Spirit Riding Free--Lucky and the Mustangs of Miradero Page 8

  “Howdy,” she greeted as the women began to stream through the door. The bellhop gathered their jackets, hats, and scarves and hung them on the rack. They helped themselves to cups of tea, cookies, and scones. Almost every woman in town belonged to the society, and it was heartwarming to see that they’d begun to include their daughters. Althea fully believed that it was never too early to learn about community service.

  Miss Flores took a seat, as did Widow Brown. “Be sure to help yourselves to some sweets,” Althea said to Mrs. Gutierrez and her daughter, Maricela. They each took a cookie, but Mrs. Gutierrez made a comment about the lack of Danish pastries in Miradero. Althea laughed to herself. Such highfalutin ways, she thought. Those two wore their snobbery like pigs wore mud. They weren’t Althea’s favorite people, but in the end, the Gutierrez family did help raise money for various causes and they did come through when needed. So Althea ignored the rude comment about her cookies, which had been made by her kitchen staff.

  Fanny Granger and her daughter, Pru, walked in, along with Abigail and her mother, followed by Cora Prescott and her niece, Lucky. Lucky, Pru, and Abigail immediately formed a tight circle. “Have you seen him?” Pru asked. Lucky shook her head, her expression tense with worry.

  Althea stepped close to Cora. “What’s wrong with Lucky?”

  “Her wild horse hasn’t been seen in two days.”

  Althea nodded. “Lovin’ something wild usually brings heartache.” She was referring to a few wandering cowboys she’d met over the years. “Some creatures just can’t be tamed.”

  Soon the lobby was filled with women who were engaged in conversation and sipping tea. Althea glanced at the clock, then clapped her hands. “All right, ladies, let’s not dillydally. It’s time to get started.” The women settled onto divans, chairs, and stools, with the younger girls sitting on the plush carpet. Then they all quieted and waited for Althea to speak again.

  “Welcome, everyone.” She went through the formalities of bringing the meeting to order, with Cora seconding the motion. Then the society’s secretary, Miss Flores, took roll. “As we discussed at our last meeting, we’re all concerned about this cold spell we’ve been having. If things get worse, and I reckon they will, we could be facing some mighty difficult circumstances.” Audience members nodded. While everyone seemed attentive, Lucky kept staring out the window. Poor thing, Althea thought. She’s far too young to be fretting so.

  Althea continued. “We voted that we’d help those members of our community who might not have the means, or who might be too old to take care of themselves.” More nodding. “So let’s make a list of those people.”

  “Our neighbor, Mr. Washington, can barely walk,” Mrs. Perkins pointed out. “On account of his rheumatism.”

  “And my mother-in-law can’t see more than two feet in front of her, but she insists on living in that old house of hers, alone,” said Mrs. Thayer.

  A few more names were mentioned. Althea smiled, so proud to be a part of this caring community. “As we agreed, our next mission, ladies, is to make care packages for our vulnerable citizens and deliver them this week.” As treasurer, Cora confirmed that there were available funds thanks to their sales of corn on the cob at the harvest festival.

  Discussion ensued, lists were made, duties were assigned, and an hour later, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done, Althea called the meeting to a close.

  The membership bundled themselves up and headed back outside. After most everyone had left, Lucky, Pru, and Abigail were once again gathered in a huddle. “What are you girls discussing?” Althea asked.

  “We were thinking, while you’re making care packages for the people of Miradero, maybe we could make care packages for the animals,” Abigail said.

  Fanny Granger looked up from buttoning her coat. “Abigail, that’s an excellent idea.”

  Abigail put her arm around Pru’s shoulder. “Actually, we all came up with it.”

  “Miss Flores wants us to do a group project with a winter theme,” Lucky said. “Pru thought it would be interesting to study how animals survive in winter.”

  “But Maricela’s in our group and she won’t do that,” Pru explained.

  “But we could do a Ladies’ Aid Society project without Maricela,” Abigail said.

  Althea nodded. “Care packages for the critters. I really like this idea. It’s so clever, it might win you a ribbon from our society’s national chapter.”

