“The tough get going,” Molly and John singsonged, each knowing Ally’s favorite quote.
They stepped into the gray morning, and Nick quietly shut the door behind them. The sea breezes kept things fresh, and it always struck Nick as odd the way the days could be so hot and the nights so cool. But he knew it was because of the way the hot air over the land interacted with the cool air above the sea.
After waiting for twenty minutes, the four tiptoed down the porch stairs as daylight broke. Careful to make no noise, they set off past Mr. Tomoro’s house, third from the end, and then past the “Widder” Newton’s, the last house on the street, where the horse had fed on grass.
Everyone knew about the “Widder.” It was said she had a fortune stashed away under mattresses and behind paintings and furniture. No one knew, of course, whether she even possessed a penny. But Mrs. Newton did have a great garden, unusual for the Outer Banks where not much grew except sand grasses, heavy shrubs, and trees. She loved that garden and could be seen working in it at all hours. More than once she’d protectively screeched at the kids to keep away, and Mr. Tomoro had told the kids the wild horses had once dined on some of her vegetables and she had gone crazy, screaming at them and firing a double-barreled shotgun into the air.
Mr. O’Connor and Mrs. Parker had warned the kids not to get Mrs. Newton’s dander up. But there was no danger of that now, Ally thought, as they hurried past her house. No lights were on. Still, the Newton property always looked eerie, as if it was haunted. It was one of the older houses in the area, tall—three stories—with gray paint peeling on the front.
“All we’d need is for her to rush out on her broom and sweep us away,” Nick said.
The girls giggled, and John answered, “I’d like to get a good picture of her flying across the face of the moon, like the kids on bikes in E.T.”
“It’d probably win that Pulitzer you want so badly,” Ally said.
Everyone chuckled again. They reached the slatted metal bars in the road that separated the fences. Horses couldn’t cross, but cars and people could. The dunes and thick brush of the horse sanctuary lay beyond.
“If we can find one of their trails through the underbrush,” Molly said, “we might find them in places where they’ve found ‘succulent’ grasses. That’s what one magazine article said.”
“So if we can locate one trail and wait by it,” Nick added, “maybe they’ll cruise by.”
“It’ll be icky going through that brush,” Ally forewarned. “Bugs all over our shins.”
“Should have brought a machete,” Nick said, taking the lead. He didn’t want to tell the others he was nervous about this adventure, something he’d never admit.
“Yeah, like your dad would let you,” John said. “Machete Meister.”
“Just a thought, Johnny,” Nick answered, pulling rank.
“Ah, stop fighting, boys,” Ally interrupted. “We’re nonviolent folks, remember?”
Molly stopped and looked down at the soil. “Shouldn’t we look for tracks?”
Nick knelt down beside her, took a fistful of sand in his right hand, and let it trickle out between his fingers. In the still veil of dawn, the place looked spooky. Nick whispered, “Let’s keep moving.”
Waves crashed, making a swoosh-gush sound as they rolled in and then back out. A slight breeze picked up, and Nick felt cold.
“Let’s stay close to the dune fence,” he said, turning on his flashlight and shining it along the path. “It’ll be easier going, and there’s only the beach grass. It’s high, too, because of the dunes, and we might see something. Keep your ears open.”
They filed along, listening to the sounds of the morning and the breakers shooshing the sea. Cicadas chirruped, and a steady buzz of crickets undercut the early-morning noises. The sun had sent out its first tendrils of pink and gold across the horizon.
Nick shone his flashlight among the trees every few yards. When he didn’t see anything, he stood and swept on, taking long, bold strides as if he owned the island.
Then something rustled in the bushes ahead.
Nick stopped. “Hear that?” he whispered.
Everyone strained to hear.
“What is it?” Ally asked.
“I don’t know. Listen hard.”
Nick knelt, and everyone went down with him. Then they heard it again.
“O-whoo. O-whoo.”
“An owl,” John said. “Let’s find him.”
Nick grabbed John’s arm as he started to walk in the direction of the sound. “We’re here to find horses, not owls.”
