“It was a mistake,” she said to Sarah. “He didn’t mean to hurt Rice Cake.”
Sarah frowned. “I think you should leave. Now.”
Willa and Ben quickly stood up and turned to go. But Chipper stopped them.
“I have to bring my father his lunch,” he said. “Want to come along for the ride?”
“Sure,” answered Willa. She and Ben turned to go back into the house, but Chipper headed to the other side of the yard, toward a long wooden walkway that led to a short dock.
“We’re taking a boat?” she asked.
“It’s just a skiff. It’s okay,” Chipper said. “I’m a good driver.” Chipper handed them life jackets and leaned down to untie the boat.
Once she was buckled, Willa stepped into the front of the skiff. Her whole body wavered as the boat sloshed underneath her. She quickly sat down. “Hold on tightly, Ben,” Willa warned her brother.
Ben watched his sister from the dock. He fiddled with his straps. Ben wondered if this was allowed. What would Mom say? They were getting in a boat with a stranger—and that stranger was a kid! Chipper finished untying the boat.
Ben glanced at his sister’s back, took a deep breath, and stepped in.
“My dad’s a fisherman,” Chipper said, once they were on their way. “He takes people on fishing cruises. We’ve got to get there before they leave.” As the motor revved, the front of the small boat lifted out of the water. Willa grabbed on to her seat. The boat made its way out of a small creek into the open bay.
“So, you probably know that Assateague is over there, with the wild ponies,” Chipper told them after a while. “And this is about where the ponies come across on swim day.”
Willa and Ben both looked from one shore to the other. The white sands of Assateague looked far from the marshy banks of Chincoteague. The ponies swam it every year, even the new colts. Then many of the youngest ponies would go up to auction the next day. It was how Chincoteague’s Volunteer Fire Department kept track of the herd. They needed to keep it from getting too big. Assateague was a small island. Only so many ponies could live there.
Willa couldn’t help thinking of Starbuck. Ben couldn’t either. Mr. Worth had said she was a real Chincoteague pony. Had she swum the full length of the bay when she was a foal? What was her story?
Had Starbuck been born on Assateague, as wild as the sea?
Willa let the salty air fill her lungs. She decided it was okay if Sarah didn’t want to be friends. Her brother, Chipper, still seemed nice.
But he would be a better friend for Ben than for her.
Willa clung to the hope that Grandma wouldn’t find a home for Starbuck. As long as she could be with Starbuck, she could be happy. Still, she knew it wasn’t the same as having a friend. She tried pushing that thought out of her head, but it stayed with her all the way to dropping off lunch, and even after she and Ben returned home to Misty Inn.
Chapter 7
Dear Kate,
I miss you so, so, so much.
How is camp? Tell me some of the new stuff you learned on the computer.
It is so different here in Chincoteague. This morning chickens woke Ben and me up.
Then this woman, Mrs. Cornett, who was wearing red boots and a yellow poncho, came out of nowhere and said they were hers. We did help her bring her chickens home, but how strange is that?
I’ve only met one girl, and we are already not friends.
My grandma and grandpa have a really nice farm with lots of horses. Ben and I go there every day, and we’re taking care of a pony named Starbuck.
My parents still won’t let us have a pet, but there is a cat here.
I’ve decided that Ben and I are going to try to make a fort in the barn that’s in the back of our house. There’s a lot of gross, old stuff in it, like rusty coffee cans, but I did find a bowl that says “Woof” in the bottom.
I sure wish you were here with me to help us build it.
Love,
Willa
Chapter 8
EARLY EVERY MORNING WILLA AND Ben would go to the barn and spend time building their fort. They had already cleaned up the hayloft and thrown out a huge pile of junk.
But they couldn’t wait to see Starbuck each day. And she seemed pleased to see them.
The buckskin pony had grown used to them. Grandma Edna had noticed. She now allowed her grandchildren to go in and out of Starbuck’s stall as if the pony were their own.
One day Grandma had a surprise for Willa and Ben when they arrived at the farm.
“You’ve both been working hard. It’s about time you got to take a ride,” she said. In a few minutes, they were both saddled up.
