Sundancer. Shelley Peterson
all that trouble.”
Hannah shook her head and laughed. “This horse was causing trouble before you came.”
From the bushes, Bird took a good look at the person standing beside Hannah. Abby Malone was close to Hannah’s height, and slight. She possessed self-assurance and directness. She was fair and attractive, with a natural good humour that was appealing. Bird guessed her age at about twenty. She listened to their conversation.
Hannah inhaled deeply. “I’d better get this over with. I don’t know if you remember, but my father is Colonel Kenneth Bradley.”
Abby nodded. “I know. That’s not something I’d forget.”
Bird studied her more closely. From family lore, Bird knew that Abby’s father was Liam Malone, who had been her grandfather’s lawyer for many years. Kenneth Bradley had accused him of stealing money from the family trust fund, and Liam had been sent to prison, based on false testimony. It was Abby’s detective work that had uncovered the truth and resulted in Liam’s release from prison. Kenneth was later convicted of stealing the money himself, from his own family’s fund, and served time in jail.
Hannah was talking now. “I’m very sorry about what you and your family went through because of my father. I can’t explain why he did those things. I’m still embarrassed.”
“No need. We got the letter you wrote after the trial. It meant a lot to all of us. In fact, my father kept it. But that’s long over now.”
“I hear that your father’s doing great. I’m glad.” Hannah smiled. Bird emerged from her cover and stood beside Hannah, head down. She wanted to get closer to this young woman who had a coyote.
“Hi,” said Abby. “My name’s Abby. What’s yours?”
Bird said nothing, just stared.
“This is my niece, Alberta,” Hannah interceded. “Eva’s daughter. She was born in Calgary, and my sister named her in memory of the clear air and the smell of pines. We call her Bird.”
“I like both names. Alberta and Bird.” Abby paused thoughtfully. “Birds can fly. They simply open their wings and they’re in a place all their own. Do you do that?”
Bird said nothing, but studied Abby with interest. I like you, she thought. I think you might understand me. A little.
4
SUNDANCER
I am apprehensive. I wait to see what the new humans want.
Hannah invited Abby to stay for breakfast and the younger woman accepted. With Bird tagging along, the three went inside the house and sat at the kitchen table. The buttercup-yellow walls were bathed in morning sunshine and a slight breeze fluttered the gauzy white curtains. They helped themselves to toast and jam, scrambled eggs, a bowl of fruit salad, and steaming coffee.
It wasn’t long before the talk turned to the new horse.
“Bird’s named him, haven’t you, hon?” Hannah looked proudly at her niece.
“What did you decide to call him?” Abby leaned forward as she spoke, genuinely interested in what Bird might say. For a moment, Bird considered answering. She quickly changed her mind and focused on her hands, now folded neatly in her lap. Abby didn’t give up. “Oh, you don’t need to be shy with me, Bird. I won’t bite, promise.”
Bird looked up and saw an open, encouraging smile. She knew she wasn’t being fair, but she just couldn’t help it. She looked to Hannah for assistance.
“It’s not you, Abby.” Bird heard the note of resignation in
Hannah’s voice. “She doesn’t speak.”
“At all?”
Hannah shook her head. “Not at all. To anyone.”
“Why not?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it, Bird?” answered Hannah. “The doctors call it “elective mutism,” which basically means that she can speak, she just chooses not to. I’ve heard it called “selective mutism,” too.”
“Really.” Abby’s brow furrowed. Bird saw the look that passed between the two women. Abby felt sorry for Bird and sorry for Hannah. She didn’t understand. No one did. Bird thought about leaving, walking out of the kitchen so Abby and Hannah could talk about her to their hearts’ content. But before she could push her chair back from the table, Abby spoke again.
“I’m sorry you don’t feel like talking, Bird, because I bet you have some interesting things to say. But sometimes, I think I know how you feel. Sometimes quiet is better, right? It gives you a chance to listen.”
Once again, Abby smiled at her. This time, Bird decided to smile back.
“Actually,” said Hannah, “today was a big leap forward. Today, Bird spoke for the first time since she was six. Only one word, but she spoke.”
“And what word was that?”
“She said ‘Sundancer’ when she got on the gelding in the round pen.”
Abby’s eyes widened. “Good name. Why did you name him that?”
Hannah looked at Bird, waiting to see if she might offer an explanation. When none came, Hannah just shrugged, “I haven’t given it much thought. I guess because his coat is brightly coloured, like sunshine, and he skitters and dances in his movement. Good reasons.”
Abby nodded. “True. But when you told me she’d named him Sundancer, I thought of something different.”
“What?”
Abby paused, then said, “He totally reminds me of Dancer.” Hannah nodded. “Absolutely, he does. Same manner, same colour. Nobody knows Dancer better than you, Abby. Well, besides Hilary.”
Abby Malone smiled. Abby and the great equine athlete Dancer had won the Grand Invitational a few years back. They’d made local history. Owned and ridden in his prime by Hilary James, the stallion was regarded by many as one of the finest horses in Canada. He still lived at Hogscroft, the nearby farm owned by Hilary James’ family.
“Earlier, you said that you heard Sundancer was here,” said
Hannah. “What do you know about him?”
“Well, he was bred at Owens Enterprises. His sire is California Dreamin’,” said Abby, “And the mare is Princess Narnia, one of Owens’ finest. From a thoroughbred jumping line of the U.S. Equestrian Team.”
Bird wasn’t surprised. She’d ridden Sundancer. She knew how special he was.
Hannah, however, seemed more than a little surprised. “How do you know this?”
“A good friend of mine used to be a groom at the Owens stables.”
Hannah whistled. “That breeding makes this gelding extremely valuable. Why’d they let him out of their sight?”
Bird stared at Hannah. After this morning’s episode, the answer to that question should have been obvious.
“He was a problem right from the start. He reacted extremely badly to training; even putting a halter on him was a big deal. I
was told that they worked for two months to get a saddle on his back.”
Bird nodded. She believed it. Sundancer had a naturally suspicious nature. Even under perfect conditions, he would’ve been a difficult horse to train.
Abby continued. “He went through trainer after trainer. They all gave up. Finally, after trainer number nine was smashed into the kickboards and almost killed, your vet was called in to destroy him.”
“Paul Daniels.”
“Yes.