Free Jumper by Michele Bossley Page B

latch, and there was a padlock threaded through the casings. “It’s locked,” I said.
    â€œCan you break it?” Grandpa asked.
    â€œNot without tools. A saw or something,” I answered. “If I had a screwdriver, I could take it apart.”
    â€œThere are a lot of screwdrivers in here,” Grandpa said. “But that doesn’t help.”
    â€œI’ll look and see if I can find something.” I searched around the perimeter of the building, but there was nothing except a rusty rake leaning against the woodpile, and an old tire.
    â€œI’ll have to go back up to the barn,” I said through the door.
    â€œYou can’t!” Kayla sounded panicky. “Bellamy will catch you for sure.”
    â€œWell, what am I supposed to do?” I demanded. “This door is solid wood. I can’t break it down.”
    â€œKarate-chop it,” suggested Kayla.
    â€œI’d break my wrist,” I said, but Kayla had given me an idea.
    Chop it. I looked over at the woodpile. I hadn’t really searched in there, but where there is split firewood, there should be an axe. I investigated, and, sure enough, an axe—rusty and weathered, but still sharp—was buried in a thick stump.
    I wrenched it free with a few wiggles and a mighty tug. “Stand back,” I said. I swung the axe as hard as I could at the door. It bit into the wood with a jarring thunk and stuck there.
    â€œWell, that didn’t work,” I muttered. The heavy door remained fully intact, without even a crack. I yanked at the axe, but it wouldn’t budge. I had to work it loose bit by bit.
    â€œTry chopping at the wood around the latch,” Grandpa said from behind the door. “Maybe you can knock one side loose.”
    I heaved the axe up and let it fall. The axe glanced off the metal with a ringing clang. I hoped the horses were making enough noise that Bellamy wouldn’t notice the racket I was making.
    â€œTry again. Aim for the wood just above the casing,” Grandpa said.
    I did. I tried, but I finally stopped, my arms aching. Only a few slivers had flaked off the door. “It’s no use,” I panted. “I can’t do it.”
    I peered around the corner of the shed. I could see Bellamy beginning to load the horses. The younger man helping him had tethered Hoser and was ushering Rosie up the ramp. They must have managed to recapture all the horses.
    â€œGrandpa, are you guys okay in there?” I asked, sliding back to the shed’s door.
    â€œIt’s not exactly a four-star hotel, but we’re fine. Why?” Grandpa said.
    â€œBellamy’s loading the horses and he’s got Rosie.” I steadied my voice. “I’ve got to find a way to stall him until the police come.”
    â€œI don’t know if the police are coming!” Kayla cried. “The signal kept cutting out when I was talking. And then I lost the phone when Bellamy grabbed me.”
    â€œIt’s okay. I found it,” I said. “I’ll keep trying to get a signal. But I can’t let Bellamy just drive away with the horses.”
    â€œDon’t, Reese. Please. Bellamy really means business. He’s not going to let you get in his way.” Grandpa sounded worried.
    â€œI won’t. I’ll just let the air out of his tires or something. I’ll be right back.” I dove into the bushes and began to weave through the bracken in a crouching run. I slowed down as I approached the barn. I wasn’t as worried about being seen—Bellamy had his hands full with loading up the wild mustangs. They were scared and fighting. Rosie gave a shrill whinny as the younger cowboy prodded her with a long stick. Bellamy cracked a whip behind her and she bolted forward, right up the ramp into the trailer. I couldn’t get near the truck tires without being spotted.
    â€œHey-yup!” Bellamy shouted, cracking the whip again. The younger man guided