Jumper

by Michele Bossley

  “What difference does it make?” I pointed out. “I know he’s going there. Why can’t I just sneak onto the ranch and let Rosie go?”

  “Because if you do, you’re going to be charged with theft!” Kayla snapped. “You have to prove that Bellamy is going to slaughter that horse, and then you can go to the guys who ran the auction and tell them that Bellamy is breaking the rules. Weren’t those horses supposed to be kept for a least a year? They made that rule so people wouldn’t turn around and make money off them.”

  “Yeah, but what if I can’t get proof in time? What if the military guys won’t listen to me? I’m a kid. What if they don’t take me seriously?”

  There were footsteps in the hall, and Laurel poked her head through the doorway before Kayla could answer. “The lesson started ten minutes ago, Kayla.”

  “Sorry.” Kayla hastily put her helmet back on her head. “Don’t worry,” she whispered as she followed Laurel out. “We’ll think of something.”

  chapter twelve

  “I thought you’d understand,” I said bitterly.

  “I do understand. That doesn’t mean I’d let you risk your neck, crawling around a pasture in the dark to let loose a bunch of wild broncs.”

  Grandpa had been in town to run an errand and stopped at my house for a coffee with my mom. When I finally gave up trying to phone him at the ranch, I called home to ask my dad to pick me up early from my riding lesson, and Grandpa answered the phone. When I told him what was going on, he came out right away and brought me back to the ranch for supper.

  “Why not?” I cried.

  “Because, Reese. It’s dangerous. It’s foolish. I’m not letting you go out there alone.” Grandpa stood with his arms crossed in front of him.

  I threw up my hands in frustration. “I will not sit back and let Jim Bellamy kill my horse!” I yelled. “If you think I’m not going to do anything—!”

  “Whoa...hang on a second,” Grandpa said calmly. “I said I wouldn’t let you go out there alone. I’m coming with you.”

  “Well, of course you are,” I answered crossly. “Who else is there to drive the truck?”

  Grandpa stared at me, then started to chuckle. “You didn’t let me in on that part of it.”

  “I wasn’t sure you would do it,” I said.

  “I might not, except that I wouldn’t put it past you to walk every step of the way if I didn’t,” Grandpa said.

  I felt a grin twitch at the corners of my mouth. “I probably would,” I admitted.

  “But you need a plan,” Grandpa continued.

  “Well, I thought we could go out to the ranch when Bellamy isn’t there, find some kind of proof that he’s planning to ship the wild horses for meat and then show it to the auction officials.”

  “Mm-hmph.” Grandpa stared at me with open skepticism. “And how will you do that, exactly? What kind of proof are you looking for? And how will you know when Jim will be out and when he’ll be back so you’ll have time to look for it?”

  “I...don’t know,” I admitted.

  Grandpa frowned. “It’s a good thing you told me about this, because that plan is not going to work.”

  My shoulders sagged. I’d been so sure Grandpa would be able to offer some concrete help.

  “Lucky for you, I know some things that you don’t. If we think this through, we can probably pull it off.”

  “Really?” I shot him a hopeful glance.

  “Slaughterhouses have to keep some fairly careful records,” Grandpa explained. “After all the hoopla with mad cow disease, they have to be able to trace an animal back to its owner. Ranchers and farmers have to fill out forms on the animals they’re bringing in. All we need to do is get those and it’ll show that Jim Bellamy intends to slaughter the horses.”

  I heaved a sigh of relief. “That’s great.”

  “Except there’s a bit of a problem with that,” Grandpa continued.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “Well, those forms have to be filled out when you’re bringing the animals in. You can’t do it ahead of time. I usually fill mine out the morning I’m shipping them in, and then they have to stay in the truck—that’s a rule. The forms have to stay in the transport vehicle. So on the one hand, we know where they’ll be, and we can watch for a chance to swipe them. But on the other hand, we only have a small window of opportunity to get the forms before Bellamy loads the animals. We want to get Rosie out of there, and once she’s in the truck, we’ll have a real fight on our hands.”

  “Are you saying we’ll steal her?”

