The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

ears pricked up. “Abby, it’s Sam. What happened? Margaret Small says you ran out mad because she came back, but I know you wouldn’t do that. I’m coming over after rehearsal.”

      Sam had been whispering. Abby guessed that he’d used the hall phone outside the dressing room, and he hadn’t wanted anybody to hear. She looked at her watch. Two thirty. Rehearsals would’ve started by now.

      Should she go back to the theatre and explain that she wasn’t angry? But what would she say? That Margaret was insulting and rude? Abby slumped down at the table and rested her forehead on her arms. The day had been perfect until now, she thought.

      She heard a scratch on the kitchen door.

      “Cody,” Abby said fondly as she opened the door for the worried little coyote. “You came to comfort me.” She knelt down and rubbed behind his ears. He liked that. He rolled over onto his back for a tummy tickle, then stood and shook. His intense grey eyes stared at her.

      “Yes, Cody, I feel much happier. You’ve cheered me up.” Cody wagged his tail and put a paw up on Abby’s knee. “Thanks, little guy.”

      On the floor beside them lay her knapsack. Abby pulled out the script. There’s no doubt about it, pondered Abby. I’ve become stagestruck. Margaret’s right. I really want to act in this play. And if I’m honest with myself, I did want people to think I was better than her.

      When did it happen? When did acting turn from a way to join the herd to something she felt bereft without?

      One rehearsal! That was her whole acting resumé. Her entire experience.

      Abby took the script over to the chair by the window and curled up her legs. Cody found a comfortable spot on the rug for a nap, and Abby began to read. She read very carefully this time, watching for clues to character development and relationships, exits and timing, suspense devices. She realized that there was a definite shape to the play. A beginning where you meet the main characters and get involved in their lives. The story buildup with gathering events and necessary tension. The ending that tied all the strings together.

      Abby started reading all the parts aloud, stressing different words to get different effects. She tried accents on some of the characters, just for fun. She played with funny voices.

      Cody slept, content to be with his Abby as she amused herself in an imaginary world.

      That was the scene that Sam came upon when he looked through the pane in her door three hours later. He smiled, then caught her startled eye.

      School was out. By Wednesday at noon, the teaching staff had had enough and declared that the summer recess was officially started. Caledon High was a beehive of activity as lockers were cleaned out, the lost and found box rummaged. Kids exchanged summer addresses and hugged their friends goodbye. The graduating class could be identified either by a triumphant look or a tear in the eye. Music was played loudly in the halls until angry teachers stopped it. Then it would start again down another hall. Finally, hands over ears, the teachers conceded and packed their desks, ready for a well-earned, much-needed vacation.

      Sam had offered to drive Abby home. Lucy had her grandfather’s truck and other kids were going her way, too, but Abby wanted to bicycle home on this last day of school. Everybody was going to rehearsal. She felt totally left out again. She wanted to be alone.

      Her parents would be home in three days. She was eager to see them after all the time they’d been away. Four days from now was the Grand Invitational. Shivers ran down her spine, and her stomach churned.

      Today was Dancer’s last jumping day before the event. It was very important that all went well. He needed perfect confidence going into the show.

      As she cycled, Abby rode a practice course in her mind. She would concentrate on each jump, setting him up just right then leaving him alone to let him find his balance, look for the next jump and do it all over again. She practised keeping her heels down to retain the correct seat and keep her calf muscles tight. She reminded herself to focus ahead, over the jumps, and not to look at the ground. She remembered the tip she’d been told about water jumps. She’d ride it like it was five feet high, to get Dancer’s arch wide enough for the twelve-foot spread.

      Sam had been driving alongside her for several seconds before she saw him.

      “What are you laughing at, Sam?”

      “You! Are you in another world again?”

      Abby grinned. “Actually, I’m riding Dancer over a course. Am I clearing the jumps?”

      “I don’t see any poles on the ground,” answered Sam. “You’ll start to worry me soon, Abby,” he warned. “The last time, you were acting all the parts in Pinocchio.”

      “Well, stop creeping up on me, then,” she said, laughing. “Are you going to rehearsal now?”

      “Yes. Everybody wants you back. Margaret Small is horrible to people, and she’s not nearly as good as you.”

      Abby considered this for a moment as she rode along beside Sam’s truck. “That might be her problem, Sam. Maybe she’s insecure. Be nice to her. Tell her she’s fabulous. If she relaxed, she’d probably be a better Blue-Winged Fairy and become easier to live with.”

      “I’ll try. And I’ll tell Lucy. She’s really bugged by her. She can’t forgive her for saying you were a sore loser.”

      “She said I was a sore loser? It wasn’t a contest!” Abby said, dismayed.

      “Water under the bridge, Abby. Everybody knows the truth.” Sam looked at the clock on his dashboard. “Are you free for a movie tonight? A bunch of us are going to the eight o’clock.”

      “Sure! Have fun at rehearsal, and see you later. Oh! What time?”

      “I’ll pick you up on the way back, around seven fifteen, and we’ll get something quick to eat before the show.” Sam waved out his window all the way down the road until he disappeared from view.

      He did it again. Abby smiled. He completely restole my heart.

      On Saturday afternoon when Abby finished riding Dancer, she started organizing things for the horse show. With great anticipation, she opened Hilary’s polished oak tack box. She took out the contents, washed the insides, then started shaking out bandages and dusting off brushes. The box had not been opened in five years.

      Abby considered what she’d need. Grooming tools. She put aside hoof-oil, a hoof-pick, curry, mane comb, stiff body brush, soft brush, and a towel for the final shine. She’d need a cooling sheet and perhaps a light blanket. Leg wraps and trailer boots. Spare reins, crop, chin chain, lead shank, halter. The halter, lead shank, boots, and cooler she placed in readiness for tomorrow’s trailer ride. The other things she rearranged in the trunk.

      Abby looked up and watched Dancer graze beside Henry. She made a wish. Crossing her fingers she said aloud, “Please let us win.” Then she touched the wooden trunk in case she’d jinxed herself.

      Tomorrow morning she’d bathe him and shine him up.

      His mane had already been pulled short, ready to braid. His whiskers had been shaved and he had a new set of shoes. The cuts and scrapes from his pit adventure had healed well. He looked like he did in the old days when no horse could outjump him. He was a beautiful sight. Abby got goosebumps.

      She began cleaning the tack. She scrubbed the bit and polished the brass strip on his headband. She got the stirrups cleaner than they’d ever been. The leather martingale, bridle, reins, girth, and saddle were soaped with linseed and carefully wiped down. She oiled her saddle, then placed it on the saddle-rack. Tomorrow, she would pack it all in the tack box.

      Hilary’s clothes were hanging on the tack hook in a drycleaner’s bag. Jacket, breeches, white shirt, ratcatcher, black gloves, belt. Tall black boots stood polished on the floor under the clothes. Abby mentally checked the items off. She thought she was ready. Was she missing anything?

      Hilary