Dear Pen Pal

  We all leap to our feet, relieved to have something to take our minds off whatever might have happened to our friends and family. As I head for the kitchen with Summer and Emma, I look around and realize that somebody’s missing. Two somebodies, in fact.

  “Hey, where’d Savannah and Cassidy go?”

  Mrs. Sloane-Kinkaid scans the room. “They were just here a second ago. Stanley, honey, have you seen Cassidy?”

  He shakes his head.

  The porch door bangs shut as Cassidy comes barreling through, her short red hair plastered to her head by the rain. She looks around at us all and grins. “I hate it when someone says you can’t do something just because you’re a girl, don’t you? And in Wyoming of all places. Sheesh!”

  Senator Sinclair gives her a funny look. “What are you talking about?”

  “Women got the right to vote here before they did anywhere else in the country,” Savannah’s mother tells him. “I learned that back at that ‘sheltered Eastern girls’ school.’”

  “Uh-oh,” Emma whispers to me. “Cassidy’s up to something.”

  Senator Sinclair must have come to the same conclusion, because his eyes narrow in suspicion. “Where’s my daughter?”

  Cassidy jerks her thumb toward the door.

  “Cassidy Ann, you didn’t!” says her mother.

  Savannah’s father bolts across the room. The rest of us are right on his heels. We reach the windows just in time to see Savannah riding off on Sheba. Cassidy must have helped her scrounge some rain gear and a powerful flashlight, and there’s a bulge in one of her saddlebags.

  “We figured Lefty might as well go along to keep her company,” says Cassidy.

  Sure enough, a tiny head is peeking out from under the saddlebag’s flap, only its eyes and beak visible. This might actually be funny if it weren’t so serious.

  “Cassidy Ann Sloane, I can’t believe you helped Savannah do this, after Mr. Parker specifically said not to!” says her mother. “Don’t you realize how dangerous it is out there?”

  “Wait a minute,” says Senator Sinclair. “Aren’t you that girl who pulled the stunt with the blue cheese?”

  “Don’t start, Robert,” says Savannah’s mother, laying a hand on his arm. “What’s done is done, and Savannah was right about one thing. She’s an excellent rider. We’ll just have to hope for the best.”

  “Sheba is one of the smartest horses on the ranch,” says Mrs. Parker, trying to reassure them. “She won’t let your daughter get into trouble.”

  “I hope you’re right, Mrs. Parker,” says Senator Sinclair. His face is red, and I can tell he’s angry. Worried, too, probably. I know I am, but more about Gigi than Savannah.

  Since there’s nothing more to see outside, we all scatter to our assigned chores. Stanley Kinkaid and Senator Sinclair and the other remaining male guests are in charge of bringing in firewood, and Cassidy and Madison offer to help them. The kitchen is overflowing with mothers as everyone else crowds in to help Mrs. Parker. Mrs. Sloane-Kinkaid and Mrs. Delaney and most of the Wyoming moms are starting to get dinner ready, while over at the table in the far corner, Mrs. Chadwick is bossing Professor Daniels and Mrs. Bergson around as the three of them set up a command station with the radios, TV, and telephone. The remaining pen pals pair off, Summer and I to pack up the sewing machine and take it back upstairs to Mrs. Parker’s sewing room, Emma and Bailey to raid the linen closet for blankets and towels, and Becca and Zoe to set the long tables in the dining room. As Summer and I pass by them, I notice that neither one is making snide remarks now. When something like this happens, who cares about who has the coolest cell phone, or who likes which boy, or whose mom is the bigger embarrassment? All any of us care about right now is getting everyone back safely—Gigi, and Jess, and Winky, and Pete.

  We gather in the kitchen again when our chores are finished. It’s been half an hour since the search party left and there’s still no word. For some reason everybody’s talking in whispers, I guess so they can hear the two-way radio and phones. I find my mother, who’s keeping herself busy rearranging all the vegetables on a big platter.

  “You okay?” I whisper, and she gives me a wobbly smile and nods.

  “How about you?” she replies. I shake my head, because I’m not, and she puts her arms around me and pulls me close.

