Spirit Riding Free--Lucky and the Mustangs of Miradero Page 7

  A chilling breeze blew across their exposed faces as they walked down the Prescott driveway. Maricela was glad she’d worn a pair of long underwear under her long skirt. Lucky, on the other hand, wore pants, as usual. “Why don’t you wear dresses?” Maricela asked.

  “I do. Sometimes. Well, on special occasions.” Lucky pushed the scarf from her mouth. “Why don’t you wear pants?”

  “You, of all people, should know the answer to that question,” Maricela said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Lucky mumbled. “Not ladylike.”

  “Exactement,” Maricela said. “That’s French for ‘exactly so.’”

  When they’d first met, Lucky had looked like the sophisticated city girl she was supposed to be—a girl who’d come from an influential and respected family, and attended a prestigious finishing school. But it hadn’t taken long for Lucky to start looking like everyone else in Miradero. So disappointing.

  But the most disappointing thing of all was that it hadn’t taken Lucky long to become horse crazy, just like the rest of them. And Maricela placed the blame entirely on Pru Granger!

  Pru. Maricela scowled just thinking about her. Everyone liked Pru. She had lots of friends. When Maricela was the new girl in town, she’d tried really hard to be friends with Pru. But Pru was always too busy with her ranch duties or with her horse activities. Then Maricela had tried really hard to be friends with Abigail, who liked looking through fashion catalogs and listening to the latest records on the Victrola. It looked as if that friendship might bloom. But Pru kept getting in the way with all that horse stuff! It started to feel as if Pru was taking Abigail away on purpose. So Maricela made a plan. She’d do everything she could to prove that she was better than Pru. Even if it meant getting her father to throw his weight around. Even if it meant cheating.

  Served Pru right for taking Abigail away, and for not being her friend. I deserve friends!

  “Why don’t you like horses?” Lucky asked.

  “Huh?” Lucky’s question pulled Maricela from her thoughts of revenge.

  “I’m just wondering why you don’t like horses.” Lucky stopped walking. “Did something happen? Are you afraid of them?”

  “I’m not afraid,” Maricela insisted. She wasn’t about to admit the real reason she didn’t like them. “I simply have no interest. They’re smelly, dumb animals. That’s all. Now hurry up. I have to keep my perfect attendance record.”

  They walked past the blacksmith’s shop, the air clanging with the sound of metal against metal. Lucky looked at Maricela and opened her mouth to speak, but Maricela raised her hand to stop her. “You’re not going to talk me into doing Pru’s project, so don’t even try. I’m not one bit interested in studying horses.”

  “But we’d study other animals, too. You’ve got to admit it’s an interesting idea. Where do animals find food when everything is covered in snow? How do they drink if the water is frozen? How do they stay warm? Don’t you wonder about those things?”

  Maricela did love animals. For a moment, the project sounded interesting. But then Maricela pictured Pru’s face, smug with the satisfaction of getting her way. “Not interested.”

  “We’re supposed to tell Miss Flores what we’re studying. She said she wanted to know on Monday. Today. So we need to make a decision.”

  “I already made my decision,” Maricela said. “You three need to realize that winter fashion is an excellent topic.”

  They walked in silence the rest of the way. Lucky was frowning. Not a good sign. Maricela didn’t want to alienate Lucky. There had to be another angle she could try, one that wouldn’t involve doing what Pru wanted. When they reached the school steps, Maricela scooted in front of Lucky and smiled nicely at her. “Lucky, if you can persuade Pru to do the winter fashion project, then we’ll have so much fun. We can go through all of my mom’s fashion catalogs, and you can even try on all her fur coats.” She waited for Bianca and Mary Pat to get up the stairs. They were wrapped in so many layers they waddled like ducks. Alone again, Maricela smiled as sweetly as she could. “You may have noticed that I’m Miss Flores’s favorite student. If I tell her that you got us all to agree to the winter fashion project, she’d be impressed by your leadership skills. You might even get extra points.”

  Maricela waited, certain that Lucky would see the logic in this choice. But Lucky kept frowning. “I’ll try to get us all to agree… on something.”

  When they walked into the classroom, Miss Flores looked up from her desk and smiled with surprise. “I told you I’d bring her on time,” Maricela boasted.

  “Yes, you did. Good job, you two.”

