Free Blue Ribbon Trail Ride by Miralee Ferrell

doorway where Colt had disappeared what seemed aeons ago. “If Colt isn’t hurt and can run. That crash sounded bad.” She dashed down a short hall past stacks of papers, trying to figure out where to go next. Three doors opened off the hall, but an open archway ahead beckoned.
    A moan emanated from the room. Kate skidded to a stop in the doorway and blinked, not sure what she was seeing. Stacks of newspapers and magazines as high as her shoulders lined the wall in rows. A wide spot in the middle of the room contained an easy chair and a TV, along with a side table next to the chair covered with more dirty dishes and a dust-covered lamp. “Colt? Where are you? Mr. Wallace? What happened?”
    â€œI’m over here.” Colt’s voice came from the far side of the room, and Kate suddenly noticed Mr. Wallace bending over a pile of magazines and newspapers. She and the girls rushed forward.
    Kate stopped, then leaned over what she could see of Colt. His head, shoulders, and chest were free, and Mr. Wallace was carefully moving more clumps of papers from around Colt’s waist. Kate shook her head, trying to clear it of the fear that had gripped her the past minute or so. “Are you hurt? Can you get up?”’
    Mr. Wallace glowered at Colt. “You messed up my row. I had it all organized and neat, and you messed it up. You need to go home now.” He raised his head and growled. “All of you.”
    Colt rolled out from under the last of the magazines and tried to stand but lost his balance on a wobbly stack of papers under his foot. He flailed his arms and pitched forward toward another row. Kate and Tori jumped forward and grabbed his arms, pulling him back before he sent it tumbling as well.
    Colt pressed his hands against the shivering mass of paper and moaned. “That was close. Why do you have all of these, Mr. Wallace? I’m sorry I knocked them over. I must have gotten turned around as to how to get back to the kitchen. Then I slipped on a glossy magazine that was on the floor, and the next thing I knew, all of this was coming down on top of me.”
    Tori shuddered. “This stuff is heavy. You could have been seriously hurt.”
    Mr. Wallace’s red face dripped with perspiration. “Get your cookie plate and leave my house this instant. It’s going to take me the rest of the day to get all of these stacked the way they were before.” He wrung his hands. “Oh my, what will I do now? Such a disaster. All these beautiful magazines and precious papers damaged. Oh my.” He turned his back on them and bent to pick up a stack.
    Colt dusted off his jeans. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Wallace. Would you like us to stay and help you clean up? We can stack the magazines fast.”
    â€œNo!” He swiveled and pointed toward the kitchen. “I’ll do it myself. Just get your plate and go.”
    Kate led the way through the stacks of periodicals and papers, shaking her head. What would make a person collect all this stuff? If this place ever caught on fire … She shivered thinking about it.
    The four of them slipped out the front door after retrieving Kate’s plate. Colt shut the door carefully behind them. “That was pretty weird.” He rubbed his shin. “I had no idea a stack of magazines could hurt so much. I’ll probably have bruises on top of bruises tomorrow.”
    They walked down the gravel road, heading for home. Tori clutched the empty plate to her chest and stopped walking. “So … did you find anything?”
    Melissa and Kate halted and stared at Colt.
    He motioned with his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of earshot. Mr. Wallace might decide to slip out the back door and follow us to make sure we’re gone.”
    They started up again, but Kate shook her head. “That man is too worried about his mess to care about us. What do they call people like that? I know there’s a name