  Ten minutes tick by, then fifteen, then twenty. Nothing. The kitchen is tense and quiet, with nothing to do anymore but wait. Mrs. Parker looks at the clock and chews her lip. “It’s been an hour,” she says finally. “I guess it’s time to call the sherriff.”

  All of a sudden the two-way radio crackles, startling us all. It’s Mr. Parker.

  “We found ’em!” he says, his voice jubilant. “Everybody’s safe; Savannah too.”

  A cheer goes up in the kitchen. Mrs. Delaney bursts into tears. So does Poppy Sinclair. The senator puts his arm around her, and my mother turns to me and smiles. “See?” she says. “I told you a little storm was no match for Gigi.”

  The radio crackles again. “Better get that coffeepot going, because I’m bringing a herd of cold, wet, tired folks home with me,” says Mr. Parker. “Oh, and we think Jess may have sprained her ankle. Other than that she’s fine, though, and so is everybody else. Over and out.”

  By the time the search party and the rescued trail riders finally return, the storm has mostly died down, and my mother and Mrs. Delaney and I dash out to meet them. Our friends are right behind us. My mother takes one look at Gigi, who is perched behind Mr. Parker wrapped in a slicker, and starts to cry. This is only the second time I’ve ever known her to cry, and it gives me a funny feeling.

  “I was so worried about you,” she sobs, as Mr. Kinkaid helps Gigi down off the horse.

  “Silly Lily!” chides Gigi. “I’m a tough old bird.”

  Mom laughs shakily. “I know that, but you’re the only tough old bird I’ve got.” And she hugs my grandmother tight.

  Mrs. Parker herds everybody inside by the fire, and the rest of us get busy distributing blankets and towels and pouring hot soup and cocoa and coffee and tea into the riders.

  “So what the heck happened out there?” asks Senator Sinclair.

  “The storm caused a flash flood in Pocket Canyon,” says Pete. “I managed to get everybody to high ground, but then we were stranded so I cut the horses loose. I knew they’d hightail it for home and alert you that something was wrong. After that we just hunkered down to wait it out.”

  “How did you find them?” Mrs. Parker asks her husband. “I thought you were heading to Lonesome Ridge.”

  “Well,” Mr. Parker replies, “I hate to admit it, but Lefty found ’em.”

  Everybody starts talking at once, and eventually the story gets told several times. Each time it gets better, especially the part about Lefty.

  “You should have seen him working that GPS system,” brags Pete, his blue eyes twinkling under his bushy white eyebrows. “I didn’t know a one-winged rooster could push buttons that fast.”

  Everybody laughs, and Mr. Parker turns to Savannah and Mrs. Bergson. “Even if he really used RoosterPS instead of GPS, bringing Lefty along was a good idea,” he tells them. “I’m sorry I didn’t take your suggestion seriously. And I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously, either, Savannah. You’re a fine horsewoman, and your parents can be very proud of you.”

  Savannah’s mother beams at her, but Senator Sinclair is still scowling.

  “So what happened with you and Lefty?” Emma begs, wanting more details.

  Savannah casts a sidelong glance at her father. “I just went slow and followed the trail we took on Monday. I remember Pete pointing out the cutoff to Pocket Canyon, and I was pretty sure I could find it again. Sheba knew exactly where to turn. And then, when we got closer, Lefty started squawking like crazy.”

  “Must have heard my sweet dulcet tones over the wind,” says Pete in his raspy voice, and we all laugh again.

  “We were hollering up a storm ourselves,” says Winky. “
I’m surprised you didn’t hear us all the way back here at the ranch.”

  “I’m sure we would have found you eventually, once we eliminated Lonesome Ridge as a possibility,” says Mr. Parker, ruffling her short dark hair. “But Lefty and Savannah saved us a lot of time. Once she got to Pete and told him we were headed for the ridge, he took off on Sheba and found us, and led us back to the others.”

  “Now I want you all to go and get out of those wet things,” says Mrs. Parker, shooing everyone off to shower and change. “Then come right back so I can take proper care of you.”

  With our arms around Gigi, my mom and I head for her cabin. Ahead of us, the Sinclairs are walking with Savannah, and Mrs. Delaney and Professor Daniels are helping Jess back to the bunkhouse. She’s got her arms draped over their shoulders for support as she hops along on one leg.