  Maricela leaned close to Lucky and whispered, “You see, stick with me and you’ll get into her good graces.”

  Perhaps there was still a chance they could be best friends.

  15

  “We were outside last night, mapping the night sky, when the chickens started squawking,” Turo explained. “I grabbed a lantern and ran to see what was going on.” Lucky, Pru, and Abigail stood next to Turo as he showed them the damage to his chicken coop. “They almost got under the fence. If they’d dug any deeper, we would have lost the entire flock.”

  Lucky looked at the hole. “What almost got under the fence?”

  “Was it a badger?” Abigail asked. “Badgers can be real mean.”

  Lucky had never seen a badger, but she knew they had bandit-like faces and nasty teeth.

  “It was a wolf,” Pru said as she walked around the pen. “Three wolves, to be precise.” She knelt and pointed to the ground. Lucky peered over her shoulder at some large paw prints in the dirt.

  “Wolves,” both Abigail and Turo whispered. An eerie feeling crept up Lucky’s spine. They’d said the word wolves the same way one might say ghosts.

  “And look over here.” Pru led them to another set of prints. “See the way they go in this direction? A horse chased them off.”

  “A horse?” Abigail said. “But all the horses are in their barns at night. And besides, horses don’t chase wolves. It’s the other way ’round.”

  Pru smiled. “This particular horse doesn’t live in a barn.”

  “Spirit?” Lucky asked. “How do you know it was Spirit?”

  “Look at the hoofprints. This horse doesn’t wear shoes.”

  Lucky smiled proudly. Of course Spirit was the one to chase the wolves away! But then her brows knotted. “Oh no, do you think he got hurt?” Once again, he hadn’t been waiting for her after school. “Turo, did you see him?”

  Turo shook his head. “No, I didn’t see anything. Just my chickens running around in a panic.” He pushed his thick brown hair from his face. “Spirit saved my flock!”

  Lucky gazed into the distance hoping to see a buckskin stallion, his black mane flying as he galloped toward her. Spirit, where are you? A hand gently settled on her arm. She turned to find Abigail’s big blue eyes looking at her. This time she didn’t say don’t worry or it will be okay. Because this time there was a real possibility that Spirit was hurt.

  “Spirit is a huge stallion. Those wolves wouldn’t stand a chance against him,” Pru said. “But if he doesn’t show up tomorrow, we’ll help you look for him.” Lucky nodded. She could always count on her friends to understand and to help.

  Turo scratched the back of his neck as he examined one of the holes. “I’ve got to fix this damage right away or other critters might get in. Seems like everyone wants to eat chicken.”

  “Yum. I love fried chicken,” Abigail said.

  As if not appreciating this comment, the chickens squawked loudly. Even though the wolf attack had taken place hours before, they still appeared ruffled as they huddled together in their nesting boxes. There were eight total—four yellow, four red. “Oh, poor babies,” Abigail said. “They’re still scared.”

  “I’ll need to take down this entire fence,” Turo said, “and bury the new fencing deeper into the ground in case the wolves come back.”

  “Why don’t we put the chickens
into our barn, just to keep them safe while you’re working?” Pru offered.

  “Sure, that sounds good to me.”

  Turo found three wooden crates. They scooped the hens out of the nesting boxes and set two inside each crate. While Lucky, Pru, and Abigail carried the crates to the Grangers’ barn, Turo remained behind to repair his fence.

  Al Granger was riding past, on his way into town. “Hello, Pru. Howdy, Lucky and Abigail. Whatcha got there?”

  “Turo’s coop was attacked by wolves last night,” Pru told him. “We’re going to watch his hens for a while.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you.” Al pulled the reins, halting his horse. Then he looked down at the girls. “I just heard that Widow Brown’s rabbit pen was also attacked. The wolves didn’t get in but they caused a lot of damage.”

  “I’ve never seen a wolf,” Lucky said, her arms wrapped around one of the crates. The hens inside clucked quietly.

  “We don’t often see them around here,” Al said. “Unlike coyotes, wolves tend to stay away from people. I reckon this cold weather is making food scarce. They must be mighty hungry to come into town.”

  “Are they dangerous?” Lucky asked. “I mean, could they attack a person?”

  “I’ve never known them to, but if an animal gets hungry, there’s no telling what it might do. Hunger is a powerful force.”

