Spirit Riding Free: PALs Forever

by Stacia Deutsch

  PALs forever?

  Lucky

  I need ten silver trophies,” Pru told the new manager at the Miradero General Store. She’d spent the last couple of days cleaning the barn and getting the arena ready for the rodeo. The wranglers and their kids were coming the very next day. It was time to get all the rodeo supplies!

  “I only have one,” the manager replied with a shrug. “And it’s gold.” He showed her the price for the gold cup on a thick wooden base.

  “Oh, that’s way over my budget,” Pru said, frowning. “Okay, how about ribbons? I can mix up first place blue ones with some white ones for participation.”

  “No ribbons,” the man said. He was tall and thin and was wearing a brown apron. Pru was sure that Abigail would say that he looked like a pencil. The thought made her chuckle.

  “Is it funny that I don’t have ribbons?” the man asked, misunderstanding why she’d chuckled.

  Pru immediately clammed up. “No,” she said quickly. “It’s actually kind of disappointing.”

  “Can I help you with something else?” He looked around the shop as if he were very busy and she were wasting his time, even though there were no other customers.

  Pru scratched her head. “I’m not sure what to do about the trophies. How about hot dogs and buns? I need ten, wait, no…” She still wasn’t one hundred percent sure how many kids there would be, but they would need to eat, and some kids might want two hot dogs, so she said, “Twenty. I need twenty hot dogs and buns.”

  “I have the hot dogs but no buns,” the man told her. “They’ll be in on Friday.”

  “I need them tomorrow,” Pru said. She actually needed lunch for three days, but hot dogs were on her plan for day one. That plan was going to change. “How about sandwich bread and deli meat?”

  “Meat, yes,” the man answered. “Bread, no.”

  “Friday?” Pru asked, getting a vibe on the situation.

  “Bakery ran out of flour, and their shipment hasn’t arrived,” he explained. Then he looked at the shop door as if someone were coming in, but no one was there.

  “What else can I make for the kids for lunch that doesn’t involve bread?” Pru wondered out loud.

  “Salad,” the man offered. “We have a lot of lettuce.”

  “Argh.” Though Pru liked salad, it wasn’t a very good choice for the kids at the rodeo.

  “Let me think about it,” she said, reviewing her list in her head. “I also need posters to announce the events.”

  “Print machine is broken,” the man droned.

  “How long have you been the manager here?” Pru asked.

  “Since yesterday,” he told her. “I was a blacksmith in another town, but I got fired. I never had the right tools, the fire was never hot enough, and I forgot to order things. I was really lucky to get this job!”

  “Yep. You sure were lucky,” Pru replied. That explained a lot. “I need to make some changes to my plans,” she mused. “I’ll come back.”

  “I’ll be here,” he said, taking out a cloth to wipe the countertop. “Unless I get fired again.”

  “I can’t imagine why that would happen,” Pru muttered, but she didn’t mean it.

  She decided to go see Mr. Winthrop about some ice cream. At first she considered having ice cream instead of lunch—kids loved that—but then she thought her father would be mad. She’d have to come up with a different lunch plan. Ice cream was for dessert.

  “Mr. Winthrop?” She called the owner’s name as she entered the parlor. “Where are you?”

  “Pru!” he greeted. “Nice to see you.” He stood behind the counter, but Pru noticed he wasn’t wearing an apron.

  “I need to order ice-cream cones for the rodeo that starts tomorrow. Can you deliver them in the afternoon to the barn?”

  “No can do,” Mr. Winthrop said. “I don’t have cones. You see, they come from the bakery and the bakery doesn’t have any flour.”

  “I’m getting the feeling that the shipment didn’t arrive because they ordered it from the general store.” Pru bit her bottom lip. “You’ll have cones on Friday?”

  “How did you know?” His eyes went wide.

  “Just a guess,” Pru said. She left the store, feeling disappointed.

  Chica Linda was waiting in the town square. Usually, seeing her horse cheered Pru up when she was feeling down, but not this time.

  Pru said, “Chica Linda, we are hitting rocks.” At the horse’s confused look, Pru said, “That means we aren’t making any progress.”

