Dark Days at Saddle Creek

by Shelley Peterson

  “Are you hungry?” asked Hannah. “There’s lots to spare.”

  Bird hadn’t told them that it was Sally and Wanda who’d taken the horses to the shed. She tried not to bristle at the girl’s presence in her aunt’s kitchen. What on earth did she want?

  “No, thanks,” chirped Sally. “Mom just dropped me off to ride, but I can’t find my horse.”

  “Join us, and I’ll help as soon as we’re finished.” Hannah looked at Bird. “Or Bird could help you. It’s either helping Sally or doing dishes. Your choice!” Hannah smiled at Bird, expecting her to jump at the chance to escape any form of housework.

  Bird nodded. No problem. She took another forkful of the pasta as she watched Sally with interest. Normally, Sally didn’t drop over to ride like this. She still needed help saddling up, and she never rode except during lessons.

  Lucky yawned and crawled out from under the table. He walked up to Sally, who was still standing at the kitchen door. She reached out to pat him, pleased to have something to do.

  “What a nice dog!” she enthused. “His coat is so silky, and I love his white paws.” She rubbed his head, which made Lucky very happy.

  “We were just talking about the derby. Bird is taking Sunny tomorrow. You should come,” said Hannah. “It should be quite something to see.”

  “Oh! Maybe I will!” enthused Sally, clapping her hands and jumping up and down with glee. Bird thought she was maybe a little overly enthusiastic. “It sounds like so much fun!”

  “Are you going to sit down?” asked Paul. He’d been waiting for her to take a seat, and was too much of a gentleman to sit down until she did.

  “Oh, no, thanks. I don’t have long.” She looked very awkward. Bird noticed that several times she’d glanced outside toward the road. “I don’t want to bother you, really! Just tell me where he is and I’ll get him.”

  Hannah sighed. Running a riding school and boarding establishment meant that she rarely had time to herself. Dinner was generally considered off-limits except by appointment. “Bird, why don’t you run up with Sally now.”

  “No!” Sally yelped, immediately covering her mouth. “I mean, no, really, don’t bother. You’re eating. I’ll get him ready myself, and ride him. Myself.”

  This was very interesting. Not at all typical. Bird leapt to her feet and pulled on her boots.

  “Oh, you don’t need to ride him, Bird,” said Sally. “Just tell me where he is.”

  Bird looked at her, and Sally blushed beet red under her gaze. Before another second passed, Bird dashed out the door and ran to the road. Just as she’d suspected — a truck and horse trailer were idling on the gravel shoulder.

  And there was Wanda, sitting behind the wheel.

  “Bird!” Sally came running up behind her. “I know what you’re doing!”

  Bird spun to stare at her. Did she?

  “Tall Sox is my horse!” Sally stood with her feet planted and her arms braced on her thighs, trying to catch her breath.

  Bird turned back to Wanda. The groom’s face was expressionless. She was making a concerted effort to betray nothing.

  “I want my horse!” demanded Sally. “You can’t keep him against my orders!”

  A deep voice spoke up. “Then you’d better call the police.”

  The three girls looked across the road. They’d been so involved in their argument that the quiet arrival of a sedan had gone unnoticed.

  “Dad!” called Sally. “What are you doing here?”

  Harold Johns got out of his car. “I’m going to ask you the same thing. Your mother has no idea where you are. She’s been worried for over an hour.”

  Wanda suddenly reversed the rig, and then put it in drive. She tore off down the road in a big hurry, with the tires spraying out tiny stones of gravel.

  Sally’s face creased with worry and her mouth began to quiver. “I can explain everything, Daddy!”

  “I hope so.” Harold was clearly not pleased, but he was still calm. “Let’s go talk to Hannah.” He walked back across the road, got into his car, and drove up to the house, where Hannah and Paul stood outside watching. When Harold reached them, all three adults went inside.

  Bird and Sally followed his car up the lane on foot. As they neared the house, a new black Ford Escape drove up behind them.

  Bird.

  Frank! Wanda took off, but they came to get Sox. Sally’s father is here, and he wants answers.

