By twelve thirty, Christine and Hilary James had delivered Joy’s offer to Gus LeFarge, and then dropped in to assess Gladys Forsyth’s place. They had a few more stops to make before driving back to Hogscroft.
“Do you think Gladys expected more for her house?” asked Hilary.
“Hard to say. I don’t know what she was offered, or by whom, but she didn’t look surprised at my assessment.”
“She didn’t look disappointed or pleased, either,” replied Hilary. “She just stared at you. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking, behind those taped-up, smudged glasses. It’s a wonder she can see through them.”
Christine smiled. “It takes all types, honey.”
“It certainly does.” Hilary was thinking. “Some types are better than others. I’d take Gladys over Samuel Owens any day.”
“Amen,” said Christine. “I haven’t heard anything more about his release. Have you?”
“Other than seeing the lights on at his mansion last Saturday, nothing. I feel it in my bones, though. It’s creepy. He’s creepy.”
“Mousie, you’re feeling this way because we just drove past his house. He’s been in treatment, don’t forget. Hopefully, he’s seen the error of his ways. They wouldn’t have let him out unless he was better.”
Hilary stared out the window and shivered. “I wouldn’t put any money on that.”
The thought of Owens back in the community upset Christine as much as it did Hilary. They sat in silence, each remembering the damage he had inflicted on their family.
They passed the Wick farm, just around the next bend. There was a muddy truck, empty, sitting in the lane beside the barn.
“Whose truck is that, Mom?”
“Looks like George Farrow’s.”
“What’s he doing there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s checking the place for Robert Wick. Or maybe he’s our mystery competition.”
“Maybe, but why? Actually, now that I think about it, why does Gran want it?”
Christine laughed. “Mousie, your Gran has always been full of surprises.”
“It’s great, the way she looks at things as challenges. Will she start the theatre up again?”
“Ask Gran.”
“Does she have enough money? If she starts it up and it fails?”
“That depends on how much she can buy it for, and how much she puts into it. The land alone is an investment, no matter what happens to the theatre, so she wouldn’t lose everything if the theatre doesn’t succeed.”
“I guess I’m really asking if it’s wise for her to buy it.”
“She’s put in a reasonable offer. One she can afford. She’s not a rich woman, Mousie, but she’s been careful with her investments, and now she wants to play a little. Don’t worry. She won’t do anything that would jeopardize her finances. She’s smart.”
“I know.” Hilary took a deep breath before she spoke. “Mom? I have something to tell you. Actually it’s why I came along.”
“Yes?” Christine continued to drive, waiting. She shot a glance at her daughter. “What is it, Mousie? Is anything wrong?”
“Not at all, Mom. In fact, it’s great.” A crooked smile tugged at her mouth.
“Then what is it? Don’t keep me guessing.”
“Sandy and I want to get married by the end of the summer.”
Christine’s eyes widened. She gripped the steering wheel tightly. “You’re serious?”
Hilary nodded, now smiling widely. “Very. Sandy wanted me to tell you today, and tonight he’ll call Rory and Helena from Montreal. Do you think you can keep it secret until tonight?”
Christine pulled the car over to the side of the road and put it in park.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes, Mom. Sandy and I have been in love for five years.”
“But you’re very young, Mousie. You’re only twenty-two. There’s so much more to learn about life.”
“But I want to learn it with Sandy.”
“Mousie, you’ve never really dated other men. How can you be sure?”
“I never wanted to date anyone but Sandy.” Hilary spoke with conviction. “He means everything to me. We want to get married, and we want to go to Belize as husband and wife. I hope you can understand, Mom.”
Christine gave Hilary an enormous hug, which her daughter heartily returned. “Of course I understand, Mousie. I just want you to be happy.”
6
CODY AND THE WILD COYOTES
LUCY DROPPED ABBY OFF at the end of her driveway after school. Abby’s head was buzzing with the day’s adventure and the prospect of riding Dancer again. She ran up the lane to her house, hurrying to get into her riding clothes before bicycling over to Hogscroft.