“But the owl might be able to give us some information.”
“Like what?” Ally said, putting her hands on her hips.
“Owls are wise, you know,” John wisecracked.
“All right,” Nick said. “Enough! If we’re going to find anything, it’ll be in the first few hours. The horses siesta when it gets too hot.”
“Okay,” John said, still staring into the brush in search of his owl. “But don’t say I didn’t tell you.”
Nick plodded on. They were far from the houses now, and he hoped for a glimpse of the Mustangs soon. Instead all he spotted ahead was a long bend of dunes, and before them loomed one especially high, at least ten feet above them. They had just begun to climb for a view when suddenly they heard a man’s voice, muffled by the sound of the sea.
“We’ll find them this morning, Lug,” the voice growled.
“Hit the dirt,” Nick whispered, and everyone lay against the back of the dune, barely daring to breathe.
“Who are they?” John whispered.
“Is it them?” Ally asked in a voice tinged with fright as much as curiosity.
“It sounds like the guys we saw yesterday,” Nick mused. He raised up to get the first look, with the others close behind, creeping up the edge of the dune.
Eight
Waiting for Action
Kelly’s alarm rang, and she rubbed her eyes confusedly. Rays of sunlight broke through the windows to fall in red-tinged slats on the floor. The crow’s nest! she thought. The other kids may think I’m too little to go with them, but I can see everything from up there. Quickly but quietly, she changed from pajamas to blue jeans, a red blouse, and a sweatshirt. Climbing the stairs, she listened for her dad’s snoring. Yes, there it was. She could also hear the crash of surf in the distance—two sounds she liked to listen to at night because they gave her a safe feeling.
When Kelly reached the main floor, she stood at the ladder on the mast pole, but before climbing up she remembered all the things she wanted to take with her. She crept into the kitchen, made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, found the video camera on the apron of the fireplace, and draped her dad’s binoculars around her neck. Back at the mast pole, she started the climb.
Kelly saw the glass hatch under the roof that was sealed to keep out the rain. It had a screw-in type seal with a large circular handle, just like on a submarine. Nick’s dad had taught all the kids how to open it. She took one last look around the rustic family room before shimmying through.
The wind had whipped up ocean waves, and Kelly could see them from the roof. She looked off down the street where her brother, Ally, and the Parker kids had gone. Listening, she heard only the sounds of morning. Birds chattering here and there were getting the early worm.
Kelly stepped onto the first leg of the rigging that went up to the crow’s nest where a red, blue, and green streamer whipped in the breeze, ragged and frayed. Suddenly she heard a noise—a shout. She pulled up the binoculars and twisted the eyepieces until the trees and dunes far down the island became clear. Spotting nothing unusual, she decided it would be better to get to the top before worrying about some noise she couldn’t decipher.
The rigging rattled and shook in the wind as Kelly climbed. It was always scary taking those first few steps upward. In a moment she had her sailing feet under her and stood on the first level. Again she turned out to the horizon and peered through th
e binoculars while the wind whipped at her hair and rattled the mast. Pressing on, Kelly went through the little square hole in the bottom of the top platform of the crow’s nest.
“If the others had any sense,” she said aloud, “they’d have gotten a walkie-talkie and had me tell them where the horses were. Did they think of that? No!”
Kelly began surveying the horizon for signs of anything. Though she could see a long way off, there was no sign of the other four kids. They must be hidden by the dunes or the woods, she thought.
“I’ll find them,” she said to herself, taking the video camera out of her pack. She used the zoom lens to look closely. Distant dunes, houses, and even a car or two beamed into focus. Down the beach, in the trees, she saw the top of something white behind the trees.
“A big RV?” she wondered aloud. “No, maybe campers.”
She swiveled about, cruising the area, then set the camera down.
“Well, horses,” she said, “where are you?”
Nine
No Rabbit Hunt
Nick and Ally spotted the same men they’d seen the day before down the beach at the top of the dune. The tall one trudged along with the rifle on his shoulder.
