Читать книгу The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle - Shelley Peterson - Страница 16

6

CODY AND THE WILD COYOTES

LUCY DROPPED ABBY OFF at the end of her driveway after school. Abby’s head was buzzing with the day’s adventure and the prospect of riding Dancer again. She ran up the lane to her house, hurrying to get into her riding clothes before bicycling over to Hogscroft.

“Hi, Mom!” she hollered as she raced up the stairs two at a time.

“Hi, Abby! Did you have a good day?” Fiona asked.

“Great! Lucy drove Leslie and me over to the Wick farm at lunch. They couldn’t believe how fabulous the theatre is! We want to put on a play and charge money and start a theatre company!”

“Does Mr. Wick know?”

“Know what?”

“That you were there.”

“No.”

“Hold on, Abby!” Fiona walked up the stairs to talk to her daughter. “You were trespassing. The place is empty and for sale, but it doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Mr. Wick. You need permission to be on someone else’s property, and you should never go into other people’s buildings. Would you like it if someone was snooping around here when you weren’t home?”

Abby’s face fell. “I didn’t think of that.” She zipped up her riding pants and grabbed her gloves. She faced her mother, realizing her mistake. “You’re right. We won’t go there again.”

“I’m sure there’s no harm done,” said Fiona, reacting to Abby’s deflation. “For today. Just make sure you ask Mr. Wick next time.”

“I will, I promise.” Abby was contrite, but anxious to go. “I’m off to ride Dancer. See you later.” She kissed her mother on the cheek as she rushed past her and down the stairs.

Fiona followed her. “Do you want me to drive you over?”

“No thanks. I’ll take my bike. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Be careful!” Fiona called to Abby’s back as she jumped on her bicycle and started down the lane.

“I will!”

Abby thought of Dancer as she made her way along the road to Hogscroft. The gorgeous chestnut stallion had totally captured her imagination. The day before, he’d allowed Abby to make some progress. Today might be quite different. He was a smart horse. Too smart for his own good, the farmers around here said.

Abby had the sense that she’d forgotten something. Something was missing. She went through the list of things she had to remember. Breeches, boots, gloves, hat, Tipperary vest. She had everything. What was this feeling about?

Cody! Cody was missing. Abby slammed on her brakes. Cody always met her in the lane when she got home from school. Every day, without fail. No matter what time, however late or early, he always seemed to know when she was coming. Today, he had not been there to meet her.

Abby’s stomach twisted with anxiety. Was he in trouble? How could she be so selfish, so preoccupied with her own dreams of stardom on Dancer that she could forget her most loyal friend?

She was almost at Hogscroft. Abby knew she couldn’t ride until she found Cody. She sped the bike down the gravel road and tore up the lane to the barn.

Dancer was brushed and shiny, all tacked up in the aisle.

“Abby!” exclaimed Hilary. “What’s the rush? You’re early! I was about to take Dancer for a ride . . .”

“Hilary. Cody’s missing. I have to find him. Can I ride later, if I find him before dark?”

Hilary was puzzled. “Doesn’t he just turn up when he feels like it?”

“Yes, but he always greets me after school. He just seems to know. And he wasn’t there.” Abby was flustered, knowing how unconvincing she must sound.

Hilary realized that they wouldn’t get any work done with Abby so unsettled. “Take Dancer. You start looking up that way and work down through the trails toward Saddle Creek.” She gestured toward the woods to the northeast. “I’ll start down at your place and work north. I’ll tack up Henry, and we’ll keep to the road.” As she talked, she took Henry out of his stall and began to get him ready. “If you find Cody, come out to the road, but let’s check back here in one hour. I’ll bring Pepper. She’ll warn me if he’s around. She’s been frightened to death of coyotes since the time she was almost eaten.”

Abby nodded, satisfied with Hilary’s plan. She buckled her chin strap and zipped up her vest. She led Dancer over to the mounting block and hopped lightly onto his back.