“Hi, Mom!” she hollered as she raced up the stairs two at a time.
“Hi, Abby! Did you have a good day?” Fiona asked.
“Great! Lucy drove Leslie and me over to the Wick farm at lunch. They couldn’t believe how fabulous the theatre is! We want to put on a play and charge money and start a theatre company!”
“Does Mr. Wick know?”
“Know what?”
“That you were there.”
“No.”
“Hold on, Abby!” Fiona walked up the stairs to talk to her daughter. “You were trespassing. The place is empty and for sale, but it doesn’t belong to you. It belongs to Mr. Wick. You need permission to be on someone else’s property, and you should never go into other people’s buildings. Would you like it if someone was snooping around here when you weren’t home?”
Abby’s face fell. “I didn’t think of that.” She zipped up her riding pants and grabbed her gloves. She faced her mother, realizing her mistake. “You’re right. We won’t go there again.”
“I’m sure there’s no harm done,” said Fiona, reacting to Abby’s deflation. “For today. Just make sure you ask Mr. Wick next time.”
“I will, I promise.” Abby was contrite, but anxious to go. “I’m off to ride Dancer. See you later.” She kissed her mother on the cheek as she rushed past her and down the stairs.
Fiona followed her. “Do you want me to drive you over?”
“No thanks. I’ll take my bike. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”
“Be careful!” Fiona called to Abby’s back as she jumped on her bicycle and started down the lane.
“I will!”
Abby thought of Dancer as she made her way along the road to Hogscroft. The gorgeous chestnut stallion had totally captured her imagination. The day before, he’d allowed Abby to make some progress. Today might be quite different. He was a smart horse. Too smart for his own good, the farmers around here said.
Abby had the sense that she’d forgotten something. Something was missing. She went through the list of things she had to remember. Breeches, boots, gloves, hat, Tipperary vest. She had everything. What was this feeling about?
Cody! Cody was missing. Abby slammed on her brakes. Cody always met her in the lane when she got home from school. Every day, without fail. No matter what time, however late or early, he always seemed to know when she was coming. Today, he had not been there to meet her.
Abby’s stomach twisted with anxiety. Was he in trouble? How could she be so selfish, so preoccupied with her own dreams of stardom on Dancer that she could forget her most loyal friend?
She was almost at Hogscroft. Abby knew she couldn’t ride until she found Cody. She sped the bike down the gravel road and tore up the lane to the barn.
Dancer was brushed and shiny, all tacked up in the aisle.
“Abby!” exclaimed Hilary. “What’s the rush? You’re early! I was about to take Dancer for a ride . . .”
“Hilary. Cody’s missing. I have to find him. Can I ride later, if I find him before dark?”
Hilary was puzzled. “Doesn’t he just turn up when he feels like it?”
“Yes, but he always greets me after school. He just seems to know. And he wasn’t there.” Abby was flustered, knowing how
unconvincing she must sound.
Hilary realized that they wouldn’t get any work done with Abby so unsettled. “Take Dancer. You start looking up that way and work down through the trails toward Saddle Creek.” She gestured toward the woods to the northeast. “I’ll start down at your place and work north. I’ll tack up Henry, and we’ll keep to the road.” As she talked, she took Henry out of his stall and began to get him ready. “If you find Cody, come out to the road, but let’s check back here in one hour. I’ll bring Pepper. She’ll warn me if he’s around. She’s been frightened to death of coyotes since the time she was almost eaten.”
Abby nodded, satisfied with Hilary’s plan. She buckled her chin strap and zipped up her vest. She led Dancer over to the mounting block and hopped lightly onto his back.
“Abby!” Hilary called. “If either of us finds him, we’ll do a yip yip yippee at the top of our lungs and come back here. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks, Hilary.” Abby asked Dancer for a trot, and got a canter. He had sensed her impatience. He was like an enormous rocking horse with his powerful action, restrained but eager. He allowed Abby to keep him in check as they travelled north up the road.