  Grandpa shook his head. “No. But Bellamy could technically just drive away with her if she’s in his truck. We need to get Rosie out of that corral and then take those forms to the auction officials. We should let them know ahead of time what we think Bellamy is up to.”

  “If we do that, can’t they just take Rosie away from him?” I asked.

  “Not unless we have proof that he is planning to slaughter her, and the only way to get it is to get our hands on those forms.”

  “Oh.” I drew a breath. “Then I guess I’m staying here tonight. We’ll have to get to Bellamy’s ranch early.”

  “What about school?” Grandpa asked. “And your parents? I could deal with this without you—in fact, it would be safer for you if I did.”

  “But not safer for you. What if Bellamy catches you? No, I’m going,” I said with determination. “Rosie’s my horse, and I want to be there. I’ll just have to talk to Mom and Dad.”

  chapter thirteen

  I tugged on the door handle of Grandpa’s truck in the gray early dawn. The door groaned on its rusty hinges, sounding obnoxiously loud in the morning stillness. I jumped in, glad to get out of the strong chinook wind blowing over the pasture.

  I turned to look in the back for the tool-kit—Grandpa figured we might need it—when the lumpy, wool blanket that was wadded up on the seat gave a sudden heave.

  I stifled a yelp of surprise and pulled back, my heart hammering against my ribs. Could an animal have gotten in and nested in here last night? If so, it was pretty big and only inches away. I wondered if I could back slowly out of the truck, but as I reached behind me for the door handle, the lump of wool turned and heaved again, the blanket falling away.

  I nearly fell off the seat. Kayla sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes. “Is it time to go yet?”

  “What—” I gasped for breath, as much from relief that I wasn’t about to get eaten as from shock that the last person I expected to be here suddenly was. “What are you doing here?”

  “Helping, of course.” Kayla covered her mouth with her hand. “Do you think there would be time for me to brush my teeth before we leave?”

  I blinked. No, I definitely wasn’t dreaming. She was still there. “Kayla, what’s going on? How did you get here?”

  “Same way you did—in your grandpa’s truck. I hid back there when your grandpa picked you up from the stable last night.” Kayla gestured to the narrow bench seat behind the front seats, where the toolkit, ropes and other stuff Grandpa kept back there usually sat.

  I stared at her in disbelief. “You stowed away in the truck and slept here all night?”

  Kayla shook her head. “Uh, mostly.” “You could have frozen to death! Or starved!” I yelled. “What were you thinking? And what about your mom and dad?”

  “I phoned them and left a message that I was spending the night with a friend. My mom had a late meeting and my dad was out of town. I doubt very much they would have even noticed I was gone,” she added bitterly. “And it wasn’t very cold last night—if it was, I’d have come in the house. Now that you mention it, though, I am hungry.”

  I snorted in exasperation. “Come on.” I shoved the door of the truck open and led Kayla toward the house. We met Grandpa on the back porch, wearing a wool hunting jacket and holding a steaming mug of coffee in one hand.

  “Who’s this?” he asked in puzzlement.

  “This is Kayla Richards. She’s...uh, a
friend from riding lessons.”

  “Oh?” Grandpa waited to hear more.

  “She spent the night in the truck.”

  “You did?” Grandpa glanced at her. When she nodded, he frowned. “Now why would you go and do a thing like that?” A flush of embarrassment colored Kayla’s cheeks, but Grandpa went on. “That had to be mighty uncomfortable. You’d have been more than welcome in the house.”

  Kayla shifted her feet. “I wasn’t sure,” she muttered. “I didn’t want you to send me home.”

  “She’s hungry too,” I put in.

  “Well, of course she is,” Grandpa said. “Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.” He opened the door to the house and led Kayla inside.

  I showed her the bathroom, got her a fresh toothbrush and let her get cleaned up. Meanwhile, Grandpa was frying eggs. I put two thick slices of bread in the toaster.

  “Fried egg sandwich and juice ought to hold her,” he said. “Grab a couple of bananas too, Reese.” He deftly flipped the eggs onto the toast, clapped the second slice on top and put the whole thing into a plastic container. I stuffed two bananas and several juice boxes into a plastic grocery bag.

