“Easy, girl. That’s a good horse. Nice horse.” Violet spoke softly to each horse as Benny fed them carrots and apples. Jessie took the pictures. There were few horses in the west pasture, and the three children quickly took one photo after another.
They were nearly done when a dark blue pickup truck slowed near the fence. It pulled a small silver trailer. Two horses inside swished their tails side-to-side. The trailer covered the front halves of the horses. But the children saw the backsides of a big black horse and a small brown pony.
“Look,” Benny cried, “that’s the neighbor who brought back Honey and Bunny.”
“Hey!” A cowboy in a striped shirt galloped up and jerked his horse to a stop. “What are you kids doing here?”
Jessie smiled. “We’re taking pictures of all the horses for—”
“Not these horses,” growled the man.
“Cookie asked us to,” said Violet.
“No one’s allowed out here.”
Benny folded his arms across his chest. “Why not?”
“Because … because …” The man wiggled his jaw from side to side for a moment. “Ah, because we got new rescue horses comin’ in. They’re, ah, sick. They could, um, bite you. No one’s allowed out here but us … us volunteers.” His horse pawed the ground, eyeing a piece of apple Benny had dropped. The man glowered at Jessie. “What are those pictures for?”
Jessie brightened. “Well, you see, we’re going to put them on the Inter—”
Suddenly, the man’s horse jerked its head down, yanking the man forward. A large yellow envelope fell out of the man’s shirt pocket onto the ground. Money spilled out. He jumped off his horse and grabbed the envelope, shoving the bills back inside. Then he tucked the envelope back in his shirt and climbed on his horse. The man reached for Jessie’s camera. “I’ll take your pictures, girlie,” he said, “and bring them to you later.”
In the distance, a cowbell rang. “No, thank you,” said Jessie, clutching her brand new birthday camera. She would not leave it with someone she didn’t know. The cowbell rang again.
“We have to go,” said Violet. “It’s time for our ride.”
And with that, the three children ran off across the west pasture, through the fence and field of tall hay, and didn’t slow until they were a good distance away.
“He really didn’t want us taking pictures,” said Jessie.
“That’s ’cause the horses might bite us,” said Benny. He took the last carrot out of the bag, munching happily as they walked.
“If you ask me,” Violet said, “the only thing those horses wanted to bite were carrots and apples.”
The cowbell rang again and the three children ran as fast as they could across the pasture toward the corral. At last they would get the chance to ride.
Jessie stopped in the ranch house to put her camera in Cookie’s office. She quickly plugged it into Cookie’s computer. She typed in “Jessie’s File,” and copied her horse photos from the camera to the computer. Tonight, after dinner, she would teach Cookie how to post the rescue horse photos on the Dare to Dream Website.
Clang, clang, clang, went the dinner bell.
Jessie unplugged her camera and set it carefully on the shelf above the computer. Then she ran out to the corral to saddle Dragon.
But Dragon wasn’t in the corral. Jessie ran out to the pasture. In the distance, Bucky stood next to the fence surrounded by several horses. “Have you seen Dragon?” called Jessie.
“Not since this morning,” he called back. He took off his feathered hat. “Eeeeeeeehaaaa!” he yelled, waving his hat at the horses, shooing them back into the pasture. A couple of orange feathers floated out. “Maybe he’s still in the stable.”
Jessie ran to the stable, but Dragon’s stall was empty. Jessie’s stomach did a flip-flop. Something was wrong. She found Alyssa in the corral, saddling the horses for their ride. “I can’t find Dragon,” said Jessie.
“Oh, he’s here somewhere,” said the wrangler. “Sometimes Dragon wanders off. He likes to explore. We should have named him Christopher Columbus.” She saw the worry on Jessie’s face. “He’ll turn up,” said Alyssa. “He always does. Meanwhile, you can ride Jumpin’ Jack here. He’s a real sweetie.”
Alyssa led the children on the long trail that wound along the ranch fence. “Benny,” said the wrangler. “Try not to hold onto the saddle horn. Cowboys hold the reins with their hands and grip the horse with their knees.” Slowly, Benny let go of the horn. He squeezed the saddle with his knees. It felt scary not to hold on. But he wanted to learn to ride like a real cowboy.
Henry rode next to Jessie. “Don’t be sad,” he said.
She patted Jumpin’ Jack’s neck. “I’m worried about Dragon. What if he’s been stolen?”
“He’s not stolen,” said Henry, trying to make her feel better.
“Then where is he?” Jessie asked.