  “You could make suet cones for the birds. They can have a lot of trouble finding food in the winter,” Fanny told them. “And you could make seed cakes for the smaller animals, like rabbits and mice.”

  “I was also thinking about the mustang herd,” Lucky said. “Can we do something for them?”

  Fanny thought about it for a moment. “It’s possible, but they tend to travel a lot during the winter months. They might not even be around.”

  “Travel?” Lucky took a deep breath. “Do you think that’s what happened? That the herd traveled far away? Is that why I haven’t seen Spirit?”

  “They will go as far as they need to find food,” Fanny said, handing Pru her coat.

  Lucky sighed. Althea could tell she was trying to put on a brave face. If Althea had a daughter, she’d want her to be just like Lucky—strong body, strong mind, strong spirit. A girl after her own heart.

  “Let’s start making the care packages right away!” Lucky said.

  Althea slapped her thigh. “By gum, I couldn’t be prouder of you girls, thinkin’ about the critters. We don’t want anyone to go hungry this winter. We’re all vulnerable when nature turns harsh.”

  Once everyone had gone, Althea called her waitstaff over and they began to collect the dirty plates and teacups. But movement caught the corner of Althea’s eye. She glanced across the lobby. Maricela grabbed her coat and scurried outside. Apparently, she’d been standing behind the coat tree, unnoticed. Althea narrowed her eyes. Clearly, Maricela had been hiding. And eavesdropping.

  What was she up to?

  17

  As Lucky’s eyes fluttered open, she stretched her legs until her toes reached the end of the bed. Then she yawned and lazily rolled over. Why was it so quiet? And what was that odd brightness peeking between the curtains?

  Wait. Could it be?

  She scrambled out of bed and ran to the window. As she pulled the curtains open, she gasped with wonder. Snow! From her front yard to the distant mountains, all of Miradero was covered in a sparkling winter blanket. But the best thing of all was the trail of hoofprints leading up the driveway all the way to the front porch. Lucky couldn’t see beneath the peaked roof, but she knew who was waiting below.

  This wasn’t the city, with its slippery sidewalks and frozen puddles. There was no way Cora would make Lucky stay inside, would she? Lucky wasn’t about to find out. She raced downstairs and threw open the door. “Spirit!”

  There he stood, at the bottom of the porch steps, shaggier than ever. He dipped his head in greeting and smiled at her with his eyes. Lucky didn’t care how cold it was. She stumbled down the steps and wrapped her arms around his neck, only this time she held on longer than usual. “Where have you been?” she asked. He smelled different, not so much like grass and dirt, but more like fresh, crisp air. Like winter. She walked around him, searching for signs that he’d been hurt by those wolves. To her relief, he seemed perfectly fine.

  “Fortuna Esperanza Navarro Prescott, you get in here before you catch your death of cold!” Cora ordered from the doorway.

  “Stay there,” Lucky told Spirit. “I’ll be right back.”

  Cora tightened the belt on her bathrobe. “Whatever is the matter with you, going outside in your nightgown and slippers? You were not raised in a barn, young lady.”

  Now that Lucky had spent countless hours in barns, she found this comment funny. Barns were perfectly lovely places. But she didn’t argue this point as she raced back into the house. Cora turned her attention to the buckskin stallion. “Hello, Spirit,”
she said, as if he were in trouble, too. Spirit took a step forward, placing his hoof on the first step. “Oh no you don’t,” Cora said, wagging a finger at him. “I don’t care how much she loves you; horses do not belong inside.” She hurriedly shut the door.

  “I’ve never seen anyone get dressed that fast,” Jim said with a chuckle when, a few minutes later, Lucky flew back down the stairs and into the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table, sipping his morning coffee.

  “Do you think they’ll open the schoolhouse this morning?” Cora asked. And right on cue, the town hall bell rang three times. Not the school bell, which had a higher, sweeter resonance. Three clangs from the deeper, more serious town hall bell meant that school was canceled. This had only happened twice since Lucky had moved to Miradero. The first time was because a few of the kids had caught frontier flu, which was very contagious, so the town council voted to close the school for a whole week. The second time was when Miss Flores got sick from a bad batch of chili.

