Calico Horses and the Patchwork Trail Read online

  They saw the kids thanking the lifeguard and shaking hands. Just then Jodi pulled Shannon in for a long hug. The embarrassed girl looked around to see if anyone was watching! Parents were always doin’ stuff like this, she thought, looking down at her mom, who seemed very serious. They suddenly grab you and hug you for no reason. She patted her mom on the head, sending her a silent signal—okay, enough; there are kids watching.

  It was getting late and Brian was asleep in his car seat when they drove home. Jodi was sitting in a long line of traffic while a commercial about saltwater taffy played on the radio. Sticky ice cream wrappers from their Custard Castle visit were crumpled in Shannon’s hand.

  The young girl was lost in her thoughts and something was troubling her. A scene was playing over and over again of the moment she had blurted out, “Stop!” She hadn’t planned on any of it and wasn’t sure what those kids would have done if the lifeguard hadn’t stepped in. Animals aren’t toys, she thought, as she remembered how her dad had warned her to stay away from Kelsie while he was eating. Her big loveable lab allowed babies to climb all over him, but would growl if anyone got too close to his bone.

  Shannon thought of the look on that mean girl’s face when she confronted her and how she wanted to just yell at them and run away. Her mom and the other kids thought she was brave, but Shannon still felt a bit scared about what had happened. It was almost dinnertime and her dad would be home soon. She wasn’t sure what she would say when he asked her about the beach. They pulled into their driveway. Shannon looked out the window and saw a sickening sight—some kid was sitting in her thinking spot! The girl looked much older than Shannon. When the car pulled to a stop, the stranger jumped out of the apple tree and dashed away.

  Chapter 20

  Sam knew she’d have to deal with some agitated guests when she hung up the posters and stacks of BLM adoption information Devon Spencer had given her. The groups of protestors had rented every room at the B&B and were getting their signs and banners ready for the day of the round-up. They were keeping Sam and her staff very busy. Brenda and Carrie would have to fend for themselves, as she didn’t have time to show them around.

  She dragged a broom under a table and thought of Max. He would always pounce at the chance to gobble up crumbs that her guests left after breakfast. Where could he be? Had he ever disappeared before? Maybe he had, but she couldn’t really remember. She thought it odd that he would vanish before meeting the collie. Max was a funny cat who was always staring off into space. It’s like he was listening to someone or something or maybe just daydreaming.

  Crash! All thoughts of the cat were interrupted as she heard something fall and break.

  Sam carried the broom and hurried down the hall. A door to one of the guestrooms stood wide open. A woman was standing on the bed as her husband, wielding a rolled-up magazine weapon, was darting back and forth.

  “Get it, get it!” the woman shrieked. The man’s face was red as he ran to and fro chasing something that was obviously too quick for his swatting magazine-sword. Sam stepped into the room and saw the lamp that was lying in pieces on the rug.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, looking about the room trying to see what they were trying to catch.

  “There, over there!” the woman yelled to her husband, who was now on all fours crawling under a chair. Slap! Down came the rolled-up newspaper, smacking the floor, and away ran a tiny lizard that was making its escape under a crack. The woman looked disappointed as she climbed down off the bed. The man rolled over and sat huffing and puffing on the floor.

  “Good thing you have a broom,” said the woman, “You can clean up this glass so we don’t cut ourselves.”

  “Yes,” nodded the man. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt,” he mumbled, pushing his way into the bathroom. Whomp! went the door behind him.

  “Aren’t you both members of Save Our Mustangs?” asked Sam.

  “I’m the vice president,” the woman huffed as she smoothed out her skirt.

  “Let me get this straight,” said Sam in disbelief. “You want to kill a tiny lizard that is harmless and native to this land, but you are up in arms about the capturing of wild horses and burros?”

  “Humph. That’s completely different,” said the woman. “I cannot stand reptiles and neither can my husband. They’re utterly disgusting!”

  Sam smiled and explained to the woman that she would add the broken lamp to their bill and went off to find a dustpan.

