Horses for Sale, a Miranda and Starlight Story

By Janet Muirhead Hill

A long talk with her father has made Miranda realize she can’t expect her parents and grandparents to keep footing the bill for her growing herd. She loves every one of her horses and can’t think of one she’d be willing to part with. Racing is not a sure thing, she learns, and can cost more in money and heartache than it yields. She will have to sell some to keep others, and that’s the saddest thing she can think of—until she loses a friend. Horse trading brings a handsome young man into her life. His attention is pleasing at first, but when jealousy and misunderstanding drive Christopher Bergman, away, she realizes that he is more than “just”a friend to her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raven Publishing of Montana
• Release date: May 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781937849337

Janet Muirhead Hill

Janet Muirhead Hill is the author of thirteen published novels for children ages 8-18. She co-authored curriculum units to adapt the novels for use in classrooms and home schools.Hill has presented many writing and publishing workshops across the state and in Colorado and Oregon. She is available to present workshops to fit one, two, three, four, or five days of instruction depending on the needs and time schedules of her sponsors and students. She has conducted many one-day school visits in Montana and Colorado, and has plans for longer residencies. She wrote and published comprehensive workbooks for use with her three, four, and five-day writing workshops. She is listed in the Artist's Registry of the Montana Arts Council.Her published children’s and young adult novels include the award-winning Miranda and Starlight series of eight (soon to be nine) books, Danny’s Dragon, a Story of Wartime Loss, winner of the Eric Hoffer Award, and a trilogy about twins, separated at a young age and searching for each other. Kyleah’s Tree, a finalist for both the High Plains Book Award and USA Book News, Best Book Award, is the the girl twin's story. It's companion novel, Kendall's Storm, silver medal winner of the Moonbeam Award, is the boy twin's story. Kendall and Kyleah, is the third book of the series completes their story. Her book, Call Me Captain has been renamed, The Body in the Freezer, and is a story about a 13-year-old rich kid who is both smart, and smart-mouthed searching for his place in the world—and finding when forced to "volunteer" in a homeless shelter.Hill calls the writing she does “true fiction,” because, she says, “My goal is to tell the truth about the human experience, its dilemmas, natural responses, and emotions through fictional characters; characters children relate to; characters who will help them better understand themselves, giving them comfort and encouragement in their own lives.”Ms. Hill spends much of her free time enjoying the outdoors, her horses, and most of all her family, which includes eight grandchildren and one great-granddaughter. She writes and publishes from her home office in rural Montana near the Madison River.

Book preview

HORSES FOR SALE: A Miranda and Starlight Story

by

Janet Muirhead Hill

ISBN: 978-1-937849-31-3

Published by: Raven Publishing, Inc. at Smashwords.com

This novel, a sequel to The Horse and the Crow and six other books of the Miranda and Starlight series, is a work of fiction for ages 12 and up. Names, characters, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. Except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Copyright © 2016 Janet Muirhead Hill

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Chapter One

Fifteen-year-old Miranda Stevens crawled through the fence, rattling a white plastic grocery bag that contained carrot sticks and apple slices. Her horses had learned that the sound and sight of that bag meant treats and came thundering across the pasture to meet her.

The unseasonably mild day for March in Montana had given Miranda spring fever. As she’d sat through her sophomore classes, her mind was more on which horse to work with after school than on anything said in class. On the bus ride home, she decided on Starless Knight, her pretty, black, coming-two-year-old colt. She’d watched him run and cavort across the pastures with the other horses, nosing his way to the front of the herd. He’s the wind, she thought. And so smooth gaited. He’d had plenty of ground work, and she’d been waiting for good weather to get on him for the first time. Well, today was the day.

After giving the last carrot to Knight, she balled the bag in her left hand and slipped a halter over his nose. Reaching under his neck, she lifted the strap over the top to reach the buckle held in her right hand. The bag slipped from her hand and a gust of wind blew it across Knight’s eye and carried it away.

The colt jumped sideways knocking, Miranda to the ground and trouncing on her ankle. One shod hoof caught her shoulder as he sped away, bucking and running to the far end of the pasture.

Cursing her stupidity, Miranda turned over to raise herself to hands and knees. She crawled to the fence and pulled herself to her feet. Testing her ankle, she found she could bear a little weight on it, though it hurt like a son of a gun. She managed to limp to the barn where she sat on a hay bale and removed her boot. Her ankle was already swelling.

