I am so close to having this story finished. Main story is done (including what should have been the hardest part) and now I'm battling through the epilogue. Normally I love epilogues- what's wrong with me!? I NEED to finish it asap because April and May are my busiest months and I cannot keep dedicating so much time to Phantom Stallion fanfic.
Also sorry for posting an absolute beast of a chapter last time. I don't pay attention to word count until it's too late to change it. This fic was originally supposed to be 30-50k words but I think it's going to be more like 60-80k which is insane by the way. Liz=no impulse control.
Sam slid the pan of tainted feed under the fence and hoped the Phantom wasn't smart enough to catch on. Slipping him a sedative in his food would be a whole lot easier than the makeshift squeeze chute, so long as it worked.
While the Phantom was still distinctly distrustful of humans and everything they touched, he had a leftover instinct from the wild that helped him out: never waste food. He regarded the grain warily, snorting at it like it might bite him, but once Sam and Dr. Scott stepped away from the fence, he wolfed it down wholeheartedly.
"I'm impressed by how that's healed," Dr. Scott observed, keeping his voice low to avoid startling the horse.
Sam nodded. "I can't believe it's only been ten days."
But at the same time, those ten days had felt like years- especially the first few, worrying the infection would get worse instead of better. Since then, the swelling had gone down substantially, and it had completely stopped leaking yellow pus, but Sam hadn't been able to really breathe easy until now, when the vet gave his approval.
"How's the limp?" asked Dr. Scott.
"It's still there," Sam said, somewhat reluctantly. "But it's not nearly as bad."
There was still a noticeable catch on the right front, but he didn't lurch around like he had in the beginning. He was at least able to put weight on the bad leg.
"If it's been improving steadily, then it should continue to improve. Don't worry too much."
Yeah, right. When it came to the Phantom, Sam was always going to worry. Based on that horse's track record, if he wasn't actively doing something that worried her, he'd start to in the next five minutes.
The sedative worked quickly. The Phantom's head drooped and he dozed off, cocking one hind leg. He was never that relaxed sober. Sam would have marveled if not for the need to work quickly.
Luckily, Dr. Scott was used to such conditions. While the mighty white stallion took a little nap, he clipped both ends of the stitches and started to pull the threads out like he was opening a feed bag. The Phantom's skin twitched, but he held still, much to Sam's relief. She knew they had plans and backup plans, but it was a lot easier if they could just get it right on the first try.
Once the stitches were out, Dr. Scott smeared on some ointment- even though the wound was mostly closed, when would they get another chance to do that? Almost all the other evidence of the dog attack was gone. The punctures on his stifles had closed, with a fine stubble of white hair just starting to come in, and the scratch on his chest was almost invisible.
"Sam," Dr. Scott said in a low voice. Even though the Phantom's sleep was medically induced, it seemed better to stay on the safe side of volume. "He's still pretty out of it. Want to get a halter on him before he wakes up?"
Sam considered it; she really did. She knew it was a generous offer and certainly beyond what was expected of Dr. Scott as a vet. In the end, she shook her head. "Thanks, but no. I want to do it the hard way."
"I figured as much."
Their business complete, they slipped out of the round pen, still being quiet to avoid disturbing the horse. Windy ruined "quiet" by whinnying at Sam, as he had taken to doing whenever he thought she might have food.
"He's doing really well, Sam," the vet told her. "Really exceeding expectations as far as healing goes. Keep a close eye on that knee, but I'm tentatively optimistic for a full recovery."
Those words were almost enough for Sam to break into full Snoopy-from-Peanuts happy dance, but she made an effort to remain professional. "That's really good news. Thank you."
Dr. Scott tilted his head back towards the horse. "Don't thank me; thank him. Or whatever higher power controls horse legs wound. This one was out of my hands."
"It's easier to just thank you."
"Right. Since he's recovering so well, we should probably make things more complicated," said the vet. He sounded so deadpan Sam couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "Per your contract with the Bureau, this stallion needs to become a gelding "at earliest convenience". In theory, he's ready now, but I'd like him to be a bit tamer for the sake of aftercare. Let's say, early July. Can you do that, Sam?"
