“Jim!” Cora finally blurted, bringing his long monologue to an end. “I’m glad things went well at the office. However, there are important matters to tend to. This house is a mess.”
He set his fork aside. “Looks pretty good to me.”
“Dad, that’s only because Aunt Cora and I cleaned. You should have seen the place.”
“There were wild animals in here, Jim!” Cora’s exhaustion began leaking out the corners of her eyes in the form of tears.
“There, there,” Jim said. He leaned across the table and kissed his sister’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I will help you as much as I can. I’ll start unpacking the furniture.”
Jim first focused on Cora’s room so she could call it a day and get some sleep. Then he carried a dresser into Lucky’s room, along with a bedside table and lamp.
“Settling in okay?” he asked.
Lucky was sitting on the floor, riffling through one of her trunks. “It’s weird,” she said, pulling out her old stuffed bear. “Even though my things are the same, it still doesn’t feel like home.”
“You know, the West is your home—your first home, since it’s where I met your mom and where you were born.” He reached into the trunk and pulled out the framed circus flyer. He hung it next to her bed. “You loved it back then.”
“I was two. I don’t remember that.”
“Well, you’ll just have to take my word for it.” He nudged her, trying to get a smile, but Lucky felt so unsure about everything. “What’s the matter? Are you worried about school?”
“I’ve never been the new girl before. What if… what if no one likes me?”
“That’s impossible! How could anyone not like you?”
“Dad,” she grumbled. His giant grin wasn’t making her feel better. “You’re not taking this seriously.” Didn’t he know that there were countless things that could go wrong? What if no one wanted to sit with her at lunch? What if she couldn’t stop fidgeting, and she got in trouble on the first day? What if that snobby Maricela was the nicest person in town?
Jim gazed at the poster. “You know, your mom had lots of friends in the village where she grew up, but even though she loved them, she wasn’t happy.”
“Why not?”
“She wanted her life to be bigger. So she left behind everything and everyone she knew and came out West, all by herself. And you know what? It was the best thing that ever happened to her… or to me. Or to you!” He sat on the edge of the bed. Lucky sat next to him. “Your mother was alone when she came West, but you’re not. You have me and you have your aunt.”
Lucky nodded. But she still couldn’t manage a smile. It had been easier to look happy back in the city, before they’d actually left, because Miradero had felt unreal. Like a story. But now it was real. This house. This town. The new school.
“I don’t think I’m as brave as Mom was.” Lucky hung her head.
“Of course you are,” Jim said. “You know how you’re always asking me what you and your mom have in common?” Lucky looked up and nodded. “And how I always say that you look just like her?” She nodded again. “Well, I think you are brave, too. You wanted to come out here, remember? That’s very brave. So now all you need to do is to give Miradero a shot. Deal?” He held out his pinkie.
There were a few things in this world that Lucky could not abide. Bullying. The mistreatment of animals. And disappointing her father. “Deal.” She wrapped her pinkie around his and they shook. What are you made of? Madame Barrow had asked. Lucky wanted the answer to be “bravery.” I am brave. Brave like my mother.
The moment was long and peaceful, interrupted only by a strange sound coming from the next room. “What was that?”
“That, sweet pea, is your Aunt Cora. Apparently, she snores.” He chuckled. “But we won’t tell her. She’d be mortified.”
After a kiss good night, Jim left Lucky alone in her room, the door slightly ajar. Even though it had been an incredibly long day, and even though her body was weary, she couldn’t yet quiet her mind. School days were always the same back home. She’d get up, put on her uniform, and go downstairs for breakfast with Mr. and Mrs. MacFinn and her dad. Then Mrs. MacFinn would escort her to school. She’d have recitations, then tea, then library, followed by math and lunch, then history. Scheduled. Predictable. But what would it be like here?
Lucky walked over to the reading nook and opened the window. She’d never seen so many stars. She leaned on the sill to get a better view. The town lay in stillness, no signs of people or wagons moving about. An owl hooted from a nearby tree. A campfire sparkled in the distance. And surrounding it all, those tabletop mountains, dark silhouettes beneath the bright, starry sky. One last thought crossed her mind before a yawn led her to bed.