“Abby!” Hilary called. “If either of us finds him, we’ll do a yip yip yippee at the top of our lungs and come back here. Okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Hilary.” Abby asked Dancer for a trot, and got a canter. He had sensed her impatience. He was like an enormous rocking horse with his powerful action, restrained but eager. He allowed Abby to keep him in check as they travelled north up the road.

Abby turned east onto the trail that wound behind the Caseys’ farm. Cody might very well have gone on the paths that he and Abby and Moonie usually took. But if he was anywhere within miles of her, he’d have shown himself already. Abby’s mind was spinning. Something was very wrong.

Cody lay still. They were getting closer. His shiny, terrified eyes darted around, as he desperately sought a solution, an escape. He mustn’t breathe. He shouldn’t move a muscle. He wanted the horrible thing off his leg. The thing that snapped its teeth and hurt badly. He’d dragged himself as far as he could until the horrible thing got caught on a rock. He could go no further. He worked his body into a small dip between two rocks and tried to disappear from sight. He needed to get away from this evil place. But he couldn’t move, and he shouldn’t move, or they would find him faster.

Hilary leisurely rode Henry south toward Abby’s house. Cody might be sleeping under the porch in his little den, oblivious to all the fuss. It was worth a look. He simply might have come home after Abby had left to ride. Even Cody could misjudge arrivals and departures once in a while.

Pepper was delighted to be out on this beautiful spring day. She sniffed everything in sight, and hopped and scooted from here to there. Her comical antics made Hilary laugh. They’d find Cody at home, reassure Abby, and get on with the lesson. An hour’s hack for Henry wasn’t a bad idea, anyway.

Hilary thought of her new student with pride. Abby had good instincts on a horse. She’d turned out to be the perfect solution to Hilary’s problem with Dancer. If Abby could commit to ride him three times a week, Dancer would feel useful again and settle down.

As they rode up the Malones’ lane, Hilary called, “Cody! Here boy!” Pepper was going berserk, sniffing and barking and circling around the porch.

Fiona came out of the house, drying her hands on a dishcloth. She had a puzzled look on her face. “Hilary! Abby’s already gone over on her bike!”

“I know, Mrs. Malone, I saw her at the barn. But Cody’s missing, so she’s out looking for him on Dancer, and I’m looking for him on Henry. He’s not here, is he?”

“I wouldn’t know. He shows himself only when he wants to, so I can’t be sure.” As Fiona spoke, she walked over to the entrance to Cody’s lair under the porch. “Cody?” she called. “Cody!”

There was no sign of the coyote.

“Hilary, you’re very kind to help look for him, but in truth, he only comes to Abby. You might as well go back and wait. He certainly doesn’t come to me when I call.”

Hilary nodded. “Pepper! Come!” The Jack Russell lifted her head, cocked an ear, then continued what she was doing, which was digging frantically under the porch.

“Pepper doesn’t come to anyone when she’s called unless it suits her.” The two women smiled at each other. “If Cody shows up, would you mind calling my house?”

“Not a bit. He could show up any minute.” Fiona waved goodbye as Hilary turned Henry and trotted down the lane. Pepper realized that they weren’t waiting, and furiously raced to catch up.

They knew where he was. They were playing a game with him. It was only a matter of time before the leader would give the signal and it would be over. Cody was ready. He was already dying. Blood soaked the coarse grass beneath him, and insects from the earth were smelling food. His only regret was for his Abby: He could protect her no longer. His heart broke. His body slumped. His will to live drained.

Dancer and Abby continued along the paths and trails. Abby called Cody’s name. There was never a responding yip. No magical appearance of her coyote friend. Abby worried that he might be dead, hit by a car, mangled by a wild coyote. On they trotted, slowing only to listen for Cody’s call.

As they travelled along, Abby and Dancer were getting used to each other. They began to respond without thought or tension to each other’s signals. Before long, there was no misunderstanding between them; only an innate single will. Never did Abby bully or push him. Never did Dancer balk or resist. They were united in the mystical, timeless fashion of man and horse.

