The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

“Maybe. Fifty thousand dollars in prize money, Abby. Open jumpers. But that’s not your thing, is it? You just do the wild eventing stuff.”

      “Pam, what are you getting at? Only the top horses compete in this event. Why would you think I’d be insulted by not being invited?”

      “Maybe because Dancer is still qualified. And I’ve heard that you’re riding him now.”

      “How can Dancer be qualified?” Abby was puzzled. “He’s been out of action for years.”

      “Exactly five years, Abby. If he doesn’t compete this year, he’s off the list.”

      “How do you know all this, Pam?”

      “I told you. My mother. An invitation was sent ages ago to Hogscroft. They haven’t responded, and replies are due this week. The Jameses must feel that you’re not capable of showing him.” Her hand flew to her mouth in mock horror. “Oh, my. I didn’t mean to upset you, Abby. That’s the last thing I’d want to do.”

      Abby could only stare at Pam’s retreating back.

      The drive home was congenial but one-sided. Abby’s mind kept returning to the horse show. It would take place a month and a half from now, just after her mom and dad got back from the clinic. Should she ask Mrs. James about it? Would that be too brash? Could she get Dancer ready by then? And herself, too? Fifty thousand dollars! Wow. That kind of money would get her nicely through university and leave some start-up money in the bank. It would take all the pressure off her father. As if I’d really win, she thought.

      “What did you say? Sorry, Sam, I wasn’t concentrating.”

      “Never mind.”

      “No, really, what did you say? I was thinking about the horse show.”

      “Abby, it’s okay. There’s something that I want to talk to you about, but there never seems to be enough time to get into it.”

      “We could talk now,” Abby suggested.

      “We’re at your house. Do you have time to talk now?”

      Abby thought about skipping her ride on Dancer, but with the news of the Invitational, she really wanted to ask Mrs. James what was going on. “Sam, I don’t have time now, but can you come by later? After I ride?”

      “No, sorry. I’m going to the auditions tonight.”

      “Oh, yeah,” remembered Abby. “Me too.”

      “We can’t talk there. What are you doing this weekend?”

      Is he asking me out? She tried to sound cool. “I’m just riding and stuff. No plans.”

      “What about Friday night?”

      Abby tried not to smile. “Sure.”

      Cody met her as she skipped gaily toward her house. She noticed how much healthier he was looking.

      “Good boy. I’m glad you’re all better,” she said, stooping to stroke the coarse fur on his back and rub the much softer fur under his chin and around his ears. “Cody, I have great news. Sam just sort of asked me out for Friday night!” Cody seemed genuinely excited for her, hopping and scooting and dodging as Abby played tag with him up the lane and back. Abby was on top of the world.

      When Abby walked into the kitchen, there was a note on the table from Joy.

      Abby

      Dinner’s in the fridge, just heat it up. I’ve gone to the theatre to set up. If you haven’t heard, we’re doing impromptu auditions tonight, starting at seven. Why don’t you come?!

      Love, J.

      I’d better call Lucy, thought Abby. She picked up the phone and dialled.

      No answer. The answering machine clicked on.

      “Lucy, it’s Abby. Mrs. Featherstone has already left, so I couldn’t ask her what you should do. I’m sure whatever you do will be perfect. I’ll meet you there after I ride Dancer. See you before seven. Save me a seat. Bye.”

      After hanging up, Abby ran upstairs and changed into her riding clothes as fast as she could. Racing down the stairs she caught a glimpse of something out the window in the front field. A chestnut blur had leapt over the fence.

      Abby halted, wondering what it was. It might be a deer. She opened the front door and looked down the lane in the direction the blur had been heading. Nothing. Did Leggy jump out? No. There she was, standing beside her mother as they both looked in the same direction, toward the road.

      Abby shrugged her shoulders. It was probably a deer. There were plenty around.

      Wheeling her bicycle out of the shed, Abby hummed a happy tune as she thought about riding Dancer. She hopped up onto the seat and happily started off toward Hogscroft, followed discreetly by her devoted coyote.

      Samuel Owens was thinking of Dancer, too. He stood at the picture window in his study, binoculars scanning the path that wound over the top of the Casey property to the east, beside the woods in front of him, and into the woods to the northwest. He was watching for Dancer.

      Dancer had been coming this way lately. Alone. Owens had spotted him twice in the last two days. He checked his watch. Eight minutes after four. It was four o’clock two days ago when he’d sighted Dancer, and four fourteen yesterday when Dancer had galloped west, through the Wick farm toward Hogscroft. He should be here any time now.

      What the stallion was doing was of no concern to Owens. What concerned him greatly was that Dancer was there at all, reminding Owens of his past obsession, enraging him that he dared to trespass on land owned by a man that the stallion should fear. Dancer should be terrified of me, thought Owens. He should be quaking in his iron shoes.

      He’d kept an eye out for Dancer all afternoon, but so far, no luck. Everything was ready. His plans were laid. He’d worked very hard all day, and was convinced that the bear pit was foolproof. All he needed was Dancer.

      He scanned the path earnestly, slowly moving the lenses from left to right, then from right to left. His anger mounted, as always, when he cast his eyes on the Wick property.

      “That land should be mine,” he growled aloud. “Those bastards cut me out. They’ll pay one day, and they won’t even know what hit them.”

      “Hi, Mousie.”

      “Mom! I was just thinking about you! How are you?”

      “Great. How was the exam?”

      “I think I aced it.”

      “Congratulations!”

      “Well, it hasn’t been marked yet. I’m just heading out, Mom. Can I call you back?”

      “No, no. Just let me ask you one question. You got an invitation in the mail regarding the Grand Invitational. It’s been sitting here for a couple of weeks and I keep forgetting about it. What do you want me to do with it?”

      “Mom, I won’t be around. It’s in June, isn’t it?”

      “Yes. Sunday, June 26.”

      “I start my job at the Royal Ontario Museum. I won’t have time. Do you mind declining for me?”

      “Not at all, honey, I thought you might be too busy. What about Abby?”

      “Abby?”

      “Well, Mousie, she’s been coming here to ride him four times a week. They’re getting along famously, doing all the courses you set out, and doing them well.”

      Hilary didn’t reply.

      “Mousie?”

      “I can’t believe you’d think that.”

      “Think what?”

      “That Abby could ride him