the open gate, he couldn't stop seeing Sam fall and the blood.

The whole way back to River Bend, and the entire trip riding out, leading Wyatt to where Sam lay broken, Jake kept promising God:

If she's not dead, I promise I'll do better.