Christmas at Saddle Creek. Shelley Peterson

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СКАЧАТЬ the plan, Bird? Skate until I break all my legs?

      I thought your hooves would go through the ice and get a grip on the snow.

      Because snow isn’t slippery? Really?

      Look, smarty, we need to help Mrs. Pierson. You don’t like my ideas, so do you have any of your own?

      It wasn’t my idea to do this at all!

      Okay, okay. Can we try to go cross-country?

      Let me try it off the driveway. If it’s bad, I’m not going. Sunny trod slowly and cautiously until he got to the edge of the lane, then stepped over the ice-encrusted bank onto the flat expanse of the field. His hooves cut through the thin layer of ice, and he relaxed. Much better.

      Good, Sunny! Can we do this?

      Just watch me.

      Good boy!

      I’m not a dog.

      Sorry.

      Sunny walked a few paces. The snow was heavy and deep. He had to bend his knees high to pick up his hooves before putting them down squarely again.

      Not nice, Bird. Not nice at all.

      But is it possible?

      Possible, but every step is tough work. Sunny picked up a slow, high-stepping trot across the paddock to the gate into the woods. Bird kicked the ice off the latch and opened it, glad that the gate was hung high enough off the ground to be clear of the snow.

      Once through the gate, they walked attentively along the trails. On top of the treacherous footing, it was pitch-dark. She longed to hurry, but if Bird were to be any help at all to Mrs. Pierson, she’d have to get to Merry Fields in one piece.

      She noted that the conical shape of the fir trees on either side of the path allowed the snow and ice to slide off without breaking branches. Deciduous trees, like the big maple outside Bird’s window, had the opposite shape and split with too much extra weight. Interesting, thought Bird.

      These firs sheltered the trail from the full force of the gale, and as Bird and Sunny travelled along, they were glad for all the protection they could get.

      By the time they emerged from the woods, Sundancer was sweating. Each step had been a big effort. They crossed a narrow clearing and found themselves at the road.

      Sunny’s sides heaved. This is no picnic.

      We don’t have far to go from here, Sunny.

      The road looks crazy.

      Bird had to agree. Sleet was blowing almost horizontal by the force of the wind, and garbage from a rolling bin was gusting around like it was in an anti-gravity machine. Just as plastic bags, wrappers, and sheets of newspaper were about to make a landing, they were tossed up in the air again. A telephone pole was down, and tree branches littered the road like pick-up sticks. Worse, the surface was slick with ice.

      Her gut dropped. Sunny. This is bad.

      I’m not a quitter, but I can’t step on that.

      It’s solid ice. Bird felt like crying. She knew that the temperature couldn’t be much below freezing for this kind of storm, but she was cold. Ice frosted her eyelashes and stung her eyes. She was soaked to the skin, right through her coat. She could feel her feet, but just. And now, after all this effort and getting this close, it looked like they might have to turn around.

      Sunny pawed the road, testing the footing. What about the Good Lady, Bird? She never gave up on us.

      Innumerable times over the years, Laura Pierson had helped them when they’d needed it. She was a person who could be counted on in every circumstance. Mrs. Pierson needed help, and they were very close. It was just a question of how.

      Okay, Sunny, how do we get across?

      I’ll stay on this side of the road until I see a way.

      Do you want me to get off?

      No, not yet. You’re keeping my back warm.

      

2

      Merry Fields

      … And forth they went together,

      Through the rude wind’s loud lament

      And the bitter weather.

      Horse and girl walked on, heads bent against the fierce wind. Bird looked around. She hadn’t seen Cody since they’d left the farm. He’d been right behind them when they went through the gate. Cody? Where are you?

      There was no answer.

      Sunny, have you seen Cody?

      No. I don’t feel his presence.

      Bird began to worry. The small coyote had looked much frailer than before, and now he was somewhere out in this storm. Maybe Cody, the one who always helped others, needed help himself.

      Cody? she messaged again. No reply.

      Cody would show up, she told herself. He always does. She tried not to fret as she looked for familiar landmarks. Under normal conditions, Merry Fields should have been visible from there. In fact, Bird could’ve sworn it was almost across the road from the path they’d been on. But tonight, everything looked strange.

      Bird! transmitted Sundancer. I can get across here.

      Piles of withered leaves and sticks were scattered on the road, possibly from upended garbage cans. The horse stepped over the icy snow bank and used the discarded foliage as a path.

      Good call, Sunny. We must be really close.

      Are you kidding? We’re here.

      What? Bird was surprised to recognize the white mailbox that stood at the end of the Piersons’ laneway. Merry Fields 19347 was painted on it in dark green.

      I would’ve walked right past it!

      Duh. That’s why you’re the passenger.

      You think you’re so smart.

      Smarter than you.

      Aside from the mailbox, nothing else looked the same. The lane was totally obscured by ice-laden branches. The old willows on the front lawn bore no resemblance to their majestic past, and the birches at the side of the house had been demolished.

      As they got closer, Bird saw a bigger problem.

      The huge trembling aspen outside the kitchen door had split, and a big branch had come right through the roof of the porch. Another had fallen across the stairs.

      Holy, she said. This looks bad.

      Bird slid down from Sunny’s back and promptly slipped on the ice.

      See? СКАЧАТЬ