The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

powder, into the nastier gashes but had only been somewhat successful. Tomorrow she’d try again.

      Not for the first time, Bird wondered what had happened to this horse. How did he get those cuts, and why had he ended up at Saddle Creek? What did they do to you, beautiful fellow? Bird waited a moment for an answer then ran to the farmhouse without a backward glance.

      LATE THAT NIGHT, THE quiet of the farmhouse was disturbed by the telephone ringing.

      In her darkened room beside Hannah’s, Bird was instantly awake. The walls of the old farmhouse were thin, and Hannah’s voice, drowsy with sleep, travelled easily into Bird’s room.

      “It’s late here, Eva. I was asleep.”

      Eva. Her mother. Bird wiggled out of bed, placing two bare feet on the wooden floor. She crept quietly down the stairs, avoiding the creaky floorboards, and made her way into the kitchen where the extension hung on the wall beside the fridge. Softly, she raised the receiver to her ear. Her mother was laughing about the time difference. Hannah was not amused.

      “It’s one a.m., Eva. This better be good.”

      “Randy asked me to marry him.”

      “Congratulations.”

      “You don’t mean that. I can hear it in your voice.”

      “Eva, it’s the middle of the night. Tomorrow I have to get up early to take four horses to a show. I don’t know Randy. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been engaged, and last night your daughter threw her dinner at the wall because she wanted dessert first. Excuse me for my lack of enthusiasm.”

      Bird cringed at Hannah’s words and waited out the long silence on the line.

      “Actually, Hannah, that’s why I’m calling.”

      “Speak to me, Eva. I’m not good at riddles at one in the morning.” “Randy wants to meet my family, so we’re coming to visit in a couple of weeks. I’ve told him all about you and Daddy and Mom, but he doesn’t know about Bird.”

      Silence again. Then Hannah’s voice, more awake now. “You said he doesn’t know about Bird?”

      “Yes.”

      “What doesn’t he know? Her existence or her unusualness?”

      “Both.”

      Bird listened closely. She could hear the intake of air as Hannah took a deep breath. “So, when are you going to tell him?”

      “It’s not that easy, Hannah. He adores Julia. But I know he’d have a hard time with Bird. It might change things.”

      “Reality sucks.”

      “I don’t know why I called, you make me so mad!”

      “So why did you call, Eva?”

      Again, there was a pause, but this time Bird could feel a crackle of energy on the line. Something big was about to happen.

      “Can you tell Randy that Bird is your daughter? There. I’ve said it.”

      In the darkened kitchen, Bird felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She fought the urge to smash the phone against the wall and knock everything off the counter.

      Hannah spoke calmly, quietly. “Let me get this straight. You want me to tell Randy that Bird is my daughter. Is Julia still yours?”

      “Yes, Randy loves her.”

      Bird thought of her little sister. A pretty, cheerful nine-year-old. Chatty, charming, and well adjusted. Blonde and beautiful like their mother.

      “Look, Hannah.” Eva was still talking, faster now. “Don’t go all holier than thou on me. You know I couldn’t take Bird with me to California. She was in school and she had her friends ...”

      “Friends? Since when has Bird had a friend? And Bird had to change schools anyway when she moved in with me. We both know why you left her here, so at least be honest with yourself if not with me. Or with Randy, for that matter. What kind of marriage are you —”

      Eva cut her off. “This is going nowhere. I’ve already told Randy that you have an autistic child, so it’s done.”

      “Eva!” The line went dead.

      Bird stood listening to the dial tone until it stopped. The recorded message played, “Hang up. Please hang up now.”

      Finally, Hannah tumbled the receiver back into its cradle. Bird hung up, too, then sank down to the kitchen floor with her back was against the wall and her knees drawn tightly to her chest.

      Autistic. The magic word. It was spoken. Bird had sat through enough “sessions” to know that it was a popular amateur diagnosis for a grab bag of disorders. She had to admit that she exhibited some of the clinical symptoms. She was frenetic at times. Distracted. She’d always been extremely sensitive to noise and light and sudden movement, and was prone to outrageous tantrums when thwarted. She detested change in routine. She didn’t speak, she rocked, she could rarely look a person in the eye. But there was so much more to her than that! More than anyone could see. Sometimes Bird thought that Hannah came close. It was Hannah who’d found the one doctor who’d disagreed with the others.

      Hannah explained to him that Bird had begun to talk at a normal age. By kindergarten she was already reading and had a vivid imagination. She interacted with people. She was somewhat shy but made friends easily. Kids and animals were drawn to her. In fact, she had an uncanny ability to understand what people and animals were thinking. Then, everything had changed when she was six. Only Bird knew why.

      The doctor had looked her in the eye and pronounced her an “elective mute.”

      “It’s not that she can’t talk, Ms Bradley,” the doctor had said in a kind, gentle voice. “She chooses not to.” Bingo, thought Bird at the time.

      Now, a small tear of self-pity dripped onto Bird’s sleeve. Her stomach was in knots. Her own mother was ashamed of her — too ashamed to call her her daughter. Suddenly the farmhouse seemed too small. Bird needed to be outside in the fresh night air, with nothing around her but the night and its noises.

      SATURDAY MORNING DAWNED TOO soon for Hannah. Sleep had eluded her after her sister’s call. A little after three she’d gotten up for a glass of water and had spotted something in the field. It was the white fabric of Bird’s cotton pajamas shining in the moonlight. There she was, sleeping in the field with Hector curled up beside her and the new horse standing close by. Hannah had approached quietly, not wanting to panic the horse, but he’d been watching her from the moment she’d neared the fence. Hector sat up and thumped his tail on the ground, happy to see her. Bird jerked, settled, then stared at Hannah defiantly. Hannah couldn’t think of one good reason to bring her back to bed by force, so she retrieved a couple of heavy horse blankets from the barn and gently tucked her in. The horse never moved.

      Now, in the light of day, Hannah looked out her bedroom window to see Bird dragging the blankets across the field. She looked happy.

      To Bird, the morning smelled delightful. Dewy grass, clean air, horse smells, new wood from fence repairs, and mouldy horse blankets, damp with dew. I bet camp smells like this, she thought. Or home on the range, when the cowboys go out for weeks at a time to bring home the cattle. Cattle drives, they’re called. Bird breathed deeply and smiled.

      Hector walked stiffly beside her, wagging his tail. After a moment, the new horse followed. Bird awkwardly managed to push the blankets over the fence, then reached to pat the horse’s face. He turned away and stuck his nose high in the air.

      Bird tried once more to reach him.

      Big horse, will you talk to me?

      The chestnut swung his head around and looked at her passively.

      Who made those cuts across your back? Who hurt you?

      The horse looked startled for a brief second, then closed down