Abby turned east onto the trail that wound behind the Caseys’ farm. Cody might very well have gone on the paths that he and Abby and Moonie usually took. But if he was anywhere within miles of her, he’d have shown himself already. Abby’s mind was spinning. Something was very wrong.
Cody lay still. They were getting closer. His shiny, terrified eyes darted around, as he desperately sought a solution, an escape. He mustn’t breathe. He shouldn’t move a muscle. He wanted the horrible thing off his leg. The thing that snapped its teeth and hurt badly. He’d dragged himself as far as he could until the horrible thing got caught on a rock. He could go no further. He worked his body into a small dip between two rocks and tried to disappear from sight. He needed to get away from this evil place. But he couldn’t move, and he shouldn’t move, or they would find him faster.
Hilary leisurely rode Henry south toward Abby’s house. Cody might be sleeping under the porch in his little den, oblivious to all the fuss. It was worth a look. He simply might have come home after Abby had left to ride. Even Cody could misjudge arrivals and departures once in a while.
Pepper was delighted to be out on this beautiful spring day. She sniffed everything in sight, and hopped and scooted from here to there. Her comical antics made Hilary laugh. They’d find Cody at home, reassure Abby, and get on with the lesson. An hour’s hack for Henry wasn’t a bad idea, anyway.
Hilary thought of her new student with pride. Abby had good instincts on a horse. She’d turned out to be the perfect solution to Hilary’s problem with Dancer. If Abby could commit to ride him three times a week, Dancer would feel useful again and settle down.
As they rode up the Malones’ lane, Hilary called, “Cody! Here boy!” Pepper was going berserk, sniffing and barking and circling around the porch.
Fiona came out of the house, drying her hands on a dishcloth. She had a puzzled look on her face. “Hilary! Abby’s already gone over on her bike!”
“I know, Mrs. Malone, I saw her at the barn. But Cody’s missing, so she’s out looking for him on Dancer, and I’m looking for him on Henry. He’s not here, is he?”
“I wouldn’t know. He shows himself only when he wants to, so I can’t be sure.” As Fiona spoke, she walked over to the entrance to Cody’s lair under the porch. “Cody?” she called. “Cody!”
There was no sign of the coyote.
“Hilary, you’re very kind to help look for him, but in truth, he only comes to Abby. You might as well go back and wait. He certainly doesn’t come to me when I call.”
Hilary nodded. “Pepper! Come!” The Jack Russell lifted her head, cocked an ear, then continued what she was doing, which was digging frantically under the porch.
“Pepper doesn’t come to anyone when she’s called unless it suits her.” The two women smiled at each other. “If Cody shows up, would you mind calling my house?”
“Not a bit. He could show up any minute.” Fiona waved goodbye as Hilary turned Henry and trotted down the lane. Pepper realized that they weren’t waiting, and furiously raced to catch up.
They knew where he was. They were playing a game with him. It was only a matter of time before the leader would give the signal and it would be over. Cody was ready. He was already dying. Blood soaked the coarse grass beneath him, and insects from the earth were smelling food. His only regret was for his Abby: He could protect her no longer. His heart broke. His body slumped. His will to live drained.
Dancer and Abby continued along the paths and trails. Abby called Cody’s name. There was never a responding yip. No magical appearance of her coyote friend. Abby worried that he might be dead, hit by a car, mangled by a wild coyote. On they trotted, slowing only to listen for Cody’s call.
As they travelled along, Abby and Dancer were getting used to each other. They began to respond without thought or tension to each other’s signals. Before long, there was no misunderstanding between them; only an innate single will. Never did Abby bully or push him. Never did Dancer balk or resist. They were united in the mystical, timeless fashion of man and horse.
At the boundary of Samuel Owens’ property, where it abutted Wick Farm, Dancer suddenly became uneasy. He pranced on the spot and shook his head. He refused to go further. “What’s wrong, Dancer?” cooed Abby as she stroked his tensed neck. “What is it?”