“All we got to do is inject one of them, Pack,” the guy said loudly. Nick remembered he was called Lug and appeared to be the leader.
“But we got to be real careful. They don’t like people,” the short man said. “Don’t want to get kicked.”
“I’m taking care of you, Packy,” Lug said. He hefted the rifle and sighted along it. “All we have to do is to shoot it into a flank and run. Then we get the two grand, no questions asked.”
“Why don’t we just say we did it and forget all this stuff?”
“Not good for business. Might not get ’nother job. Anyway, she’d find out soon enough.”
Both men followed the track into the brush.
“Now we know they mean the horses no good,” Ally whispered.
“Maybe,” John said. “Although I think those guys have hypodermic guns—and they don’t use bullets. Animal keepers use hypodermics, like at the zoo or some of those wild animal parks. They inject the animals with some kind of serum, usually something to sedate them so they go to sleep. Then they tag the ears or feet. Forest rangers do it all the time with bears and birds.”
Molly, Ally, and Nick stared at John. “But what could they be trying to put in the Mustangs?” Molly asked.
“That’s what we have to find out,” Nick said. “I don’t think they have any other weapons. Did anyone see anything?”
Everyone shook their heads.
“I think we should get the police, now,” Molly said. “And your mom said we had to leave if…”
“That’s right,” Ally answered, all serious. “I think we should go for help.”
“I agree,” Nick said cautiously, but stalling. “But we don’t even know for sure if they’re doing anything wrong.”
“You heard them,” Ally said. “You don’t think they’re doing something wrong?”
“Well, I guess I hope they’re just shooting rabbits,” Nick said, a twinkle in his eye. “Let’s just watch. We can’t panic. It’ll take a good half hour to get back to the house from where we are, and who knows where they’ll be then? Anyway, the horses aren’t here.”
“Nick’s right,” John said. “We may be able to divert those guys and scare any horses away before they get off a shot.”
The girls agreed reluctantly.
“All right, then,” Nick said, taking charge. “Let’s tail them till we’re sure of what they’re doing. Then we go for home and the police.”
“I have my Nikkormat,” John said, patting the camera hanging from his neck. “Knowing we had pictures would scare them.”
Nick nodded. “Right. That may be the best weapon of all. Let’s follow at a distance. But no one gets close. We don’t know what these guys are up to and what they might do if they catch us.”
“Hey, you know what?” John said, lost in thought.
Everyone turned to look at him.
“That developer Dad was talking about last night, the guy who wanted to buy up the wild horse sanctuary—I bet he’s trying to get rid of the horses.”
“You know, that could be right,” Ally said. “My dad said he was nasty and ruthless.”
“If they hurt those horses, I’ll bite them bad,” Molly said vehemently. Everyone knew what a bite from Molly meant, though only John had suffered it when he was taunting her about her freckles.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Nick said. “They might not even be talking about the horses. There are deer around here, probably fox, and of course, rabbits.”
“You know they’re talking about the horses—the wild horses,” Ally said soberly.
Nick agreed, “We suspect that, sure, but let’s be careful.” He peered over the edge of the dune.
“Hey, shouldn’t we pray first?” Ally asked.
“Ally,” Nick said, “come on.”
“I think we should just pray, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“All we’d be doing is making sure God is involved,” John said, then he looked Nick in the eyes and said, “Doubter.”
“Hey, I’m not a doubter,” Nick said. “I just think we should do something, not just sit around and pray.”
“We’re gonna do something,” Ally insisted. “Let’s just ask God to help us.”
“Okay,” Nick said. “Then let’s get moving!”
Ally and John bowed their heads and in silence offered fervent pleas to God.
Afterward, the kids made their way around the dune, and before long, they found boot tracks mixed with markings left by the horses. About thirty feet away they found horse droppings, too, and a couple pairs of tracks heading toward the ocean. The sun’s light had now split the sky open like a cantaloupe. It was orange with great swathes of light like streamers in a circle at the edge of the shore. In less than ten minutes the sun would be hot on their faces.
