“That’s nice,” Lucky mumbled, only half listening. She dreaded going inside, for she knew she owed her aunt an apology. It was awfully quiet in there—no china tinkling, no conversations. “Did all the guests leave already?”
“I guess so. I just got home a few minutes ago. These cookies are delicious; you want one?” He grabbed the platter of jam cookies. Only three were missing. Why hadn’t the guests eaten more?
“Where’s Aunt Cora?”
“In her room. She seemed upset about something, so I decided to give her a little space. You know how your aunt gets.”
Lucky suspected she was the cause. She made her way upstairs, took a deep breath, then knocked on her aunt’s bedroom door. “Aunt Cora?” There was no answer, so she opened the door. Cora was on the bed, lying on her side, facing the wall. “Are you awake? I’m sorry I got mad at you.” Cora didn’t say anything. Only sniffled. Lucky stepped in. “Are you crying? Is it because of me?”
“It’s not you, Lucky. It’s… it’s… no one came to my meeting.” She sat up and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. Lucky had never seen her aunt cry. Always keep a stiff upper lip was one of Cora’s favorite sayings. Tears don’t change things; they only make you blotchy was another.
Cora grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “What else can I do?” she said. “I’ve failed. I tried to make friends with Mrs. Gutierrez, but she doesn’t share the same interests that I have. And no one in this town wants to talk about art or culture. No one wants to be a part of the Ladies’ Social Betterment Society.” She blew her nose. “No one wants to be my friend.”
Lucky sat next to her aunt. On countless occasions she’d felt that she couldn’t relate to Cora, that they had nothing in common other than the Prescott name. But as it turned out, they now shared a common ache.
One of Cora’s trunks lay open on the floor. “Are you packing? Are you going to leave?”
Cora turned away as if ashamed. “I know I always say that Prescotts never run from a challenge, but I tried. I really, really tried. I’m not cut out for this place.” She stood and walked to the window. “We aren’t meant to live in the wilderness, Lucky. We need a more civilized life.” She turned and held up her hands. “Look at me. I have calluses and scrapes and bruises on my arms. And look at you. You’re wearing pants, you have dirt on your face, and you smell like a horse.”
Lucky didn’t care how she looked or smelled, but she did care how she felt.
Lonely.
“I think we should both leave,” Cora said.
“But that would be giving up,” Lucky said with surprise. “You never give up.”
“It’s not giving up if we leave. We would simply be making the very best decision in difficult circumstances.”
The idea of going home drifted over Lucky like a cool breeze on a hot day. Wouldn’t it be a relief to go back to the city? Wouldn’t Emma be surprised? Lucky would even be happy to see Madame Barrow again. She imagined the reunion with all the other students, the scones and tea, the new books from Emma’s father, parties on the weekend, and Mr. MacFinn’s stories about Scotland and Mrs. MacFinn’s cozy dinners. It sounded wonderful.
Except for the fact that her dad wouldn’t be there.
“Hey, you two, what’s going on up here?” Jim stepped into the room. He noticed the trunks, and a pained expression clouded his face. “Cora? What’s all this?”
“Dad, Aunt Cora wants to go back home.”
“Yes, and I want to take Lucky with me.”
“I’m not sure what to do,” Lucky said.
With a heavy sigh, Jim leaned against the doorframe. “I’ve been so caught up in my work, I haven’t helped you two settle in. I’m sorry about that. The last thing I want is for either of you to be unhappy. Of course, I want you to stay, but…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But if you decide to go back to the city, then I’ll understand. But please, think about it. Give it some time. I’ll be leaving in the morning to dynamite Filbert Canyon. When I get back, you can tell me what you’ve decided.”
That seemed fair. It was a decision that would not come easily, and Lucky did want time to think about it. She and Cora agreed. Jim managed a sad smile, then walked away, his footsteps heavy and slow.
Tucked in bed that night, Lucky pulled the quilt all the way up to her chin. The fabric still smelled like her old home. She picked up her favorite photo. Her mother had left her village and had moved to a new place, had made new friends, and had thrived in this frontier world. Lucky had always wondered how she was like her mother, and maybe it was time to accept the truth. Other than the way she looked, the color of her skin and hair, perhaps she was nothing like her mom. Perhaps she wasn’t brave enough to face this new life.
