Free Pony Dreams by K. C. Sprayberry Page B

Adam's evasive answers set me to thinking, but I quit
fast when Trapper Andy poured himself a cup of coffee.
    “Not today, Andy,” Ma said.
    “I tell you,” he said. “Those thieves up in
Carson City will take a man's last hide and claim it's no good. If
I didn't need money for victuals, I'd head for California, and try
my hand at gold mining.” He glanced around the table. “That's a
right nice shiner you have, Abigail. Did you get it running into
one of your brothers?”
    Ducking my head, I pressed the skin around my
eye. Sure enough, painful swelling greeted my questing fingers.
With all the other aches and pains, I had never felt that one.
    “No, sir.”
    I kept my voice low as my brothers snickered.
Mark reached over to pull a braid, and I jerked away.
    “Heard a rumor at that saloon Horace Johnson
took Michael into,” Trapper Andy said. “Now, don't you worry,
Louisa. Your beloved didn't partake of any spirits, but there was a
moment or two when he wasn't looking at his cup. A few of the men
claimed Horace sprinkled something in the coffee.”
    He sipped his coffee. Clasping her throat
with one hand, Ma gasped.
    “Are you saying Horace deliberately made
Michael ill?” she asked.
    “Just what I heard,” he said. “Boys, ain't
you supposed to be about your chores?”
    Everyone at the table gaped openmouthed at
him, but he paid them no mind. Who did he think he was? What right
did he have to order us around?
    “We're handling our responsibilities.” Adam
snorted. “What about you?”
    “That's enough,” Ma said.
    I rose, to clear the table and clean up, but
a sharp pain in my back stopped me halfway.
    “Did you get throwed?” Trapper Andy
asked.
    “Yes, sir.” I glared at my brothers.
    They held their hands over their mouths, but
that didn't stop their chorus of snickers. Even Adam, who had been
so terrified when I flew through the air, had a merry expression on
his face. Ma slapped the table.
    “I'm glad the lot of you find it so funny,”
she shouted.
    The scornful laughter stopped, but the smiles
remained.
    “Sorry,” Mark said, “but Abigail hasn't ever
tumbled off a horse. Pa's always said it's like she's part of the
animal. Now, if we're talking about the monsters, well, they always
fall off.”
    “Did something strange happen afore that
bronc threw you, Abigail?” Trapper Andy asked.
    Ma stormed away from us and stirred the
broth. The spoon clattered against the sides of the pot. Her
behavior was most unusual, as was that of my brothers. They stared
at their food and never said a word. Another mysterious moment when
no one would tell me what was going on.
    “We'll deal with it,” she said. “It's not
your concern.”
    He poured another cup of coffee and swiped a
square piece of cornbread. He examined it for a long time before
nibbling a corner.
    “Right good. Did you make this, Abigail?”
    I nodded.
    “Gonna make as good a cook as your ma one
day. Fess up. Did someone chuck something at you afore that mustang
tossed you?”
    “We're fine,” Ma snapped. “You gave it up,
remember?”
    I stared at them, until Adam pulled me away
from the table.
    “Abigail can help with the chickens,” he
said. “If she's not feeling too poorly.”
    “I'll check out her bruises after I look in
on Michael and the boys,” Trapper Andy said. “Louisa, you tolerated
a lot from me after Matilda and Grace died. It's time for me to
return to my calling.”
    “But I don't know what made them sick.” She
wiped her eyes with her apron. “What good can you do?”
    “I figure you've already made a good start,
but I'll check them just the same,” he said. “Lord knows, you've
done well in spite of what life's thrown at you. This time, let me
decide if I've really given it up.” He set down the cornbread and
his cup. “Mark, there's a black bag I'll need on old Betsy.”
    Oh no! He brought his smelly mule with him.
Where will we keep it?
    Trapper Andy pushed away from the table. He
and Ma went to