The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle. Shelley Peterson

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СКАЧАТЬ so smart, using dirt as a towel,” said Abby, shivering. “Do you think it would work for me?”

      The horses were settled nicely, and the next great flash of lightning didn’t bother them at all. They felt protected and safe, and were drying off quickly, but they didn’t have food or water. Abby hoped that they wouldn’t have to wait long for the storm to pass.

      “In case we’re here for a while, it wouldn’t hurt to see what I can find.” There had to be a bucket in the barn, and if there wasn’t running water, a moment under the eaves would fill it up. Also, she was cold. Maybe there were empty burlap grain sacks stored somewhere or, better yet, horse blankets. They’d be musty and filthy for sure, but they’d help retain her body heat. Abby patted Moonie and Leggy on their noses and set off to the barn with Cody.

      The light was dim as they ran into the rain and dashed for the barn door. Wind whistled through an empty, broken window. The barn, standing starkly in front of them, seemed sinister. “This place is spooky,” Abby said, feeling only slightly reassured by Cody’s presence.

      There were two huge doors that opened in the middle for tractors and haywagons. Cut into the one on the right was a smaller, human-size door with a latch. Abby took hold of the handle and pressed down firmly with her thumb. It opened.

      Abby pushed the door wide and peered in. “Cody?” she called quietly. Immediately she felt him nuzzle her hand. “Stay with me, boy. I’m scared.” Cody had no intention of leaving her side. He knew when Abby needed him.

      Abby took one tentative step inside. The door swung shut behind her with a great slam.

      “Cody!” she whispered, urgently. Cody nudged her with his nose. “Holy. I can’t take this.” Her heart pounded. She didn’t dare move. She couldn’t see a thing, and she didn’t know where to step. Abby held Cody’s coarse ruff tightly in her left hand. “Let’s get back to the horses. I don’t need a blanket.”

      Teeth chattering with cold and nerves, Abby backed up, feeling for the door behind her. Her left shoulder bumped the wall. Suddenly, yellow radiance replaced the gloom. Momentarily blinded, she covered her eyes with her hands. Glancing at the wall she realized that she’d accidentally backed into the light switch. When she looked around, she gasped in wonder at what she saw. Abby could not believe her eyes.

      In front of her was a theatre. A wooden stage with a small orchestra pit in front. Curving rows of seats covered with worn and faded burgundy velvet. A real theatre with a real proscenium arch over the stage and ragged burgundy velvet curtains hanging from it.

      “Hold on,” muttered Abby aloud. “This is a barn. In the country. On a wrecked-up old farm. What’s a theatre doing here?”

      Fiona Malone was worried about her daughter. Abby had been gone for hours, the storm was building, and the temperature was dropping. Spring storms were unpredictable, Fiona fussed as she nervously pushed back her grey-blond hair. She turned the radio to the weather station. “Exactly three years ago, a spring storm with less intensity than today’s became a funnel-ling tornado, causing damage in the hundred thousands of dollars and claiming the lives of . . .” Great, she thought. I really need to hear that. This could drive a person to drink. It was one thing for Abby to be out on Moonie, a sensible mare, but to have to cope with Leggy, too . . .

      The phone rang, startling Fiona out of her bleak thoughts.

      “Hello?”

      “Mrs. Malone?”

      “Speaking.”

      “Hi! This is Hilary James. May I speak with Abby?”

      “Mousie James! Are you home?”

      “Yes, for the weekend. I got in last night.”

      “Your mother must be thrilled. How’s Montreal?”

      “Great, thanks. I’m working hard on my thesis, and exams are going well. How are things with you?”

      “Fine, but I’m a little concerned just at the moment. Abby’s out in the storm on Moonie, with Leggy on a lead.”

      “Wow.” Hilary knew from first-hand experience how frightened a young horse might be in this weather, but she didn’t want to add to Fiona’s worries. “I’m sure they’re fine, Mrs. Malone. Abby’s smart. She’s probably somewhere dry, waiting it out.”

      “I sure hope you’re right, Hilary.”

      “How long has she been gone?”

      “Over two hours.”

      There was a short pause. “Would you like me to look for them?”

      “No! I don’t want you out in this storm, too. Abby’s father’ll be home soon, and he’ll go out if she’s not back. Thanks anyway, though.”

      “Is Cody with her?”

      “I assume so,” Fiona answered. “He always is.”

      “If there was any reason to worry, he’d come find you.”

      “You’re right. He would. Hilary, thank you. I feel better.”

      “Well, tell her I called. I want to talk something over with her. But I know my way through all the trails so please call me if you want help. I’m serious.”

      “I know you are. Thank you.”

      As Hilary returned the receiver to the kitchen wall Christine waited for an explanation.

      “What’s wrong, Mousie?” she asked.

      “Abby’s out in the storm.”

      “Are you worried?”

      “Well, it’s wild out there, and she’s got the two-year-old with her.” Hilary walked to the window and peered outside. Pepper, a little brown and white Jack Russell terrier, stood beside her with her paws on the windowsill. The sky was dark and it was only three thirty in the afternoon. The rain poured down heavily and the wind sounded like a giant in pain.

      Hilary absently rubbed the small dog’s head. “She’s tough, Mom, but this is crazy weather.”

      “Don’t even think of going out there, Mousie. You wouldn’t know where to begin to look. You’ll just have to trust that she’s as smart as you were at her age.”

      As the storm raged outside, Abby slowly walked down the aisle of the little theatre toward the stage. The air was dusty and smelled moldy, but her nose picked up a hint of something else. She couldn’t quite define it, but it was exciting, tantalizing. Was it the smell of greasepaint, she wondered, like in the song? Was it adrenalin, left over from a thousand first night panic attacks? Or maybe it was a combination of hairspray and makeup and sweat and old costumes and fear and delight. Whatever it was, Abby liked it. Her back straightened and her legs moved with more grace as she approached the stage. Then, head high, she stepped up the four risers to the left of the stage.

      She strode to the centre and turned to face the seats. She imagined them full of people; smiling people, eagerly waiting for a performance that would touch them, move them, make them laugh. A performance that would allow them to forget about their troubles, СКАЧАТЬ