Dark Days at Saddle Creek. Shelley Peterson

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      “Then what are we waiting for?”

      Sally’s face relaxed. The two girls headed for the road. They ran on the grass to avoid making any noise on the gravel. As quietly as possible they got into Sally’s mother’s car and pulled shut the doors.

      Lucky’s furry head appeared at Bird’s window. Can I come? Can I come?

       No. Good dog. Guard the house while I’m gone.

      The dog’s tail began to wag. Yes, Bird! Yes, Bird! He disappeared from sight.

      Sally started the engine. The car jerked into gear and sped into the road. She jammed on the brakes, causing the car to skid in a wide arc and throwing gravel in all directions.

      “I thought you said you could drive!” cried Bird. She willed her heart to stop pounding.

      “I can! I’ve driven the lawn mower since I was ten!”

      “How old are you?”

      “Fifteen.”

      “You said you had your beginner’s.”

      “No, I didn’t. I said I could drive. Another chance? Please? I can do better.”

      It was one thing to help Sally save a horse. It was another to risk her life. “No offence, but I’m going to ride my bike.” Bird got out of the car.

      “Really, I can drive! I’ll show you!” Again the car lurched forward as Sally put her foot to the gas pedal.

      “I’ve got bikes,” said Bird. “You shouldn’t be driving. You’re terrible.”

      “What’ll I do with Mom’s car?”

      “Just leave it. We’ll worry about it later.”

      Sally frowned, but she followed Bird back to the house. Bird’s bike was leaning against the bricks, and Hannah’s stood next to it. Bird wasn’t too sure about Sally’s bike riding skills, either, but there was really no other way. She gave her own bike to Sally and rode Hannah’s.

      The girls pedalled fast, and soon they neared Moreland Farm. Sally stopped, out of breath.

      “What?” asked Bird. She braked her bike as well. “Now that we’re here, I don’t know what to do.” “You said you had a plan!”

      “I did. My plan was to figure it out when we got here.”

      Bird decided not to scream at her. “You stole your mom’s car, got me out of bed, and you don’t have a plan?”

      Sally’s mouth tightened. She looked hurt.

      “Don’t worry.” Bird got back on the bike and pedalled slowly so that Sally could catch up. “Let’s leave the bikes at the gate and walk in.”

      “No!” Sally whispered urgently. “There are security lights and cameras at all the gates.”

      “That’s a good thing to know,” said Bird sarcastically. They’d been within a few feet of discovery. If they’d triggered the lights, their adventure would’ve been over before it had begun.

      “There’s a trail over there that leads to the stable.” Sally pointed to the right, and Bird peered into the darkness. She could vaguely see a path through the tall grass.

      “Okay. That’s where we’ll go.”

      They trespassed over the adjacent neighbour’s field and left their bikes in the bushes. Bird looked around. The night was still, and eerily quiet. Nothing moved — not even the blades of long grass in the meadow. Through the dimness, she took a good look at the barn. It was a huge old clay brick building with a separate arena off to the side. The Dutch doors were open at the top, letting in the night air, but the place looked dark and forbidding.

      Silently, two large Alsatians came racing around a corner. Their noiseless arrival put Bird on edge. She knew that a dog intent on catching something didn’t bark. A bark is a warning. No bark means business.

      “The guard dogs!” gasped Sally. “I forgot!”

      “What else did you forget?” Bird groaned. She was beginning to feel like a fool. She held out both hands and messaged the dogs. Stop. We are not here to harm you or the horses or the property.

      The Alsatians halted their approach. One dog began to whine. The dog that wasn’t whining demanded, State your intentions.

      Bird identified him as the alpha dog. She answered with respect. We are here to help the horse named Tall Sox. Some humans believe him to be a bad horse. They will remove him and destroy him.

      Tall Sox. Now the whining dog spoke. We call him Sox.

      The lead dog slowly wagged his tail. He’s a good horse. Come with us. We know the way.

      Bird followed them.

      “How did you do that?!” Sally stood still. She looked bewildered and afraid.

      “Are you coming or not?”

      “Aren’t they vicious?”

      “No. They’re good guard dogs.”

      Sally was still unsure. She tentatively stuck her foot onto the Moreland property. When the dogs ignored her she quickly caught up to Bird. “I don’t know what you did or how you did it. Everybody knows these dogs are killers!”

      Bird was too busy to respond. Are people here?

       They sleep.

       Are there cameras to watch our actions?

      The leader answered, Up in that corner.

      Bird looked. A camera was mounted in the corner of the doorframe, but it looked dusty and disused. There was no light to indicate it was working. It was too late anyway. If it was working, it already had their faces on tape.

      Bird and Sally followed the dogs along the hall and around a corner until they stopped at a stall door and sat. Bird looked inside. Tall Sox?

      A dark horse with a wide white stripe down his nose turned and gave her a looking-over. In the dim light he appeared to be in good shape. As well as the white blaze, he had tall white markings on all four legs. Tall Sox. Apt name, thought Bird. She guessed that he was a thoroughbred, built for speed and agility, and was probably close to ten or eleven years old.

      Now the horse answered, Tall Sox is what humans call me. Animals call me Sox. When I raced against all the others, my name was Silk Stockings. That was a long time ago.

      So she was right — he was a thoroughbred racehorse. And friendly. He didn’t seem to have a bad attitude. Why would a horse like this become a problem?

       Do you have soreness or pain anywhere?

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