  Good information. Be nice. Play along with whatever Sally says. Tomorrow should be very interesting. Everything is set up. Are you and Sunny ready?

  Yes. We’ll be there early.

  Good. See you tomorrow. Frank stopped his car, and backed it out the lane.

  Wait! Are you going?

  Yes. Sally should still think I’m a groom.

  Okay. Is there anything I should know for tomorrow?

  No. Just ride your best ride. Expect surprises, and adapt. Good luck!

  “Who was that?” asked Sally. “Wrong farm?”

  Bird shrugged.

  19

  THE CALEDON DERBY

  The hurt of one is the hurt of all;

  The honour of one is the honour of all.

  — Native American Indian Traditional Code of Ethics, rule 6

  Bird sat on Sundancer, surveying the show grounds. They’d walked the few miles to the venue that morning, and had arrived in plenty of time. It was still early, but the cloudless day was already getting hot. Trucks pulling horse trailers continued to drive through the entrance, and the bleachers were filling with eager onlookers. Food stands were opening, and several tents were being erected to sell all manner of horsey items and souvenirs.

  There was a buzz of excitement in the air. Bird could feel it. And smell it. The Caledon Derby was so rarely offered that it was a very popular event. Today, it would be closely contested. The calibre of horse and rider was high, and the prize money was huge. The Toronto Dominion Bank was the sponsor. Fifty thousand dollars was to be divided three ways: thirty-five thousand to the winner, ten to the runner-up, and five to third place.

  There had originally been a cut-off of twenty riders, but the organizers had accepted a few more at the last minute, including Bird. She was nervous about the derby, but extremely apprehensive about what Frank wanted her to do. She had no idea about what was supposed to happen today. All she knew was that she trusted Frank completely.

  Frank? Bird scanned the stands. It would be comforting to know he was somewhere close.

  Bird did a double take. Pete and Laura Pierson were in the stands! Pete was in a wheelchair, and Laura, dressed completely in sky blue, was settling into her seat beside him. Bird felt a lump of gratitude in her throat. They’d always been there to support her, but now, with Pete in such poor health, it was more than she could’ve imagined! She was grateful that the heart attack had been so mild, and vowed to do her very best job for them.

  All around, riders were getting mounted. Some were already working in the warm-up ring. Bird felt chilled with nerves, and her mouth was dry.

  Hey, Bird! Don’t worry!

  How do you always know how I feel, Sunny?

  That’s easy. What’s hard is knowing how you think.

  Bird smiled in spite of her nervousness.

  When do we get our chance?

  We’re last. It goes in the order of when people signed up.

  Last? I’m ready now!

  Relax. It’s not starting for another ten minutes.

  Then I can show them my stuff!

  It’s a tough course, Sunny! Don’t be smug.

  Easy peasy.

  Bird hoped he wouldn’t decide to take control and race too fast. It always ended in disaster.

  Now Eva and Stuart were climbing into the stands with Paul and the girls from the barn. Julia peeked around and caught Bird looking at her. She grinned broadly and waved, then raised her hands together over her head like a champ.

  Bird shook with silent laughter and waved back before returning her
attention to the grounds.

  She looked around for Dexter’s rig. It was nowhere to be seen. And she still hadn’t spotted Frank. Frank?

  Nothing. Bird took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Her job was to go into the ring and compete. She had to trust that Frank would do the rest, whatever that might be.

  Hannah came up beside her with a rag. She briefly shined up Sundancer’s coat and dusted off Bird’s boots. “Are you feeling good?” she asked.

  Bird managed a shaky smile.

  “Do you know the course?”

  Bird nodded firmly.

  “Shall we go over it again?”

  Bird shook her head.

  “Okay! Let’s do a few practice jumps. Follow me.” Hannah led the way to the warm-up ring, where a dozen riders were up and working their horses. Hannah kept an eye out for a vacant jump while Bird and Sunny warmed up trotting.

  Bird tried not to worry as she began to recognize the competition. Some of Canada’s top riders were trotting, cantering, and jumping right beside her. It was intensely humbling.

