Free Mystery of the Wild Ponies by Gertrude Chandler Warner

done wrong, but I felt sorry for both of them: the horse shut away, the boy sent away. So I put some medicine on Midnight’s leg, bandaged it right. I knew we couldn’t keep that horse hidden for long. Austin promised he’d call the sanctuary tomorrow.”
    “You told us about Magic to confuse us,” accused Jessie. “In case we ever saw a horse, we’d think it was the ghost horse.”
    “So you wanted me to think the horse I saw was a ghost?” Benny asked.
    “I’m not proud of that story I told you,” said Shad. “I did have a reason. One night Midnight got out. Austin went after him. The horse was loose on the beach. Austin called, trying to get him back.”
    “That was the cry I heard,” Benny concluded. “But the horse wasn’t Magic?”
    Henry shook his head. “No, Benny.”
    “I finally caught him way down the beach,” Austin said. “And got him back in Shad’s barn. The next day, Shad found him.”
    Henry nodded. “That explains why we couldn’t find your footprints. We didn’t walk far enough.”
    Grandfather had been studying the horse painting. “You painted Midnight,” he said to Winifred. “You knew about the missing horse, too.”
    “Not at first,” said Winifred. “I actually saw Midnight before I knew anything about a missing horse. I could hardly believe my eyes. I’d been having trouble sleeping and got up to look out the back door and there he was, looking glorious on the dunes. He was gone in a moment. I almost thought I’d dreamed him. I sketched him immediately. In the morning, before the sun was up, I’d finished the painting. I know I told you I hadn’t seen a horse, but I never like to talk about my paintings and I almost wanted to believe he had been a dream. My dream.” Winifred looked at the children. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”
    Austin spoke up. “Winnie’s cool. I took some apples from her carport one night. Midnight likes apples.” He turned to Jessie. “I found the plate of food you put out from your clambake. Thanks.”
    Jessie nodded. “I saw you earlier. I thought you might be hungry.”
    “We saw someone carrying a heavy bucket,” Violet said to Austin. “That was you, taking Winifred’s apples.”
    “The foggy night,” Henry remembered. “We saw a phantom horse, like Magic.”
    “It was Midnight,” Austin said. “He got out again. I lured him back to Shad’s with the apples.”
    “How do you fit in?” Grandfather asked Winifred.
    She spread her hands, indicating her paintings on the walls. “My art had not been going well. I came here to see if my work would improve. Violet saw one of my paintings and suggested I add animals. After I saw and painted Midnight, I was thrilled. I wanted to paint him again.”
    “We thought you had taken Midnight,” said Benny. “And you were going to sell him to that New York man.”
    Winifred laughed. “That New York man is my agent! He sells my paintings!”
    “We heard you say the black horse was the best,” Violet explained. “And that the others were worthless. Then the man said he’d get a good price for the horse in New York. We thought you were talking about the island’s horses.”
    “You only heard part of it,” Winifred said. “I meant the horse painting was the best—the rest of my work was worthless. My agent said he’d get a good price for the horse painting in New York.”
    “I met Winnie yesterday,” said Austin. “I was out looking for my necklace when I saw her on her deck sketching. I couldn’t help but notice that the horse she was drawing looked like Midnight. Then she took her charcoal and darkened the horse and I was sure it was Midnight. It was so beautiful I had to say something—even though I didn’t want anyone to know about Midnight—or me. Winnie told me she’d glimpsed the horse only once—that she wasn’t even sure he was real and that she’d been to the sanctuary several times hoping to see him again. She seemed to care for him as much as I did, and