Her thoughts once again turned to Spirit, hoping she’d see him tomorrow. Then she picked up her new novel, Boxcar Bonnie and the Missing Mustang, and began to read. But something else was bugging her, something keeping her thoughts from focusing on the page. What was it? She glanced up at Milagro. Her beloved mother. The only mother she’d ever had and ever wanted to have.
And that’s when it hit her.
Even though her father had said he wasn’t going to write to Althea’s sister, he hadn’t thrown the address away.
He’d stuck it into his pocket.
Part Two
9
Spirit and his herd approached the river, then followed an offshoot to a small pool where the water was calm and deep. They’d woken at first light and had begun the day’s trek earlier than usual, knowing they’d have to cover more ground to fill their bellies. The trees were bare now, the grasses sparse.
He looked behind, in the direction where Lucky lived. Should he go see her? The herd would be fine on its own. The other mustangs were used to him going and coming, even when he returned smelling of people. Even when he carried the frightening scent of fire and the scent of other horses, the ones who never roamed free.
The herd seemed to understand Spirit’s constant movement between his two worlds.
Spirit dipped his head to drink from the pool. Despite the cold weather, the mustangs were doing well. Both the colt and filly had weaned weeks ago. The colt looked healthy and strong. He chased a quail until it disappeared into a rock pile. He bucked playfully, as the young do, unaware of the coming cold and all the troubles it would bring.
But the filly caught Spirit’s attention. At first, she didn’t drink from the pool. Her mother nuzzled her, then gave her a push on the rump, moving her closer to the water’s edge. Still, the filly didn’t drink. The mother pushed her again, then nickered, urging her baby to drink. Finally, the filly lowered her head and drank. Spirit watched with curiosity. It was normal for a young horse to be distracted by the world around it, but the filly was not playing, not chasing or exploring. The mare, who happened to be Spirit’s sister, cast a worried look at him. Spirit sensed the same thing his sister did.
Something was wrong.
10
Pru Granger loved mornings in her family’s kitchen. The Granger ranch house was a sprawling place, built from massive pine trees that had been logged from Carver’s Woods. The kitchen, the center of all activity, was the largest room. A grand table stood smack-dab in the middle, long enough to fit Pru’s family and all the ranch hands. Because it was a working ranch, the Grangers employed many people, including a cook named Jacques Chance, who’d come all the way from France to work on the railroad, but many years had passed and he was now too old for that sort of manual labor, so the Grangers had hired him. He’d told Pru that his last name meant “luck” in French. Now Pru knew two people named “Lucky.”
Jacques was an amazing cook. With the Grangers’ help, he learned all the traditional western foods, such as pancakes, fried eggs, and corn-bread hash. With the help of Juan, one of the ranch hands, he learned how to make traditional Mexican foods, like refried black beans and enchiladas. And Jacques introduced everyone to his own traditions, like soufflé and crêpes, making every meal in the Granger home a gastronomical adventure.
Why did Pru love mornings so much? Along with the delicious food to eat, there were so many people to talk to. It was like one big extended family. Plans were made, issues were discussed, all while the skillet sizzled and cutlery clanked.
“What are your plans today?” Fanny Granger asked as she sat next to Pru.
Pru glanced up from her plate of scrambled eggs and beans and smiled at her mother. “Just the usual stuff,” Pru told her. “School, then riding with Abigail and Lucky.”
“On Saturday I’d like you to help us work on the barn,” Al Granger said. He was seated across the table with a cloth napkin tied around his neck. “There’s a whole lot of repair work needin’ to be done before the snow comes.” The Granger barn housed the ramada’s horses, including Chica Linda. Boomerang had a guest stall there, as did Spirit, though Spirit rarely spent the night.
“Sure thing,” Pru said. “I’m sure Abigail and Lucky will help.”
“Gonna be a big snow,” Juan said as he sprinkled powdered sugar onto a crêpe.
