the button and close the door.
“Yes!” Like it or not, Kirstie had to leave the tricky situation with Lisa and get home fast. She wanted to be there when Matt and her mother got back with Cadillac.
“No need.” Lisa had spotted Charlie’s car cruising down Main Street. He’d waved and hollered to offer them a ride.
So the bus pulled away, and the young wrangler’s car took its place at the curb. “And before you ask, no news from Matt so far,” he told Kirstie as she climbed in. “You coming, Lisa?”
Lisa stooped to peer in at Kirstie. “Am I?”
“Yeah, I need to talk. And jeez, Lisa, I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk.”
“That’s OK.” Relieved, she settled into the back seat beside Kirstie. “So, tell me!”
Charlie drove as Kirstie talked. She described the magic moment when Crazy Horse came back, the surprise call from Sheriff Francini, the way her mom had cut her out, sent her to school, and how much that had hurt.
“But you know how she is about Matt and college,” Lisa reminded her. “It’s the same with you and school. You gotta be there.”
“I guess.” Kirstie frowned. She still hadn’t confessed what was really on her mind. “You know what? Matt was so happy this morning. The news about the sale barn came through, and you should’ve seen him. He could hardly wait to get out of the house.”
“So?” Lisa indicated that it was understandable. “How would you be? You just found out where your favorite horse in the whole world is. You’re gonna be ‘up’!”
“But I’ve had time to think since then,” Kirstie went on, noticing Charlie look at her in his rearview mirror. “Maybe we reacted too quick. We hear about a white horse for sale in the Falls, we jump right in there. But what if this horse isn’t Cadillac?”
Charlie heard and swerved slightly in the road. Lisa groaned. “Oh, my!”
“Right.” Kirstie waited for the doubt to sink in. “How’s Matt gonna feel if he drives 200 miles just to find out it’s a false lead?”
Kirstie got the strong feeling that Crazy Horse agreed with her. He was at the white fence when Charlie’s car pulled into the yard, trotting up and down to attract their attention, limping slightly on his sore foot. When Kirstie, Lisa, and Charlie got out of the car, the sturdy tan horse threw back his heavy head, curled his lip, and whinnied loudly.
“If only he could talk,” Charlie said quietly. He stood, thumbs hooked into the back pockets of his jeans, staring at Crazy Horse. “He could sure tell us everything we need to know!”
Charlie had echoed Kirstie’s feeling from earlier that day. It made her drift thoughtfully across the bridge toward Red Fox Meadow. “Maybe he can talk…kinda.”
“Talk…how?” Lisa climbed and sat astride the fence, turning her collar up against the stiff, cold wind blowing down from the mountains. “Like, he’s gonna tell us what happened Sunday night?”
“Horses talk,” Kirstie insisted. “Leastways, they communicate. They use body language.”
Lisa studied Crazy Horse. “He
is
kinda jumpy. Restless. Look at his ears!”
The horse carried his head high and flicked his ears. There was tension running through his body, making him swish his tail and stamp his feet as he trotted and turned.
“I’d say he’s trying to tell us something, no doubt about it,” Kirstie insisted. “But he knows we’re stupid, so he’s having to wait for us to figure it out.”
“It’s about Cadillac.” Lisa grew convinced. She retraced recent events to try to understand Crazy Horse’s impatience. “He’s taken prisoner by a bunch of rustlers. They treat him and Cadillac rough. He escapes. Then what does he do? He heads for home. He wants to tell us about Cadillac, his buddy—where he is, what these guys are planning to do to him. Only we take no notice. We stick him in a field and leave him. No wonder he’s upset!”
That was it; Lisa’s clear version of the story made Kirstie come to a