  “Dad, Spirit chased the wolves away,” Pru said.

  “Did he, now?” Al Granger rubbed his mustache. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me. He’s quite the horse.”

  “Do wolves attack horses?” Lucky asked. “I mean, could the wild herd be in danger?”

  “Young foals, yes. If the wolves are in a pack, then any foal or injured horse could become prey.”

  “Injured?” Lucky gasped. She turned to Pru and Abigail. “We’ve got to go look for him.”

  Al frowned. “You think Spirit is injured? Was there any blood at the scene?”

  “No blood,” Pru said.

  “Then I wouldn’t be worried if I were you. I’m guessing Spirit’s not here because he’s sticking with his herd, keeping them safe. No wolf is gonna attack a healthy mustang. And I know firsthand that Spirit has one powerful kick!”

  Al’s words made Lucky feel better. He would know, better than she, what a wolf was capable of. Most likely, Spirit wasn’t in Miradero because he was sticking with his herd. Lucky had seen the foals from afar. Spirit was protecting them.

  Al coaxed his horse a bit closer to the girls. “Now listen up, you three. Don’t you go getting the notion to go looking for Spirit, especially after twilight. He can take care of himself. I don’t want you out there in the dark if we’ve got a wolf pack looking for food. You hear what I’m saying?” The PALs nodded. “Good.” He adjusted his riding gloves, then gave his horse a gentle kick and rode off.

  “I don’t know why he’s so worried,” Pru grumbled. “We can take care of ourselves.”

  Lucky wasn’t so sure. How do you protect yourself against a hungry wolf? Or wolves?

  They carried the crates into the barn and released the hens into an empty stall. Abigail grabbed some straw and made nests for them. Pru scattered cracked corn while Lucky filled a bowl with water. The hens immediately began pecking at the corn, strutting and making happy little noises. Chica Linda and Boomerang stuck their heads over the stall wall and snorted, but the chickens were more interested in the corn than in the huge, furry faces staring down at them.

  “I wonder what their names are,” Abigail asked. Then she proceeded to give them all temporary names, based on their color. “Yellowy, Buttery, Corncob, Sunshine, Reddy, Cherry, Apple, and Strawberry.” She scooped Strawberry into her arms. “This one’s my favorite.”

  It occurred to Lucky that since they were offering the hens a safe place to stay, they might as well help Widow Brown with her rabbits. “Good idea,” Pru said. So they headed out.

  The widow lived in the middle of town, close to the office of JP & Sons Railroad. As the PALs walked, they discussed their school project. “It was really nice of Miss Flores to extend our deadline,” Abigail said.

  “But this is our last chance,” Lucky said. “If we can’t get Maricela to agree to something by Friday, we’re all going to fail.”

  Lucky’s father was sitting in his office when the girls walked past. They waved at him. He opened his office window. “What are you three up to? How come you’re not riding?”

  “Spirit isn’t here,” Lucky explained, and then she told her dad the story.

  “Wolves?” He scowled. “I don’t like the sound of that. I don’t want you girls walking around after dark. I’m sure your parents would agree.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Pru assured him. “But right now we’re going to Widow Brown’s house to get her bunnies. Her rabbit pen was also attacked.”

  “I’ll help. I need to stretch my legs, but I can’t be gone too long. So much work to do.” Jim closed the window, then grabbed his coat, scarf, and gloves and walked the short distance to Widow Brown’s. Lucky hadn’t yet met the widow, and she’d expected an elderly woman dressed in black, given her title, but Margaret Brown was a lovely woman about Cora’s age. Despite the cold, she wore a pretty floral dress with a knitted cardigan. “Why, hello there, Mr. Prescott,” she said with a wide grin. Why was she blinking so much? And why did she keep smoothing out her hair? “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “Hello, Margaret,” Jim said, smiling back. He removed his hat. “I’m just here to help my daughter, Lucky, and her friends. They heard you had a run-in with some wolves.”

  “Yes, we came to help you with your rabbits,” Lucky said.

  “Well, that’s very kind of you to take care of my bunnies,” Margaret said. “Those wolves made a real mess of their fence, so I’ve been keeping them in my kitchen.”

  They followed her into the tiny kitchen, where three black-and-white bunnies sat huddled in the corner. The girls each picked one up. Lucky’s was a real fighter and it tried to get free, so she had to wrap her arms real tightly, but gently, and hold it close to her chest.