“If it gets as bad as we think it’s going to get, there will be a lot of extra work for all of us,” Fanny told everyone. “One of the most common problems in winter is that horses don’t drink enough because they don’t like icy water. So we’ll have to carry buckets of warm water to the barn in the mornings, to melt the ice in their troughs.” Being Miradero’s only veterinarian, Fanny was an expert on horse health and care.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Granger, ma’am,” said a farmhand named Ralph. “Boris and I can do that.”
“Ralph, I’d also like you and Boris to check the barn roof,” Al Granger said. “Make sure there are no weak spots or leaks.”
“You got it, Mr. Granger, sir.”
“Mm, mm, Jacques, you’re one fine grub slinger,” Boris said.
“These skinny pancakes are as good as cream gravy,” said Ralph.
Jacques smiled, for in ranch hand lingo, that was a huge compliment. “Merci beaucoup.”
As they finished their meal, there was more talk about the weather. And talk about ordering feed and supplies. Pru glanced at the grandfather clock. It was time to leave for school. She carried her dish to the sink and thanked Jacques for breakfast. Then she said good-bye to everyone. Lunch bag in hand, she set out for school.
Even though the schoolhouse was in walking distance, on most mornings Pru chose to ride Chica Linda. Chica Linda and Boomerang liked to hang out together in the school corral so the girls could visit with them at lunchtime. But with the weather getting colder, Pru and Abigail had agreed to leave the horses in the barn. It was the coldest morning Pru could remember, with ice crystals sparkling on the ground. Her breath drifted from her nostrils like fog. She pulled a scarf around her face.
The schoolhouse was the only school in town. It was a small red building with a coatroom and a single classroom. The wooden desks stood in tidy rows facing the teacher’s desk, with the blackboard behind. When Pru arrived at school, Abigail was already at her desk. Even though the wood stove radiated heat, Abigail still wore her hat and mittens. “Hi,” Pru said, taking her seat next to Abigail. “Wow, your nose is super red.”
“I almost froze out there,” Abigail told her.
Snips marched up to Pru. “Did you know that if you sneeze outside, your snot freezes to your face?” He asked this question in his usual loud way.
“Thanks for the warning,” Pru said with a smile. Then she looked around. “Where’s Lucky?”
“Late again,” Abigail said with a frown. “Miss Flores isn’t going to be happy about that.”
Pru looked over at Miss Flores. She was the only teacher in Miradero, and while she was very nice, she didn’t like tardiness. She kept an attendance board on the wall, and at the end of the year, the students with the best attendance record got a special certificate and cupcake. Pru and Maricela were currently tied for first place.
“I’m here!” Maricela announced as she entered the classroom. Then, as if making her way across a stage, she sashayed up to Miss Flores’s desk and held out a package that was tied with a red ribbon. “I brought you some chocolate-covered cherries,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. Pru rolled her eyes. Maricela was always trying to bribe their teacher into liking her, which wasn’t fair, because not everyone could afford to bring Miss Flores special presents.
“Thank you,” Miss Flores said politely, setting the cherries into a drawer that was filled with Maricela’s other gifts.
“You are so very welcome, Miss Flores. I thought you’d like them. They came all the way from Chicago.” Without so much as a “hello” to anyone else, Maricela took her seat in the front row.
“Snip
s, it’s your turn to ring the bell,” Miss Flores said. She waited patiently as Snips whoopee-ed his way across the room, ran up the back stairs to the bell tower, and clanged the bell a dozen times. “Snips! That’s enough!” Miss Flores called as everyone else put their fingers in their ears. “Good gracious, you only need to ring it twice.”
“But I like ringing it!” he called, scampering back to his seat.
“All right, everyone,” Miss Flores announced with a clap of her hands. “It’s time to start our day. I will now collect your math homework.”
A gust of cold air hit the back of Pru’s neck. She turned around. Lucky was standing in the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other holding her lunch bag. “Sorry I’m late,” she announced, her nose as red as Abigail’s.