  After I’m sure Gigi’s okay I leave her in her cabin with my mom and head over to the bunkhouse to put something warmer on. I notice someone sitting in the living room and pause in the doorway. It’s Jess and her mom. Jess has showered and changed, and her mother is smoothing her hair.

  “I think you owe Savannah a thank-you,” Mrs. Delaney says. “She took a huge risk tonight, trying to help you and the others.”

  Jess looks down at the floor. “I know.”

  “I don’t know what happened between you two this spring, but maybe it’s time to let bygones be bygones.”

  Jess lifts a shoulder and her mother sighs. “I need to go grab my sweatshirt,” she says. “Wait here until I get back, okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Jess tells her. “My friends can help me back to the dining room.”

  “All right, sweetheart.” Mrs. Delaney stands up. Turning, she spots me in the shadows. “Oh, look, there’s Megan now. You don’t mind helping Jess back to the dining hall, do you?”

  “No problem,” I tell her, and she leans down to give Jess a kiss, then heads back outside.

  “Did you hear what she said?” Jess asks.

  I nod, crossing to the sofa.

  “Do you think she’s right?”

  “Well,” I reply cautiously, “I know you must have a good reason for being mad at Savannah, and I know she’s a pain in the neck, but I’ve been thinking—”

  “And?”

  “And it kind of reminds me of what happened last year at Walden Pond, with Becca. Remember when she put that picture of my mom in the school newspaper and then lied and blamed it on Emma and Cassidy? And we all almost weren’t friends anymore because of it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I had to decide whether I was going to stay mad at everybody forever, or accept Becca’s apology and get over it, you know?”

  Jess picks at a hangnail.

  “All I’m saying is maybe you should give Savannah another chance. Remember how she helped with Pip? She does have a good side, even though she keeps it pretty well hidden most of the time. What is it that you and Emma call Becca? Maybe Savannah’s a Chadwickius frenemus too.”

  “Sinclairius frenemus?” says Jess, giving me a half-smile.

  “Exactly. The thing is, with that present she gave you for Pip and what she did today, I think she’s been trying to say she’s sorry, even though she hasn’t actually said it, you know?”

  Jess nods. “Maybe you’re right.”

  Emma and Bailey and Madison bounce in, and we turn our attention to getting Jess off the sofa and over to the dining room.

  “We’d love to have you join us tonight,” Mrs. Delaney says to Savannah and her mother. “We’re having a joint book club meeting, and even though I know you haven’t read the book, I think you’d have fun anyway. Plus, we’re going to make fudge.”

  “We certainly don’t want to miss out on that,” says Poppy Sinclair.

  After dinner, Winky builds us a fire in the bunkhouse fireplace, and Mrs. Parker brings over the ingredients for the fudge, which we cook on the little kitchenette stove. While it’s cooling we change into our pajamas and slippers and robes and curl up by the hearth to talk about Jean Webster and her books. Summer’s mother brought some paper and stamp pads, and she shows us how to design our own stationery. I look over to see how Savannah’s taking all this, but she’s sitting quietly by her mother.

  “Isn’t it interesting,” muses Mrs. Bergson, after our discussion winds to a close, “how in Dear Enemy the one person that Sallie McBride most disliked in the beginning turned out to be such a good friend in the end?”

  Her gaze rests on Jess, who doesn’t look up from her craft project.

  “Yes, it is funny, isn’t it?” agrees Mrs. Chadwick. “You know, Poppy Sinclair and I hated each other on first sight. It’s hard to believe now, but it’s true.”

  Mrs. Sinclair nods. “I was from this little town in Georgia, and I thought you were a big phony. Especially when you kept bragging about how your ancestors came over from England and everything.” She and Mrs. Chadwick start to giggle.

  Poppy Sinclair looks over at Savannah. “You know, honey, this has been really fun tonight. Maybe you and I should start a book club back in Atlanta. I know you’re away at school a lot, but we could find time over the breaks and in the summer, I’ll bet. We could start off with Daddy-Long-Legs, too. I’d forgotten that book until y’all mentioned it tonight. It was one of my favorites when I was your age.”

  “Maybe,” says Savannah softly.

