The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

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 themselves 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.

      The coyotes stood poised, still as death, every eye on Cody. The moment was near.

      At the exact same second as Abby chose to raise her stick and go for them, the sound of pounding hooves shook the ground and startled her.

      Abby looked behind to see the magnificent charge of the stallion. Dancer came galloping, ears pinned back, teeth flashing, anger shooting out of his eyes like lightning bolts. The stirrups had come loose and they flapped at his sides, making the spectacle even more unearthly to the coyotes, who stared at him with terrified eyes.

      On he came, over the rocks and bushes and brambles. No obstacle caused him to falter or vary his direct line. His knees reached up past his lowered nose as he covered ground, each huge stride bringing him closer to the astonished pack.

      He didn’t slow. He raced right through the pack, scattering them every which way, kicking and roaring and twisting until each one had turned tail and headed for safety.

      Shaking with spent adrenalin, Abby collapsed on the ground beside her wounded coyote and hugged him gently. “We’ll get you home, Cody. We’ll fix you up.” She rested with him, waiting for the shaking to subside.

      Dancer thrust his nose down into Abby’s face and sniffed and blew. His sides heaved. Abby held his head and stroked his sweaty face. Tears rolled down her face.

      “You saved us, Dancer. You saved us. Thank you for coming back.”

      Abby knew she needed to get Cody help before it was too late. She checked his gums: They were white. He was in shock. Along with the blood loss, that added up to an emergency situation.

      Abby examined the trap. The rusted steel jaws had ripped the flesh on Cody’s leg and were digging into the bone. Abby didn’t know if she should try to get him home with the trap attached to his leg or try somehow to release it. That question was answered when she lifted Cody. He yelped in pain. The old trap was very heavy, and its weight pulled on his injured leg. It had to come off.

      The spring mechanism bowed in the centre. Abby guessed that when the trap was open, the spring would lie flat, like a mousetrap. If she stepped hard enough on the flexed steel, would it open? There was only one way to find out. Abby positioned the trap so that her weight would push down the spring. Cody whimpered.

      Abby gritted her teeth. “Please, let this be the right thing to do,” she prayed. She stepped down squarely, putting all her weight and strength onto the spring. If she was wrong, she feared that it would cut off Cody’s leg.

      The ancient trap snapped open.

      Abby kept all her weight on the spring as she gingerly lifted Cody’s leg out. The second she stepped off, the trap snapped shut with an awesome clang, sending particles of rust in every direction.

      She gently scooped Cody up off the ground, careful to find the position that hurt him the least. Cody was stoic, but in a lot of pain.

      The nearest house was Samuel Owens’. Abby didn’t want to go anywhere near there, especially with Dancer. There was no one to help at the Wick farm. There was the little house on the acre lot beside Owens’ driveway. Gladys Forsyth was usually home, and she loved animals, but Hilary would be riding on the road, or waiting for Abby at Hogscroft. Abby headed for the road.

      Samuel Owens was on the phone.

      “Dammit, Gus! You told me there hasn’t been any interest in that piece of junk land in all the years it’s been on the market!”

      “There hasn’t. This offer just came in, Mr. Owens. That’s why I called.”

      “If I knew there’d be an offer, I would’ve bought the place yesterday. You should’ve seen it coming. I’m not happy, LeFarge. Now we’ll have a bidding war.”

      “Not