Moonrise Read Online Free PDF Page A

doing.
    â€œYou go on upstairs and get into clean clothes,” Dad said, but Gram hadn’t missed their exchange.
    â€œOut with it, Wyatt.”
    Sam kept moving, but just before the door swung closed she heard Gram say, “Tell me what happened, and I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer.”
    Sam smothered a giggle and bolted up the stairs. It was so cool when Gram treated Dad like a kid, she didn’t want to miss any more of his scolding than she had to.
    By the time she’d changed and hurried back to the kitchen, Gram was sitting at the table. She wasn’t sitting in her own chair, and the fingers of one hand touched her brow.
    â€œMy Lord, Wyatt,” she murmured.
    â€œIt could have been bad,” Dad agreed, then he and Gram stared at each other.
    To Sam, it seemed as if they were picturing many outcomes for the attack, all of them violent.
    Shaking her head, Gram stood, then began putting lunch on the table. As soon as she’d finished and Sam and Dad sat, Gram shook her head again.
    â€œI’m calling Trudy,” she said.
    Trudy Allen had a wild horse sanctuary not far away and she was one of Gram’s best friends.
    â€œI’m thinking of that blind filly,” Gram went on as she dialed.
    â€œFaith,” Sam gasped. Suddenly Sam knew Gram had pictured the dogs attacking the blind filly or Penny, her stepmother’s blind mare. And what about small children? She couldn’t think of any little kids in the area, but she’d bet there were some.
    â€œThose yappy little dogs are no protection,” Gram muttered, referring to Mrs. Allen’s pets.
    â€œThere’s Roman,” Sam suggested, thinking of the liver-chestnut gelding who counted himself boss of the “unadoptable” mustangs roaming Mrs. Allen’s pastures.
    Dad was resolutely eating lunch, acting untouched by all of Gram’s fuss.
    â€œDad?” Sam said.
    â€œI’ll take care of it,” he said. “You can count on it.”

Chapter Five
    â€œH orse on the porch.”
    Sam and Dad stared at Gram. Had she been talking to Mrs. Allen?
    No. With the telephone receiver clamped between her ear and shoulder, Gram pointed toward the kitchen door.
    As she did, hooves clopped on wood.
    Then Sam heard hooves on dirt. Many hooves.
    Once before, on the night of the fire, River Bend’s horses had been freed from the ten-acre pasture. The horses had been gone all night, but in the morning, one had shown up on the ranch house’s wide wooden porch. Ace.
    He must be the horse on the porch now.
    Grimacing, Dad pushed up from his chair at the table, but Sam darted past him.
    â€œGo ahead,” Dad said, “but take it slow.”
    Sucking in a breath, Sam took smaller, quieter steps, instead of bursting out the door as she’d been about to do.
    It didn’t help. The horses still spooked.
    A sudden stomping—like the pounding at a pep rally in the school gym, when everyone stomped their feet—erupted on the porch. Ace couldn’t be making all that noise by himself.
    Sweetheart, Gram’s aged pinto, had been right behind Ace, but now both horses backed off the porch, just missing the roof support posts.
    Ace retreated so fast, he rammed into Sweetheart and she scolded him with a bite. The gelding cried out in surprise, then whirled toward the ranch entrance and bolted into a run. Sweetheart followed, limping on a foreleg for an instant before she loosened up and galloped after him and the other horses.
    â€œThey’re all out,” Sam called back to Dad.
    Dad was at her elbow by now. Together they stared after the fleeing saddle horses. Ace and Sweetheart sprinted toward Popcorn, Jeep, and Strawberry.
    Five horses were headed for open country.
    Sam knew what she was doing with the rest of her day.
    â€œHelp me catch Amigo and Penny,” Dad said.
    She hadn’t noticed the two sorrels milling next to the barn corral, uttering