Buckskin Bandit (2 page)

I counted eight horses in the barn. At the next stall a roan Quarter Horse hung his head, as listless as the Palomino.

“Here you are, Bandit!” Kaylee cried. “It's me, Kaylee!”

I'd started down to Kaylee, when all of a sudden she screamed.

There was a crash, as if the horse had kicked down the stall.

“Kaylee!” I cried, running to her. “Are you okay?”

The back stall was even darker than the others. But I could make out a cream-colored horse that might have been a buckskin. He had his ears back and teeth bared.

“Bandit,” Kaylee pleaded, approaching the stall again, “don't you remember me?”

“Be careful,” I warned. The gelding's eyes were white with fear and anger. He looked too sweaty for the cool of the barn. His ribs and bony back stuck out, and I could smell his fear.

“I have to get closer,” I said, feeling for the stall latch, as rage burned inside me. I could make out tiny scars on his rump and sides. It didn't take much imagination to picture the whip and spurs that had made those marks.

“Kaylee,” I said, gripping the stall door so hard I felt splinters under my fingernails, “this horse has been abused.”

My fingers closed around the stall latch, and I turned the handle.

“Here! You kids! Get away from there!”

The screechy voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.

I ran to the door to see who was yelling. An old woman, thin and round-backed, hobbled out onto the porch of the broken-down house. She wore a winter coat and had a gray scarf tied over her gray hair. Even from a distance, I could see that her face would have been at home on a Wild West wanted poster.

“Go on, now!” she shouted. “This is private property!”

“Let's go!” Kaylee whispered.

I knew she was right. But I couldn't stand to leave Bandit.

“I'm going right now to call the police!” The woman turned and shuffled toward her door.

“Let's get out of here!” Kaylee insisted. “Winnie! We could get in trouble!” She grabbed my elbow and dragged me out of the barn, as the woman slammed the door of her run-down house.

Kaylee and I biked straight to my house for help. We hopped off our bikes and rolled them up the ditch and onto the lawn. Since the snow had melted, our muddy appliance graveyard was in full view again. Appliance parts spread across the lawn, as if a spring rain had showered us with metal. Dad uses the parts to repair things.

Instead of asking why we had junk all over our lawn, Kaylee said, “I like your house, Winnie. It's nice.”

“It's not really ours,” I admitted. I leaned my bike against a tree, and Kaylee leaned hers on the other side of the trunk. “We rent from Pat Haven. When we moved in, none of us thought we'd have any use for the barn or the pasture. Then I got Nickers. Then people started asking me to train their horses.”

We made our way to the house, and I opened the door for her.

She stopped in the doorway, one hand on the door. “Winnie, I can't get Bandit out of my head. Do you think we should report Happy Trails to the animal protection people?”

“Maybe,” I answered. “We can see what Dad thinks.”

The screen door slammed behind us. “Dad!” I shouted.

I raced down the hall and into the living room. When I saw who was there, I stopped so suddenly that Kaylee ran into me. Madeline Edison and Dad were sitting on the couch. They'd met at the Chicago Invention Convention, where Madeline won some big prize. For months, they'd been spending time together—too much time, if you ask me. But, of course, nobody did.

Dad quickly removed his arm from around Madeline's shoulder. “Winnie! Didn't expect you home so soon.”

I was sure Dad had no idea where I'd been or when to expect me home.

Madeline finger-waved at us. She was wearing a yellow flowered dress that might have looked pretty on somebody half her age.

“Who's your friend?” Dad asked, as if I hadn't just caught him with his arm around Madeline.

“Kaylee Hsu.” I imagined frost clouds around my words.

“Hello, Mr. Willis,” Kaylee said.

Dad introduced Madeline as his friend. Then he pointed behind our old couch. “And this is Mason.”

I crossed the room to look behind the couch. Mason was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. His eyes seemed focused on something the rest of us couldn't see.

Mason is Madeline's seven-year-old son. If you didn't know better, you'd think Mason and his mom were from different families or different planets. Madeline is tall and skinny, with wild red hair. Mason is small and blond. He looks more like five than seven.

They're different in other ways too. Madeline is supposed to be some kind of genius inventor. Mason goes to a school for kids with special needs.

“Hey, Mason,” I said, squatting at the end of the couch. “What's going on?”

He didn't move. He didn't blink. I knew he hadn't heard me.

Sometimes Mason is just like a regular kid, only nicer, sweeter. But he can have these spells, or time-outs, when he shuts out the world. I admire that and wish I could do it myself. But it always makes me sad when Mason does it.

Dad and Madeline stood up. “Girls, maybe you should play outside,” Dad said.

“Play outside?” I repeated. What were we, three-year-olds?

“I think it's best to leave Mason alone for a while,” Madeline suggested. “Your father was about to show me what he's working on.” She headed for Dad's workshop, and Dad trailed along.

“Dad!” I called. “I need to talk to you. Kaylee and I were at Happy Trails and—!”