But Henry had no answer.
They rode past the fence where Bucky had been shooing the horses. Lots-o’-Dots sniffed the air. Suddenly, he jerked his head to the left and trotted toward the fence.
“Whoa!” cried Benny. The small boy leaned back, pulling on the reins with all his might, but Lots-o’-Dots kept going. The little horse went straight to the fence and bent his head to the ground. Benny tugged and tugged, but Lots-o’-Dots wouldn’t budge.
Jessie climbed down to see what Benny’s horse had found. “Look,” she said, picking up a handful of grain. “Someone dumped oats in the grass.”
Alyssa rode over. “What’s the problem?”
“Lots-o’-Dots found some oats to eat,” said Benny.
“Who would put oats so close to the fence?” asked Henry.
“Tourists.” Alyssa took off her red hat to shoo flies off her horse. “All summer, city folks stop to give treats to our horses—sugar cubes, carrots, apples. You’d think they never saw a horse before. Though this is the first time I’ve seen them bring oats.” She looked at the children. “Would anybody like to do a little cantering?”
“Yes!” they all cheered. For they loved to ride fast, and a canter was almost as fast as a full-out run.
Alyssa grabbed Lots-o’-Dot’s reins and led him back to the trail. “Let’s ride!” she said. And, tapping their horses with their heels, the eager group took off, cantering across the sprawling ranch.
As they rode, Jessie looked for Dragon. She didn’t see him anywhere. They rode and rode, across pastures and through fields of tall hay, over hills, and past stands of towering pines until they reached a far pasture. Three enormous trees grew there.
Alyssa held her hand up high. It was the signal to stop. The children pulled back on their reins and walked their horses into the trees’ cool shade.
“This is where I helped fix the broken fence,” Henry said, proudly, pointing toward the road. “I dug in those two new posts and helped Kurt string the wire.”
“Let’s give our horses a rest.” Alyssa said. “You can stretch your legs.”
Violet took her sketchpad and pencil from her saddlebag. She was eager to begin planning her mural. These trees and horses would look beautiful painted on the side of the barn. Near the fence, she picked up a long brown pod. Last year, for a school science project, she collected leaves from her neighborhood. She glued them onto construction paper and stitched the pages into a book called The Trees of Greenfield. “This is from a honey locust,” she said, shaking the pod. The seeds inside rattled.
“That fell off of the branch that broke the fence,” said Henry.
Violet looked at the three big trees. There were no other trees nearby. “These are maples,” she said. “There’s no honey locust here.”
“Kurt said a wind must have blown the branch down,” Henry replied.
“That must have been one strong wind,” Violet said.
Benny lay in the shade of a tree, staring straight up. “Why does this tree have holes in it?” he asked.
“Remember our trip to Canada?” asked Jessie. “At the sugar camp, we saw people drill holes like these into maple trees, then hook buckets under each hole.”
“The syrup ran out of the trees into the buckets!” said Benny.
Alyssa nodded. “Some of that maple syrup you ate on your flapjacks came right from these three maple trees.”
“And,” added Henry, “cowboys leave notes in these holes.”
Alyssa laughed. “I never heard that one before.”
Henry walked around the tree but the note he’d found about the gray Arabian and brown spotted pony was gone.
Something floated down from the tree. “Helicopters!” Benny picked up a small seedpod shaped like an 8. He threw the pod high into the air. As it floated down, it spun around and around, like the blades of a helicopter. Soon, the others scurried around, gathering “helicopters” to launch into flight. Benny stuffed a bunch into his pocket to play with later.
After a rest, they rode back toward the corral. When they reached the fence where the oats had been, Henry rode over. He studied the wire nailed to the fencepost. “Look,” he said. “Fence wire should be twisted nice and tight so it can’t open. But this wire has loops on the end that are hooked around bent nails.” He climbed off Lightning and lifted the fence wire off of the nails. The fence opened like a gate. Henry knelt down, studying the ground.
“What are you looking for?” asked Jessie.
“Hoofprints,” Henry said. And sure enough they saw horse tracks leading out of the pasture onto the dirt. Once again, the horseshoe prints ended where tire tracks began. Shivers ran up Jessie’s neck. Now she knew why she couldn’t find Dragon in the corral or the pasture. Now she understood why Dragon wasn’t in his stall. Alyssa had been wrong. Dragon wasn’t out exploring.
Tears mixed with anger as Jessie stared at the hoofprint that had one square toe. “Dragon,” Jessie whispered. “Someone stole Dragon!” |