At the boundary of Samuel Owens’ property, where it abutted Wick Farm, Dancer suddenly became uneasy. He pranced on the spot and shook his head. He refused to go further. “What’s wrong, Dancer?” cooed Abby as she stroked his tensed neck. “What is it?”

Dancer only got more fretful. He backed up and scooted sideways, twisting his neck and trying to tell Abby that they must leave. The harmony between them was broken in a struggle of wills. After urging him every way she could think of, and pleading with him to go forward, Abby realized that Dancer was not going to change his mind. He was legitimately frightened. Abby must respect that, and search for Cody alone.

She dismounted, wondering if Dancer’s fear might be a sign that Cody was near. “Is it the smell of coyote that frightens you?” Abby detached the reins from Dancer’s bit and put them in her pocket. She ran the stirrups up, tucked the leathers through, and tied them tight to keep the stirrups from flapping on his sides.

“Home, Dancer! Home!” Abby waved her arms and clapped her hands, urging Dancer to follow his instincts and flee. A horse always knows where home is, and Abby knew that Dancer would run directly to his barn. Dancer hesitated, stunned by his new freedom. Then he turned and ran.

Now Abby was alone. The April afternoon was sunny and the air was fresh, but Abby felt dread in the pit of her stomach and fear caused sweat to trickle down her arms.

“Cody!” she called. “Cody!” She walked deeper into the neglected field, feeling the brambles catching on her breeches. The Wick land hadn’t been tended in years, and stubbly bushes, stunted thorn trees, and a mess of weeds made walking difficult. “Cody!” Abby looked carefully for any signs of a tussle.

The hairs on her arms bristled. She looked around quickly. Nothing. She took a deep breath and continued walking. There was a sturdy stick lying on the ground. This might be a useful thing to have. She weighed the heft of it in her hand and felt better armed.

“Cody!” she called as she moved along into a small clump of straggly growth. The ground was rocky and uneven, suitable for grazing animals but not for growing a crop. Abby looked at her watch. It was four thirty; she had another two hours or more of light.

The tall grass rustled behind her. She spun around. Nothing. A rustle to her left. Nothing. Abby felt danger all around her, but couldn’t see a thing. “Take a pill,” she told herself aloud. “It’s all in your imagination.”

Just then, she saw the glinting eyes of a large, grey coyote. He strode out of his hiding place with the confidence of a prize fighter. Abby knew what that meant. She was surrounded. This handsome, shaggy animal with the manic eyes and the grinning snout would be the chief, the alpha male, coming out to challenge her. Why would he do this? she asked herself. Normally they watch but never show themselves to humans. Was she too close to the den and a litter of newborn pups? Or had the coyotes gathered for another purpose? One that she interrupted?

Abby swung the stick and surprised the coyote, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Get out of here! Get lost! Yahhh! Hahhh!”

As the chief jumped away, another coyote came up from behind, teeth bared. Abby swung at him with all her strength, still screaming in her fiercest voice. “Rahhh! Get away! Hahhh!”

A third and fourth coyote came at her from the tall grass. Abby continued to yell and holler and swing the stick. The coyotes were taking turns jumping at her, wearing her out, playing with her. One grabbed the stick in his strong jaws. Abby felt the pull and knew she was in trouble. She let it go and kept screaming and waving her arms. The coyotes smelled victory and began to close in.

Abby blinked. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There, struggling toward her, just twenty feet away, was Cody. His back right leg was bleeding badly, and he was dragging a rusty, nasty-looking leg-hold trap. He pulled himself toward her, using every ounce of his strength. Half-dead from blood loss, and delirious with pain, he was coming to save her.

Abby’s throat constricted. “No, Cody! No!” He reeled back, chastened by his mistress. “No!” Abby repeated. “Stay!” Cody would be killed in an instant if the coyotes turned their attention to him. She would be powerless to do anything about it.