Her first thought was to keep anyone from knowing what she’d done. For one, it was embarrassing. Worse than that, her parents would lecture her, insist on taking her to the doctor, and ground her from doing anything with her horses until it healed. She’d have to tough it out and not let them see her limping.

Miranda? her eleven-year-old adopted brother, Elliot, called from the doorway.

Yeah? Miranda turned so that her bare foot and the empty boot were hidden behind the bale.

Mom’s going to town to get Dad some supplies. We’re all going to Grandma’s.

Okay, she yelled back. I’ll stay and do my homework while the house is quiet.

What a stroke of luck. She peered out the tack room window and watched the kids traipse across the barnyard to her grandparents’ house as Mom drove away. She picked up her boot and limped to the house. After downing two ibuprofen tablets, she sat on the couch, foot propped on the hassock, with ice on her ankle.

By midmorning on Saturday, Miranda congratulated herself that no one had noticed her injury. But she didn’t know how long she could keep it up. After her morning chores, her ankle screamed for relief. Her effort to walk on it so no one would see her limping had made it worse. She wanted to be alone so she could lie back, prop it up, and ice it.

Are you going to town with us, Miranda? Elliot asked.

You’re going to Bozeman?

Yeah. Mom needs groceries, and Dad needs some things at the hardware store. After lunch we’re going to a movie. You should come.

Sounds fun, but I’d better not, Miranda said, while silently rejoicing that she was going to get some time alone. I’ve got a lot of homework to catch up on.

She could hardly wait for them to be gone so she could look at her ankle. Her shoulder, hidden beneath her shirt, had a crescent-shaped black and green bruise. It no longer hurt unless she pressed on it, but her ankle was a different story. Miranda elevated and iced the ugly purple and badly swollen ankle and leaned back to study in solitude.

Sitting in the house, in pain, and with nothing but neglected homework for company depressed her. Even the music from her iPod didn’t furnish much cheer. Trying to finish a research paper on the Vietnam War for her history teacher was not her idea of fun.

Rearranging pillows on the couch, she leaned back and opened a new document on her laptop. Since her mind was not on her report, she decided she might as well update her horse ranching records. Her dad had told her that if she wanted to raise horses she needed to be a responsible business owner. Otherwise, she’d have to sell all but one.

In her record book, of which she kept a copy online as well as a printed copy in a three-ring binder, she listed every horse in the table of contents, and gave each as many pages as needed, expanding as the need arose.

First on the list was her black stallion, Starlight, who was almost eight. He’d been less than two, the same age Knight was now, when she had first seen and fallen in love with him.

Next came Queen, who belonged to Christopher Bergman, her second-best friend, or as some of her classmates liked to say, her boyfriend. Miranda had given up arguing with them.

She turned to Queen’s page and noticed the date she was bred. For some reason, Miranda had it in her mind that the foal would come in April. Not so. Queen was bred in April. She was now two weeks past due. Jumping up, she spilled the icepack onto the floor. Pain radiated up her leg when she stood. She hopped to the door, grabbed her coat and cap, and stepped into her left snow boot. With some difficulty, she pulled the right one on and opened the door.

Sleet pelted her face as the wind jerked the storm door from her hand. She gasped. With her music on, she hadn’t heard the wind. The weather had been cloudy, but mild, when her parents left. Queen was out in the east pasture, far from the barn.

She turned around quickly and grabbed the phone. Hurry up, answer, she muttered as she propped the receiver under her chin while she searched the mitten box for her ski gloves. On the fourth ring, Mrs. Bergman picked up. May I talk to Chris, please? It’s urgent.

Well, Mrs. Bergman said, chuckling. He must be on the same wave-length. Do you two have ESP?

What do you mean?

He left for your house ten minutes ago.

Oh, good. Thanks.

Miranda hung up the phone and hurried outside again. She pushed against the wind to the barn to get Queen’s halter. It would be faster to ride, but the weather had been so nice all week that all the horses had been turned out to pasture. All except her stallion, Starlight. He was back at Shady Hills, a neighboring ranch and his former home, where he was servicing the new owner’s three brood mares.

Miranda sighed. She’d have to take the four-wheeler, if it would start. She didn’t relish walking on her bad ankle. The flakes were larger and thicker when she stepped out of the barn. Christopher’s pickup pulled in.

Queen? he asked when he pulled up next to her.

Still in the pasture. I didn’t realize a storm was blowing in. I have her halter.