  We can clean up, Bird. Totally!

  Please don’t get too cocky. Remember that time in June?

  It happened. Get over it.

  Will you listen to me today?

  Will you brighten up and get a more positive attitude?

  Bird chuckled to herself and patted his neck. Deal.

  A few minutes later, the announcer called for the first horse. Bird was desperate to see how a fully trained horse and rider would manage the course, but she ignored the action in the big ring and dutifully jumped over the hurdles Hannah had set up.

  Sundancer was in good form, and had just the right amount of energy and responsiveness.

  “Good work!” called Hannah. “Walk around a bit and check back with me when the sixteenth rider goes in.”

  Bird nodded and faked a smile. She was more nervous than she could ever remember being.

  “Oh, Bird! Pete asked me to tell you something. Damn the torpedoes, and seize the day!” Hannah smiled broadly as she passed along Pete’s words of encouragement.

  Bird smiled back, somehow feeling a little better. She tried to breathe deeply as they walked over to watch the sixth horse go.

  The course was huge. The Grand Prix grass ring had been expanded to include a steeplechase hedge, an enormous drop, and the Devil’s Dike. Multicoloured jumps dazzled the eye in the bright sunshine. The lines to the jumps were anything but obvious, and the combinations were fearsome. Bird swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

  A big grey horse trotted in. His rider was a man in his late forties. Bird recognized him from Horse Sport magazine. She’d forgotten his name, but remembered that the horse was London Fog.

  The man and his horse began their canter immediately, and went through the timer. The first jump was a red and white vertical made of wavy planks of wood, painted with a Canadian flag. They cleared it nicely and travelled toward an in-and-out with two strides in the middle.

  He’s going too slow, messaged Sunny.

  He might pick up a little speed.

  Bird and Sunny watched as London Fog cleared the first rail, but then lost momentum for the second and smashed through it.

  He didn’t. Sunny began to get excited. I know how to do it!

  Stay calm. We need all your energy for out there.

  The grey cantered on, jumping high over the water hazard. He gathered speed as he faced the purple oxer. Horse and rider cleared it, then turned around the bend, jumped the solitary rail, and headed up the slope. London Fog got to the top and froze.

  This was the dreaded Bank. The grey horse looked down, way down the forty-five-degree slope, the whites of his eyes showing. If he stepped back, even an inch, it would be marked as a refusal.

  The rider urged him forward, but he wouldn’t budge. The man smacked him with his crop, and still the horse stood firm. Suddenly, London Fog reared up and turned to go. The man stayed with him, but couldn’t gather him before he had retraced his steps and jumped back over the rail. The horse and rider were off course and whistled out.

  Bird began to shiver. How had the five who’d gone before done? Maybe it was better if she didn’t watch at all.

  She looked over into the stands. The bright blue of Laura’s flowing sundress and floppy hat were immediately recognizable. Pete had a striped Hudson’s Bay blanket draped over his legs. His face looked white, even from across the distance. He was always cold now, even in the August heat. Bird hoped that coming to this event wouldn’t be too hard on him. Laura was right beside him, though, holding his hand. She’d take him home when he’d had enough.

  Bird picked out Eva, too, who was in white pants and a hot pink blouse, with a lime green hat and bangles. At least she’d been smiling more often. She seemed nicer — at least for the time being. Her mother would always have her ups and downs. Bird didn’t want to think about that now.

  The next horse trotted in. It was a mare, Anastasia, ridden by Herb Vance. Bird had always liked this bay mare, and Herb had been ranked in the top ten Canadian riders every year for the past decade. Bird was eager to see them go, and curious about how they’d fare.

  See it, Bird? Her back is sore.

  I can’t tell, but I guess she doesn’t look too happy.

  Anastasia cantered through the timer and on to the red and white flag jump. Her ears kept flicking back, and her tail swished.

  She’s going to refuse, Bird. Watch.

  True to Sunny’s prediction, the mare stopped. Her chest pushed the wavy planks to the ground as she skidded to a halt.

  He should take her home. She won’t jump today.