Sam swallowed hard. She still had mixed feelings about gelding the Phantom- she loved his offspring so much. But a contract was a contract, and she couldn't afford to get sued. "Define "tamer"."
"Able to be caught, haltered, and led by you."
"Consider it done." But Sam sounded a lot more confident than she felt. July wasn't that far away- was there any way he'd be ready in time?
"Relax your shoulders, Brat. You look like you're stalking him."
Sam let her whole body sag. "Isn't that kind of what I'm doing? Sneaking upon him?"
"You can't sneak up on a horse that's looking right at you. Are you dumb?"
Sam-from-a-couple-years-ago might have found that remark insulting, but Sam-of-the-present was comforted by their rapport. It gave her something to think about other than the wild mustang in front of her who was not totally sure he wanted to participate in this training session.
While Windy had grown more confident, it was often one step forward, two steps back with him. Sam couldn't read him very well and often ended up asking for more than he was ready for. Windy's flight instinct was sensitive and he often spooked at the drop of a hat.
Take now, for instance.
"Hold on!" Jake ordered. "Stay calm!"
Was it really possible to stay calm when you had a Roman candle on the other end of your lead rope? Windy was rearing and hopping backwards, a mix between a temper tantrum and a panic attack. Sam made an effort to move with him while some of Jake's previous "wise words" flashed through her mind. Don't panic. She was doing her best. Pull when appropriate and release when appropriate. He'd said that like she'd just know when it was appropriate. She didn't know. Don't get hurt. At least that one was easy- Windy was trying to get away from her, so she was in a relatively safe position to his hooves and teeth.
The spook ended almost as quickly as it started. Windy quit flailing at the end of his rope, choosing instead to lower his head and lick his lips. Sam loosened the rope immediately, letting him know he'd done the right thing, which earned her an approving nod from Jake.
Once Windy had taken his breather, Sam gently asked him to take a step forward again. He resisted at first, stretching his neck instead of moving his feet, but as Sam continued to step away from him, he got what she was asking for. One tiny step, that was all she needed. Sam backed off and didn't ask for more, while Windy basked in the glory of having figured something out.
That was the way it was- one stride, take a break, one more stride. One step forward, two steps back happened plenty more times, but less often as Windy put the pieces together. He might have been scared of his own shadow, but he was a fast learner, too. And Gram had been right in her initial assessment of him- he really did want a leader, someone who would make the decisions for him.
Slowly but not totally surely, Sam became that leader. With every step she convinced Windy to take, their trust grew until her little tumbleweed was following her in uneven, faltering circles around him pen. Sam felt she could just burst with pride- at the same time, she found it a little silly, to be so excited. For many horses, walking around the round pen was easy or even dull. But Windy wasn't one of those horses- he was a shy, scared mustang with a trainer who didn't really know what she was doing. That meant every little step they took was something to celebrate.
Not surprisingly, Jake did not seem to share that sentiment. He didn't even manage a smile as Windy jumped through metaphorical hoops for Sam. Maybe there was a hint of pride in his expression- Sam couldn't be sure. She had given up trying to understand Jake long ago.
"That's probably enough for today," Sam announced when she felt they'd reached a good note to end on. She didn't want to push too far again and have to start over yet another time.
Jake didn't argue, so Sam slowly worked her hand under the rope clasp and unsnapped it from Windy's halter. At first, the sound of the snap had really spooked Windy, but he was getting braver every day. This time, he didn't take a single step backwards, much less do that launch/rear combo he'd perfected a while back.
Actually, he looked disappointed that training was over- Sam knew she'd be laughed at if she ever spoke that thought out loud, but she was pretty confident that's what he was thinking. Coiling the lead rope in her hand, she started back towards the gate, and lo and behold, Windy ambled after her.
"See?" Sam said proudly, grinning from ear to ear. "He likes me now!"
"Never said he didn't," Jake mumbled, and he was right. He wasn't the one Sam felt the need to prove herself to.
Still being extra cautious, Sam leaned on the round pen fence from the inside, wanting to test Windy's curiosity. He was comfortable around her, obviously, but what would happen if she got near Jake?