“Oh my goodness, shut that door before we all catch pneumonia,” Maricela said, as if she were in charge of everyone.
“It’s so nice to know that you’re worried about my health,” Pru told her.
Maricela glowered at her, her voice just above a whisper. “You should be worried about your health. If you get sick, then you won’t have a perfect attendance record and I’ll win. Again.” She smirked.
Pru smirked back. “Sorry to disappoint you, Maricela, but I’m as fit as a fiddle.” Pru had decided that no matter what, even if she had a toothache or broke both her legs, she wouldn’t let anything keep her from school this year. She was determined to beat Maricela at something. Maybe Maricela did have a better singing voice and that’s why she got the lead in the play, and maybe she was a better speechwriter and that’s why her speech was chosen for Founder’s Day, but the wins were adding up and Maricela would never let her forget it.
Lucky had closed the door and was now talking to Miss Flores. Her long brown hair was messy from running, and she gasped between words as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m late because you’ll never guess… what I saw,” she began to explain. “There was this huge golden eagle… and it was chasing this rabbit. I thought about helping the rabbit… but then I thought, well, an eagle… needs to eat, too.”
Miss Flores’s expression was serious. “Lucky, it is important to be on time for class.”
Pru looked over at the attendance board. Lucky had fewer stars than anyone else.
“Yes, Miss Flores,” Lucky said. “I’ve just never seen anything… like that. We didn’t have eagles in my old neighborhood.”
“I appreciate your curiosity and I encourage it. But punctuality is a valuable skill to learn. And this isn’t the first morning you’ve gotten distracted. It seems to be a pattern with you. What if you left your house earlier?”
“But I did leave early,” Lucky admitted.
Maricela’s hand darted into the air, as it tended to do throughout the day. Pru thought Maricela could save herself a lot of energy if she just kept that hand stuck up there all the time. She could tie a board to her arm to help keep it in the air. “Miss Flores, I could assist Lucky in getting to school on time. I could walk with her and keep her from getting distracted.”
Miss Flores nodded. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“What?” Lucky’s eyes widened. She glanced over at Pru and Abigail. Her expression clearly said, Help me!
Pru stood. “Miss Flores, I’ll help Lucky get to school on time.”
“Me too,” Abigail said.
“I should do it,” Maricela said. “I have a perfect attendance record.”
“So do I,” Pru told her.
Miss Flores thought for a moment. “Those are very nice offers, but Maricela did volunteer first. For the next few weeks, Maricela will escort Lucky to school.” Maricela beamed. Pru lowered her eyes and sank into her chair. Well, she’d tried to help. Poor Lucky, stuck walking to school with the harvest princess.
Miss Flores motioned for Lucky to take her seat, then continued collecting homework.
“I tried,” Pru grumbled as Lucky sat.
“Thanks,” Lucky told her.
“Did you see Spirit this morning?” Abigail whispered.
“No. I haven’t seen him in five days,” Lucky whispered back. “I’m kind of worried.”
“I’m sure Spirit is fine.” Abigail smiled sweetly.
Miss Flores placed the worksheets on her desk, then turned to face the class. “Because Miradero Mel predicted that we are going to have a severe winter, and because the first day of winter is just around the corner, I’ve decided that our next group project should have a winter theme. This time, however, the groups will be based on age.” She began to assign people to their groups. “Pru, Abigail, Lucky, and Maricela will work together in the twelve-year-old group.”
“No way!” both Maricela and Pru said, each folding her arms tightly and turning her back to the other. “I’m not working with her!”
Miss Flores sighed. “It will be good for you two to work together.”
Pru couldn’t believe her ears. Good? Apparently she and Miss Flores had totally different definitions for the word good. Pru felt her face heat up. Didn’t Miss Flores understand that it was impossible to work with Maricela?
Pru Granger had decided that she’d never miss a day of school no matter what, but now she was hoping that a toothache would save her from this horrid assignment.
