The Horses of Lost Valley

By Aileen Kilgore Henderson

Tillery Hubbs, a twelve-year-old wimp in 1960s San Diego, discovers a neglected horse in Lost Valley. Struggling against the horses wealthy ownerand his own familyTill succeeds in saving the horse. He gains the courage to fight flood and fire and protect the other horses of Lost Valley. But when a new danger threatens, Till may be powerless to stop it.

The Horses of Lost Valley recently won two Purple Dragonfly Awards for 2017.

First Place for Best Cover Second Place for Best Middle-Grade Fiction Book

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524639273

Aileen Kilgore Henderson

Aileen Kilgore Henderson served in the Women’s Army Corps during World War II. After the war, she taught school in Minnesota, Alabama, and the Big Bend of Texas. Although she had been selling short stories and magazine articles since the 1960s, her first book was not published until she was 74 years old. She has now published eight books and been included in three anthologies. Her books have twice been on the New York Public Library’s list of Best Books for the Teenage and have won various awards. She enjoys making author visits to schools to spread her love of reading and books. In the 1960’s, she learned of a little-known pocket of wild country in the heart of a California city, and came to know the horses that lived there.

Book preview

Chapter One

T illery Hubbs sat straight up in bed, wide awake, heart pounding. What woke him? Footsteps? A door closing?

Who’s there? he croaked. He held his breath, ears focused. The only other person in the house was his sister Kim. He knew she was asleep in her room.

Click.

The latch on the back gate!

Tillery leaped to the window in time to glimpse something white slipping through the gate. Something about the size of Kim. But it couldn’t be Kim! He stared at the dark garden, the shut gate. The tower clock at his nearby school bonged one. Tillery clutched the windowsill. Kim in their garden at one o’clock on a Saturday morning? No way!

He forced himself to switch on the light and tiptoe into the dark hall. Feeling his way along the wall to Kim’s room he flicked on her light. Braced for an explosion of rage from Kim for waking her, he gasped to see her empty bed.

No Kim!

He jerked back the covers. Still no Kim! He remembered her telling him good night and shutting her door as she did every night. They had strict bedtimes even though their parents were away.

No excuses, Dad had said.

Though Kim was fourteen and Till twelve, they obeyed without question. They always had. And they stayed home every night. Every night. Both of them. And they didn’t do anything without telling each other.

Leaving Kim’s light shining, Till stomped through every room turning on lights. He didn’t like Kim slipping off and leaving him alone. He didn’t like the silence of the house.

Where’d you go, Kim? he demanded of the silence. And why’d you go without me?

They always went places together, best friends, their parents bragged. All for one and one for all Dad claimed for their family motto.

Tillery was so shook up he couldn’t think what to do except head for the kitchen.

In an emergency, eat, he told himself.

He jerked open the package of bread, covered a slice with chunks of cold butter and slathered on raspberry jam. In the family room, he snapped on the television and flopped down in front of it. He didn’t care what was on; he didn’t look at it anyway but the voices drowned out the silence.

As he chewed, grinding raspberry seeds between his teeth, he got madder and madder. Where had Kim gone? Mom and Dad would blister her but good.

We’ve never left you before, they said when they had to go. But we trust you. We’ll phone every night even if it is long distance. Just to make sure you’re safe. Anything can happen—too many hippies hanging out in San Diego.

Tillery snorted. How could we not be safe with that ogre, Naomi, next door? He turned off the TV and stomped back to the kitchen. He made cocoa, throwing in an extra spoonful of cocoa and a handful of marshmallows—Kim allowed him only one. He’d show her!

He took the hot cup to the patio. Mad as he was, he was careful not to make noise and wake Naomi. Her hearing was sharp as a cat’s and her nosiness knew no bounds. She’d go right to the phone to report to Mom and Dad. And whatever she said would worry them at a time when they already had plenty to worry about.

Tillery was plenty worried himself. A chill swept over him despite the warm cocoa. There just couldn’t be any good explanation for Kim creeping out of the house at one o’clock in the morning. By way of the back gate. Alone! His thoughts always came back to that—without him. After he drained his cup he breathed deep of the salty ocean air and listened to the vibrations of the tower clock striking two.

Back inside, he stood a minute thinking he’d leave the counter messy just to spite Kim, and not turn off the lights. That way she’d know he’d discovered her deception.

But he couldn’t do it. Kim had helped him too many times. He’d think things over. Now he could hardly hold his eyes open. Quickly he neatened the kitchen and went through the house switching off lights. When he curled up in bed he pulled the sheet over himself, head and all, and slept.