  “It’s hard to believe that you’re starting high school next month,” her mother continues. She turns to Jess. “A lot of that is due to you, Jess. I haven’t really thanked you properly for all the help you’ve given my daughter. Her grades have really improved.”

  “Not enough to make Daddy happy,” mutters Savannah.

  “Daddy will come around,” says her mother. She looks up at us and smiles. “The senator can be kind of a tough customer.”

  Sounds a little like someone I know, I think, looking over at my mother.

  “How about you, Jess? Will you be heading back to Colonial Academy in September?” asks Professor Daniels.

  Jess gives her pen pal’s mother a quick glance. “I’m not sure.”

  “We haven’t heard anything yet from the scholarship committee,” Mrs. Delaney explains.

  A little smile tugs at Mrs. Chadwick’s lips. She reaches into her purse, pulls out an envelope, and passes it to Jess.

  “What’s this?”

  “You’ll have to open it and see, won’t you?” says Mrs. Chadwick.

  Frowning, Jess opens pulls out the letter and starts to read:

  Dear Miss Delaney,

  Congratulations! We’re delighted to inform you that your Colonial Academy Founder’s Award has been extended to cover all four years of high school. You have proven yourself to be a scholar of exceptional promise, as well as an exemplary citizen and member of our educational community. The scholarship committee unanimously agrees that you are just the kind of young woman that our founder, Harriett Witherspoon, would have been proud to have at her school. We look forward to supporting your continued growth, achievement, and success, and we hope to welcome you back to Colonial Academy this fall.

  Calliope Chadwick

  Scholarship Committee Chair

  Jess puts the letter down and gapes at Becca’s mother. “It was you?” she exclaims. “You’re the one who recommended me?”

  Mrs. Chadwick nods.

  “You’re Daddy-Long-Legs!” says Madison.

  Mrs. Chadwick laughs. “Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose I am,” she replies. “Though it’s hardly the same kind of romantic ending. I much prefer—”

  “CALLIOPE!” shrieks Mrs. Sinclair, and we all jump. “Don’t give it away! Savannah hasn’t read the book yet.”

  Becca’s mother mimes zipping her lips.

  “Calliope Chadwick, you rascal!” says Mrs. Hawthorne. “I’ve been wondering for a while if maybe you had a hand in all this.”

  Mrs. Delaney is still shaking her head in disbelief. “So were you responsible for Jess and Sa
vannah rooming together too?”

  “Busted!” whispers Poppy Sinclair.

  Mrs. Chadwick’s mouth rearranges itself into a prim line. She flicks a glance at Becca. “I thought it would be good for Savannah,” she admits. “It hasn’t gone entirely without my notice what Jess’s friendship has done for my Becca, along with that of Megan and Emma and Cassidy too, of course. I knew Savannah was having a bit of a, well, struggle with school, and when I called Poppy to suggest it, she thought it sounded like a splendid idea. It wasn’t without its rocky moments, of course—”

  “The Blue Moon cheese episode certainly was interesting,” drawls Mrs. Sinclair.

  “—but all’s well that ends well.”

  We’re all a little stunned by this round of revelations. All of a sudden I sit up straight as something else occurs to me. “Were you the one who got us those tickets to the White House?”

  The prim smile reappears. “Actually, that was Poppy’s doing,” Mrs. Chadwick replies. “She had the senator pull a few strings.”

  “If you hadn’t called me, though, no strings would have been pulled,” says Mrs. Sinclair. “This is no time for false modesty.”

  “I need some fudge,” says Mrs. Sloane-Kinkaid, getting up off the sofa. “This is way too much drama for me.”

  “And I could use a cup of tea,” says Mrs. Hawthorne. “Anybody else want one?”

  Talking and laughing, our mothers all head over toward the kitchenette, leaving us to ourselves. I see Savannah and Jess eyeing each other across the living room.

  “So Saturday night’s the square dance, right?” says Zoe, dragging the conversation back toward her favorite subject, Owen Parker.

  “Yep,” says Winky.

  “What do people wear to a square dance?” Emma asks.

  “Oh, you know, the usual stuff,” Winky replies.

  “Um, most of us have never been to one,” I inform her. “They’re not exactly big back in Concord, Massachusetts.”