  Good call, Sunny. But he probably doesn’t know that her back is sore.

  Herb backed Anastasia up as four men came running out to put up the planks. When they were finished, he brought her around again, smacked her rump with his crop, and aimed her for the flag. She stopped again. Herb doffed his cap and trotted her out. The mare’s head was low. She looked embarrassed, but relieved.

  Bird wondered again why Frank had entered them in the derby. Was something supposed to happen here? What was the plan? Bird looked around the grounds, checking for anything unusual.

  The arrival of a large white car caught her eye. No cars were allowed past the parking lot, but this one drove straight across the grass and pulled up beside the warm-up ring. She examined it more closely. It looked expensive, like a Cadillac. Inside were two men. The licence plate was from Quebec.

  Bird’s heart began to pound. Montreal was in Quebec. Was it the lawyer, John Budd, and his client, Alain Morin? Could this be what Frank had been expecting?

  Bird! Get a grip! Concentrate on the show! These guys are good. No trouble with the Bank at all.

  That’s nice, Sunny.

  You’ve turned to stone. You’re as stiff as a board.

  I’ll be fine.

  You’d better be.

  Bird watched as the men got out of the car. One wore a blue suit. He had a large belly and an imperious manner: he held his thick neck stiffly, and constantly jutted out his chin. He reminded Bird of a large rooster. The other, who was dressed more casually, was younger and slimmer.

  In the big grass ring, another horse and rider had been eliminated. The announcer indicated that they’d had trouble with the Devil’s Dike, but Bird hadn’t noticed.

  They made a mess of it, Bird. It was bad.

  That’s nice.

  You’re not listening!

  What? The men were walking around, chatting with people. Someone pointed out Hannah. Let’s go, Sunny.

  Now? We’re next?

  No. Not into the ring. Over there. Hannah needs us.

  I don’t get this. Are we here for the derby or not?

  Yes, Sunny. But first we have something to check out.

  You and your mysteries, he grumbled.

  They walked over to the edge of the warm-up ring, where Hannah was talking to the men. Bird positioned Sunny behind them, facing Han
nah, to hear as much of the conversation as she could. Hannah glanced at Bird, but did not indicate that she’d seen her.

  “So, where is the horse right now?” asked the large man.

  “He’s at my farm.”

  The younger man wanted clarification. “And why have you not allowed him to leave?” He spoke with a French accent.

  “I’m sorry, Alain, but I don’t have the authority.” Bird thought Hannah looked very uncomfortable.

  The large man clenched and unclenched his jaw. “We have had no response from Dexter Pill. He promised to send us the horse. I wired the money ahead of time in good faith because he’s regarded as a good trainer, and was the agent in this deal. When the horse did not arrive and we heard nothing from Mr. Pill, we decided to wait no longer. We came to find out for ourselves.”

  “I bought the horse and now I want him,” said the man Hannah had called Alain. “What is the problem?”

  Hannah said nothing.

  “We were told by Ed Cage that the problem lies with you and your farm, Miss Bradley.” The large man puffed up his chest, looking more and more like a rooster. “We were told that you are hiding Tall Sox and will not allow him to be delivered to his rightful home.”

  Hannah paused before she spoke. “We need to find out who owns the horse, Mr. Budd, before we can determine who is authorized to sell him. The man who pays the board for Tall Sox at my stable believes he owns him, and has no knowledge of a sale. He’s the one I must believe.”

  Mr. Budd considered this. “I see your dilemma.’

  “Now what?” asked Alain Morin, who was becoming increasingly agitated. “C’est un problèm. I paid for a horse and I get nothing?”

  “We will figure this out,” answered Hannah. “I promise.”

  Bird and Sunny stayed where they were as Hannah and the two men walked to the stands. Hannah seated them next to Pete and Laura Pierson, right in the front row.

  Bird slid down from Sunny’s back to give him a break. What was going on? Hannah had seemed nervous, but not surprised or upset. And how could there be two front seats left vacant in a packed house? Bird was beginning to feel like an actor in a play — but she didn’t know her lines, and everybody else seemed to know theirs.