John walked beside Nick, peering through the camera. Ally and Molly followed them, keeping close. Voices broke the quiet again, muffled by the shrubbery. A trail marked the way.
Then a shrill sound: Nee-heee-heee-heee. Over and over again.
“The horses!” Nick whispered.
The foursome hurried through the brush and hid behind some trees so they could peer into the clearing, where several of the Mustangs stood in a ring.
“They’re here,” Molly said with amazement.
“I’m getting my camera ready,” John answered, twiddling the focus and light dials.
“That black one is the stallion,” Nick pointed out. “He’ll be the one to try to protect the others if they’re in danger.”
Suddenly the two men with the hypodermic guns stepped into the clearing far down on their left. The man named Lug aimed his rifle.
“Now we know they’re definitely after the horses,” Ally said. “We’ve got to do something. And fast!”
“Are you gonna pray again?” Nick asked with a grin.
Ally nudged him, exasperated. “I can trust God walking, running, sitting, kneeling…even stumbling!”
“Yeah,” Molly said. “That’s what I say.”
“Well, okay. I just hope it works,” Nick said. He sounded incredulous, but he was smiling at Ally.
Ten
Caught in the Act
The black stallion called everyone to attention. He was whinnying angrily and had reared up on his hind legs, churning his front legs as if in warning.
“Wow!” John said. “I’ve got to get a picture of that.”
From behind the trees, Nick, Ally, John, and Molly each thought how powerful the stallion looked—not to be teased. Ally kept reminding herself that these horses were wild, nothing like the tame beasts she rode bareback at home. Just then she saw the two thugs getting their guns ready. “The men—they’re going to shoot!” Ally seethed. “What do we do?”
John held up his
camera. The big black stallion reared again, kicked his front hooves in the air, then swung around. The other horses shifted behind. They were clearly frightened.
The kids heard Lug say, “We gotta get in closer.”
“That stallion ain’t gonna let you get close, Lug.”
“We have to do it in one shot,” Lug said. “And the stallion is the one to do it on.”
“What’d you say it was?” Pack asked while Lug focused his rifle.
“Some contagious killer disease,” Lug said. “It’ll infect him with a new strain of a horse disease; then he won’t be around long. Neither will the others, ’cause they’ll catch it from him.”
“And that’ll be the end of the horses. Poof! Pow!” Pack said, sounding like a Saturday morning cartoon soundtrack.
Lug laughed wickedly.
Behind the trees, Ally and Molly gasped.
Nick grabbed Ally’s arm and whispered, “Be quiet.” After a few seconds he added, “It’s a good thing we came. If we waited for the police, it’d be too late.”
Through the grass, he watched the the two men take aim. The horses were closed off and trapped in the clearing. The only way out for them was back toward the men, and that was exactly what the thugs wanted.
“We’ve got to stop them,” Nick said, ready to act. “Ally, you and Molly try to stampede the horses from one side. I’ll take the other.”
John promised to get pictures, some Pulitzer shots.
Ally and Molly slid down the backside of the dune and hurried toward the trees. It would be dangerous; the horses were not known to be gentle to people. But anger churned through Ally’s gut, overriding her fear. To see the horses steamroll those malicious men into the sand would be only right as far as she was concerned. She hurried up the beach with determination. Molly followed, her backpack flying.
Nick took off in the opposite direction. He would stand up and yell, hoping to create some pandemonium that might confuse the two thugs. Then the four of them could take off running down the beach. Sprinting about fifty yards, Nick then cut into the trees. It was tough going. Brambles caught at his shins, scratching and cutting. He plunged along as stealthily as he could. Within minutes he found a tiny trail that appeared to lead back toward the open area and the horses. He followed it for a minute, listening intently for voices or whinnying. Soon he heard the horses trampling the grass and bolting back and forth about one hundred feet in front of the men. He ducked down and listened, creeping through the underbrush until he could see what was going on. The horses milled around at the end of the clearing, their eyes wide with fear.
Tracks in the Sand Page 3