forget it. Put it down to bad luck, move on. OK?”
His car was in gear, cruising away from the curb as he spoke. Kirstie watched him go. Forget it? Move on? With Crazy Horse likely to be sold for dog meat? With Cadillac split up from his best friend, pining for home? Forget it…no way!
The school day had never been longer, classes never such a drag. Kirstie willed herself to concentrate and failed. Instead of algebra, she thought of Matt riding Cadillac by the side of Eden Lake on a spring day, blue columbines carpeting the meadow at the lakeside. Or she saw Matt on Crazy Horse, loping a figure eight, performing a sliding halt in thirty feet, spinning on the spot.
“Hey, Kirstie.” Lisa met her at the school gates at the end of the day. “You wanna ride out to Lazy B on Lucky and Jitterbug? Maybe we could pick up a couple more clues.”
Kirstie nodded. “Thanks, Lisa. Let’s give it another shot.”
They sat together on the school bus, which dropped them off at the turnoff to Half Moon Ranch, then hitched a ride with Smiley Gilpin, the forest guard, in his national forest jeep, reaching the ranch without having to call Sandy to drive out to meet them on the dirt road.
Smiley dropped them off at the gates and watched them down the first few yards of the steep driveway, then revved his engine and drove on. As they walked, the girls discussed the route they might take over Miners’ Ridge, down into the next valley. This time they would choose a right turn along the side of Horseshoe Creek to Jim Mullins’s ranch.
It was only when they drew within fifty yards of the ranch house itself that Kirstie looked up and paid any attention to her surroundings. It was a quarter after four on a dull, gray day, dirty snow on the ground, the ranch-house chimney smoking, the kitchen door swinging open…
“No!” Kirstie let out a sudden groan. There, parked close against the porch steps, was a pale blue, beaten-up car. Its fender was bent and hanging off, the body was dented and deeply encrusted with dirt.
“That’s Matt’s car!” Lisa gasped. She stood still and let Kirstie run ahead.
“What happened? Where’s Matt?” Kirstie flew into the house to find her mom sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. “Did he skip his exam?”
Sandy took a long time to look around. “No, he took the test. But he wants to quit college.”
Kirstie took a deep breath. She couldn’t look her mom in the eye.
“You knew?” Sandy stared accusingly at Kirstie.
“I didn’t…I wasn’t sure.”
“You suspected?”
“Mom, what happened? Where’s Matt now?”
“Charlie tried to talk to him, but he stormed off.”
“Let me try. Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. But honey, it’s no use. The mood he’s in, Matt won’t listen to anyone!”
Kirstie found her brother sitting on the fence of Red Fox Meadow, his back to the ranch, facing the herd of horses feeding from the racks of hay that Charlie had just delivered.
There were Lucky and Rodeo Rocky, the inseparable twosome of the palomino and the bay. There was dainty, skittish Jitterbug, and solid, easygoing Moose. Johnny Mohawk broke from the group and galloped the length of the field for the heck of it, his black mane and tail flying, his hooves kicking up frozen snow.
“Hey,” Kirstie said quietly as she climbed the fence to join Matt.
He blinked without turning his head, his gaze fixed on the black horse.
Something in his posture told Kirstie how much he was hurting. His shoulders were hunched, his hands gripping the top rail of the fence. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He seemed to be staring at the herd, trying to believe that Cadillac and Crazy Horse were still there, that this whole thing had been a terrible mistake…
But there was no sleek, white gelding challenging the black half-Arab to a race, no light brown, stumpy-legged follower clowning along at his partner’s heels.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he muttered. His face was pale
His car was in gear, cruising away from the curb as he spoke. Kirstie watched him go. Forget it? Move on? With Crazy Horse likely to be sold for dog meat? With Cadillac split up from his best friend, pining for home? Forget it…no way!
The school day had never been longer, classes never such a drag. Kirstie willed herself to concentrate and failed. Instead of algebra, she thought of Matt riding Cadillac by the side of Eden Lake on a spring day, blue columbines carpeting the meadow at the lakeside. Or she saw Matt on Crazy Horse, loping a figure eight, performing a sliding halt in thirty feet, spinning on the spot.
“Hey, Kirstie.” Lisa met her at the school gates at the end of the day. “You wanna ride out to Lazy B on Lucky and Jitterbug? Maybe we could pick up a couple more clues.”
Kirstie nodded. “Thanks, Lisa. Let’s give it another shot.”
They sat together on the school bus, which dropped them off at the turnoff to Half Moon Ranch, then hitched a ride with Smiley Gilpin, the forest guard, in his national forest jeep, reaching the ranch without having to call Sandy to drive out to meet them on the dirt road.
Smiley dropped them off at the gates and watched them down the first few yards of the steep driveway, then revved his engine and drove on. As they walked, the girls discussed the route they might take over Miners’ Ridge, down into the next valley. This time they would choose a right turn along the side of Horseshoe Creek to Jim Mullins’s ranch.
It was only when they drew within fifty yards of the ranch house itself that Kirstie looked up and paid any attention to her surroundings. It was a quarter after four on a dull, gray day, dirty snow on the ground, the ranch-house chimney smoking, the kitchen door swinging open…
“No!” Kirstie let out a sudden groan. There, parked close against the porch steps, was a pale blue, beaten-up car. Its fender was bent and hanging off, the body was dented and deeply encrusted with dirt.
“That’s Matt’s car!” Lisa gasped. She stood still and let Kirstie run ahead.
“What happened? Where’s Matt?” Kirstie flew into the house to find her mom sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. “Did he skip his exam?”
Sandy took a long time to look around. “No, he took the test. But he wants to quit college.”
Kirstie took a deep breath. She couldn’t look her mom in the eye.
“You knew?” Sandy stared accusingly at Kirstie.
“I didn’t…I wasn’t sure.”
“You suspected?”
“Mom, what happened? Where’s Matt now?”
“Charlie tried to talk to him, but he stormed off.”
“Let me try. Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. But honey, it’s no use. The mood he’s in, Matt won’t listen to anyone!”
Kirstie found her brother sitting on the fence of Red Fox Meadow, his back to the ranch, facing the herd of horses feeding from the racks of hay that Charlie had just delivered.
There were Lucky and Rodeo Rocky, the inseparable twosome of the palomino and the bay. There was dainty, skittish Jitterbug, and solid, easygoing Moose. Johnny Mohawk broke from the group and galloped the length of the field for the heck of it, his black mane and tail flying, his hooves kicking up frozen snow.
“Hey,” Kirstie said quietly as she climbed the fence to join Matt.
He blinked without turning his head, his gaze fixed on the black horse.
Something in his posture told Kirstie how much he was hurting. His shoulders were hunched, his hands gripping the top rail of the fence. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He seemed to be staring at the herd, trying to believe that Cadillac and Crazy Horse were still there, that this whole thing had been a terrible mistake…
But there was no sleek, white gelding challenging the black half-Arab to a race, no light brown, stumpy-legged follower clowning along at his partner’s heels.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” he muttered. His face was pale
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