Get in, Chris ordered.

You think your truck can make it? Miranda was a little dubious, but the warm cab was certainly inviting.

At least part of the way. Maybe we should take some oats and a blanket. What if she’s already foaled?

Good idea, Miranda yelled, I’ll be right back. She turned back to the barn, grabbed a heavy wool saddle blanket, thinking she could unfold it to wrap around the baby, if there was one. Chris filled a bucket with oats and they hurried back to his truck. Miranda limped in spite of herself, but Chris was too busy to notice until she got out and hobbled in front of the truck to open the gate.

What’s wrong with your leg? Chris asked when she got back in.

It’s my ankle. Knight stepped on it the other day. Not his fault, she hurried to explain, ever defending the horses. I spooked him by not paying attention.

You seen a doctor?

Oh, no. It’s nothing. I’m sure it’ll be fine in a day or two. I can live with a little pain.

Chris raised his eyebrows, shook his head, and turned back to watch where he was going.

It’s getting harder and harder to see. Don’t blame me if I hit some rocks or sagebrush.

I know. This is terrible. We should bring in all the horses.

Maybe. I still don’t see them. If it snows any harder, we won’t be able to see one if it steps right in front of us.

They could be in those trees, Miranda said, pointing. It would be a good place to get out of the wind.

A sudden stop threw Miranda into the windshield of the little pickup. Ouch! What did you hit?

Dang! Chris shouted. Must’ve been a rock. He jumped out.

Miranda followed, limping to the front of the pickup. It was a rock—a big one—under the front end of the pickup, holding the left front tire off the ground.

Maybe if we both push we can dislodge it. At least it didn’t pop a tire or break the radiator.

Okay. Let’s try, Miranda said.

It was hard to get much traction in the wet snow, especially when she couldn’t bear much weight with her right ankle. Chris lifted and shoved, but to no avail.

Chris, let’s find the horses, Miranda said. Will you be my crutch. My ankle’s hurting worse than ever. I think I jammed it when we ran into the rock.

Sure. Sorry. I didn’t think I was going fast enough to high center it like that. Are you hurt anywhere else?

I have a bit of a headache where I met the windshield. Nothing serious.

Grabbing the halter, Chris put his right arm around Miranda’s waist. She put her left one over his shoulder, and they headed toward trees that looked like ghosts through the swirling snow.

Entering the grove, they called the horses. A shadowy form emerged and then another and another. The horses continued to come to their call, but as yet, no Queen.

It’s not as bad in here. The trees filter out the snow and slow down the wind. I just hope Queen’s here and not out in the meadow, Miranda said.

Tracks go everywhere. No telling which are Queen’s, Chris said.

Let’s split up. You follow those and I’ll go this way.

Chris nodded and headed off into the thick stand of aspen trees. Miranda followed the newer tracks where limber pine and juniper dominated a low hill. She hadn’t gone far when she heard Chris’s whistle.

Miranda. I found them! What a beauty!

Miranda limped back the way she’d come and followed Chris’s tracks. There, under an old leafless cottonwood, stood Queen with a fuzzy, black foal at her side.

Wow, Miranda said when she caught the first glimpse of the pair. The foal approached Chris on spindly legs. He looks like he’s a day or two old. Good going, Queen. I guess you didn’t need us after all.

It’s a filly, Miranda, Chris announced proudly. She has a star like her daddy and stockings like her mom.

You’re right, Miranda said, as she stood beside Chris. What shall we name her?

How about Princess?

Miranda shook her head. Maybe that could be part of it, but it’s too common. We need something really special for this little girl. She’s going to be a very special horse. Look at her, she said, laughing. She’s not afraid of anything. She’s perfect.

She acts like she owns the world and wonders what we’re doing in it, Chris said, reaching out a gloved hand that the filly sniffed and then nibbled.

How are we going to get her home? Or should we just leave her here until the storm quits?

"The question is how are we going to get home, Chris said. I don’t feel like walking in a blizzard, and my truck isn’t going anywhere without a jack or something to pry it off that rock."

Miranda sighed, remembering their dilemma. You’re right. We can’t start walking in a white out. We’ll just have to wait.

When the wind dies down, let’s ride Queen back. Princess will follow.

Princess Andromeda? Miranda suggested. You know most of our horses’ names are celestial.

Eww, Chris said. I know Princess Andromeda was pretty, but when I hear the word I think of a deadly alien virus from a book I read.