Free Blue Ribbon Trail Ride by Miralee Ferrell Page A

for it.”
    â€œHoarders,” Melissa said. “Funny that it was only in his living room and hall. There weren’t any piles in his kitchen.”
    Colt snorted. “That’s about the only place that didn’t have them. I opened two doors besides the bathroom. Every room had stacks of papers and magazines. It would take a lifetime to collect that many. I don’t get it.”
    â€œIt’s a sickness,” Tori explained. “I heard my mom and dad talking about a lady my mom knows. She won’t let anyone come to her house because she’s the same way. I don’t remember what she collects, but her house is pretty full, according to Mom. It’s really sad.”
    An instant later Melissa peeked over her shoulder. “We’re a long way from Mr. Wallace’s house, Colt. Did you see the box? And why did you take so long? We were getting worried. Then we heard that loud crash. Mr. Wallace bellowed like you’d broken his favorite treasure, and we figured you were done for. So tell us everything and don’t leave a thing out!”
    A dozen more strides brought them to the paddock area of the Blue Ribbon Barn, and they sank onto the grassy stretch and propped themselves against the wood rails. Colt plucked a blade of grass but only fiddled with it between his fingers. “When I left the kitchen, I headed down the hallway that leads from the kitchen to the living room. You probably noticed three doors along the hallway, right?”
    They all nodded.
    â€œWell, I could hear you girls clattering dishes and talking, and since Mr. Wallace is older, I figured his hearing might not be great, and it would be safe to open the first door, if I was super quiet. It was a bedroom.” He grunted. “You could see a bed and dresser, but I don’t think the box was there. Boxes of stuff were piled on the bed and stacked against the wall. I didn’t even go in. Full boxes blocked the closet door, and there was no place for Mrs. Ferris’s box to be, so I left and tried the next door.”
    Colt flicked the blade of grass away as if it annoyed him, then grabbed another one. “The next bedroom was his, but there was stuff in there too. But not as much, and the closet door was open. I tiptoed in and looked, but I’ve got to tell you, I felt terrible. It’s not right to go into other people’s bedrooms.” He stared at his shoes. “I didn’t touch anything, and I didn’t see the box, so I left. The last room was the bathroom, and it’s tiny. Nothing in there either. In fact, I’m surprised Mr. Wallace showed any interest in ever buying that box. He doesn’t have a single item that indicates he’s a collector of anything but junk.”
    â€œI wondered about that,” Melissa said. “He might even have a trace of Alzheimer’s … especially since he doesn’t remember he wanted to buy the box—or that he even saw it.”
    Kate groaned. “That’s awful! We made him let us into his house, snooped around, and then knocked over his stack of stuff.”
    Tori smiled. “But he loved the cookies. And there’s a good chance that by tomorrow, he won’t remember we came anyway. I’m just glad no one got hurt. He was more upset about his papers getting disturbed than anything else. But we apologized already, and I don’t think we should go back.”
    â€œNo chance.” Kate shook her head. “I’m never going there again if I can help it. But I do feel bad we thought he was the thief. Instead he’s a lonely old man whose main interest in life is collecting junk. I’m going to tell Mom about him, and maybe she can invite him to church or have him over to our house for supper sometime.”
    Melissa looked from one friend to the other. “You might be right that Mr. Wallace isn’t the thief, but we’d better not rule him out. I mean, what’s to say he