Willa was in front on Maude, a steady pinto. Ben was on the great Jake. Grandma Edna walked on foot, staying close by Ben’s side.
“He’s like a big easy chair,” Grandma said, glancing up at Ben. “You can’t fall off. He’s too wide.”
As Ben eased forward and back with Jake’s every step, he thought it was closer to sitting in a rocking chair—a rocking chair on the beach. From Jake’s back, Ben had a fine view of the farm. He could almost see out to the ocean.
“Isn’t it windy on Assateague?” Ben asked. “What about winter? Don’t the horses get cold?”
Grandma Edna paused. “Well, yes, I’m sure they do. But those ponies are tough. They’ve learned to take care of themselves. And nature gives them heavier coats when it gets cold.”
“I don’t think Starbuck would do so well over there,” Ben said.
“Well, she’s been pampered,” Grandma replied. “She probably had a heavier coat in the winter, but her old owner groomed it away in spring. And you and Willa have brushed that pony to no end.”
It was true. When they weren’t wrapping her leg or adding fresh sawdust to her stall, they had a mane comb, currycomb, or brisk brush in hand. Starbuck loved the attention. She would turn her head and watch Willa and Ben with her warm brown eyes.
“Starbuck is the best friend we’ve made, Grandma. We need to take care of her.” Ben sounded sincere.
Willa turned around in her saddle again. Sometimes Ben surprised her. “I think you’re right,” Willa said. “Grandma, why do you think her old owner gave up Starbuck?”
“I’m not really sure, honey. Mr. Worth said we’d get more information soon. When we do, I’ll let you know,” Grandma answered.
Back at the barn, Starbuck was waiting for them. She nickered a low greeting when Willa and Ben carried in their saddles. “I wonder if we’ll ever get to ride her,” Ben said, almost to himself.
“It depends,” Willa said. “Grandma might still be looking for another home for her. And she doesn’t want us to grow too attached.”
“But we’re already attached, Willa,” said Ben.
At that moment Grandma came into the barn and hung up Jake’s oversize bridle next to the much smaller ones that fit the ponies. “I’m a little worried about your girl, Starbuck. She needs to get outside, but she’s not ready to be in the paddock. The other horses have been together for a long time. They are not always friendly with newcomers.”
Grandma had already explained to them that they used to have two paddocks. With two spaces, a new horse could go in one, and the older horses would stay in the other. They could slowly get used to one another. There were always one or two horses that liked to be in charge, and they would want to show the new horse who was boss. Grandma called it “herd dynamics.”
“She needs fresh air,” Grandma said, leaning down to run her hand over Starbuck’s sore leg. “She’s almost mended. Can’t keep her cooped up much longer. Maybe you two could take her out for some grass?”
It felt like a whole new world, getting to take Starbuck out of the stall. They took her for a short walk along the far edge of the farm. The pony drew in deep breaths of air, her nostrils quivering. As pretty as she was in the barn, she seemed even more beautiful out in the open.
At Grandma’s advice, they did not go far. They found a
good patch of grass near the paddock fence and Starbuck happily ate.
All at once, the pony lifted her head. Her ears pricked toward a faraway sound. She called out in a high whinny.
From the far corner of the pasture, Annie’s head rose. The older mare’s ears pressed back against her neck. Starbuck neighed again. Annie’s eyes flashed white with anger. She stretched out her neck and began to charge. She pounded across the grassy paddock, aiming right for Starbuck!
Ben scrambled up from the ground where he was sitting. Willa gripped Starbuck’s halter and backed her away.
Annie’s hooves skidded in the dirt when she reached the high fence. She snorted, her teeth bared.
“That’s not very nice,” Willa scolded the older pony. Starbuck stood behind her, rubbing her head against Willa’s back. “We should probably find someplace else.”
Annie stayed by the fence, eyeing the newcomer. “I don’t like the way she looks at Starbuck,” Ben said. He scrunched up his face at the chestnut pony.
Willa tugged at the lead line, but Starbuck wouldn’t move. Even though the pony turned her head toward Willa, her hooves stayed put. “She doesn’t want to go,” Ben said.
