Mystery Horse at Oak Lane Stable (Book 1)
2022 MiPA (Midwest Book Award) Silver Medal Finalist
2018 Royal Dragonfly Book Award Winner - Newbie Author
ISBN: 979-8-9882964-4-7
E-ISBN: 979-8-9882964-5-4
$13.95 Paperback, $3.99 Ebook
Chapter 1. Excerpt:
1. Saturday Morning
From down the hall, the kitchen clock cuckooed eight times as I sat and waited for what seemed like forever at the bottom of the stairs in our old bungalow house. I sighed.
The day I had been waiting for my whole entire life was finally here, and Mom and Dad slept late?
I had on an old pair of too-small, tan jodhpurs. The suede knee patch on my right pants leg was coming off. I picked at a long, loose thread that was along the patch's edge, but all that did was make the patch come off some more.
Maybe Mom could sew it back on, or maybe I could finally get new riding breeches that fit me.
Dexter, my black cat with four white paws, played with the drawstring from the hood of my favorite purple sweatshirt that I was taking with me, that is, if we'd ever go. The sweatshirt lay in a lump on the oak floor by my stocking feet.
“It's going to be a super-great day if they'd ever get up!” I reached down and scratched Dexter with both hands. I wiped off his shed fur on the front of my lucky T-shirt—the light blue one with the jumping-horse, iron-on decal on the front. It was tight and faded-out, but I loved it anyway. I smoothed the iron-on decal twice with my palm for double the luck.
Footsteps walked across the creaky floorboards above me.
“Dad!” I jumped to my feet. “Are you ready? Are we going soon?”
Mom appeared at the top of the steps, wearing her new yellow bathrobe and slippers. She finished braiding her long, dark hair, like mine, and tossed it over her left shoulder. She came down the carpeted stairs toward me.
“Cassie, why are you shouting?” She gently touched the top of my head as she stepped around me and made her way toward the kitchen. “Do you want me to make you breakfast before you go?”
“I already ate some cereal,” I lied. I couldn't eat now if I tried. “Is Dad up? Is he ready to go?” I tagged along behind her.
She plugged in the electric coffee percolator. “Your dad's getting dressed. He'll be down shortly. Are you sure you've had enough to—”
“Mom, I said I already ate,” I lied again and sat down at the kitchen table across from her. I wadded up my purple sweatshirt in my lap and jittered my right leg.
“I know you're excited, but can you stop wiggling your leg?” Mom said. “It's making the table shake.”
I stopped jittering.
Mom picked out a strip of yellow paint samples stashed on her side of the table, next to a stack of wallpaper books she’d put there last night. She held the paint color against the wall to see if she liked it. She was redecorating the kitchen.
“Do you want some orange juice?” Mom asked after a few minutes. The smell of fresh coffee filled the room. She got up to pour herself a cup. “I can get you a glass if—”
“Mom … I'm fine.” I leaned back and flopped my arms down by my sides.
“Don't forget Grandma Leona is coming for supper tonight.” Mom sat down and opened one of the thick wallpaper books. After she thumbed through it, she thumped it shut and grabbed another one from the top of the stack next to her.
“I can tell her all about my new … ” I shot straight up.
Dad yawned as he walked into the kitchen.
I bolted out of the chair and ran up to him. “Dad! Are you ready? Can we go?”
“Hey, Cass, in a little while.” He hugged me and went to get his cup from the cabinet. “I need some coffee first.”
I sank back into my chair.
He sat down next to Mom, took her hand, and squeezed it. She smiled at him. They acted all lovey-dovey a lot lately.
Gross.
Dad took teeny, tiny sips of coffee. First, he looked at Mom and then at me. I was pretty sure he was teasing me but wasn't certain.
“I talked with Margaret at the grocery store yesterday,” Mom said. “Her husband lost his job last week. They don't know how they’re going to pay the bills if he doesn't find a job right away.”
“That's awful.” Dad took another sip of coffee. “So many people are without jobs. I wish the economy would turn around soon.”
“We're fortunate you got the promotion at work.” Mom reached across the table and squeezed Dad's hand. “We know what it's like to try and make ends meet.”
Dad nodded and sipped his coffee.
I thumped my right heel against the chair's bottom rail.
Can we go now?
“Is the newspaper here?” Dad asked. “I want to see if there’s any news about President Ford ending the Vietnam War.”
My shoulders slumped. I slid down further in my seat.
Paper? Dad was going to read the paper? How much longer did I have to wait?
“Just kidding.” He smiled and winked at Mom. “I can read it later. Ready, Cass?”
I got up so fast my chair tipped over. The clattering noise scared Dexter, who ran out of the kitchen. I picked up the chair and pushed it back under the table.
“Cassandra Marychna Lena Piotrowski, that's a new chair!” Mom only called me that when she meant business. “Ed, make sure you are sensible about this. Nothing too big or too wild, or anything she can't handle. I don't want her getting hurt.” She examined the chair to make sure I hadn't put any scratches on it.
“Don't worry, I trust Stan Hoffman,” Dad said. “He's been the manager of Oak Lane Stable for over 25 years and knows his stuff. I'm sure he’s lined up places for us today that will have decent horses for Cassie to ride.”
“Just make sure.” She looked up at Dad as he bent down and kissed her on the lips.
Super-gross.
I ran out onto the back porch to put on my old paddock boots. I sat down on the floor and pulled the right one. As I started to lace it up—snap!—the lace broke again. Third time this week. I tied another knot and looked down at the cracked-leather boots. I needed new ones. Dexter came to see what I was doing. He wanted to play with the laces, but I wouldn't let him this time. I pushed him away.
“Come on, Dad!” I opened the screen door and let it close with a bang.
“Don't slam the door!” Mom shouted from the kitchen . . . .