The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

he was armed with a rifle and a handgun in the car.

      He had doused the theatre with gasoline. The fuse split in three, to ensure there was no escape for the people inside. It ran from Owens’ car to the stage door, the front door, and the side fire exit.

      The theatre was full. Much, much better than the first dress rehearsal. The fireworks had been his rehearsal, too, he rationalized, even though it hadn’t worked. Tonight would be the big one. Tonight would be Owens’ final revenge.

      The best part was that Dancer would be blown up, too, exactly ten minutes after the theatre. A bomb was rigged under a bushel of apples in the field beside the road, programmed to start ticking by remote control. Owens would have the pleasure of watching the demolition of the theatre, and then be able to arrive on time to witness the violent death of the one creature who had caused him more misery than any other on earth. Dancer would die. Owens cackled and hugged himself with glee.

      Owens yelled at the theatre, “You mess with Samuel Owens at your own peril!” His voice screeched with excitement and shook with rage. “You hate me! Well, I hate you more! You’re all a bunch of garbage! I’m doing the world a favour!” He giggled like a hyena as he waved the fire-starter over his head. It looked like a wild firefly zooming crazily in the dark.

      Cody was unsure of what to do. The strong smell of fuel was everywhere. It hurt his nose and made water come from his eyes. The Bad Man was unstable. There was no way to know how he’d react to anything. But he must be stopped from hurting his Abby.

      Cody crept closer.

      Owens couldn’t wait to see this stupid, haunted barn theatre explode before his very eyes, destroying all the people who’d thwarted him.

      The Jameses, who’d laughed at him for years because he couldn’t have Dancer. The Caseys, who’d fallen in with the Jameses. Even the beautiful Helena didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, and she would die tonight with all the rest. The Malones with their brat Abby, who had that horrible coyote and had prevented him from shooting Dancer with his cane-gun, over which he’d gone to considerable trouble to have made. Robert Wick, who’d refused to sell him the farm, then insulted him by thinking a mere field would appease him. The Piersons, who butted their noses into his business. It was Pete who’d called security at the Invitational. Even his illegitimate daughter and her children, Sam and Leslie Morris, deserved to die. How dare she name that bastard after him! The insult!

      With a triumphant wave of the fire-starter, Owens knelt to light the fuse. At the same time, he pressed the button on the small remote control that activated the bomb in the bushel of apples in Dancer and Henry’s field. His body was racked with laughter as he imagined the horses happily eating apples, unaware that their last minutes on earth were nigh. “Kaboom!” he hollered. “Die Dancer! Die!”

      Owens jumped into his car. His plan was to back up the hill to get a safe and complete view of the fire that would kill and maim the entire community, then drive the short distance to Hogscroft for the pièce de résistance. He longed to see the panicked survivors screaming and rushing out the doors, clothes and hair on fire. He wished he could see each one’s personal agony. He giggled grotesquely.

      A giant spark from the fizzing fuse flew free. It landed under Owens’ car, where gasoline had splashed from one of the plastic containers. In seconds, the grass caught fire. Fuelled by the spilled fluid, the flames built quickly beneath the car. Poom! Owens’ car exploded into a thousand pieces.

      Inside the theatre, the cast was taking their third curtain call. When the car exploded, the noise was deafening, even above the standing ovation and the music of the orchestra.

      The huge bang was followed by the plinks and whaps and thuds of metal objects hitting the theatre. People froze, unable to make sense of it.

      Ducking the flying debris, Cody raced to the fuse. This time, he knew exactly what to do and wasted no time. Where the single fuse divided into three, Cody grabbed the white cord in his mouth. Dragging and pulling, he managed to free it from the rocks that held it. He ran away from the theatre as fast as he could, while the single fuse burned closer and closer to his face. Up the hill, through the brush to the pond where he jumped right into the water without a pause. He swam until he was sure that every bit of that cord was soaked. He opened his sore jaws and dropped it.

      On stage with the cast, Abby heard Ambrose speak directly into her ear. “Owens is dead, Abby. Your coyote took a lighted fuse to the pond over the hill. He saved all our lives. Well, not mine, I’m already dead. But the big horse is in danger. There’s a bomb in a basket of apples.”

      Cody crawled out of the pond and shook himself off. Quickly, he loped to the crest of the hill. Hundreds of humans were streaming out of the theatre doors and moving themselves far from the building. Sirens pierced the air and flashing lights lit up the dark night. Cody had seen it all before when his own barn had burned down.

      Risking human detection, the wet and exhausted coyote raced toward the theatre below. There was one more job to do. He must make sure his Abby was safe.

      Abby ran out of the theatre and up the hill toward the pond where Ambrose told her Cody had gone. She must first find Cody, then rush to Dancer. “Cody!” she called, unsure of what to expect. Was he blown up in the blast? Was he injured? Would she be able to find him in the dark?

      She moved as fast as her shaking legs would carry her, her mind running faster than her feet. Blue-Winged Fairy costume floating wildly and wand in hand, she tore through the brambles in the dark.

      The small coyote saw her first. He ran to Abby and joyfully jumped up on her, whining his enduring love for her.

      “Cody, oh, Cody!” Abby knelt to the ground and cuddled his soaking, trembling body to her chest. “Good boy, Cody.”

      Ambrose’s warning about the horse left them no time to spare. “Dancer, Cody. Go to Dancer!”

      Cody searched her face for clarity, then dashed away in the direction of Hogscroft. Abby lost sight of him in the crowd of frightened people rushing to their cars and firefighters hosing down the gasoline with chemicals. She followed as fast as she could.

      Stumbling a little on the gravel in the dark, Abby ran down the road. What she’d find, she had no idea. She had even less idea of what she’d do when she got there. Panic gripped her chest as she breathed hard, exhausted, but fighting the need to rest.

      A huge explosion split the air. It came from the direction of Hogscroft.

      “No!” screamed Abby. “No!”

      Abby willed her legs to keep sprinting along. Her heart pounded through her chest wall. Fear tingled in her every nerve. Her imagination created a bloody scene of scattered horse and coyote parts.

      “Please, please!” Abby sobbed. “Please, no!” She prayed for a miracle as she pumped her leaden legs toward the farm.

      Seconds later, Abby stood against the fence with heaving sides, her Blue-Winged Fairy costume torn and soaked with sweat. The horses ran to her. Dancer nuzzled her neck. Henry breathed into her face. Cody stood on his hind legs beside her, resting his front paws on her hips.

      Fragments of brush and earth were everywhere. A bushel basket innocently rested against the fence down the hill. Apples were here and there, some half-eaten. It looked to Abby that the bushel had been kicked over, possibly by a horse impatient to get at all the apples, or maybe as a result of an argument between the two horses over the sweet fruit. However it had happened, the basket had been sent flying, the bomb had rolled into the trees and exploded far enough away to do no harm to the animals.

      Abby hugged them all. Relief came flooding through all her senses. Slowly, she slipped to the ground as her body released its tension. She had no strength left.

      Epilogue

      WEDDING BELLS

      AUGUST 15 WAS CHOSEN as the night of the double wedding because of the full moon.