“She’s got to. She can’t stay here,” Willa said.
Ben rubbed his lips together, looking at the pony’s warm eyes and alert ears. He walked over and leaned against Starbuck’s backside, giving her a nudge. “It’s okay, girl,” he murmured.
The three of them headed toward the barn. Grandma helped put Starbuck back in her stall and then asked, “How would you both like to get some ice cream?”
Ben and Willa piled in the backseat of the truck. Willa wondered if the ice cream on Chincoteague was as good as the ice cream at Blue Hills in Chicago.
When they pulled up to the stand, Willa didn’t want to get out of the truck.
Sarah Starling and her little sister, Bess, were there with their mother.
“Come on, Willa,” Grandma said. “There’s a long line and I’m hungry.”
She smiled.
Grandma and Mrs. Starling said hello and talked about the upcoming Dunlap picnic. But Sarah didn’t say one word to Willa—or to Ben. She just glared at them and played with the seam on her skirt. Luckily, it was not long before she left with her sister and mother.
Ben ordered a double scoop of chocolate, Grandma had butter pecan, and Willa had strawberry with sprinkles. The ice cream was yummy, but it didn’t keep Willa from feeling a little bit sick to her stomach: What was going to happen when Sarah and her entire family came to the Dunlaps’ next week? It could only be disaster.
Chapter 9
THE NEXT MORNING WILLA COULD hardly move.
“Why am I so sore?” Willa complained to her mother. “I’ve ridden horses before.” She squatted down, then stood up and shook out her legs.
“Your muscles aren’t used to it. It’s been a long time since you took lessons,” Mom reminded Willa. She paused and looked at the measuring tape. They were in the third-floor bedroom. It was going to be part of the bed-and-breakfast, and the windows needed new curtains. Willa held one end of the tape to the corner of the window frame.
Her mom was right. It had been a long time since she had taken lessons. Willa wondered what it would be like if she hadn’t given up horseback riding. She had learned a lot in the months she had taken lessons in Chicago. She knew how to be calm around horses, how to brush in the direction that the hair grew, and how to place her hand on a horse’s side or rump to let it know where she was in the stall. The riding trainer had taught her all those things.
Between leg stretches, Mom asked, “Wasn’t Four Corners the best ice cream you’ve ever had? How was Ben when you were there? Did he say much?”
Of course Mom was more concerned about Ben. He still didn’t say much, but that was Ben.
Before Willa could answer Mom’s question, or tell her about mean Sarah Starling, a loud howl came from downstairs.
“It’s Dad,” Willa said. “It sounds like he’s in pain.” They dropped the tape and raced down the stairs, to the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” gasped Mom.
Dad was standing in the center of the room holding a broom over his head. He was slowly turning in circles, his gaze on the ground. Ben was sitting on the new wooden counter. He was as quiet as ever but had a huge smile on his face.
Without looking up, Dad said, “I saw a mouse. No, not just one. Two.”
“Mice,” Ben said.
A sigh of relief came from Mom. “You screamed so loud. I thought you’d cut off your hand!” Mom started laughing.
Dad was still spinning around. He was now holding the broom like a hatchet. “This isn’t funny,” he declared.
“We’ve had mice before,” Willa pointed out. “We had them every spring in the city.”
“But that was in our home,” Dad reminded them. “This is also supposed to be a restaurant. The health inspectors will never approve a kitchen with mice!” Dad said. “Traps never work, and I refuse to put out poison.”
“Well, there is a simple solution,” Mom began.
Listening to Mom, Ben’s eyes grew wide. Willa’s heart bounced. Was Mom saying what they thought she was saying?
“All right.” Dad gave in. “Go find that cat.”
New Cat proved to be a good mouser. They never saw her actually catch a mouse, but she was always sniffing around the kitchen and standing guard. She would stare at the cabinets for hours, tail swishing, and would not leave her post. It took only a couple of days and the mice were gone.
“It’s like all the mice packed up and left once they realized she was here,” Dad said.