  “Mmmm. Something smells great.” Kayla walked into the kitchen. Her face had a fresh-scrubbed shine, and her hair was damp at the temples, but combed back. She looked a little out of place, though, in her riding breeches and knee-high boots, compared to Grandpa and me in our jeans.

  “You can eat on the way,” Grandpa told her. “We’ve got to get out to Bellamy’s ranch before he loads up, and I don’t know when that’ll be. In fact...” Grandpa looked from Kayla to me. “Neither of you girls should be going. I can’t take the responsibility for you, Reese, let alone Kayla. Do your parents know where you are?” He turned to Kayla suddenly.

  “Sort of,” Kayla said in a small voice. “I left them a message.”

  Grandpa smacked his forehead with his palm. “What have I got myself into?” he asked.

  “Grandpa, look at the time. We can’t stand around arguing. Kayla came because she wanted to help rescue Rosie, and I’m not going to stay here at the ranch either. If you leave us here, I’ll saddle up Paint and Old Ben and we’ll ride across the fields to Bellamy’s place. Or we’ll take the tractor. Or hitchhike.”

  Grandpa’s face twitched. I would never hitchhike anywhere, but I could see that last suggestion worried him. He sighed. “Come on, then. But you two will stay in the truck, understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Kayla answered.

  “Yes.” I couldn’t keep from smiling.

  Grandpa handed Kayla the container with her sandwich. “Let’s go.”

  chapter fourteen

  The pre-dawn chill had intensified as heavy gray clouds thickened over the mountains to the west. The warm winds, which had made the temperature rise over the past few days, had shifted direction and turned icy cold.

  “Feels like snow,” Grandpa said, turning up the collar on his wool jacket. “Looks like the chinook is over.”

  “Good thing you weren’t planning on sleeping in the truck tonight,” I commented to Kayla. I shivered and turned up the heater.

  We pulled off the main road onto a gravel drive that led to Bellamy’s ranch. Grandpa parked the truck some distance from the house, partially hidden behind some pine trees, so the noise wouldn’t alert anyone.

  I followed him out of the truck.

  “You get right back in there!” Grandpa said.

  “But we can’t see anything from here!” I protested. “How will I know you’re okay?”

  “Look, Reese, I’ll hide near Bellamy’s truck. When I see him leave the forms in there, I’ll grab them and come straight back. Nothing to it.”

  “What about the dogs?” I asked. There were always dogs on a ranch. “If they bark...”

  Grandpa patted his pocket. “I thought of that. I’m carrying ammunition.”

  Kayla stared. “What kind of ammunition?”

  “Dog biscuits, of course.” Grandpa grinned. “Now stay put. I’ll be back.”

  Reluctantly, I climbed back in the truck. Kayla and I watched Grandpa disappear through the trees.

  Kayla looked at me. “We’re not really staying here, are we?”

  “Not on your life,” I answered. “Let’s go.” I jumped as the door creaked loudly, piercing the silence. I paused, but Grandpa did not reappear.

  “Wait for me,” Kayla whispered. She buttoned up her blazer and thrust her hands into her leather riding gloves.

  “You sure you don’t want your helmet?” I teased. She looked like she was ready to jump fences, not traipse through the bushes.

  “I’m cold, and I didn’t really plan this out, okay?” Kayla retorted. “You’re not exactly a fashion plate yourself.”

  That was true. I hadn’t stopped at home for clothes, so I was wearing one of Grandpa’s old flannel shirts, which came down nearly to my knees, my jeans and jacket, his woolen tam, and mismatched gloves—one navy wool, the other black leather.

  “No one’s looking at us anyway,” I said. “Let’s get going.”

  We stepped carefully through the trees, trying to be as quiet as possible, following the direction Grandpa had taken. The pine boughs lifted and swayed in the wind; the ground was crusty with remnants of ice. It seemed like we’d been walking for hours when Kayla pushed aside a clinging branch and we reached the edge of a pasture. I could see a house at the far end, painted white with river-stone pillars along the porch—nice. Probably expensive too. There were several outbuildings—a shed, a large barn, a garage. I could also see a corral, and there were quite a few horses in it.