  Later as Sam was doing paperwork the cook popped his head into her office. “Got a minute?” he asked.

  “Sure, grab a seat, Lance,” she replied.

  “I need to head into town and buy more supplies. We don’t have enough to last the week.”

  Sam held up a finger as she flipped through her papers. “Look, I have our list right here and we double-checked this before our last order, knowing exactly how many people would be here this week. How could we possibly be out of supplies so soon?” asked Sam.

  “These folks are eating us outta house and home, Sam. I make plenty of food and set it out buffet style and all they want is more bacon, ham, and steak. They pretty much leave the fruit and yogurt alone—it’s hardly touched,” Lance explained.

  They both sat silently for a few minutes and then Sam started to giggle. She threw her head back and burst into laughter. Lance grinned. Her laughter was so contagious that soon they were both howling in hysterics. They were holding their sides and tears were flowing down their cheeks. Kelly and the other staff members came into the office. “What’s so funny?” she asked, wanting in on the joke.

  “Hang on, hang on,” Sam said, trying to catch her breath. “Lance has to go into town to get more supplies,” said Sam snickering.

  “So?” asked Kelly. “I don’t see what’s so funny about that.”

  “Not a lot of humor in killing animals,” said Sam as she dried her eyes. “Our guests have huge hearts and they work hard to protect the wild horses and burros. They hang posters and attend rallies and they do their darndest to give the animals a voice.”

  “Yeah…and?” said Kelly, frowning.

  “And here they gather at our little inn making plans about educating people about the harm coming to the wild horses and burros and when you give them a choice of food before their meeting, they choose meat…from dead cows and pigs!”

  The staff stood in silence, looking at her.

  “The vegetarian thing?” asked Lance. “That again? That’s not so funny. I like bacon, too.” All of the staff nodded their heads and agreed that bacon, ham, and steak was everyone’s favorite choice at breakfast as well. Sam was just one of those picky vegetarian types that made a stink about hunting and eating animals.

  The crew started back to work, wishing it had been something really funny. They were too busy to be disturbed with another anti-bacon discussion.

  “No, no, no,” said Sam. “Don’t you even see the irony in this?”

  “Not really,” said Lance. “So I guess I’ll be moving along into town now. I really need those supplies,” he said as he made his way toward the door. He stopped, smiled, and called over his shoulder, “Oh, and I’ll be sure to pick up some carrots and peas just for you.” Now it was the staff’s turn to burst into laughter. They slapped each other’s backs and flipped off the light switch, forgetting about Sam sitting in the dark alone with her thoughts.

  Chapter 21

  Carrie sat hunched in a chair gazing out at the mountains. The patio seemed the perfect place to get away from everyone. She hadn’t spoken a word since Milla and her dad had left. Flannel was happily sleeping at her feet. Her mom, pushing open the back door, seemed agitated as she said, “Carrie, you haven’t even unpacked or put anything away yet.”

  “And just where am I supposed to put my stuff, Mom? You never told me I would be sleeping on a couch,” Carrie said in a huff.

  “Carrie Anderson, you are not making any sense. Get yourself in here now,” Brenda said, letting the door fall shut
with a whump!

  Carrie felt totally confused as she slowly rolled up from her slouched position in the chair and went inside. Brenda was standing near a pile of boxes that had Carrie’s name on them. Her duffle bag and backpack were still sitting on the couch where she threw them.

  “Mom, I don’t even have a room. Where am I supposed to put my things?” She kicked one of the boxes.

  “Of course you have a room. Wait…uh, didn’t Sam and I show it to you?” Carrie shook her head and looked at the stuff her mom had already unloaded—the familiar lamps and framed photos stacked against the wall. Her mom grabbed her hand and said, “Follow me.”

  Brenda led her down the hall and opened a door that Carrie thought was a closet. The space looked like a storage room with its shelves and coat hangers. Her mom pulled Carrie through past the shelves and led her up a staircase around the corner.