  “No school!” Lucky cried. The entire day stretched before her. With Spirit! She tied her boots, then reached for the doorknob.

  “Coat!” Cora said.

  “I know, I know.” Lucky yanked her coat off the rack. She threw it on, then reached for the knob again.

  “Hat!” Cora said, tapping her foot on the floor.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Lucky grabbed it.

  “You might want a scarf,” Jim added with bemusement.

  Oh for goodness’ sake. Why was everyone trying to slow her down? “Fine!” She found her scarf and wound it around her neck. “May I go now?” While Jim chuckled at his daughter’s impatience, Cora was still tapping that foot with annoyance. She pointed to a bench.

  “You can’t seriously think I’m going to let you ride off in the snow without gloves?” she said.

  Lucky whipped around, grabbed the gloves, then was outside before Cora could utter another word. “Hurry,” she told Spirit as she grabbed his mane and jumped onto his back. “Before she makes me eat breakfast!” Who needed breakfast when there was snow and a wild mustang waiting?

  Lucky had never ridden a horse in the snow. And as far as she knew, Spirit had never carried a person through the snow. It was a very different feeling for each of them. He had to lift his legs higher, resulting in an odd gait. And they moved slower than usual, which was fine with Lucky. She took in the beautiful sight. It was as if a blanket of quiet had fallen over the world. Even the birds weren’t singing. She squinted against the brightness, but after a while her eyes adjusted. Other than Spirit’s hoofprints, there were no other prints. Critters were staying in their burrows.

  They rode to a hilltop and looked out over the serene wonderland. Just the two of them. Spirit’s ears turned left, then right, catching the sounds of kids emerging from their houses, squealing with delight. All around them, the town came to life.

  They headed to the barn, hoping to find Pru and Abigail.

  Chica Linda and Boomerang were outside the barn, playfully prancing in the snow. Pru was shoveling snow from the barn’s entrance, to make it easier to get in and out. Abigail was using a rake handle to break the ice in the horses’ drinking trough.

  “Hi, Spirit!” Pru called.

  “Oh, Spirit, it’s so good to see you,” Abigail said, hugging him the way Lucky always did.

  Lucky slid off Spirit’s back. “You need help?” she asked.

  “Sure, there’s another shovel.” Pru pointed to the side of the barn. Lucky grabbed the shovel and joined Pru.

  “Can you believe this?” Abigail asked. “Mom says it’s the most snow she’s ever seen in Miradero.”

  Boomerang pranced past, kicking up snow. “They’re acting like yearlings,” Pru said with a laugh as he chased Chica Linda around a tree. His movement knocked a clump of snow off a branch. The clump landed on Spirit’s head. Spirit shook off the snow, then, glaring through his shaggy forelock, began to chase Boomerang.

  “So cute,” Abigail said.

  “Hey, let’s all go for a ride,” Lucky suggested.

  “We have to wait for Turo,” Pru explained. “He’s going to put studded horseshoes on Chica Linda and Boomerang so they won’t slip. See, look…” She lifted Chica Linda’s front hoof. Lucky leaned close. “With a normal shoe, the snow gets packed up in there and it gets slippery. Spirit doesn’t have to worry because he doesn’t wear shoes.”

  “So no ride?” Lucky asked, disappointed.

  “Not until later. Turo has a lot of horses waiting for him today.”

  Spirit, Chica Linda, and Boomerang continued their playful antics, jumping and prancing around. Sticking their noses into the snow, then sneezing.

  Lucky and Pru had cleared a wide path, so they set the shovels aside. “I’m so glad they canceled school,” Pru said.

  “Maybe there won’t be school tomorrow,” Abigail said. “Or the next day. Maybe it will never stop snowing.” She grabbed a handful of snow, pressed it into a ball, then began to roll the ball across the yard. Lucky and Pru joined her, each rolling a section of what would become a snowman.

  “When we’re done here, let’s start making those care packages,” Lucky said. “At my house.” She lifted her snowball and stuck it on top of Abigail’s.

  “Sounds good. But that doesn’t solve our other problem.” Pru frowned, then set her smaller snowball on top. “We still don’t have a group project.”