Lucky had been given the gift of choice—to leave or to stay. Her fate was now in her own hands. But the stallion was still locked up. He had no choice.
And that seemed more unfair than anything else in the world.
28
The stallion had a dream. He was galloping across a meadow with his herd.
Galloping.
Galloping.
The wind on his face. The earth beneath his hooves.
He wanted to stay in that dream forever.
Part Four
29
A familiar dream visited Lucky that night. The audience sat in hushed anticipation as Cowgirl Betty and Shadow stepped out of the wings. Lucky wiggled in her seat, trying to get the best view possible. But she didn’t need to worry about peeking around her grandfather’s large head, because when Betty held out her hand, Lucky found herself standing on the opera house stage, the ring of fire burning bright. “What am I doing here?” Lucky asked.
Betty smiled. “You’re gonna show everyone what you’re made of.” She set a cowboy hat on Lucky’s head, and suddenly Lucky was seated in Shadow’s saddle. Betty led Shadow to the edge of the stage. She handed the reins to Lucky. Shadow turned to face the fire, waiting for Lucky to give the command.
“Don’t do it! It’s too dangerous!” Aunt Cora hollered from the box seat.
Shadow’s muscles stiffened as he prepared for the jump. But something didn’t feel right. Lucky didn’t want to jump. This hadn’t been her choice. Her body began to tremble. “No,” she said, tugging on the reins, trying to pull Shadow away. “Please, no,” she said again as he bolted forward. “I don’t want to do this! I’m not ready.”
The ring of fire came closer and closer. The air grew hotter and hotter. With a thrust, Shadow lifted off the ground and…
… Lucky bolted upright. Her eyes flew open. She was awake, in her bed, covered in sweat.
“I really hate that dream,” she grumbled.
Except for her ragged breathing, all was quiet in the house. Then the front door thumped. Lucky hurried to the window. Though the sun had not yet risen, Jim was already on his way to work. He was going to begin dynamiting today, so he was getting an extra-early start.
Last night’s conversation replayed in Lucky’s mind. Would she go with Aunt Cora or stay with her father? It was an agonizing choice and she was no closer to a resolution than she’d been before falling sleep. But she had made one decision.
After dressing in her new pants and a white shirt with a pretty red embroidered trim, she braided her hair and added a ribbon. She tiptoed past Cora’s room, though she probably could have walked normally since Cora was snoring so loudly. Fighting the urge to run, she quietly slipped down the stairs and out the front door, closing it without a thump.
Then she took off.
Lucky’s one and only decision was about the stallion. She was going to plead with Mr. Granger to set him free. And if Mr. Granger refused because he needed to earn his living, then she’d borrow money from her father or sell all her belongings, whatever it took to buy the stallion from him. Then she’d set him free.
The first rays of morning peeked over the tabletop mountains. A red-tailed hawk swooped overhead. A squirrel scurried up a tree as Lucky ran pa
st. There were no signs of townspeople. Was it too early to knock on Mr. Granger’s door?
Lucky ran past Town Hall, then took a sharp left. Just as she reached the Grangers’ barn, she heard voices. She skidded to a stop as Pru and Abigail led Chica Linda and Boomerang out of the barn. They were dressed in britches and boots. A small shovel peeked out of Pru’s saddlebag. It was certainly an early hour for a ride, but Lucky remembered that the girls were going on a search for arrowheads. Maybe early morning was best for such an adventure before the noon sun heated the desert soil. Not wanting to face another rejection, Lucky darted behind a stack of hay bales. Her choice tugged at her again. Staying in Miradero meant she’d have to learn to ride, and she’d need to work hard to earn Pru and Abigail’s trust. Leaving would mean she wouldn’t have to worry about any of that.
Pru stepped into the stirrup, then swung her leg and sat in her saddle. “Come on, Abigail, let’s get going.”
The girls were going on an adventure without her, and that’s just the way it was. Lucky pushed aside her hurt feelings. The focus this morning was the stallion. He was more important than her social life. She’d come to save him.
“Don’t you think we should check with your parents before leaving?” Abigail asked as she adjusted her horse’s saddle.