Was the stallion missing his old home as much as she was missing hers?
16
Down the hill from the yellow house, beyond Lucky’s view, the stallion stood, his eyes gazing at the night sky. He’d fought hard, but the men and their ropes had overpowered him, and now he was to spend the night surrounded by a fence. He’d tried to jump, but the space was too small to build up speed. Fortunately, the rest of his herd had run far away and were safe. The stallion’s legs ached. His shoulders felt weary. He wanted to lie down and rest, but he wouldn’t let them see his exhaustion. He would never bend to their will. He stood tall, head held high.
Nothing had been able to hold him. Not the river, when he’d fallen in as a foal. It had tried to sweep him away, but he’d battled against the current, swimming until he’d reached safety.
Not the ice, when he’d stepped onto that pond last winter, believing the ground was solid, only to have it crack under his hooves. Despite the freezing temperatures, he’d fought until he was free.
And not the wind, which had blown sand across the prairie last summer, making it impossible for the stallion to see his way home. But he’d waited for the storm to pass, and then he’d found his way.
And now it would be men who’d learn the truth. Try as they might, they’d lose this battle. The stallion would find his way out.
A soft whinny drew his attention. His sister stood on the other side of the fence, her eyes filled with worry and fear. He pushed against the fence, showing her that he was captive. She paced back and forth, assessing the situation. She chewed on the gate, trying to loosen the latch with her teeth. It was no use.
“I’ll be right back. Gonna check on the stallion,” a man said in the distance.
The stallion’s ears flicked. His sister’s eyes widened. She pulled her head from the fence and turned in the direction of the man’s voice. Footsteps sounded, moving closer. Someone was coming. The stallion turned to his sister. He stomped his hoof. Go! But she looked at him, pleadingly, so desperately wanting to help. The footsteps were drawing nearer. Any moment now, a man would appear—a man with ropes. The stallion let loose a high-pitched neigh. GO!
With one last look, a look that said I love you and Good-bye at the same time, the filly made her escape, her hooves pounding until they faded into the dark night.
For the stallion, this was not good-bye. For he was determined to be free.
Part Three
17
Lucky sat in her grandfather’s private box, perched high above the opera house stage. Though the hall’s lights had been dimmed, it was easy to see fellow audience members, thanks to a ring of fire that burned smack-dab in the center of the stage. As Lucky squeezed the armrests of her chair, she almost forgot to breathe. The show was about to begin.
The audience hushed as Cowgirl Betty, sitting atop her black stallion, Shadow, made her entrance. Just as before, Shadow wore feathers in his mane and a beautiful red blanket on his back. Betty wore her cowgirl hat, her red bandana, and fringed pants. With a swing of her leg, she slid out of the saddle, then waved her hat at the audience. Everyone cheered. Lucky tightened her grip on the armrests, her jaw clenching with anticipation. Were they going to do it? Were Betty and Shadow actually going
to jump through that ring of fire?
But rather than getting back onto her horse, Betty did something strange. She reached out her hand, and suddenly Lucky found herself standing on the stage. Confused, she spun around. The ring was directly behind her, its flames licking the air. She spun back around. Hundreds of upturned faces, cast in flickering orange light, stared at her from the seats.
“What am I doing here?” Lucky asked.
Betty smiled at her. “You’re gonna show everyone what you’re made of.” She plopped her hat onto Lucky’s head and in an instant, Lucky was sitting in the saddle. Cowgirl Betty led Shadow to a position at the edge of the stage, then turned him to face the fire. She handed the reins to Lucky and stepped away. Lucky’s entire body tensed. Wait, was Shadow going to jump with her on his back? But Lucky had no training. This was impossible!
Or was it?
Show them what you’re made of.
With a tight grip on the reins, she opened her mouth to give the command, but all that came out was, “Lucky!” Up in the private box seat, Aunt Cora wagged a finger. “You get down here this instant or you’ll be late for school!”
School? Lucky’s eyes flew open.