Cody threw back his head. He howled and yipped a challenge to the pack. Abby was shocked. He was trying to distract them. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet, wobbling and swaying. Cody bayed again, trumpeting his superiority and howling his dominance. This was an insult to the pack, a direct affront.

Abby watched in horror as the alpha female turned to face Cody. Ignoring Abby’s shouts, each coyote turned to Cody. Slowly, they surrounded him. Abby counted five. She bent to pick up her stick, abandoned for this newest amusement. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she couldn’t leave Cody to die.

The coyotes stood poised, still as death, every eye on Cody. The moment was near.

At the exact same second as Abby chose to raise her stick and go for them, the sound of pounding hooves shook the ground and startled her.

Abby looked behind to see the magnificent charge of the stallion. Dancer came galloping, ears pinned back, teeth flashing, anger shooting out of his eyes like lightning bolts. The stirrups had come loose and they flapped at his sides, making the spectacle even more unearthly to the coyotes, who stared at him with terrified eyes.

On he came, over the rocks and bushes and brambles. No obstacle caused him to falter or vary his direct line. His knees reached up past his lowered nose as he covered ground, each huge stride bringing him closer to the astonished pack.

He didn’t slow. He raced right through the pack, scattering them every which way, kicking and roaring and twisting until each one had turned tail and headed for safety.

Shaking with spent adrenalin, Abby collapsed on the ground beside her wounded coyote and hugged him gently. “We’ll get you home, Cody. We’ll fix you up.” She rested with him, waiting for the shaking to subside.

Dancer thrust his nose down into Abby’s face and sniffed and blew. His sides heaved. Abby held his head and stroked his sweaty face. Tears rolled down her face.

“You saved us, Dancer. You saved us. Thank you for coming back.”

Abby knew she needed to get Cody help before it was too late. She checked his gums: They were white. He was in shock. Along with the blood loss, that added up to an emergency situation.

Abby examined the trap. The rusted steel jaws had ripped the flesh on Cody’s leg and were digging into the bone. Abby didn’t know if she should try to get him home with the trap attached to his leg or try somehow to release it. That question was answered when she lifted Cody. He yelped in pain. The old trap was very heavy, and its weight pulled on his injured leg. It had to come off.

The spring mechanism bowed in the centre. Abby guessed that when the trap was open, the spring would lie flat, like a mousetrap. If she stepped hard enough on the flexed steel, would it open? There was only one way to find out. Abby positioned the trap so that her weight would push down the spring. Cody whimpered.

Abby gritted her teeth. “Please, let this be the right thing to do,” she prayed. She stepped down squarely, putting all her weight and strength onto the spring. If she was wrong, she feared that it would cut off Cody’s leg.

The ancient trap snapped open.

Abby kept all her weight on the spring as she gingerly lifted Cody’s leg out. The second she stepped off, the trap snapped shut with an awesome clang, sending particles of rust in every direction.

She gently scooped Cody up off the ground, careful to find the position that hurt him the least. Cody was stoic, but in a lot of pain.

The nearest house was Samuel Owens’. Abby didn’t want to go anywhere near there, especially with Dancer. There was no one to help at the Wick farm. There was the little house on the acre lot beside Owens’ driveway. Gladys Forsyth was usually home, and she loved animals, but Hilary would be riding on the road, or waiting for Abby at Hogscroft. Abby headed for the road.

Samuel Owens was on the phone.

“Dammit, Gus! You told me there hasn’t been any interest in that piece of junk land in all the years it’s been on the market!”

“There hasn’t. This offer just came in, Mr. Owens. That’s why I called.”

“If I knew there’d be an offer, I would’ve bought the place yesterday. You should’ve seen it coming. I’m not happy, LeFarge. Now we’ll have a bidding war.”

“Not likely. The offer comes from Joy Featherstone. She’s not a rich woman.”