“My parents aren’t here,” Pru said. “Mr. Prescott needed extra help with a special project, so Dad and all the ranch hands are helping with the railroad today. And Mom is in Winslow visiting relatives. Besides, I told Dad last night that we were going to look for arrowheads, and he said to have fun. And you already told your parents that you were riding with me.”
“But I thought Filbert Canyon was off-limits,” Abigail said.
“Why would it be off-limits? That’s where Walt found all his arrowheads. I’m so excited! I’m gonna start a collection.”
“Yeah, okay.” Abigail didn’t sound very excited. She grabbed the saddle horn and pulled herself up. “You sure it’s not too dangerous out there? You know I don’t like those steep canyon trails.”
“We’ll be fine. Filbert Canyon is a blast!” Pru gave Chica Linda a gentle kick. “Come on, girl, let’s ride!” Chica Linda took off with Boomerang at her heels.
Lucky groaned. How could she negotiate the stallion’s freedom if Mr. Granger wasn’t home?
But something more urgent pulled at Lucky, something Abigail had said. I thought Filbert Canyon was off-limits. Why did that name seem familiar? Her father’s face came to mind, as he stood in Aunt Cora’s room, asking Cora and Lucky to take their time in making a decision. Gone tomorrow. Dynamiting Filbert Canyon.
“Wait,” Lucky said, darting out from behind the bales. “Wait!” she screamed, her hands waving wildly. But the girls were already out of earshot. They were heading in the opposite direction of town, straight toward the mountains. Straight into danger.
Lucky darted into the barn, but no one was there. She pounded on the bunkhouse door. Pru had said all the ranch hands were helping with the railroad today, but maybe someone was left behind. The door wasn’t locked, so Lucky burst inside. “Hello? I need help!” A deck of cards sat on a long table. The bunks were all made, the wool blankets folded. The kitchen was tidy, the metal cups lined up in a perfect row. No one was there.
Lucky ran back outside. The blacksmith’s shop was empty, too. She strained her eyes against the rising sun. The girls were still visible, but smaller now. It would take forever to run back to town, and soon the girls would be out of sight. What could she do? She looked around, frantic, her heart pounding. “Won’t somebody help me?” she asked.
A neigh filled the air.
Lucky glanced over her shoulder. The stallion was looking at her. He wanted an apple. He wanted attention. But she didn’t have time to pet him, to soothe him, to tell him that things would be okay. She needed to warn Pru and Abigail. “I can’t talk right now. I have to save Pru and Abigail. Hello? Is anyone here?” she called, hoping someone would magically appear. Someone with a horse!
The stallion neighed again; this time it was high-pitched and anxious. He clearly wanted her attention. He pushed against the gate. Lucky hurried up to the fence. He looked into her eyes, his gaze intense. “You want to get out of there, I know,” she said. “But I can’t let you go without talking to Mr. Granger. And right now I need to help Pru and Abigail.”
The stallion stomped his front hooves. He butted the gate. Again and again. Mr. Granger had chosen a hefty latch because it didn’t budge.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Lucky said, but the stallion wouldn’t stop. Tears sprouted, spilling onto Lucky’s cheeks. “Please stop; I don’t want you to get hurt.” She leaned against the fence and hung her head. She didn’t know how to help this beautiful mustang. And she didn’t know how to help Pru and Abigail. What if her father’s project ended up hurting them—or worse? Everything was going wrong. “I don’t know what to do.”
Something nudged her arm. Warm breath drifted across her face. She looked up. The stallion was gazing at her. Was he trying to tell her something? Lucky couldn’t believe what she was thinking. It was crazy. Truly crazy. But maybe…
Maybe it wasn’t crazy.
“Do you want to help me?” Lucky asked him. He neighed again.
The only word Lucky could find to describe her feeling at that moment was instinct. For there was nothing rational in believing that a wild mustang would offer to help a twelve-year-old girl. And there was nothing rational in believing that a twelve-year-old girl, who’d never even sat on a horse, could ride a wild mustang. But Lucky wasn’t thinking with her head at that moment.
