Sundancer. Shelley Peterson
the hair off her face and continued to stare at the horse.
Now that Hannah had gone, it seemed quiet in the paddock. The yellow dog dozed in the grass at her feet. The horse grazed in the field. Bird watched and enjoyed the silence. All at once, the horse stopped and looked directly at her, as if waiting for her to say something.
Don’t look at me, Bird thought with a smile. Alberta Simms hadn’t spoken a word for seven years, and she wasn’t about to start now.
BIRD WAS HANNAH’S NIECE, the daughter of Hannah’s younger sister, Eva. Eva had dropped Bird off at Saddle Creek — farm of last resort — two years earlier, on her way to another new life, with another new man. As far as Bird could tell, this was Eva’s way. Bird’s father was a cowboy from Calgary who left when Eva told him she was pregnant. He rode off into the sunset never to return, Eva was fond of saying, and had never even phoned to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl.
From the time Bird could remember, Eva seemed to change jobs often, which meant picking up and moving to a new place. She was always hoping for something better, more interesting, less boring. Eva had changed boyfriends often, too, always hoping for someone better, more interesting, less boring. The one constant in Bird’s life, until the day she moved in with her Aunt Hannah, was change.
Now, sitting at the edge of this field with this beautiful horse, Bird could feel Hannah watching her from the kitchen window.
What was she worrying about now? The traces of a fond smile formed at the corner of Bird’s mouth. She’s worrying that I don’t talk. She’s worrying that I don’t fit in. She’s worrying that I’ll never be normal. Most of all, she’s worrying about school. And with good reason.
On the last day of classes, Stuart Gilmore, the principal of the Forks of the Credit school, had told Hannah that Bird could not come back. The school was simply not equipped to handle her. He’d given Hannah a list of alternative schools, and for the last few weeks Bird had watched as Hannah tried to find her a place. She’d had no luck with any of the public schools, and she couldn’t afford the fees at the private ones. Now it was August, and at the top of Hannah’s to-do list — posted conveniently on the refrigerator door — was to call Stuart Gilmore. Bird figured that Hannah planned to ask one more time.
Bird hated school. The kids were mean. But if she had to go back, the Forks of the Credit would be better than unknown alternatives.
Hannah called from the kitchen window. “Bird! Supper’s ready!” Bird was hungry, but she disliked the confinement of sitting properly at the table, and she detested being constantly coached on her manners. Reluctantly, she scrambled back under the fence.
Come for dinner, Hector. Bird stroked the dog on her way past.
He raised his head and thumped his tail.
Yummy. I’ve been hungry all day.
So what else is new? Bird smiled. What do you think of the new horse, Hector?
I don’t trust him. You shouldn’t either.
Bird nodded slowly and patted Hector’s head. He won’t talk to me yet, so I don’t know what to make of him. Bird hadn’t faced this before. Most animals responded to her immediately, delighted that a human could not only talk to them, but also understand what they had to say.
She slowly raised her hand and stretched it out toward the horse. The haughty chestnut lifted his head. Bird tried again to reach into his mind. Talk to me. Tell me about yourself.
The horse gave Bird a bored look, then turned his back, providing a perfect view of his welts and cuts. They would heal nicely with proper care, but so far the horse had not allowed anyone to get close to him, let alone treat his wounds. Earlier, when she’d first spotted him, Bird had taken the water hose out to the field. She’d stood on the fence and created a fountain that he had eventually walked into to cool off, so at least the wounds were washed out. She’d tried to squirt Wonder Dust, an antiseptic powder, into the nastier gashes but had only been somewhat successful. Tomorrow she’d try again.
Not for the first time, Bird wondered what had happened to this horse. How did he get those cuts, and why had he ended up at Saddle Creek? What did they do to you, beautiful fellow? Bird waited a moment for an answer then ran to the farmhouse without a backward glance.
LATE THAT NIGHT, THE quiet of the farmhouse was disturbed by the telephone ringing.
In her darkened room beside Hannah’s, Bird was instantly awake. The walls of the old farmhouse were thin, and Hannah’s voice, drowsy with sleep, travelled easily into Bird’s room.
“It’s late here, Eva. I was asleep.”
Eva. Her mother. Bird wiggled out of bed, placing two bare feet on the wooden floor. She crept quietly down the stairs, avoiding the creaky floorboards, and made her way into the kitchen where the extension hung on the wall beside the fridge. Softly, she raised the receiver to her ear. Her mother was laughing about the time difference. Hannah was not amused.
“It’s one a.m., Eva. This better be good.”
“Randy asked me to marry him.”
“Congratulations.”
“You don’t mean that. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Eva, it’s the middle of the night. Tomorrow I have to get up early to take four horses to a show. I don’t know Randy. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve been engaged, and last night your daughter threw her dinner at the wall because she wanted dessert first. Excuse me for my lack of enthusiasm.”
Bird cringed at Hannah’s words and waited out the long silence on the line.
“Actually, Hannah, that’s why I’m calling.”
“Speak to me, Eva. I’m not good at riddles at one in the morning.” “Randy wants to meet my family, so we’re coming to visit in a couple of weeks. I’ve told him all about you and Daddy and Mom, but he doesn’t know about Bird.”
Silence again. Then Hannah’s voice, more awake now. “You said he doesn’t know about Bird?”
“Yes.”
“What doesn’t he know? Her existence or her unusualness?”
“Both.”
Bird listened closely. She could hear the intake of air as Hannah took a deep breath. “So, when are you going to tell him?”
“It’s not that easy, Hannah. He adores Julia. But I know he’d have a hard time with Bird. It might change things.”
“Reality sucks.”
“I don’t know why I called, you make me so mad!”
“So why did you call, Eva?”
Again, there was a pause, but this time Bird could feel a crackle of energy on the line. Something big was about to happen.
“Can you tell Randy that Bird is your daughter? There. I’ve said it.”
In the darkened kitchen, Bird felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She fought the urge to smash the phone against the wall and knock everything off the counter.
Hannah spoke calmly, quietly. “Let me get this straight. You want me to tell Randy that Bird is my daughter. Is Julia still yours?”
“Yes, Randy loves her.”
Bird thought of her little sister. A pretty, cheerful nine-year-old. Chatty, charming, and well adjusted. Blonde and beautiful like their mother.
“Look, Hannah.” Eva was still talking, faster now. “Don’t go all holier than thou on me. You know I couldn’t take Bird with me to California. She was in school and she had her friends ...”
“Friends? Since when has Bird had a friend? And Bird had to change schools anyway when she moved in with me. We both know why you left her here, so