  When they reached a landing it opened into a spacious room that to Carrie looked like an attic. It was larger than her mom’s room and had a blue-checkered window seat tucked in between two white book cases. The curtain fabric matched the window seat cushions and pillows that were scattered on the bed. The medium-sized bed sat high on a raised wooden platform and had little wooden steps leading up to it. It looked like it was made for a queen. There was a tiny fireplace in the corner with a stack of wood nearby and Carrie looked at her mom with raised eyebrows.

  “It used to be a real fireplace,” Brenda explained, “but now it’s one of those modern ones that you switch on electronically. You won’t actually be lighting any fires up here. I think Sam just leaves the wood there for decoration.”

  A full-length mirror was attached to the back of the bedroom door and it reflected a small room that was connected to the bedroom. Carrie stepped down into the little alcove and saw a table with an old sewing machine in the center of the room. On the shelves that lined the room were small plastic bins in neat rows. Carrie opened one of them and looked at sparkly beads. Each container had something different—paper, ribbon, fabric, buttons, lace, and sequins. Others held glue, scissors, and other crafty items. She noticed a small bathroom tucked away in the corner. She peeked into the bathroom; it was much smaller than the shower back home, but perfect for her.

  “How do you like it?” her mom asked. Carrie didn’t dare tell her what she really thought, so she sighed and said, “I guess it’s okay.” Brenda opened her mouth to protest just as Sam walked in.

  “This was my room when I was your age, Carrie,” Sam explained. “My mom made it into a craft room when I went to college. I was going to throw it all out when I heard you were coming but thought you may want to go through some of these old odds and ends.”

  “Really? You were going to just throw all of these bins away?” Carrie asked in amazement.

  “I don’t use any of it and I thought…who knows, maybe you might want to make something out of all this stuff.”

  “Thanks, Sam,” Carrie said, pulling out a container of purple rhinestones. Just then Flannel pushed her nose through the door as if to say, “Hey, what’s everyone doing up here?”

  “Come on, girl,” said Carrie. “We have some boxes to put away.” Flannel followed along at her heels, enjoying the new smells of the bungalow. Carrie headed to collect her pile of stuff while the dog trotted off to explore the other rooms. Sam and Brenda went down to the kitchen and Carrie overheard their conversation about saving horses and eating cows. She picked up one of the boxes and flung her backpack over a shoulder and started up the steps to her new room.

  Some time later she sat curled in her window seat watching the sun as it began to slip behind the mountains. The range looked golden with patches of pinks and lavender as the glimmering light dipped lower. Flannel was growling in her sleep nearby. I’m finally here, Carrie thought, as she looked at the unopened boxes stacked along the wall. What’s the hurry? I have the rest of my life to unpack, and besides, I‘m not ready to look at some of those framed photos from my old dresser.

  Off in the distance something caught her attention and she squinted trying to make it out. She wasn’t sure what it was but it looked like a cat. She watched as the animal crept along on its belly stalking its prey. It reminded her of their neighbor’s cat, Abbey, the one who always left dead mice on her doorstep. I swear that cat had the wrong address. I wonder why it kept leaving those poor mice on our doorstep? Abbey was not what you would call a petting cat; she was more like a look-but-don’t-touch type. Carrie daydreamed about the time she and Shannon tried to pick up Abbey and how the cat hissed and scratched Carrie across her cheek with razor sharp claws. Ugh…that was horrible. Mom made a huge deal out of it and took me to the doctor and I had to get a shot and Shannon was sitting forever in the waiting room. And then she remembered the last phone call with Shannon and how her best friend was too busy to talk. I wonder if she’s hanging out with Brianna every day…I bet they’re best friends by now, thought Carrie. I don’t want to think of New Jersey or Abbey or our house or the beach or even Daddy. I just want to forget everything and everybody, she thought, as she looked back out the window at the animal hunting its prey.

  The sun had almost finished setting with the last twinkling rays when she heard her mother’s voice calling up to her. “Carrie, you’re wanted on the phone…it’s Shannon.” Carrie’s heart skipped a beat and just as she turned to leave, something caught her attention. It happened so fast she wasn’t sure she could believe her own eyes: the mountains looked different. They seemed to be covered in fabric…and she saw what looked like stitches…and then all went dark.