  “Let’s get closer.” Kayla nudged me.

  I didn’t need to be told twice. We skirted the edge of the pasture, creeping toward the corral. A big semitrailer was parked nearby. I couldn’t see Grandpa anywhere.

  Kayla nudged me again, tilting her head toward the semi. I gave a quick nod, and we slunk through the bushes, trying not to be visible from the house.

  I did hear a dog barking and winced as it became louder. Bellamy was sure to come out of the house if it didn’t stop soon. The dog burst out of the trees, snuffing eagerly atthe ground. Something came flying out of the bushes, and the dog leaped for it, crunching it between its teeth.

  “What was that?” Kayla said.

  I stifled a giggle. “Grandpa’s throwing the dog treats.” The dog looked up and waited, wagging its tail. Another dog biscuit sailed out. The dog gulped it down, then circled the bushes, but it didn’t bark.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no sign of anyone near the house or the barn. If ever Grandpa was going to get those forms, now was the time...

  I saw him slide out of the bush and edge toward the passenger side of the semi. He gingerly tried the handle. It opened easily, and Grandpa stepped up to look inside.

  The next few seconds seemed to last for hours, but at last I saw Grandpa emerge with a fistful of papers in one hand. At the same time I heard the crunch of gravel. Jim Bellamy appeared suddenly in the doorway of the barn, leading a horse by its halter, in full view of the truck. I had no time to warn Grandpa. Bellamy looked startled, like someone who’s walked into a room full of people with green hair, but he soon recovered.

  He tethered the horse and strode over to the semi. “Hey, Gus. Something I can help you with?”

  Grandpa’s expression was bland, giving nothing away. “Maybe. I’ve been told you’re shipping some horses today.”

  “Yeah. So?” Bellamy said.

  “So, I have reason to believe that at least one of them is a wild horse from the military auction,” Grandpa answered.

  “And what difference would that make?” Bellamy said.

  “The rules were pretty clear about not selling those horses for meat,” Grandpa retorted. He waved his handful of forms.

  Bellamy stopped, his eyes narrowing. “I could have you arrested for breaking and entering, Gus, not to mention theft if you intend to go anywhere with those manifests.”<
br />
  “Good!” Grandpa bristled. “Go ahead. We’ll see what the police have to say when they have a look at those forms.”

  Bellamy grinned, a cold grin that sent shivers down my spine. “They won’t say anything. They can’t prove a thing. Those horses were slicks.”

  That halted Grandpa in his tracks.

  “There’s nothing on them to say that they weren’t mine in the first place. How are you going to prove that the horses I’m shipping are the ones I bought at the auction?” Bellamy continued.

  “What are slicks?” Kayla whispered.

  “Horses that aren’t branded.” I felt my stomach clench. Bellamy was right—unless the military had kept exact records of who bought what horse, or had branded them all, there was no way to differentiate between Bellamy’s horses and the wild horses. They’d all have Bellamy’s brand now.

  “You low-down slimy skunk,” Grandpa sputtered.

  “Hand over the forms, Gus,” Bellamy said with an air of menacing patience. “I’m not about to lose a forty-thousand-dollar profit to an old man who wants me to play by the book.”

  “How many of those horses did you buy?” Grandpa asked, astonished.

  “Some fifty head.” Bellamy tipped back his hat.

  “How...?” Grandpa said.

  “Other people’s names on the registration. Some were legitimate. My mother, for instance, God rest her soul. Others, not so much. Fred Flintstone made it on there I think. The auction officials didn’t seem to notice.”

  Grandpa stared at him in utter disbelief. “You planned this all along. My granddaughter wanted that mare, and you bid against her. And all along you knew you were planning to destroy them.”

  Bellamy shrugged. “Your granddaughter can buy another horse. Didn’t I tell her the only good reason for owning a horse was to make money, and jumping over fences didn’t pay? There’s good money to be made on these broncs, and I don’t aim to let anyone stand in my way.”

  The implied threat was there. But Grandpa didn’t budge. “Is that so?” he said evenly before he hauled off and punched Bellamy right in the gut.