Dark Days at Saddle Creek. Shelley Peterson

      “Let it rain!” yelled Julia as they ran for the trailer with the pony. “I had the best time of my life out there!”

      “I think you won first,” called Bird, running beside her.

      You think? We won for sure! corrected Sabrina.

      Bird dropped the rear ramp of the horse trailer, and Sabrina trotted right up beside the other horses. The sisters jumped in, and together they stood dripping as the rain pounded on the aluminum roof.

      “Holy,” said Julia. “I’m glad this waited ’til we finished.”

      Bird nodded. “Yeah. Your ride would’ve been called with this thunder.”

      The rain was coming down so hard that a curtain of water streamed down the trailer door opening, inches from the girls. Julia put out her hand and squealed as water sprayed everywhere.

      “Bring it on,” laughed Bird. “We couldn’t get wetter if we tried!”

      That’s just stupid, commented Sundancer. The big chestnut gelding stood on the other side of Sabrina. I was perfectly dry until now.

      Suck it up, Sunny, answered Bird. A little water never hurt anybody.

       Tell that to a cat!

      Sundancer always took an animal’s point of view, Bird observed. Where is everybody?

       Moonie and Pastor are here in the trailer. Duh.

       I can see that, smartass. I meant Aunt Hannah, Liz, and Kimberly.

       They’re in the truck.

      Bird spoke aloud to Julia. “Let’s go for it. When I count to three, get out. We’ll close up the trailer, run to the truck, and beat the rush out of here.”

      “And go home? Before the ribbons?”

      Bird saw the disappointment on her sister’s face. “Okay, maybe we can wait here a little longer. Aunt Hannah knows where we are.” Their aunt owned and operated Saddle Creek Farm, and was also their coach.

      Julia looked much happier. “Holy. It’s really pouring.”

      Bird squinted her eyes and peered through the sheet of water falling off the trailer roof. All around them, vans were pulling out. The show was over, and except for the eight riders who’d placed in the last class, no one had any reason to stay. Bird looked over to the entrance: a long line of trucks, trailers, and cars was waiting to leave the grounds.

      The rain began to abate as quickly as it had started. Within minutes it had completely stopped, and the sky began to clear.

      “Bird? Julia?” Hannah’s worried face peeked around the corner of the trailer. “You look drowned!”

      “I think I won, Aunt Hannah!” crowed Julia.

      “Good girl. I’ll run down to the office and find out what’s going on,” said Hannah. “You girls change into your spare clothes before you start shivering, and don’t forget to rub Sabrina down.”

      “I’ve got to tell Liz and Kimberly first!” Julia leapt off the trailer like a flying squirrel and dashed to the truck.

      Bird slipped the saddle and bridle off Sabrina and carried them to the tack room at the front of the trailer. She placed the pony’s saddle on the rack and hung up the bridle, wet girth, and saddle pad. From the trunk she got out her old green sweatsuit, and, after peeling off her wet riding clothes, she stepped into the soft flannel and pulled her rubber boots over dry socks. Much better, Bird thought. She grabbed a big towel to dry off Sabrina and stepped out of the tack room.

      Julia appeared just as Bird was leaving. “I forgot to pack dry clothes,” she said through chattering teeth.

      “Here’s a wool cooler.” Bird rubbed Julia’s head with the towel and grabbed a soft horse blanket. She threw it over her sister’s shoulders before splashing through deep puddles to the back of the trailer.

      Before she could get to work on Sabrina, Bird’s attention was drawn down the hill to a galloping horse. A teenaged girl with a lead shank and halter was chasing a handsome bay horse with mudsplattered legs. He must have broken free, Bird guessed. The girl’s face was red with exertion and contorted with frustration. Bird recognized her at once. It was Wanda, a groom for the professional trainer Dexter Pill.

      Bird put her hands on her hips. What was Wanda thinking, she wondered. Horses never come to people who chase them, especially when those people are yelling. It’s too scary for them.

      Just as she was deciding how best to help, Bird was startled by a clear mental message.

       Easy. Settle down, boy.

      That voice again! Where had it come from? It had an authority and a clarity that made her certain it had been transmitted by a person, not an animal. Bird was puzzled. She’d never heard a person do that before.

      The horse’s eyes and nostrils widened. He stopped, surprised. She watched as a man appeared from the trailers. He casually stepped up to the horse and reached out his hand. The horse relaxed at his touch.

      Although Wanda was still visibly upset, the crisis was over. She nodded her thanks to the man, slipped the halter over the runaway horse’s head, and led him back in the direction from which they’d come.

      Bird looked at the man closely as he walked away. He intrigued her. He was slightly built and moved with a quiet athleticism. He wore jeans, white sneakers, and a green T-shirt. His unruly hair was jet black, and his skin was weathered. Who was he?

      Bird had considered it a possibility that other people might communicate telepathically with animals, but actually witnessing this was a first.

      Wait! she messaged. I want to meet you!

      Bird threw the towel over Sabrina’s wet back and raced down the hill, tracking the man’s steps. She ran around the stall tents and remaining trailers looking for him, but he was gone. There was absolutely no sign that he’d ever been there at all. Bird wondered if he was in one of the trucks or trailers that were moving out of the parking lot. If so, it was too late.

      WHEN HANNAH RETURNED FROM the show office, she found her nieces with Kimberly and Liz, busily hanging wet clothes and saddle pads out to dry on the Saddle Creek trailer. The truck doors were open, draped with drying objects, and the mounting block, flatbed, and even the hood of the truck were in use. There was no surface uncovered.

      “Girls?” Hannah’s brow wrinkled. “What are you doing? No, I see what you’re doing. Why are you doing it?” “To dry things,” answered Julia.

      “The sun’s out,” added Kimberly.

      “Wet things get m … mouldy,” Liz said helpfully.

      Hannah wasn’t fooled. “I wasn’t going to leave before Julia got her ribbon. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

      The girls broke out laughing.

      “Thanks, Aunt Hannah,” grinned Julia. “I’ll put everything back in the trailer.”

      “Leave it out until we go. Wet things get mouldy.” Hannah chortled.

      “What did they say at the office, Aunt Hannah?” asked Bird. “The jump-off is cancelled, so winners will be ranked by time and rail faults. They’ll announce when they’re ready.”

      “Do riders have to be mounted?” Julia asked. She glanced down at her strange ensemble of borrowed apparel. Her dripping breeches, shirt, and jacket hung on the truck door.

      “No, lucky for you. Most of the horses have already left. The show was over anyway, except for the last class ribbon presentation.”

      “Whew.”

      Just then, the announcer called for attention over the