He (Jake, not the horse) looked annoyed as she approached, possibly because he was just as sensitive to having his personal space encroached as Windy was. He didn't say anything, though, because he was a firm believer in "don't do anything that might screw the horse up". At this delicate point in time, one harsh word might send Windy flying across the pen.
Sam snuck a peek behind her as she inched closer to Jake. Windy was still close behind her, although she could tell by his perked-up ears that he was on high alert. His trust in her won out, and he followed her until she was directly in front of Jake, on opposite sides of the fence.
"Why do you have to drag me into this?" Jake muttered, looking away.
"Just say hi to him," Sam scolded. "Look how friendly he's being!"
That statement wasn't entirely true. Windy's tense body language made it clear he was ready to flee at any moment. But still, it was brave that he'd even approached, right?
Jake heaved a great sigh, like he was in immense pain but had to be strong for the kids. He slowly reached a hand out- Sam leaned away so he had a clear path to Windy- and the little bay mustang reached with his nose in return. Sam watched with bated breath as Jake's fingers brushed the horse's muzzle. Jake drew back immediately- one of his best traits was always knowing when to quit- and gave Sam a Look. "Happy now?"
"Thrilled," Sam replied, although she was suddenly aware of how close they were standing, only a fence panel apart. She took a step back to put some space between them- she couldn't remember why she'd gotten so close in the first place. She and Jake weren't that kind of friends.
She still felt a bit awkward- she and Jake weren't the kind of friends that felt awkward around each other, either- so she did what any teenage girl would do: she got out her phone and started taking selfies. Jake instantly made a noise of disgust and left, reducing himself to a tanned blur in the background. "I'm leaving," he informed her without looking back. "Some of us have real work to do."
"Alright, bye!" Sam called. She made a peace sign and took another picture. Windy seemed to be getting into it, raising his nose above her shoulder so he could be in the picture. Although, perhaps his interest was more so watching the movement of Sam's phone screen- Sam chose to believe the more fun option. "One more," she said out loud. She turned to the right and grinned for the camera. "Smile!"
Sam waited until after dinner- or more importantly, until after Jake had gone home- to visit the Phantom in his pen. Technically, it was implied that she shouldn't be in there by herself, but that wasn't in writing, and Sam's relationship with the Phantom was something she more or less wanted to keep private. They'd spend so much time meeting secretly on the range for brief moments- it felt wrong to share the delicate way they communicated with the world.
Although, if Sam was being honest, it didn't feel like there was much communication going on between them these days.
She opened the gate and slipped in quietly. The sun was beginning to set, but it wasn't dark yet- if Sam so desired, she could probably stay out for another hour. That was the beauty of summertime- the days were long and the Phantom was bathed in the sunset, painted lavender instead of his usual milk white.
He gave no implication of being pleased at her arrival. In fact, he barely looked up from his hay, which did not do anything to raise Sam's hopes.
Good for her, knowing what she was getting into.
Sam took a deep breath. While it didn't always show, she had, indeed learned something from her past few days with Jake. The main thing (and this was a fairly broad concept) was that she was the problem. Her emotions, her expectations, putting all that on the Phantom was too big of an ask. She couldn't ask him to be her best friend now, like he had been before. Right now, she had to approach him as a stranger, then slowly build up the rest.
"I don't know you," Sam said out loud. While she knew Jake would have ridiculed her, it really helped her to talk these things out. Another perk of working alone. "You're a horse I just met, and I have to convince you humans aren't all bad. You have no prior experience to base this off- well, no, that doesn't work. You have several negative experiences convincing you the opposite is true."
Her stream of chatter was working. The Phantom flicked an ear toward her, indicating he was paying attention.
Sam took a cautious step towards him. She had learned, partially from Jake's direction and partially from Windy's behavior, a lot about how her body language spoke to the horses. It was complex and difficult to put into words, although Jake had managed it just fine. Sam didn't know why he didn't talk more. He said some really good stuff sometimes.
She had to be soft, giving. Approach and retreat. A lot of different words and phrases bounced around in Sam's head as she took another step towards the Phantom. He wasn't like Windy. He wasn't anything like Ace, either. Sam didn't know what to expect from him anymore, much less what she herself should be doing.