As if a twister had suddenly touched down in Lucky’s bedroom, the covers flew off the bed, a bathrobe was yanked from its hook, and a blur of color dashed down the stairs. “What time is it?” Lucky asked as she pushed her tangled hair from her eyes. “Am I late?”
“Hey, take a breath, sweet pea. You’re not late. You’ve got plenty of time to eat breakfast.” Jim was already dressed and seated at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in hand. “Your aunt has been working hard this morning. She’s made our first official breakfast in our new home.”
The kitchen looked as if the twister had touched there, too. Eggshells, flour, and sugar were strewn across the counter. Every bowl and spoon that had been unpacked the night before was now dirty. And Cora stood in the middle of the chaos, with dollops of batter clinging to her hair and apron. “You can’t go to school without a nutritious meal,” she said. Then she set a platter of pancakes in the middle of the table. Lucky was surprised that the cakes looked so perfect.
But what would they taste like? She gave her dad a long You go first look.
While Lucky and Cora watched, Jim selected a pancake, set it on his plate, and politely took a bite. He chewed very slowly, then swallowed. “Yum,” he said with surprise. “Delicious.”
Cora narrowed her eyes at him. “Jim Prescott, are you humoring me? Cooking on a wood-burning stove is very difficult.”
“No, not at all. They’re great.”
Lucky sat, grabbed a plate and napkin, then ate a whole pancake. “Thanks, Aunt Cora,” she said. Cora smiled proudly. Lucky poured herself a glass of cider, her legs swinging as she drank. “Someone’s in a good mood,” Jim said.
“Yep. I’ve decided to keep a positive outlook. I’m really excited about starting school and making some new friends.”
“That’s my girl.” Jim took another sip of coffee, then got up and grabbed his coat. “I’ve got to head out. We’ve a ton of work to do today.” He kissed Cora on the cheek. “Thanks for breakfast.” Then he kissed Lucky on the top of her head. “Good luck. Can’t wait to hear all about your first day.”
“Can’t wait to hear about your first day,” Lucky told him. With that, Jim hurried out the door and down the long driveway to town.
Lucky set her plate in the sink, then took the stairs two at a time. She searched through her wardrobe. Did they have uniforms at this school? If not, what did the kids wear? Maricela had been in a nice dress with a hair ribbon, but those other two girls had been wearing riding pants and shirts. Lucky didn’t own any pants. She riffled through one of her trunks, tossing clothes here and there. John Mercer had said that formal clothes weren’t needed, that it was casual dress hereabouts. Lucky sighed. Why were all her clothes so fancy?
“You have only one chance to make a good first impression,” Cora said as she picked a dress off the floor. “You’re going to wear this.”
The dress she’d selected just happened to be the frilliest, flounciest dress Lucky owned—light-pink, with a pattern of dark-pink flowers, and layer upon layer of ruffles cascading from the waist to the hem.
“No way. I’m not wearing that.”
The Prescott tendency toward stubbornness was never more evident than when Lucky and Cora stood, face-to-face, in disagreement with each other. Each face painted with determination, chin out, arms folded, unwavering and unblinking. Lucky knew that she and Cora would both stand there all day just to make a point. But Lucky didn’t have all day. School would be starting soon. And she’d promised her dad that she’d be brave.
“Fine,” Lucky grumbled, snatching the dress from her aunt’s hands. Cora smiled with victorious satisfaction.
About ten minutes later, when Lucky made her way back downstairs, she took one stair at a time so her legs wouldn’t get tangled in all the silk layers. Aunt Cora clapped her hands with delight. “You look lovely!” She tied a ribbon around the end of Lucky’s braid. Then she handed Lucky a small leather satchel.
“What’s this?”
“Well, you’re not going to believe it,” Cora said. “When I was getting water from the pump, I saw a neighbor across the way, feeding her chickens, so I asked her about the school, and she filled me in. Things are much rougher than we ever imagined. You are expected to bring your own lunch.” At Madame Barrow’s Finishing School for Young Ladies, lunch was prepared by the cook and served in a dining room on china plates. Cora pointed to the satchel. “It’s not a gourmet feast, mind you; I did my best with the groceries your father provided. Let’s go.”
