Free Saddlebags by Bonnie Bryant

at this!” she called. “Too bad we don’t have shampoo!” She made lathering motions in Stewball’s soaked mane.
    Suddenly Lisa’s horse slipped a bit as the earth underneath her gave way. Lisa and Chocolate scrambled up tothe flat part of the bank. The other riders moved up too. The stream was rapidly becoming a river, eating away what was left of the steep bank.
    “It’s good we got the cattle out of there before the storm,” called Carole.
    “I hope the Saddlebags get to see this!” Stevie shouted.
    “Where are our parents anyway?” Carole cried, looking around. Walter had told them to ride for about thirty minutes, and it had been nearly an hour since they rode off. Suddenly Carole’s stomach turned over.
    The current below had torn a small tree out of the bank by its roots and sent it floating downstream. Behind it, rushing toward them, was a big black cowboy hat with silver buckles and a leather strap.
    “It’s my father’s hat!” Carole gasped. The hat snagged on the sapling, and white water bubbled and splashed around it.
    “Oh, no,” Stevie cried as she gazed at the colonel’s bobbing hat. “Our parents must be in terrible trouble!”

I N A PANIC , Stevie looked all around. She had to get to Walter and John. Where were they? There was the herd—upland from the stream. To her relief, a second later, she spotted John heading back in the girls’ direction.
    “We need help!” she shouted as soon as he was within earshot. “Our parents are missing!”
    “Look!” Lisa pointed to the river and Colonel Hanson’s hat.
    John’s face paled. “They haven’t come back yet?”
    “No!” cried Carole.
    “Let’s go,” John stated grimly. He turned and started riding upstream, along the bank.
    Lisa gave Chocolate the signal to trot. He wouldn’t. She squeezed hard with her legs. He kept walking. “Go! Go!” she cried. She signaled him again, but he refused to speed up.
    “Come on!” Stevie was saying to Stewball, but he wasn’t going any faster either.
    “Footing’s too bad,” John called to them. “They can’t go faster.”
    Even walking felt treacherous. With the rain pelting down on them, the riders pressed forward, looking upstream for any signs of the missing parents. Nothing met their eyes but the rushing water and rain.
    Lisa kept her thoughts focused on Chocolate and managing the slippery terrain. She didn’t dare think about what might have happened to her mother and father. Together The Saddle Club and John would find the parents—they just had to.
    Suddenly John stopped Tex and turned to the girls. “Look up there!” he shouted, pointing upstream.
    Just around a curve in the river stood a small island. It was a tiny patch of land jutting out of the rushing water. It held two scraggly trees.
    Also perched on the island, huddled together on their horses, were five terrified adults. And the water surrounding them was rising by the minute.
    “Mom! Dad!” Lisa shouted.
    But the grown-ups didn’t hear Lisa’s call. Mrs. Atwood was struggling to control a frantic Spot. Her hair was plastered to her face by the pouring rain. Yellowbird was backing and bucking under Colonel Hanson, and Mr. Lake’s horse, Melody, was nervously pawing the ground.
    The other horses stood with their heads down, ears back, and the whites of their eyes showing. They were as frightened as their riders. Water streamed over their matted forelocks.
    “Mom! Dad!” Lisa hollered again, waving. “Colonel Hanson!”
    Mrs. Atwood finally spotted them and waved her arms frantically. “Help!” she shrieked. Spot was pulling on the reins, trying desperately to get off the tiny patch of land. Mrs. Atwood pulled back, but Spot kept stepping down the bank, slipping, then backing up again.
    “Hold on to the pommel on the saddle, Mom!” Lisa shouted even louder. “Don’t worry! We’re coming to get you!”
    John pulled his lariat out from under his poncho. It was still dry. Instantly he swung the rope