The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

he might possibly be taking her to a funeral.

      Abby caught the school bus to go home. She found a seat at the very back and hoped that nobody would join her. Nobody did. Perhaps low spirits act as a repellent, she contemplated. She didn’t care.

      The rain on the windows was soft but consistent. It might be good for the flowers, Abby mused, but it’s certainly hard on the gravel roads. The sky was dull. The farms they drove past looked deserted and dirty. Every car on the road was covered in mud. The world through the school bus window was a study in sepia; brown was the colour of the day.

      Abby got off the bus at the end of her lane and slouched toward her house. She pulled up the collar of her coat and stuffed her hands into her pockets.

      Cody came running, tail wagging, delighted as always that his mistress was safely home. “Cody, you’re the best,” Abby declared. “But don’t try to cheer me up. I’m too far gone.”

      Abby considered taking a nap. Curling up under the covers, making the world disappear. Bliss. Maybe she’d sleep for a week. Nobody would miss her. She sighed.

      Lights were on at her house, giving it a welcoming and cozy appearance that cut through the dullness. Maybe things weren’t so bad. Mrs. Featherstone is home, Abby thought. Hmm. She always makes cookies when it rains.

      Abby noticed that the Hogscroft truck was parked in the turnaround. She opened the kitchen door to find Hilary and Mrs. Featherstone at the kitchen table and Mrs. James cuddled up in a blanket in the overstuffed chair beside the cheerful fire.

      “Abby!” exclaimed Joy. “Just the person we were talking about.”

      Tea, fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies, apple slices, and cheeses were laid out on the blue-checked tablecloth with china and napkins.

      “Get out of that wet coat and sit down,” said Joy. “Would you like some hot cocoa? It’s all ready on the stove.”

      Looking at Joy Featherstone as she bustled around the kitchen doing things to make people happy gave Abby a lump in her throat. Seeing Hilary’s kind face as she pulled out a chair brought a tear to her eye. But it was Christine’s bruised and lopsided grin that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Abby stood dripping rain as her eyes brimmed over.

      “Abby, what is it?” asked Hilary, standing.

      “My darling girl!” Joy rushed to her.

      “Are you all right?” Christine called from her chair.

      “I’m fine, really,” Abby spluttered through her tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

      “Here’s your cocoa. Be careful, it’s very hot.” Joy set the steaming cup on the table, and helped her out of her coat and into the chair. Hilary grabbed the box of tissue from the counter and set it beside her.

      Abby took a tissue and smiled as she mopped her cheeks. “Ignore me, please. I’ve had a bad day, and the sight of all you nice people made me cry. I’m just so happy you’re all here.” She blew her nose. “Mrs. James, how are you feeling?”

      “Better than you, sweetheart,” Christine responded, chuckling good-naturedly.

      Abby laughed, joined by Hilary and Joy. She was amazed at how quickly her day-long misery had ended. The warmth and fellowship of her little farm kitchen was an island of contentment on this cold and rainy day. She drank her cocoa, gobbled up cookies, and joked with these women; three generations of the same family. Abby felt like one of them.

      “More tea, Mom?” Hilary asked Christine.

      “Thanks, dear, but I’ve had plenty. Don’t want to float away.”

      “Gran?”

      “No thanks, Mousie. Abby? More cocoa, or would you like some tea?”

      “Thank you, but no. Oh, I’m going out tonight, Mrs. Featherstone, remember?”

      “How could I forget? With that dear young man, Sam Morris.”

      Hilary smiled broadly at Abby. “Cool,” she said.

      “He’s picking me up at seven. I didn’t get much sleep last night, so I’m going to try to have a nap.”

      “I thought I heard you wandering around in the night. Is anything bothering you, dear?” Joy was concerned.

      “No, nothing to worry about. But I’m glad to see that you’re okay, Mrs. James. I feel really awful about the whole thing. You wouldn’t have gone back there if I’d had the nerve to look down the hole to see if Mr. Owens was injured.”

      “Abby!” exclaimed Christine. “Get that out of your head! You aren’t the culprit, Samuel Owens is. Don’t forget that. He had a gun, and he tried to use it. You were right to get out of there as fast as you could. I was the stupid one. I shouldn’t have gone there at all. I’ve gotten heck from my old friend Mack Jones, the police chief, about this several times already.”

      Hilary’s face darkened. “I hope nothing disastrous happens before Owens is behind bars. I won’t be happy until then.”

      “He’s always been trouble,” Joy opined. “From way back in school. He’s a bad apple.”

      “He’s sure got a thing against Dancer,” added Hilary. “He’s not over it, even after his time in the mental hospital. Can you imagine planning a trap?”

      “How did he know that Dancer would fall into it?” asked Christine. “If that is what he had in mind, and it seems it was.”

      Abby thought for a moment, then spoke. “I might have the answer to that. This morning, Dancer was in my shed with Moonie and Leggy.”

      The women registered their surprise.

      “I know, I was shocked, too. But then I remembered seeing something jump out of the field a while ago. It was chestnut, so I assumed it was a deer. Now I’m not so sure.”

      “And the path from your farm to Hogscroft is right through the woods behind Owens’ house.” Hilary was figuring it out.

      “Right along the path and into the bear pit,” Joy surmised.

      Christine went the next step. “If Dancer has been visiting at regular times and Owens has seen him coming and going, there’s our answer.”

      The kitchen was silent as the enormity of the situation sank in.

      “Then Dancer’s not safe,” said Hilary. “Here we go again.”

      “How can we keep him from wandering into Owens’ hands?” asked Christine. “Build a higher fence? Drug him? Move him away? Hire an armed guard?”

      “We’d better come up with something,” said Hilary. “And fast.”

      “He sure looked good jumping over the fence this morning,” said Abby. “You wouldn’t guess he was injured except for the bandages.”

      “He’s healing remarkably well,” agreed Hilary. “No swelling in his legs, no infection on his head. Dr. Masters was amazed when he checked him this afternoon. He said if Dancer continues to heal this fast, he might be fit enough for the Grand Invitational.”

      “Really?” Abby’s eyes popped wide open.

      “Only if he’s sound and fit, so don’t count your chickens.” Hilary looked at her watch. “We’ll put up electric wire this afternoon, and see if that keeps Dancer in. It’s after four, so I’d better get going. Go have your nap, Abby, and tomorrow we’ll talk strategy. I’ll give you a program to follow once he’s ready to work.”

      “Okay! Call me when it’s a good time to come over,” enthused Abby, completely back to her old self.

      Seven o’clock arrived. Abby’d taken a short nap and was bathed and dressed and waiting. She’d worried about what to wear. She didn’t want to look like