Mistwalker Read Online Free PDF Page B

dishes,” Darby said, wheeling toward the kitchen.
    â€œI’ll help,” Cade added.
    â€œMe too.” Megan’s voice overlapped Cade’s and he shrugged.
    â€œThen I’ll go hide in the bunkhouse. Hope Kit was too busy with Medusa to see that.” He pointed at the television, almost smiling.
    Darby stood in the kitchen doorway, about to describe the black-and-white mare to Cade, as he sat on the entrance hall bench to tug on his boots.
    â€œOkay?” Cade said under his breath without looking up.
    Darby wasn’t sure what Cade meant. Was it okay he’d rescued her? She didn’t like being a damsel in distress any more than she liked being the wahine cleaning the kitchen, but Cade was standing taller than he had since she’d first met him.
    Confronting Manny, and now this…
    Still seated, Cade jerked down the cuffs of his jeans and raised his eyes to her. His jaw was set hard. “I know you woulda pulled yourself out.”
    Darby noticed Megan walking toward the kitchen, still looking amused.
    â€œYeah, after I swallowed a couple gallons of saltwater,” Darby said, then added, “Thanks for having my back, Cade, really.”
    Cade stood, shrugged, and pulled his hat over his eyes, but not far enough to hide his flush. Then he shouldered past the front door and into the night before Darby had a chance to say anything about the mysterious mare.

Chapter Four
    â€œM y father treats me like a slave!”
    The words in Ellen Kealoha’s high school diary were written in red ink that bled through the page. After reading that first sentence on the pages that had fallen out of the black leather book, Darby couldn’t stop.
    â€œHe says I don’t understand, but he won’t explain!!! When I beg him to, he walks away. Always. He can’t think of a good enough argument because I’m right when I tell him he’s too stingy to hire a ranch hand when he’s got a kid he can work half to death!!!
    â€œToo bad if she’s a REALLY TALENTED ACTRESS. I wouldn’t even care about the work if he’d let me ACT. Mr. Taylor says I’m good and hisnew student teacher Mrs. Martindale said so, too.”
    Darby looked up from the page for a second. Mrs. Martindale? Could it be the same Mrs. Martindale who was her Creative Writing teacher this year?
    â€œHe couldn’t come see me in the play because he had to stay home with Mom. Obviously, I get that, but I showed him my Anne Frank review and he was proud! He said to go ahead and try out again and he’d come see me. But what’s the use of auditioning for a play if he won’t let me stay after school for rehearsal? He makes me come home right away, every single day!”
    Darby thought of Mrs. Martindale again. Even though her Creative Writing teacher had wrongfully accused her of plagiarism, she’d later apologized. But that wasn’t what Darby was remembering.
    When Mrs. Martindale had suggested Darby be on the staff of the school’s literary magazine, Jonah had asked if that met after school.
    Mrs. Martindale had said yes, but added that the school was getting a new after-school activity bus for kids from outlying areas—like Darby.
    And when Jonah made excuses, Mrs. Martindale had winked at Darby and insisted they’d work something out.
    It was strange, Darby thought, that Jonah, who let her go on all kinds of adventures all over the island, had acted like she had to come straight home from school and do chores. Almost like it had been a reflex, left over from her mom’s high school days.
    Was that possible?
    Darby started to turn the page, but it was stuck to the next one. Carefully, she worked her fingertip around the edge. When the pages parted, she found pink flower petals, a scrap of newsprint, and just two sentences written on the page.
    â€œI like being with the horses, I love Prettypaint and Ebony and all of them, but the real me is on that