The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

to parties. They’d gone through danger together and had shared times of great excitement.

      Now she had a different life. A life that excluded this great horse. She couldn’t have it both ways, she told herself. If she wanted to be an archeologist and travel to exotic places, she could not have a horse like Dancer, who needed time and attention. She could not have everything. Choices must be made. The tears continued as she rode up to the house.

      Christine and Joy were bundled up on the terrace enjoying the late sun with their afternoon coffee. Pepper and Diva perked up and ran to Hilary, tails wagging. When Christine saw that her daughter was upset, she stood up from the table.

      “Mousie!” she called. “What’s wrong?”

      “Call Mr. Pierson, Mom. Tell him to drive his truck over right away.”

      “What happened, Mousie?”

      “Cody was caught in a trap. Abby needs help.”

      7

      FIONA’S PROBLEM

      PETE ARRIVED FASTER THAN Christine expected. Dancer and Abby, with Cody in her arms, were just turning up the lane when his old blue truck appeared. Pete came to a stop beside them. Christine opened the passenger door and Abby got Cody settled in the middle of the seat. Dancer stood still, attentive and protective. Before climbing in beside Cody, Abby patted the stallion and quietly thanked him. Dancer shook his mane and whinnied. He turned and trotted up to the barn.

      Pete grimaced as he backed up and turned the truck around.

      “Thanks for getting here so fast,” Christine called as the truck pulled out. As it sped off, gravel flying, Pete waved his goodbyes. There was no time to lose.

      Christine walked up the lane, thinking about her daughter. Hilary was very upset. Was it the shock of seeing the injured coyote? Or was there something else?

      Christine noticed Joy entering the barn, where Hilary was untacking the horses. It was just like her mother to know when she was needed. Instead of going to the barn as she’d intended, she decided to head for the house to start dinner. She’d let the two of them have a chat.

      “Gran, I need to be alone right now.” Hilary continued brushing Dancer. The tack was still in the aisle, but Henry had been brushed down and was in his stall with a cooling blanket over him.

      “I’m sorry, Mousie. I don’t wish to intrude.”

      “You’re not intruding, and I don’t mean to sound rude. I just need some time to collect myself.” She bent down and picked up Dancer’s front left foot.

      “Sure. I understand. We all have times like this.”

      “I know you understand. You always do.” Hilary deftly cleaned the hoof with the pick.

      “Not always, Mousie.” Joy reached into her pocket. “Would you like my hanky? It’s clean.”

      “Thanks.” Hilary took the white linen handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “This is embarrassing. I’m twenty-two years old.” She blew her nose.

      “I’m seventy-two and I still cry.”

      Hilary laughed. “But not about stupid things.”

      “If it’s making you cry, my dear, it’s not stupid.”

      “But it is stupid. I’m crying because Dancer seems more attached to Abby than he is to me. And Abby just started riding him yesterday. I feel sad. I feel so . . .” She left the sentence dangling as she picked up his back left hoof and cleaned it. “I feel so jilted. And that’s stupid.”

      Joy said nothing until Hilary finished picking out Dancer’s feet. “It’s totally understandable, my dear. There’s nothing stupid about that emotion.”

      “Yes there is, Gran. I can’t look after him anymore. I wanted Abby to ride him because she’s the only person I can think of who could get into his head. And I was right. They get along great, so I’m sad? It doesn’t make sense.”

      “Logically, no. But emotions aren’t always logical. You feel that you’ve lost your best friend.”

      “But I haven’t, really. And I know he’ll only be happy if he’s working, and I want him happy.”

      “You really love him, Mousie, if you’re willing to let him go because it’s better for him.”

      “Maybe, but I still feel jealous.”

      As Hilary led Dancer into his stall, Joy tried to explain. “It’s like having a child. You love her, raise her, protect her, teach her how to look after herself. Then the time comes when he or she leaves you to discover the big, outside world. And you’re left with a hole in your heart. But it’s the best thing for her. You can’t keep her with you for selfish reasons. So a mother who loves her child has to let her go.”

      “Maybe it’s exactly like that, Gran.” Hilary looked at her grandmother with questioning eyes. “Is this how you felt when Mom moved out?”

      Joy nodded. “Exactly.” She smiled. “I cried like a baby.”

      “And is this how Mom feels now? Now that I’m moving on?” Hilary’s face suddenly crumpled. She ran out of the barn.

      As she watched Hilary stumble into the house, Joy thought she’d made things worse. She picked up the bridles and hung them in the tack room. Wondering what to do about her granddaughter, she put Henry’s saddle on the proper rack then returned to get Dancer’s.

      There was a bullet lodged in the back of Dancer’s saddle. Joy breathed deeply, steadying herself. “Oh my,” she muttered as she ran a finger over it. It was deeply embedded in the leather on the left side of the seat. “Oh my, my, my.” Joy felt shocked as the realization of averted tragedy hit her. Her head was light. Trembling visibly, she rested the saddle on her hip and started for the house. Hilary would have to see it.

      Joy wasn’t looking forward to showing her granddaughter the saddle. She’d upset her enough already. When she opened the kitchen door, though, she saw Hilary and Christine locked in a hug, rocking and laughing and crying together. Joy smiled and wiped a tear from her own eye.

      Colleen Millitch was the head veterinarian at Cheltenham Veterinary Hospital. Although she was only in her mid-thirties, she’d dealt with more than her share of animal crises. Tall and dark-haired with a ready smile, Colleen was attractive as well as capable.

      As soon as she’d gotten the call from Pete Pierson, she prepared an operating table and disinfected herself. Colleen smiled. A vet’s life was full of surprises. This had been just an average Monday afternoon until now. She remembered working on Cody before, the night Pete Pierson had brought him in, full of Colonel Kenneth Bradley’s buckshot. Cody had been a good patient, but he was still a wild animal. Colleen would be very careful. She was pulling on her latex gloves when the receptionist buzzed.

      “They’re here, Colleen. What should I do? It’s a real coyote!”

      “Send them in.” Colleen opened the door to the operating room and studied the animal as Abby carried him in, followed by Pete. Cody would need intravenous fluids immediately.

      Abby held him close, hiding his face so he wouldn’t see Colleen injecting him with a tranquilizer. Cody’s head dropped. He was instantly asleep.

      While Cody’s rear leg was being operated on, Samuel Owens and Gus LeFarge were viewing the Wick property. They’d walked the land, gone through the house, and checked out the sheds. Now they were entering the huge old barn theatre.

      “This would go up in flames with one match,” said Owens as he examined the space with critical eyes. “Insurance would build another barn. A modern, functional barn.” He swept his arm from wall to wall with a disgusted sneer. “It’s a piece of garbage, the whole place. Wick was always crazy, but this