“They’ll leave if they smell a cat,” Mom said. “There are plenty of other, safer places for a mouse family to live around here.”
Dad reached down and gave New Cat a stroke from head to tail. “I appreciate a pet that can earn its keep.”
Ben and Willa appreciated New Cat too. She was their first real pet, after all. Early on, the cat did not leave the kitchen. But after a couple of days—and no more signs of mice—she wandered into the family room.
Ben liked to scratch her under the chin, where her creamy white fur was soft. Willa gave her pets along the back. When New Cat was off duty, she enjoyed napping in a sunny window.
Every morning she would follow Willa and Ben to the barn, and watch them clean and sweep and move hay from one end of the space to the other. Even though they would have loved a horse, New Cat was a nice start.
Chapter 10
WILLA THOUGHT THAT TIME MOVED more slowly on Chincoteague. But before she knew it, it was the Friday of the family picnic. The Dunlaps were in the kitchen bright and early. Willa was helping Dad with the potato salad. Ben was helping Mom with the sugar cookies.
Mom seemed nervous.
“The first party in a new house is never easy,” she said, her head inside the pantry.
“It’s not just a new house,” Dad added, chopping a celery stalk. “It’s also a new kitchen.”
It was a new kitchen, but the fancy new stove did not fit in its space between the cabinets. The dishwasher was still in the box, so there was lots of dish and glass washing every day.
At around eleven, Mom told the kids, “Your dad and I have a lot to do. Maybe you want to ride your bikes to your grandparents’ for a while? But please be home by three to help set up.”
As they neared Miller Farm, they heard a high, shrill whinny. Another followed it. “Starbuck!” Willa called out. They were still at the bottom of the gravel driveway. They couldn’t see the paddock. A third whinny rang out. The cry didn’t sound like it could come from the calm mare with the soft brown eyes, but Ben agreed with Willa. He was sure it was Starbuck too.
Willa reached the top of the driveway first. Ben threw down his bike and ran to catch up with her. They joined Grandpa, who was already at the paddock gate. They all looked to the far side of the pasture to where Starbuck and Annie were facing off.
“What happened?” W
illa asked.
“Well, I let Starbuck out,” Grandpa said. “She was kicking in her stall. I thought she’d knock the barn down. Seemed like the best thing was to let her stretch her legs.”
“But she was hurt, Grandpa,” Willa said.
“Your grandma said she was better. I just assumed that meant she was all right for the pasture.”
Ben gripped the fence. He was listening, but he didn’t take his eyes off the ponies. Starbuck’s eyes flashed and her nostrils flared. There had to be something he could do.
“Where is Grandma?” Willa asked, looking around hopefully.
“Went into town. Had to go shopping before your folks’ picnic.” Grandpa took a handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped his forehead.
Willa turned back to the paddock. Annie and Starbuck both had their ears pinned back. Annie took a step forward and stuck her neck out, her teeth bared. Starbuck stood her ground. “We have to get her out of there,” Willa insisted. “Who knows what Annie will do.”
“Annie’s trying to show Starbuck who’s boss,” Grandpa said. “I think I know how to distract her. Annie doesn’t think with her head. She thinks with her stomach.
“Willa, you come with me. Bring that pail. Ben, you keep watch,” Grandpa directed. “Call us if they get any closer. Got it, bud?”
Ben nodded, his hands still tight on the fence. Grandpa and Willa jogged toward the back of the house.
Annie inched forward, kicking up dust. The other horses kept their distance. Even Jake stayed near the gate. Starbuck didn’t bare her teeth, but she also didn’t back down. Annie came at her from the side and nipped her neck.
Starbuck squealed. Annie stamped and tried to back her into the fence. Starbuck skidded away. When Annie lunged, Starbuck swung around to face the older pony again. Starbuck’s front leg shot up and she slammed her hoof to the ground.
“Leave her alone,” Ben called out. He let go of the fence. “Get away! Starbuck didn’t do anything.” He heard muffled yells from Grandpa and Willa behind him, but he didn’t care. Before Ben knew it, he had unlatched the paddock gate and was walking quickly toward the two mares.
Welcome Home! Page 3