Dancer only got more fretful. He backed up and scooted sideways, twisting his neck and trying to tell Abby that they must leave. The harmony between them was broken in a struggle of wills. After urging him every way she could think of, and pleading with him to go forward, Abby realized that Dancer was not going to change his mind. He was legitimately frightened. Abby must respect that, and search for Cody alone.
She dismounted, wondering if Dancer’s fear might be a sign that Cody was near. “Is it the smell of coyote that frightens you?” Abby detached the reins from Dancer’s bit and put them in her pocket. She ran the stirrups up, tucked the leathers through, and tied them tight to keep the stirrups from flapping on his sides.
“Home, Dancer! Home!” Abby waved her arms and clapped her hands, urging Dancer to follow his instincts and flee. A horse always knows where home is, and Abby knew that Dancer would run directly to his barn. Dancer hesitated, stunned by his new freedom. Then he turned and ran.
Now Abby was alone. The April afternoon was sunny and the air was fresh, but Abby felt dread in the pit of her stomach and fear caused sweat to trickle down her arms.
“Cody!” she called. “Cody!” She walked deeper into the neglected field, feeling the brambles catching on her breeches. The Wick land hadn’t been tended in years, and stubbly bushes, stunted thorn trees, and a mess of weeds made walking difficult. “Cody!” Abby looked carefully for any signs of a tussle.
The hairs on her arms bristled. She looked around quickly. Nothing. She took a deep breath and continued walking. There was a sturdy stick lying on the ground. This might be a useful thing to have. She weighed the heft of it in her hand and felt better armed.
“Cody!” she called as she moved along into a small clump of straggly growth. The ground was rocky and uneven, suitable for grazing animals but not for growing a crop. Abby looked at her watch. It was four thirty; she had another two hours or more of light.
The tall grass rustled behind her. She spun around. Nothing. A rustle to her left. Nothing. Abby felt danger all around her, but couldn’t see a thing. “Take a pill,” she told herself aloud. “It’s all in your imagination.”
Just then, she saw the glinting eyes of a large, grey coyote. He strode out of his hiding place with the confidence of a prize fighter. Abby knew what that meant. She was surrounded. This handsome, shaggy animal with the manic eyes and the grinning snout would be the chief, the alpha male, coming out to challenge her. Why would he do this? she asked herself. Normally they watch but never show themselv
es to humans. Was she too close to the den and a litter of newborn pups? Or had the coyotes gathered for another purpose? One that she interrupted?
Abby swung the stick and surprised the coyote, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Get out of here! Get lost! Yahhh! Hahhh!”
As the chief jumped away, another coyote came up from behind, teeth bared. Abby swung at him with all her strength, still screaming in her fiercest voice. “Rahhh! Get away! Hahhh!”
A third and fourth coyote came at her from the tall grass. Abby continued to yell and holler and swing the stick. The coyotes were taking turns jumping at her, wearing her out, playing with her. One grabbed the stick in his strong jaws. Abby felt the pull and knew she was in trouble. She let it go and kept screaming and waving her arms. The coyotes smelled victory and began to close in.
Abby blinked. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There, struggling toward her, just twenty feet away, was Cody. His back right leg was bleeding badly, and he was dragging a rusty, nasty-looking leg-hold trap. He pulled himself toward her, using every ounce of his strength. Half-dead from blood loss, and delirious with pain, he was coming to save her.
Abby’s throat constricted. “No, Cody! No!” He reeled back, chastened by his mistress. “No!” Abby repeated. “Stay!” Cody would be killed in an instant if the coyotes turned their attention to him. She would be powerless to do anything about it.
Cody threw back his head. He howled and yipped a challenge to the pack. Abby was shocked. He was trying to distract them. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet, wobbling and swaying. Cody bayed again, trumpeting his superiority and howling his dominance. This was an insult to the pack, a direct affront.
Abby watched in horror as the alpha female turned to face Cody. Ignoring Abby’s shouts, each coyote turned to Cody. Slowly, they surrounded him. Abby counted five. She bent to pick up her stick, abandoned for this newest amusement. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do, but she couldn’t leave Cody to die.
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