“That's good, Winnie. Have a good time.” He didn't even turn around. “Nice to meet you, Kaylee.” He and Madeline disappeared into the workshop and closed the door.

I tried to shrug it off. “Dad's really caught up in his invention. Otherwise he would have helped.”

Kaylee smiled, but I thought she looked sorry for me. I bet her dad never closed the door on her.

I turned away. It was hard not to see the house through Kaylee's eyes. She'd had to pass down the smudged hall and into the living room, where Lizzy had tried to hide the peeling, pale green walls under posters of tall pines and dense forests. At least Lizzy had picked up, because there wasn't a single newspaper on the gold carpet. But the thin spots on the shag showed under Dad's easy chair and the couch.

Kaylee glanced toward the couch. “What's wrong with the little boy?” she whispered.

I moved to the hall, in case Mason really could hear me. “Mason's not always like this. You'll have to meet him when he's having a good day. He's the cutest kid in the world. Loves horses too. He's the one I gave the foal to—the one that was born on Christmas Day.”

She nodded and waited for me to go on.

“Something happened to Mason when he was a baby. I'm not sure what. I think Dad knows, but he won't tell me. Madeline won't talk about it. But Mason's head was injured. It left him with neur . . . neur . . .” I tried to think of the word Dad had used.

“Neurological damage?” Kaylee asked.

“That's it. Kind of like autism, but it's not.”

“What can they do for him?” Kaylee asked, her whole face wrinkled in worry.

“When something sets him off, like somebody shouting or scaring him, Madeline says you just have to try to keep him from retreating from the world. She says they try to get Mason to see the world as a friendly place instead.”

Kaylee and I moved to the kitchen and downed some of Lizzy's cheese cookies while we tried to figure out our next move. We thought about calling the animal-protection people. Kaylee was pretty sure we wanted the ASPCA, American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, but we couldn't find their number in the Ashland County phone book. I tried calling Ralph Evans, who runs the local animal shelter, plus he gives the sermons at our church until we get a full-time pastor. But he was out of town for a wedding.

Finally we biked back to Pat's Pets to see if Pat had heard any complaints about Happy Trails.

Pat was paying bills at her desk by the boa constrictor, but she dropped everything to listen to us. Kaylee and I took turns telling her about Bandit and the gross barn.

“Are you gals talking about the Pulaski barn?” Pat asked, as if that surprised her. “Happy Trails?”

“That's what we've been telling you, Pat,” I said.

“I went to school with the Pulaski girl, Karen. Real nice family. Animal lovers.”

“Are you sure we're talking about the same place?” Kaylee asked.

“I lost touch when Karen moved to San Francisco. Haven't seen her mama in years. But I remember Mrs. Pulaski. Big woman. Used to take in stray cats. Squirrels too. I can't believe she'd mistreat any creature.”

“Maybe she sold Happy Trails,” I suggested, “to that mean old woman we saw.”

“I don't believe I'd seen that woman before,” Kaylee said. “Last year a rather large man with a disagreeable disposition ran the stable. My mother disliked him so intensely that she tried to coerce me into riding at Mohegan Stables instead.”

Kaylee used bigger words when she talked to grown-ups. But I knew what she was saying.

Pat frowned. “Did this fella have teeny, tiny eyes and a nose that made you want to honk it?”

“I had no desire to honk his nose,” Kaylee said. “But that does sound like the same man.”

“Leonard,” Pat muttered.

“You know him?” I asked.

“Karen's cousin from Red Haw. Neither of us ever did care much for that cousin of hers. Lazy Lenny we used to call him. If Mrs. Pulaski has Lenny working for her, she's probably doing a favor for her sister. But she would never let him hurt a horse.”

“Well, something happened to Bandit,” Kaylee said. “My parents and I are riding at Happy Trails tomorrow. Maybe I can find out more.”

The phone rang. Barker answered it. “Kaylee!” he called. “It's for you!”

“Me?” Kaylee talked a minute on the phone, then came back. “Sorry. I have to go. I'd told Mom I'd be here, so she's coming by for me. She's taking me to Mansfield to get a gift for Summer's birthday party tomorrow.” She gave me a sad smile. “I'm sorry, Winnie.”

“That I didn't get invited?” I asked. “Don't be.”

It's no secret that Summer and I don't exactly get along. I used to muck stalls at Spidells' Stable-Mart. I gave them a hard time for training and breaking horses instead of gentling them. True, it would have felt good to be invited, but I'm not sure I would have wanted to celebrate the birth of Summer Spidell.

A blue van pulled up in front of Pat's Pets.

“That's Mom,” Kaylee said, heading for the door. “Thanks, Pat. Winnie, I'll pick up my bike and give you a full report tomorrow as soon as we get back from Happy Trails.”

A lady came over to Pat and asked for help picking out a bunny for her daughter. Then the bell rang, and a mother and daughter walked in.