  Chapter 22

  Saddlecrest, Nevada – The Bureau of Land Management is looking for volunteers. The BLM oversees land used for mining and livestock grazing, as well as the land’s wonders and wilderness used for recreation. Please sign up and volunteer your services today and become a partner in helping preserve natural and cultural history for future generations. Come make new friends who share your interest in nature and have fun keeping this beautiful land healthy. Some of the ways that you can help include trail work, wildlife monitoring, picking up litter, and planting trees. Citizens under the age of eighteen must have parental or guardian approval, whether they are volunteering as individuals or as part of a group. For more information, contact the number listed below.

  Milla put down the purple-stained newspaper. It was covered in jelly from her toast. “Yuck,” she said, trying to wipe it off on a paper towel.

  Her dad looked over from his usual spot at the kitchen table, sitting in the chair closest to the coffee pot. “Please don’t get that all sticky, Milla. I haven’t even read it yet.”

  “Hey, look, Dad—there’s an article about the BLM looking for volunteers. It says you have to be eighteen or get permission from a grownup. Did you put it in the paper?”

  “Nope, not me. It was probably sent in by another office. I don’t handle that stuff. No matter, you’re not old enough to be a volunteer, but maybe someday you can.” He reached for the paper, shooting her one of his silly fake smiles.

  “You are so annoying, Dad,” Milla said, speaking with a mouth full of peanut butter.

  “I am, huh?” he said, turning the pages of the Saddlecrest Gazette. “How come whenever I don’t let you do something I’m annoying but when you get your own way I’m a hero?”

  “Hero-schmero, Dad. I’m never old enough to do anything. All you ever say is someday you’ll do this and someday you’ll do that.”

  “And someday you’ll wish you were still a kid,” he replied.

  Devon cleaned up the kitchen and looked at his watch. It was his only day off and there was so much to do around the house. He was so used to his mother watching Milla and now it was the first summer since her passing and he needed to find a new sitter. The college kid he had hired was no longer available and besides, he needed a long-term plan. Summer led to fall and that meant supervision after school and then there were school vacations and, ugh, he thought, how am I supposed to figure this o
ut plus manage a staff of ten employees and a thousand wild horses? He thought of the woman he had just met, Brenda Anderson, and wondered if she was facing the same situation with her daughter? She mentioned she was looking for a full-time job, so what would she do for childcare? Hmm, it really was too bad Milla wasn’t old enough to join a volunteer group or organization because that would surely keep her busy.

  He walked outside where she was sitting on a rock gazing out toward the mountains. “Milla, what did you think of that new kid from New Jersey?”

  Milla shrugged her shoulders.

  “Did you talk to her at all?”

  “What’s to talk about? She just moved here and she’s a dog trainer and she doesn’t like me,” Milla said.

  See, he said to himself, this is why he needed help with his daughter. He just didn’t understand girls. Milla was always full of drama and he didn’t do drama. He just wanted an answer to a question, plain and simple. He decided not to pursue this, as he really didn’t want to get dragged into a discussion on why Milla thought Carrie didn’t like her. Part of his job was to work with the wranglers overseeing the gentling of wild horses. He wondered if dog training was anything like horse training, but he wasn’t going to bring it up now—not when he really needed to find a trusty someone to watch Milla over the summer vacation. He turned and went back into the house, leaving her to her delusions of kids not liking her.

  Milla thought about how awful she felt when Carrie left so abruptly. Was she being rude or had Milla said something to upset her? She only asked her if her family was living at the B&B. Oh well, she thought, it doesn’t matter—I’ll probably never see her again. She left her perch on her favorite rock and went into her bedroom. The paintings she had made of Flannel were now decorating her bedroom walls. She felt a bit sad as she looked at the artwork. Flannel had become a friend and she wished she would see her again, but that was probably wishful thinking, so she decided to just push it out of her mind. She looked at the photo of her grandma. She picked it up and plopped down onto her bed with it.