  Chica Linda chuffed and nuzzled her nose in Pru’s hair.

  “Thanks for the sympathy,” Pru said, giving her horse’s nose a good scratch. “But the families are coming tomorrow for the Wranglers’ meeting and I have nothing for them to eat.” She opened her empty hands. “Not a thing.”

  Pru had promised her dad that she had everything under control, but now so many things were going wrong that she didn’t know what to do.

  “I can’t have a rodeo without lunch or trophies or barrels,” she told Chica Linda. Yeah, she still hadn’t solved the problem of what the horses would race around, since Turo was gone and there were no wooden barrels. Pretty much everything on her list was a bust.

  “What are we going to do?” She was about to climb up into Chica Linda’s saddle for a quick ride—that usually cleared her head—when Maricela came running up with a letter in her hand.

  “Pru!”

  “Hey, Maricela,” she said, turning away from Chica Linda. “What’s going on?”

  “This letter was delivered to my house by accident. I came to bring it to you,” Maricela said.

  “Thanks.” She took the letter.

  “Is it from Abigail?” Maricela wanted to know. “Is she having a nice time at her cousins’ house? Is she talking about music?” She looked at the letter in Pru’s hand. “She asked me to teach her some music words before she left so she would sound smarter when she talked to her cousin.” Maricela grinned. “Did she use the words octave and syncopation?”

  “I haven’t opened the letter yet,” Pru told Maricela.

  “Well, do so,” Maricela said, putting her hands on her hips. “I’ll wait.”

  Pru tore the seal on the envelope and took out the page.

  “So? Did she talk about chord progression like I told her to?”

  “I haven’t read it,” Pru said. She scanned the letter quickly. “Nothing about music,” Pru told Maricela.

  “Hmph,” Maricela grunted. “She’ll never be fully accepted by her fancy cousin now. It’s probably too late.” She rotated on a heel and began to walk away. “I’ll just go practice the song my vocal coach assigned.” Maricela turned back toward Pru. “Unless you need anything.”

  There was a hint of boredom in Maricela’s voice, and Pru wondered if maybe she was trying to say she wanted to hang out longer.

  Unless she had hot dog buns in her pantry and maybe some trophies, Pru couldn’t think of a reason for Maricela to hang around. “I don’t need anything. Thanks for the letter.”

  Looking slightly disappointed, Maricela said, “Yeah. See ya.” She headed off toward home.

  Pru took Abigail’s letter with her when she climbed onto Chica Linda’s saddle. She read as she rode, and by the time she reached the letter’s end, Pru felt more confident that she could solve the problems she’d encountered. If Abigail could stay focused on being fancy, Pru would stay focused on making the best rodeo the wrangler kids had ever seen.

  The challenge was on!

  Dear Abigail,

  I’ve been really upbeat and positive until now.

  I hate to ask, but I have this really big favor. I mean, I really can’t stand admitting this, but I hope you’ll understand. I know you’re with your cousins and how excited you were for the trip, but, with the way things are going, I think I need to ask both you and Lucky something important.

  Can you come back?

  I need you in Miradero.

  You see, the kids are alr
eady here, and they are busy settling their horses into the stalls at the barn. They’ll put out hay and water and set their saddles in the tack room.

  Then, I’ll gather them in a circle under the big shady tree.

  And then…

  I’ve got nothing.

  So not only do I need you to come back, but is there an outpost you could stop by for hot dog buns and trophies? If you could get ice-cream cones, too, that would be helpful.

  I’m desperate.

  I thought I could do this by myself, but it turns out… I can’t. I need the PALs to make it all successful.

  Oh, Abigail, I am in so much trouble. My dad keeps popping his head in and asking how things are going.

  I tell him, “Great,” because right now, everything is great. And it’s all gonna be great for about the next fifteen minutes until everyone realizes that I’ve got nothing planned for the entire day. Or the next day. Or the day after that. And what am I going to do when the kids get hungry?

  Did I mention there are fifteen kids? Not eight like my dad thought. Not even the ten he guessed would be the maximum. Fifteen!!!! And just one me!