Chapter Two

E arly next morning before Kim was up, Tillery took a pail and headed for the garden to hunt snails. Collecting greedy snails saved the garden and made money for Till. That job helped him, too, whenever he had a dilemma to struggle with. His parents paid him for every snail—they refused to use poisons—and sometimes he even solved his dilemma while harvesting snails. They came out at night aiming to eat every plant in the garden before sunrise. They left a silver trail that Till followed to their hiding places.

His pail was nearly filled when Kim came through the back door, yawning. He noted that she was wearing a white shirt and white shorts like the white that went through the dark gate last night. The San Diego sun made her blond hair shine and showed up her freckles.

What’s for breakfast? she said, blinking against the bright light. She looked as if she had slept the night through in her own room.

Pancakes?

That was yesterday. How about scones? We haven’t had them since Mom and Dad left.

Okay. Tillery capped the pail to keep the snails from escaping and went to wash his hands. How could Kim act as if nothing had happened in the night? For a minute he wondered if he’d dreamed it. But that was impossible—it had been too real.

Worry, worry. That’s my trouble, Till thought. Worry Wart’s the right name for me.

That’s what the kids at school called him. Among other names that echoed in his head:

Wimp!

Chicken.

Yahh—cry baby.

The only fight he’d ever had was when he caught some kids hurting a horned toad.

It just sits there, fat and warty, they said, throwing stones. Let’s set a fire under it.

That’s when Tillery jumped on them, pounding with his fists and kicking. He saved the toad, bringing it home inside his tee shirt. But he cried all the while he did it. Crying made him mad, and the madder he got the harder he cried.

Till won’t even kill snakes, the kids said laughing. Everybody hates snakes.

Tillery didn’t hate snakes. He cared about caterpillars and spiders too—everything, in fact, even the snails in his pail. He cared about his sister more than any of them. But he was so mad at her he knew he’d start bawling if they quarreled.

Kim was studying the cookbook when he came in the kitchen. They had a system worked out. She named the ingredients they needed, he got them out of the cupboard—flour, oatmeal, salt, baking powder, baking soda. Then she selected from the refrigerator buttermilk, butter, dates, pecans, and one egg. Both of them liked mixing and tasting, patting out the dough in a circle and marking it off in wedges.

And then the fragrance of the baking scones! Tillery’s mouth watered as he set the table and uncapped the jam—apricot this time. Mom had made it from their backyard tree.

They ate on the patio overlooking the garden with the hummingbirds fighting at the feeder, the butterflies wavering above the flowers, and the mockingbird with its bright black eyes peering at them over the edge of the roof.

Tillery leaned back in his chair, loving their yard and all the creatures in it. He savored the scones that filled his stomach exactly right. If only Kim could be contented too. He took a deep breath and leaned toward her.

Where’d you go last night?

Kim stopped chewing and stared at him. After a moment she said, What do you mean?

Last night—uh—this morning somebody in white went out the back gate. Carrying a bag.

Kim laughed. You must have been dreaming. Did you eat licorice last night? You know what happens when you eat licorice at bedtime.

He couldn’t deny that. Licorice was Till’s favorite candy, but it caused him to have wild dreams. Not this time, he said. I know I was awake. I saw—

You kids behaving over there? a scratchy voice called. Naomi. She leaned her arm on top of the fence that separated their yards, squinting her eyes to inventory what they had for breakfast.

Kim and Till greeted her and said yes, they were behaving.

Before they finished answering, Naomi said, I’m sure surprised your folks left you alone here.

They didn’t leave us alone, Kim said. They hired Mrs. Quinn to stay with us.

But she had that bad wreck that put her in the hospital. Which leaves you staying alone. So what’s the difference?

They call us every night, Tillery said.

Even though it’s expensive, Kim added.

Humpf, Naomi said. They sure keep you two under their thumbs. I’ll bet your mommy still cuts up your steak for you. She laughed as if she’d told a joke. This is the Sixties. You ought to have friends of your own.

I’ve got friends, Kim said, collecting their dishes.

Naomi hooted. Debbie, you mean? She never comes to your house. Once in a blue moon you go to hers. What kind of friendship is that?

I don’t need any friends, Tillery said. I like us the way we are.

They sure made a mistake putting you two in that ritzy private school here on the hill. You need to hang around on the street corners with the hippies—learn about life.

Kim’s cheeks burned red. She clattered the dishes louder than necessary and took them to the kitchen.

Naomi always made Tillery and Kim mad with her jibes but their parents had cautioned them to keep peace with her.

Got to water the yard, he said hauling himself up out of the chair. The water made loud burping sounds as it sprayed from the hose, drowning the rest of Naomi’s comments. He was satisfied to see that she soon disappeared.

Tillery meant it when he said he liked the life his family lived. He wished they could stay this way always, just the four of them. And he didn’t like it that Kim was going off by herself, keeping secrets. He vowed to follow her tonight if she sneaked out.

That’s what he