“Well, well. Joy Drake. I went to school with her a lifetime ago. What did she offer?”

“Close to asking.”

“Gus, how much would it take for you not to mention Joy’s offer to Wick? Pretend it’s yesterday. I’ll put in a good offer. When Wick accepts it, you get a handsome fee and we don’t have to fool around with counteroffers.”

“It’s tempting, Sam. But you forget, I already had my licence suspended once for you. I won’t be making that mistake again.”

“You told me there’d be no problem. It’s a problem if I don’t get the property.” Samuel Owens hung up, angry. Nobody wants to help a friend. He got up from his desk and took his favourite position by the picture window. Soon, all this would be his, but it was taking too long. There were more obstacles than he’d expected, and he was getting impatient.

Something was moving across his land. Way back, near the Wick boundary. Owens picked up his binoculars and adjusted them. A horse, no rider, but saddled up. A human, carrying something dark and heavy. The horse was Dancer. There was no mistake. Dancer, on his property. Mousie James wouldn’t have the nerve to be on his land, would she? He strained his eyes to see. Didn’t they learn their lesson last time? He was within his rights to shoot trespassers. There were signs posted. Couldn’t she read?

The phone on his desk rang.

“Owens here.”

“Mr. Owens? It’s Gladys Forsyth.”

Samuel Owens’ eyes lit up. His voice took on a kindly, paternal tone. “Well, Gladys, how nice to hear back from you so quickly.”

“I’ll want more money for my house.”

Owens’ face darkened, but his voice purred. “That was a generous offer, Gladys. The price per acre is well-known. I offered twice the going rate.”

“I had an estimate done. My son told me to do that. Mrs. James says it’s worth six times the price per acre because it’s a severed lot. That’s three times what you offered, and that’s what I want.”

“You greedy—Christine James, eh? You called her in for an appraisal? She’s been busy lately.”

“Are you going to pay, or walk away? My son said to say that.”

“Let me think on it, Gladys. Remember, this is a solid offer. A bird in the hand and all that, but I’ll get back to you.”

“Don’t wait too long, or it’ll be gone. Heh, heh.”

“Your son is a funny man, Gladys. Goodbye.”

Owens was furious. Dancer was walking across his property, and Mousie’s mother and grandmother were messing up all his plans by putting in an offer on the Wick farm and telling Gladys Forsyth her acre was worth three times his offer.

That does it. Owens took his Remington hunting rifle off the shelf over his desk. Keeping his eyes fixed on Dancer, Owens slipped a cartridge into place. He closed the well-oiled chamber with a firm click. He threw open the casement window and aimed. That horse was not welcome on his property.

Boom! Boom boom! The sounds of a rifle discharging ripped through the air like claps of thunder. Abby dropped to the ground, her body covering Cody. Dancer jumped, startled. His muscles tensed, ready for flight.

Where were the shots coming from? Abby looked up at Dancer. The big horse’s eyes were wild. She could duck low, but Dancer was a big target.

“Home, Dancer!” Abby commanded.

Dancer refused to go. He nudged her with his nose, urging her to get up. He nudged her again, this time pushing so hard that she was lifted to her feet. “Okay, Dancer. We’ll run.” Abby spied a wooded growth not far away.

As she gathered Cody into her arms, he whimpered with pain, then placed one paw over Abby’s arm. “You can cry if you like, Cody,” she told him. “I know it hurts.” Abby headed toward the trees. She ran low to the ground with Cody tucked into her chest.

Boom boom boom!

They made it to cover. From the safety of the thick tree trunks, Abby scanned the horizon, trying to see where the gunfire had originated.

Boom!

Samuel Owens’ mansion. Somebody was firing a rifle from his house. Abby’s blood ran cold. He was back.

Missed again! Owens couldn’t contain himself. He hurled his rifle out the window as far as he could, then ran out into the yard and jumped on it. How could he miss? He was a champion shot. Angrily he strode back into the house and slammed the door. He rang for his manservant.