  Please, please take Boomerang and hurry over here. You need to arrive in the next three or four minutes with all the supplies I listed above.

  Okay? Got it? Are you on your way yet?

  Sigh. Of course you’re not, because I’m still holding this letter. Even if I wasn’t holding it and even if it was on its way and even if you could somehow be reading it instantly, there’d be no way for you to just immediately be here. I wish you were here, though.

  The kids are pretty much done in the barn, and I think I hear tummies rumbling.

  What am I going to do?!

  Got to go. Hope to see you very, very soon.

  PALs forever, unless my dad grounds me for life,

  Pru

  Abigail put on her fanciest dress. She combed her hair and then curled the ends by wetting them and twisting them. After that, she put on her nice shoes and headed downstairs for breakfast.

  She stopped by the large mirror in the hall to make sure she didn’t have stray hay in her hair or dirt on her dress. Stuff like that happened all the time in Miradero, but she refused to let it happen here. Assuring herself that all was in order, she entered the breakfast room.

  The long table was set for the whole family, but only her aunt and uncle were sitting there. Ashton was sleeping in a crib by the wall. Snips and Ariella hadn’t arrived yet. Abigail assumed that was because Snips was getting dressed in his fine clothing as well. She’d told him to look his best today before they went to bed last night. He’d protested, but she’d insisted. And bribed him with ice cream later, so she knew he’d be wearing his clean pants and a jacket whenever he came to breakfast. She probably should have reminded him of the time, but seeing as Snips was always hungry, she’d made the mistake of thinking he’d already be at the table.

  “Good morning.” She greeted her aunt and uncle.

  Uncle Tony peeked out over the newspaper he was reading. “Ah, good day to you, Abigail.”

  “Would you like some tea? Orange juice?” Aunt Karen motioned for a server to bring Abigail whatever she’d like. “We can get you hot chocolate, if you’d prefer.”

  As delicious as that sounded, Miss Prescott had warned Abigail not to eat or drink anything that might spill on her dress. So she said, “I’ll have water,” even though that wasn’t what she wanted.

  The glass of water appeared instantaneously, as well as a plate of steaming-hot eggs and toast. Jam was already on the table, but Abigail avoided it because it was purple, and spilled purple spots would clash with the pale-yellow lace of her dress.

  Being fancy was hard. Abigail was giving up so many of the things she loved just to make sure she fit in.

  She glanced out the big picture window, where she could see Boomerang in the distance. It was a good morning for a ride, but she couldn’t go because that would mean changing clothes, and it was too hard to get out of the dress, plus she didn’t want to mess up her hair.

  “What are you doing today?” Uncle Tony asked as Abigail took a tiny bite of her eggs.

  Before she answered, she looked at the doorway, hoping Snips and Ariella would appear. What use was being fancy if Ariella didn’t see her?! She didn’t need to prove herself to her aunt and uncle as much as to her cousin.

  “I’m not sure,” Abigail said, returning her attention to her eggs.

  “Ariella and Snips are down by the barn,” Aunt Karen said. “Maybe after you eat, you could join them and see what they are up to.” She chuckled. “I’m sure it’s more fun than hanging out with us all day.” With that, Ashton started crying. Aunt Karen gathered him up and bounced him on her knee, cooing, “Ashton, my love. I bet you want to go see what those big kids are doing, don’t you?” She shook her head. “You just need to grow a little first, and maybe learn to walk more than a few steps at a time.”

  Uncle Tony laughed as if that were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “Learn to walk!” He slapped the table. “That’s a good one!”

  While they carried on, not paying her any attention, Abigail shoveled huge forkfuls of eggs into her mouth and stuffed a whole piece of toast in after. She chewed. Gulped.

  “Wow!” Uncle Tony remarked, noticing Abigail’s clean plate. “You must have been starving.”

  Abigail smiled and gently dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin.

  “Thank you for a delicious breakfast.” She stood. “I’ll go now to meet my brother and cousin at the barn.” She punctuated that with a small curtsy, which was probably unnecessary, but after sneakily eating like a pig, she wanted them to see her as polite.

