The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

knelt at a stage light and peered closely. Here it was:

      “The Blue-Winged Fairy appears as they hug and dance in their joy at being reunited. She nods wisely, and says, ‘Loving father, Geppetto. Brave little puppet, Pinocchio.’”

      I can do that, Abby thought.

      The next morning, Joy Featherstone and Robert Wick drove to Samuel Owens’ mansion. It was ten o’clock.

      “There were a lot of firecrackers,” said Robert, eyes on the road. “Big ones, too. Would’ve made quite the racket.”

      “Go through this for me one more time, Robert. Why are we going to see Owens when we still have so much to do before the rehearsal this afternoon?” Joy was tired. They hadn’t finished last night until after midnight. After they’d sent the actors home, they’d discussed wardrobe changes, lighting, sound effects, and production details until they were exhausted and could work no more. Everything must be perfect by opening night.

      “Abby told us that Ambrose told her that Owens dug in firecrackers around the theatre and was going to set them off. With everybody in the theatre. And firecrackers were there. You have to admit it.”

      “Right. So we say to Samuel, ‘A ghost told us that you were doing bad things last night.’ Ambrose also told Abby that Cody and a pack of wild coyotes thwarted him. Do we mention that, too?”

      “Come on, Joy, I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to get into details, I’m merely going to offer to sell him my upper field.”

      Joy rubbed her weary eyes. “Tell me why.”

      “He wanted to buy the whole property so he could look out his windows and see nothing but land that belonged to him, right?”

      “Right. According to Gus LeFarge.” Joy lay back in the seat and rested her head. “But the day the ghost scared him, he said he wanted to buy the farm to burn down the theatre.”

      “True, but that was all bluster. Hopefully he’s forgotten all about that, and has gone back to his original goal. And the upper field is the only part of Wick Farm that he can see from his windows.” Robert looked pleased with himself. “He can’t see the barn.”

      “You jump to the conclusion that Owens will leave us alone if he owns the field.”

      “Yes, Joy, I do. He tried to scare us last night. You have to agree, if the firecrackers had gone off, the explosions would have scared the living daylights out of everybody.”

      “And you think he was trying to scare us into selling him Wick Farm?”

      “Absolutely! His message being that if he could set fireworks he could do a lot more. Obviously we don’t want to sell the whole thing, but we’ll never miss that field. Am I making any sense?”

      “Possibly. It’s worth a try.” She yawned.

      Robert parked his truck beside Owens’ Mercedes. He hustled to open Joy’s door for her.

      “Why are you so darned perky this morning?” she asked.

      Robert winked and escorted her to the big wooden door. “Just watch me,” he whispered confidently. He lifted the evil-looking brass eagle door knocker and knocked three times.

      Within seconds, the door was opened by a small man with a stooped bearing.

      “May I help you?” asked Walter importantly.

      “Yes, thank you,” answered Robert, adjusting his tie.

      He’d dressed with care this morning. “We’re here to see Samuel Owens.”

      Walter looked worried, all trace of bravado instantly gone. “I’m afraid that’s not possible. Mr. Owens is with his doctor.”

      “Is he ill?”

      “No, he’s had another accident.”

      Robert shot Joy a look. Joy raised her eyebrows slightly.

      Walter continued. “May I tell him who is calling on him? He will get in touch with you when he feels up to it.”

      Joy stepped forward, and spoke in a charming, persuasive manner. “I’m sure he’d like to see us now. We’re dear old friends. We’ve come to visit him in his time of need.” She leaned closer. “And you know, don’t you, that he has very few friends. If you turn us away, he’ll have no visitors at all, and I imagine he might not be happy about that.”

      Walter’s face showed indecision. The woman was right, Walter thought. He’d never had visitors before, except Mrs. Casey, and she wasn’t here very much at all anymore, and whenever he did see her she looked unhappy. Might Owens be upset with Walter if he didn’t let them in?

      Using his hesitation to their advantage, Joy bustled through the door. “I missed your name,” she said.

      “W . . . Walter,” he stammered. “But I’m not sure he wants guests.”

      “Of course he does!” Joy brazened on. “Everybody needs a friend when they’re down. Come, Robert, Walter is taking us to see dear Samuel.”

      Faced with this immovable force, Walter was totally defeated. In trepidation, he led them up the grand marble stairs to Owens’ master bedroom.

      The doctor was leaving.

      “Walter, he’ll need a home nurse twice a day to clean and rebandage those wounds. I’ve made arrangements, so expect someone at six this evening. Give him one of these antibiotic pills four times a day until they’re finished.” The young doctor handed Walter a large plastic pill bottle and hurried down the hall. He looked back and took in Robert and Joy. “Good morning,” he said, and ran down the stairs. “I’ll let myself out,” he called over his shoulder, and the door slammed.

      Robert looked at Joy and whispered, “He must be new around here. I’ve never seen him before.”

      “You’ll probably never see him again, either. He was in an awful hurry to leave.”

      “Owens has that effect on people.”

      “Who’s out there?” Owens bellowed from inside the room.

      “Speak of the devil,” murmured Joy.

      “Walter! I don’t want visitors! Walter!”

      Joy put her hand on the shaking arm of the horrified man. “You go. We’ll handle this,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry, Walter, we’re old friends. We understand his little moods.” Walter clattered down the gracious, curving staircase and disappeared through a door.

      “Get him, Tiger,” said Robert to Joy as he opened the heavy door to the master suite.

      Lying in a luxurious chocolate brown satin-shrouded king-sized bed, propped up with leopard skin-covered pillows of various sizes, with exotic animal skins covering the polished hardwood floor, was Samuel Owens. Bandages covered most of his face and head. The little skin that was visible around his eyes showed tips of red, swollen gashes. His hands were invisible under huge pads of white gauze. What was under the covers was anybody’s guess.

      “Are you all right?” asked Robert, looking pale himself. He hadn’t expected this much damage.

      “Walter! Walter!” Owens barked angrily. His voice was muffled by the bandages and could hardly be heard, which caused him further distress.

      Joy pulled an ocelot footstool over to the bed and sat down. “I’ll get him in a moment, Samuel. We just wanted to pop in to give you our best wishes. We’ll be gone in one minute.” Joy turned to look at Robert, who stood with his hands in his pockets near the door, anxious to leave. “Robert, why don’t you tell Samuel your good news. By the looks of him, he could use some.” Joy smiled kindly at the invalid.

      “Yes. Yes, Joy. Good idea.” Pulling himself together, Robert took one step closer to the bed. “I’ve decided to put my upper field on the market. You can see it