With each minute that passed, Pru and Abigail rode closer and closer to Filbert Canyon. No more time could be lost. Lucky unlocked the latch and threw open the gate. She held her breath, expecting the stallion to race to freedom, leaving her in his dust. But he didn’t. He waited. Lucky climbed up the fence until she could reach his back. “I don’t know how you feel about riding. I don’t know how I feel about it, but this is important, so we’re just going to figure this out, okay?”
Was it courage that drove her to slide onto his back, or was it the innocent belief that something big was about to happen? Or both?
She was on him—she was sitting on a horse! She looked down. How strange it felt to be that high up. “Okay, we can do this,” she said, trying to calm her heart pounding in her ears. With one hand she grabbed hold of his mane. With the other, she pointed in Pru and Abigail’s direction. “That way,” she said.
And he took off.
“Ahhhh!” Lucky cried, trying to catch her breath. He didn’t take long to pick up speed. They passed the schoolhouse and headed toward the open frontier. “Whoa, easy, boy. Maybe this was a bad idea!” Lucky began to slip to the right, so she clamped with her legs. Then she began to slip to the left, so she clamped harder. She was bouncing around so much, her braid came loose. “P-p-please don’t th-th-throw me!” She fell forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m having second thoughts, in case you’re wondering!”
The pace didn’t slow, and it felt as if every organ in her body was being pounded and jostled. Trees flew past. She glanced over her shoulder. Miradero was far behind. “Whoa!” she cried as the ground disappeared. The stallion had leaped over a boulder. Her stomach lurched. Was that how it felt to fly? When he landed, she lost her grip. She felt herself sliding forward. Was she going to fly right over his head? As if sensing that she was in danger, he slowed for a moment, long enough for her to find her balance again.
This had been a terrible mistake. Why had she thought she could ride? Her legs were aching. Another leap like that and she’d surely fall off. “Stop,” she pleaded. “Stop!” But he didn’t obey. What if the stallion wasn’t following Pru and Abigail? What if he was heading back to his herd? What if Lucky fell off in the middle of nowhere? She had no canteen of water, no food. And no parasol to shade her from the midday sun. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble!”
Why did people
think horseback riding was fun? This was no fun at all! Every time his hooves hit the ground it felt as if she’d hit the ground. Her legs were so tense they began to cramp. She couldn’t hold on like this much longer.
The image of Lucky’s mother standing on horseback filled her mind. How had she managed to find balance with this kind of jarring movement? Then Lucky realized that the horse’s galloping wasn’t jarring, it was graceful. The problem was that she was fighting against the movement, fighting against the rhythm. She needed to relax. Slowly she sat up, but kept her hands entwined in the stallion’s mane. Then she instinctively allowed her aching legs to relax, making them long and pressing her heels down, which instantly felt better. Breathe, she told herself. Calm down and breathe.
Splash! As the stallion ran across a creek, water sprayed onto Lucky’s arms and face. She wiped some droplets off her cheek, then realized—I’m riding. I’m sitting up and riding.
Wind blew through the stallion’s thick mane and through Lucky’s hair. The sun warmed her face, as it warmed his face.
“There they are!” she cried. Pru and Abigail had reached the mountains. They disappeared behind an outcrop. The stallion raced harder. His neck was slick with sweat. How long could he run like this? Lucky had heard about horses being overworked. It happened in the city, occasionally, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. He slowed for a sharp turn. And then he came to a standstill, his lungs expanding as he took deep breaths. “Good boy,” she told him. Together they’d achieved an amazing, unbelievable feat! She wanted to tell everyone what had just happened. She wanted to send a telegram to Emma. But all that would have to wait. Abigail and Pru were still in danger!
A narrow path stretched before them, with mountains looming on either side. A wooden sign was nailed to a half-rotten post: FILBERT CANYON. There was another sign: DANGER. DO NOT ENTER. DYNAMITE IN USE. But that sign had fallen off the post and was lying on the ground. The girls hadn’t seen it.
Lucky looked around. There was no sign of her father or any of the workers. She’d hoped to reach Pru and Abigail before they entered the canyon. Was it safe to follow them? Maybe the railroad work was happening at the other end of the canyon, far, far away. The stallion’s ears pricked. And then a familiar voice called, “Hey, Abigail, over here!”