Free Summer of the Redeemers by Carolyn Haines

white stockings on her back legs. She was better than anything I’d ever imagined. We trotted, and even though I bounced for a while, I finally got the idea of posting.
    “You have a real talent, Rebekah. You and Cammie seem to have a special bond.”
    I felt it. It was everything I’d ever wanted.
Black Stallion, King of the Wind, Silver Birch.
The potatoes and Mama Betts and Effie disappeared. There was only the sensation of moving with Cammie, of riding high in the sun and the afternoon, of Picket trotting beside us and of Nadine’s smile of approval.
    “You’d better call it a day and get home.”
    Nadine’s words brought me back to hard reality. It was at least five-thirty. Before Nadine could help, I slid from Cammie’s back, just as I’d read in my books.
    “Perfect dismount. This time I’ll untack her, because we’re in a hurry. But from now it’s your responsibility.”
    “I can come back?” Although my dread of going home was multiplying with each second, the thought of riding again gave me a jolt of pure bliss.
    “I hope you’ll come and take some lessons from me. I’d love to teach you.”
    “Maybe.” I knew Mama would never give me money for riding lessons. She’d been trying to coerce me into piano for years, and I’d held out. Horses were out of the question.
    “You could work for your lessons.”
    Nadine showed me the door to magic and then gave me the key. Somehow I’d manage to have them. My hand lingered on Cammie’s warm shoulder as Nadine removed saddle and bridle and returned her to her stall. In a few moments we had unhitched her truck and were bumping over her driveway to the road.
    At the Welfords’ fence I stopped her and got out to get the potatoes and okra. She drove to the edge of our property, where I directed her to stop. Chances were that Mama had already called the Welfords, and that Emily had told her I’d left better than an hour before. I was in big trouble.
    “Whatever punishment they give you, remember Cammie,” Nadine said, brushing my bangs from my forehead. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Rebekah. You wanted something bad enough to take a risk. That isn’t bad. What’s wrong is that no one understands or appreciates your dream. I do, because it’s the same one I have.”
    Clutching the bag of potatoes and okra, I got out and closed the truck door. Tears threatened and I called a thanks and hurried away before she saw them. Nadine Andrews wouldn’t cry in public. Cutting through part of the yard, I hurried to the screen door. The porch was ominously quiet. I almost tripped over the pile of metal that had been assembled near the door.
    It took a full ten seconds for me to recognize the two wheels, the curves of fenders and the once white seat that had been my bicycle.
    The entire thing had been taken apart piece by piece. Even the basket was mixed in the wreckage. That Redeemer boy had destroyed my bicycle and then brought the parts of it to my very yard.
    The sack of potatoes slipped from my hand and bounced lightly on the ground. I knelt beside the pile of metal, fighting back the tears. In a second I was glad to feel the surge of anger that saved me from crying like a baby. I’d kill that bastard. He’d torn up my beautiful bicycle and left it destroyed at my own front porch.

Eight
    I DIDN’T
know how much time passed, at least fifteen minutes.
    I was so caught up in the rage and loss that I lost track. Voices coming through the kitchen window brought me around. A shaft of inviting yellow light beckoned me inside, but I hovered outside, listening. My fingertips traced the back fender of my bike.
    “Effie, you want me to run over to Alice’s house and ask her?”
    Arly’s voice floated out the open window, eager. He could sense the depth of the pit I’d fallen into, and he smelled blood. If anyone outside the family tried to hurt me, Arly would tear them apart. But inside the family we were competitors. Mama Betts said until I was born, Arly