Cora had cleaned the batter from her hair. She and Lucky began to walk down the driveway toward town. Lucky glanced at the shrubbery. No sign of porcupines or skunks today. The air was already warm, but not hot like yesterday, thanks to a smattering of puffy clouds.
They reached the main road. A boy walked ahead of them, a leather bag flung over his shoulder. Two girls, much younger than Lucky, walked together, baskets swinging from their hands. Lucky realized that none of the other kids were walking with an adult. She stopped, turned to her aunt, and said, “Aunt Cora, I can do the rest on my own.”
Cora was about to object, but she surprised Lucky by nodding. “I’d like to take a bath before I meet people,” she said, wiping flecks of flour from her arm. “And change into a nicer dress.” She adjusted Lucky’s ribbon, then smoothed one of the ruffles. “Okay. Well, I guess this is it. Go on, now.” As she stepped back, she wrung her hands. Was Cora as nervous as Lucky? Even though Lucky was still sore about having to wear the ridiculous pink dress, she gave her aunt a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Bye,” Lucky said.
Trying not to kick up dirt on the dusty road, Lucky followed the other kids toward the schoolhouse. Never before had she been allowed to walk to school unchaperoned. She took this as a good sign of things to come. But then she looked down at her dress. The ruffles expanded with each step, the layers rising and falling as if she were about to take flight. “Some first impression I’m going to make,” she mumbled.
The walk to school wasn’t very long. It took Lucky past Town Hall, where a group of men stood on the steps, engaged in a heated discussion about the price of hay. To her right was the mayor’s home, with its stately veranda and walkway. A woman in an apron tended to a small flower patch in front of the house. Lucky followed the two young girls as they took a left, passing a sprawling ranch. A sign hung between two fence posts. GRANGER RAMADA. A flat-front building stood on the right, with the sign BLACKSMITH hanging above its entry. Wagon wheels leaned against the exterior walls, and the front doors were wide open, revealing a fire burning in a stone pit. Sounds of clanking drifted from the shop. Lucky continued walking. The sights were so different from the ones in the city. No newsboys calling out headlines. No customers sitting in sidewalk cafés. The pace was slow. The air so quiet she could hear
a squirrel as it chattered at her from a nearby tree. She smiled when she came to a corral.
About a dozen horses stood inside a circular fence. Some were drinking water, others were standing about. A few playfully nudged one another, clearly friends. But one horse stood by himself in a separate, smaller corral, his back turned to the others. He seemed familiar, with his golden tan color, black mane, black tail, and black legs. Lucky’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be? While the other kids continued to school, Lucky walked around the fence until she could see the horse’s face. A white stripe ran down his nose. It was him. The wild mustang. The stallion!
“Hey, fella,” she said. He moved away, keeping his back turned. She followed him. “What’s the matter, boy? Don’t you remember me from the train?”
The stallion lifted his head and glanced at her. He gave a little snort. Did he recognize her? For a moment she was certain he did, but then he turned away again. She stepped onto the fence’s lower board, then to the middle board, so he could better see her. “I’m sorry you’re all cooped up in here.”
His ears flicked in her direction. He was listening. How could she keep his attention? Maybe there was something in her lunch. She jumped back onto the ground and opened her satchel. A sandwich, cookie, and apple were nestled inside. “Would this help you feel better?” Forgetting about her fancy dress, she knelt next to the fence and reached her arm between two fence boards, the apple resting in her upturned palm. The stallion gave a quick glance. His nostrils flared. Was he picking up the apple’s scent? Surely he’d want to eat it. No horse can resist the juicy sweetness of an apple.
But he turned away. Lucky’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t trust her. Why should he? The other people had caught him with ropes. How could she prove to him that she wouldn’t hurt him? She took a bite of the apple. “Mmmmm. It’s so good. Are you sure you don’t want it?”
Spirit Riding Free--The Adventure Begins Page 9