  “Jim, would you like a cup of tea?” Margaret asked.

  “That sounds nice,” Jim said.

  “Dad, don’t you have to get back to work?” Lucky asked. “Didn’t you say you just needed to stretch your legs but that you couldn’t be gone too long?”

  “I certainly said that.” Jim put his hat back on his head. “Maybe some other time I can take you up on your offer of tea.”

  “Anytime, Jim,” Widow Brown said, accentuating his name in a singsong way. Jim’s cheeks turned red. Lucky frowned. “I make a succulent pot of chicken stew.”

  “Let’s go,” Lucky said, pushing her dad toward the door.

  When they got to Jim’s office, he gave Lucky a quick hug. “See you at supper. And remember, no walking around after dark.”

  They headed back to Pru’s barn, holding the rabbits tightly. “Did you see that?” Lucky asked. “Did you see how Widow Brown was acting like she’s in love with my dad?”

  Abigail giggled. “Well, your dad is an eligible bachelor. At least that’s what my mom calls him.”

  “Eligible bachelor?” Lucky snorted. “No he isn’t.” Pru and Abigail exchanged a look, which Lucky caught. “He isn’t!”

  “But he’s not married,” Pru said. “So that makes him a bachelor.”

  Lucky needed to set them straight, right here, right now. “A bachelor is someone who hasn’t been married, and my dad already was married. And he doesn’t want to get married again, so that means he’s not eligible. Your mom is wrong. Plain and simple.”

  “Okay, okay,” Pru said. “Don’t get your reins in a tangle. Yeesh.”

  “Sorry, Lucky, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Abigail said.

  Lucky sighed. “You didn’t upset me. But that Widow Brown just better realize that she’s barking up the wrong tree. My dad is not eligible.”

  Back at the barn, they set the rabbits in the same stall with t
he chickens. They added more straw and a few carrots. “We forgot to ask their names,” Abigail said. Then she proceeded to name them. “You’ll be Black-and-Whitey, you’ll be Licorice, and you’ll be Zebra.”

  “I wonder how many more creatures the wolves will try to eat,” Pru said.

  With that question, Lucky forgot all about Widow Brown and, once again, turned her thoughts to Spirit. Please be okay. She leaned against the barn wall and stared at the door. Please be okay. “Pru, what if…?”

  “I’m way ahead of you,” Pru said. She brushed straw off her pants, then grabbed her saddle. “You can ride with me.” She didn’t need to explain. Lucky knew exactly what Pru was offering. They’d go look for Spirit! Lucky began to slide the bridle over Chica Linda’s head. Chica Linda stomped her back hoof, as if eager to help.

  “But we’re not supposed to go out after dark,” Abigail reminded them.

  “We’ve got at least one hour until dusk.” Pru handed Abigail her saddle. “You in?”

  “Of course we’re in! Boomerang loves Spirit, too!”

  Lucky wanted to hug them both, but there was no time to waste. As she slid open the barn door, dusk was waiting behind the mountains, ready to pounce like a hungry wolf.

  16

  Althea tied her sash across her shoulder. Miradero Ladies’ Aid Society President. She’d carried the title for five years, ever since she’d founded the organization. Sash in place, she quickly assessed the lobby. A fire crackled in the stone hearth, nicely warming the space. The table was laden with sugar cookies, raisin scones, and china teacups ready to be filled with Tanglefoot Inn’s signature plum tea. She glanced outside. Soon the membership would arrive for their Tuesday-night meeting. She ate a scone. Leadership required sustenance, as did public speaking. She ate another. There would be much to discuss.

  The Tanglefoot Inn was the only inn in Miradero. It provided fancy rooms for out-of-town guests, practical rooms for traveling salesmen, and affordable rooms with bunk beds for temporary railroad workers. Gold-framed mirrors lined the walls. A massive portrait of Althea hung above the reception desk, greeting all who entered. Althea was extremely proud of her inn. She was born to be a businesswoman. Maybe she’d run for government one day, perhaps as town mayor. She could certainly do a better job than Mayor Gutierrez, who seemed more concerned with shaking hands and getting votes than with fixing roads and attracting new residents to Miradero. But for now she was busy running the inn and overseeing the society.