11
Following Miss Flores’s directions, Lucky, Pru, Abigail, and Maricela pushed their desks together. Then they just stared at one another, in awkward silence. Lucky could feel the tension between Pru and Maricela, the way it feels just before a wishbone snaps, but minus the excitement that a wish might come true.
“So,” Lucky said, trying to approach the subject delicately. Pru and Maricela both sat with their arms tightly folded, staring at the floor. “So,” she repeated. More silence. Lucky looked over her shoulder. The other groups were busy talking. Snips was teamed up with the twins, Mary Pat and Bianca, and they were huddled in a deep discussion. Even the oldest students were taking this seriously.
“Come on, you two,” Abigail said with a pout. “This isn’t going to be any fun if you act like this.”
“Yeah, I agree. We can make this work,” Lucky said, hoping that was true. “We just have to find a subject we all want to study. As team captain, I open the discussion.” Miss Flores had assigned everyone a team captain. Lucky wasn’t sure why she’d been chosen, but she was grateful for the opportunity to prove to Miss Flores that she was worthy.
Maricela tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I have straight As, so I should choose the subject.”
Lucky frowned. “This is a group project. We all get a voice.”
“Do any of you have straight As?” Maricela asked. When no one replied, she smirked. “Exactly. You don’t. So I should choose our topic.”
“No way,” Pru said, sitting up straight.
“You haven’t even heard my idea,” Maricela told her.
“What’s your idea?” Abigail asked.
Maricela swept her hands through the air, palms out, as if wiping condensation off a window. “Winter fashion,” she said, with eyebrows raised. “Isn’t that a great idea? We could study winter clothing styles from all over the world. And we could have a fashion show.” She sat back in her chair with a look of expectation. “Everyone will love it.”
Abigail’s eyes lit up. “Oooh, that sounds…” Then she caught Pru’s scowl. “Uh, Pru, what do you think?”
Pru folded her hands on her desk. “I vote we study how animals survive in the winter. My mom could help us with the research.”
Maricela’s upper lip curled into a sneer. “When you say animals, I suppose you mean horses.”
“Well, yes, horses. But other animals, too, like the squirrels and songbirds.”
“I love this idea,” Lucky said. “But I’d like to add wild horses to the list. I’m really curious about what they do in the winter. We could observe Spirit’s herd.”
“I’m in,” said Abigail, raising her hand.
“This is so predictable.” Maricela was pouti
ng now. “All you three think and talk about is horses, horses, horses.”
“Oh?” Pru leaned across her desk and stuck her face real close to Maricela’s. “And what do you do that’s so interesting?”
Maricela began to count on her fingers. “French lessons, piano lessons, singing lessons, elocution lessons—”
“So predictable,” Pru grumbled, slumping back into her seat.
“We’re not agreeing on anything,” Abigail said. “What should we do?”
“We live in a democracy,” Pru said. “Three to one is a majority and the majority rules.”
Lucky, Pru, and Abigail looked at Maricela. Lucky sensed she was not going to react well to not getting her way. And indeed, she did not.
“Miss Flores!” Maricela’s hand shot up again. Her cheeks burst into color. She stomped her foot. “Miss Flores!”
Miss Flores approached their desks. “Yes, Maricela?”
“Pru, Abigail, and Lucky are ganging up on me. They aren’t listening to what I want.”
“And she’s not listening to what we want,” Pru defended.
Miss Flores stuck her pencil behind her ear, then glanced across the room to where Snips’s discussion with his team had turned into a game of chase. “I’m not going to tell you girls what to do,” Miss Flores said. “You must figure out a way to work together. Find something that you will all enjoy. Something you all can agree upon, or I’m afraid you won’t pass.” She turned sharply on her heels. “Snips!”
“Gee, how are we going to find something we all want?” Abigail asked.
“I’m not going to agree to anything that has to do with horses,” Maricela informed them. “So there.”
Spirit Riding Free--Lucky and the Mustangs of Miradero Page 5