Walter came running, his face pale. “Sir?”

Owens smiled at the man’s fear. That made him feel a little better. “Can’t take a little rifle noise, Walter? Never served your country? It shows, Walter. You’re a snivelling coward, aren’t you, Walter?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go out and buy a dozen red roses. Deliver them yourself to the beautiful Mrs. Casey. Write something clever on the card, from me.” Owens threw a crisp fifty-dollar bill on the floor at Walter’s feet. “And Walter? Act like a man.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Owens, sir.” Walter’s face was deep red as he stooped to retrieve the money, kneeling under the sneering face of his boss.

Hilary trotted Henry home along the gravel road, giving him a good workout. The amount of sweat that seeped through his shedding winter coat reminded Hilary that he was out of shape.

“You’re a nice boy,” she told him, “but you’re fat. You need some work.” Hilary wondered if she should hire Abby to exercise both horses. Henry would live longer if his heart and body were healthy. Abby might like the extra money, if she had time.

Hilary looked at her watch. The hour was almost up. Perhaps she’d meet Abby and Dancer coming back. Hilary fully expected Cody to be following them, and Abby would say she’d been worrying needlessly. Regardless, it had been a lovely ride. Henry needed the exercise, and Pepper was enjoying the run.

They walked up the hill toward Hogscroft. As the road straightened, Henry’s ears shot forward. He whinnied loudly, a whinny of greeting. An echoing whinny answered his call. Hilary couldn’t see anything yet, but she knew Dancer’s call. She kept Henry walking, even though he badly wanted to trot.

Dancer whinnied urgently from down the road. Henry responded. Ignoring the reins, he grabbed the bit in his teeth. He trotted down the road, around the curve past Hogscroft.

That’s when Hilary saw Abby, carrying a bleeding mess of grey fur, followed by the tall, elegant stallion.

“Oh, my God,” Hilary muttered under her breath. She cantered Henry right up to the trio, stopped him, then slid from his back onto the road.

“Abby! What happened?”

“Cody was caught in a leg-hold trap and the coyotes were coming to kill him. Dancer scared them off. Cody needs help. He’s dying. Call Pete Pierson, Hilary. Now!”

“Can I help you carry him? He looks heavy.” She reached out to help, but Cody growled and snapped. “No, I guess not,” she said.

“He’s in pain, Hilary, and he doesn’t know you. Don’t take offence.”

“I won’t, don’t worry.” Hilary remounted Henry. “I’ll run home and phone Mr. Pierson. Give me Dancer’s reins, and I’ll pony him back.”

“They’re in my pocket.”

“In your pocket? He’s following you? I thought you were leading him. Dancer! Come!”

Dancer looked at Hilary, but stayed with Abby.

Squelching the enormous feeling of hurt that swelled up inside her, Hilary turned and cantered Henry back toward Hogscroft.

Tears ran down her face. She scolded herself. She’d wanted Dancer to like Abby. That had been her whole plan. She hadn’t considered that he would choose Abby over her, though. It hurt. Dancer was more than a horse to Hilary. He had been her best friend when her father had died. His company had eased her loneliness when other girls had dates and were going to parties. They’d gone through danger together and had shared times of great excitement.

Now she had a different life. A life that excluded this great horse. She couldn’t have it both ways, she told herself. If she wanted to be an archeologist and travel to exotic places, she could not have a horse like Dancer, who needed time and attention. She could not have everything. Choices must be made. The tears continued as she rode up to the house.

Christine and Joy were bundled up on the terrace enjoying the late sun with their afternoon coffee. Pepper and Diva perked up and ran to Hilary, tails wagging. When Christine saw that her daughter was upset, she stood up from the table.

“Mousie!” she called. “What’s wrong?”

“Call Mr. Pierson, Mom. Tell him to drive his truck over right away.”

“What happened, Mousie?”

“Cody was caught in a trap. Abby needs help.”