  Abigail grabbed two rocks and pushed them into the top snowball for eyes. “If only Maricela would listen to us. We’re going to have so much fun making those care packages. And the animals are going to be so happy.”

  After the girls had added two stick arms, a pinecone nose, and had wrapped Pru’s scarf around the snowman’s neck, Chica Linda and Boomerang ambled over and sniffed the weird creation. But Spirit stuck his nose into the snow again, then dug with his front hoof. Was he looking for something? “I think he’s trying to get to the grass,” Lucky realized. “Are you hungry, boy?”

  “Here.” Abigail reached into her pocket and pulled out an oatmeal cookie, which Spirit gobbled up.

  “He needs more.” Lucky ran into the barn and dumped some oats into a pail. “I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t know you were so hungry. I should have realized,” she said, offering the meal to Spirit.

  While Spirit ate, Boomerang tried to stick his nose into the pail. “Aw, cut it out, Boomerang,” Abigail said as she pushed him away. “You already ate. Yeesh. Give someone else a chance.”

  Lucky took a quick breath. “Hey, I have an idea. We can make the suet cones for the birds, and the seed cakes for the small mammals, but what if we make Abigail’s oatmeal cookies for Spirit’s herd? Horses are crazy about those cookies.” Just when she finished sharing her idea, a snowball hit her in the rump. Snips howled with laughter.

  A snowball fight with Snips and his posse ensued, followed by a flurry of snow angel making. Then the PALs decided to head up to Lucky’s house to start working on the care packages. Abigail left her brother with some wise advice: “Don’t eat the yellow snow.” As the girls led Chica Linda and Boomerang into the corral, a pair of farmers walked up, each holding something wrapped in a blanket.

  “Hello, Mr. Miller,” Pru said. “Whatcha got there?”

  “The snow caved in my shed roof, so now my pygmy goats have no place to sleep. I heard you were taking care of animals.” The little goat poked her white face from the blanket and bleated softly.

  “I remember these goats from the harvest festival,” Lucky said as she lifted the edge of the second farmer’s blanket.

  “They’re so cute!” Abigail kissed both goats on the forehead.

  “I have three sheep that also need a place. Just temporary, until this weather passes and I can fix the roof.”

  Pru shrugged. “Sure, we’d be happy to take care of them. If they don’t mind sleeping with chickens and rabbits, there’s plenty of room in our barn.” Pru led them inside. “The more the merrier, I guess.”

  By the time the three sheep arr
ived, Lucky, Pru, and Abigail had prepared two more stalls with clean straw and water. Lucky put her hands on her hips and looked around. “You know, we’ve made our own Tanglefoot Inn,” she mused, “only this one’s for animals.” Though it was loud, with all the bleating, snorting, and squawking, the noise was harmonious, as if all the creatures were happy to be together. “What do you think, Spirit?” She leaned against his neck. But he wasn’t listening to her. Instead, he was gazing out the window.

  He wanted to leave again; she could feel it. How many days would he be gone this time? It was so cold out there, and tonight it would be even colder. “Spirit, won’t you stay here, where it’s warm?”

  He turned and looked into her eyes. Then he bowed his head and pressed his forehead against hers. “I know,” she said. “You have to take care of your herd. It’s okay; I understand.” She did, but understanding didn’t take away her worry. She slid open the barn door and motioned him through. “Go ahead.”

  Once again, he left, galloping off toward the river.

  “He cares about his family,” Pru said, setting her hand on Lucky’s shoulder.

  “I know.”

  What Lucky didn’t know was that the wolves would howl that night. And she wouldn’t sleep a wink.

  18

  As Spirit raced through the snow, the strange scents of people gradually faded, as if the wind were washing him clean. His legs grew tired. Galloping through the heavy powder was difficult. He veered to the right, then followed the trail he’d made earlier. The air stung the inside of his nostrils as he took great, deep breaths. The sooner he reached his herd, the sooner he’d be there to protect them. Wolves hunted at night, walking as quietly across the ground as a cloud drifts across the sky. Night was dangerous when predators were hungry. He quickened his pace.