  “Not the new barn,” Aunt Karen told her while giving a tiny bit of toast to Ashton. “The old one.”

  “I didn’t know there was an old barn,” Abigail said, intrigued.

  Uncle Tony told her where to go. It was a bit of a distance away, and she’d need to ride Boomerang. “You might want to change your dress to something that can get dirty,” he suggested.

  “I’m okay,” she replied. “I’ll be careful.” She really wanted Ariella to see her all dressed up. “I’ll ride sidesaddle.” That way she wouldn’t risk wadding up her dress and wrinkling it. Sidesaddle, Miss Prescott had told her, was the proper way that gentlewomen rode.

  “Have fun,” Aunt Karen said.

  Abigail thanked her again, curtsied again, and then slowly walked from the room. Once out of sight of the adults, she took off running toward the front door, then across the pasture to get Boomerang ready for a ride.

  The old barn was run-down, dusty, and smelled like mold. Abigail peeked her head inside to find Snips standing there, looking down on a box with wheels.

  “Hey,” she said, careful to step over a wet mud puddle in her nice shoes. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re building a soapbox race car,” Snips said proudly, holding up a screwdriver. “There’s a derby this weekend, and Ariella said I could drive.”

  Of all the things in the world that they could be doing, this was the one Abigail least expected.

  Ariella crawled out from under a wooden board that was sitting on bricks. She was wearing pants that had been cut off at the knees and what looked like an old shirt of her dad’s. Snips was wearing the outfit that Abigail had told him to put on, only it was covered with mud and dirt and… was that a jam stain from breakfast?

  Miss Prescott would be so ashamed.

  “A soapbox… what?” Abigail asked, stepping inside the barn and closing the door behind her.

  “A soapbox race car,” Ariella said simply.

  “A soapbox works with gravy,” Snips explained. “That means no motor.”

  “Gravity,” Abigail corrected. “It’s the way the earth naturally pulls things toward each other.”

  “Gravy,” Snips repeated. “Yep. Just like gravy moves toward the potatoes, this car is going to move to the finish line.” He grinned. “Only faster.”


  Ariella wiped her hands on her pants legs. “As Snips said, there’s a derby this weekend, so we have to build a car for it. You can help… if you want.” She looked pointedly at Abigail’s dress.

  Abigail wasn’t sure what to do or say. Ariella had invited her to help but not at first. She’d gone off with Snips without telling her. Then again, this was way better than fancy-prancing around the house all day and trying not to get dirty. “Um… yeah, of course I can help!”

  Ariella shrugged. “There’s another screwdriver over in the toolbox.” She pointed at a metal box by Snips’s foot. “We’re going to need some lug bolts, a few fender washers, and another piece of wood. You can cut wood, can’t you?”

  Looking around at their setup, Abigail reached over and picked up a handsaw. “Yup. What size boards do you need?”

  “Fourteen by fourteen inches for the seat,” Ariella replied. “You sure you don’t want to change clothes first?”

  “I’m good,” Abigail said, gripping the saw. She didn’t want to return to the house and then come back. They might be done by then, and she’d miss the fun if she left. A little dirt in her hair or on her dress wouldn’t hurt.

  Abigail took up the saw and began to cut the board for the base of the car. “I think if Snips is driving, we might want to make everything a little smaller,” she suggested.

  “I want it bigger!” Snips protested.

  “Make it fifteen by fifteen, then,” Ariella told Abigail.

  “I really think—”

  “Bigger!” Snips insisted, and Ariella agreed.

  “If you say so.” Abigail cut the board, then held it up next to Snips. “You’re going to slide all over this seat.”

  “Sliding is fun,” Snips said, and Ariella agreed again.

  Next, Abigail began work on the front axle. “We could measure how long Snips’s arms are,” she suggested. “So he can reach the brake easily.”

  “I have gorilla arms,” Snips said. “Oooh, oooh, oooh!” He bounced around the barn, splashing in the mud puddle and spraying mud speckles on Abigail’s dress. “Make the brake shorter, Abigail. My arms will reach!”