When the Phantom did acknowledge her presence, he didn't give any signs he was pleased about it. Sam paused anyway, citing some tidbit Jake had told her about "when to push and when to give". It wasn't like she could be angry with the horse- she was frustrated, yes, and she wished she could get closer to him, but the betrayal in his eyes shone like the North Star. Despite her best intentions, Sam had broken their trust. She had to earn that back, one small step at a time.
She learned another lesson right then and there: she could say whatever she wanted about starting over, but that wouldn't make the Phantom forget.
There was no halter in her hands; Sam made herself as non-threatening as possible. Not surprisingly, the Phantom reacted to her approach anyway- he was both sensitive and somewhat vindictive. Sam didn't let that bother her- some instinct told her that would only make things worse- but instead followed him as he trotted around the pen. He wasn't running in a blind panic, like Windy had when he first arrived at River Bend. He was making a statement, and that statement was get fucked.
At least he was beautiful. The mental scars ran deep, but physically, the Phantom was well on his way to recovery. His previous war zone of a wound was reduced to a pale pink crescent above his knee, and his limp was steadily getting better. He looked more like king of the mustangs than a patient these days, but Sam knew it was too late to go back, just like she knew she had made the right choice in the first place.
Still, Sam shrank away, not wanting to push him into a run. No matter how much better he looked, she would still be treating him like he was made of glass just in case. The Phantom slowed, then stopped along the fence line, although his tense muscles didn't give an inch. It pained Sam to have him look at her like she was an enemy, like she didn't love him more than life itself.
Forget starting over. Forget being strangers. Sam pulled out the big guns.
"Zanzibar."
Her heart was pounding as she murmured the secret name, but her voice was clear. This was it, her last hope. Everything else that held her and the Phantom together had been tainted. All she had left was the name, the very foundation she'd trained him on since Day One.
The Phantom couldn't have forgotten that.
Sam knew she certainly never could.
She waited with bated breath for the Phantom's response and found herself disappointed. He turned his head towards her, but that was the only acknowledgement she got. No steps were taken, no softening of his deep brown eyes. The message was clear: he knew, he remembered, and it wasn't enough for him to forgive.
Sam's throat clogged up, but she made her best effort not to cry. She'd made her choice, right? She had just imagined the consequences would be limited to not having a birthday party and spending her college fund on vet bills. Not this. Never this.
But there was no anger. Sam didn't have it in her to be angry at the Phantom, not when she understood him so well. All she could do was be patient with him and give him everything she had. Love conquered all, right? And if Sam knew one thing in this world, it was that she loved the Phantom.
She turned away from him, offering her back to make her approach less intimidating. It was a tactic that had really helped with Windy, although the Phantom was a different story. He wasn't scared of people, like an untouched mustang was. He was angry, and that made him all the more dangerous.
Still, he tolerated Sam's shuffling backwards steps without so much as an ear flick. He even held when she stretched her arm out towards his nose, her fingers shaking despite her best efforts to stay calm. She wouldn't really be able to relax until what she'd broken was truly repaired, and she knew they were still a long ways from that.
Looking back on it, there were signs. His left ear snapped to his neck for half a second. His nostrils flared and the muscles around his eyes tightened. But in the present, when she lived it, the change seemed so sudden, going from standing quietly to bolting, rearing up and bowling her over like she was a domino and he was a wrecking ball. Sam couldn't not cry out, but her instinct to keep quiet kicked in almost as fast as the self-preservation instinct.
Actually, both stemmed from self-preservation. One was to keep her from getting hurt or trampled, and the other was to make sure her dad never found out she had almost been hurt or trampled.
Sam picked herself up off the ground carefully. She was shaking, but more from fear than pain. She had hit the ground plenty of times before and certainly would again, but ever since her accident- the one that had separated her and Blackie in the first place- her confidence had become much easier to knock. Even if she didn't want to admit it, she was scared to get hurt again- especially at the hooves of the same horse.
Once Sam was up, the adrenaline wore off and the pain kicked in. It was the dull ache that meant nothing was broken, but Sam still grimaced and clutched her elbow. She didn't try to approach the Phantom again. It was perfectly clear he wasn't ready, and quite frankly, neither was she.