4
With eyes half-closed, Sam noticed the rainbow of colors that were held within each of the bubbles that covered her from shoulders to toes. Sighing, she slipped a little lower in the tub, the warm, scented water easing over her skin. It wasn’t the hours in the saddle, or even the acts of vandalism that had been afflicted on Crystal Springs that had her muscles in knots, but rather the worry over the disappearance of a friend and the subsequent scene they had found that morning.
She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that slid over her cheeks, dripped off her jaw, and disappeared into the bath water. Like her sister Carli, Sam believed crying was something reserved for extreme situations. Finding Uncle Joe warranted this reaction, she consoled herself. Besides, it wasn’t like there wa
