Chapter 3

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle ya!” The speaker chuckled and tilted back his white cowboy hat. “I’ve been told I have a flair for the dramatic.” He smiled underneath his bushy red beard and mustache. He shook his head apologetically as he approached the stall. “I’m Mr. Rollins, that’s Buster, and that little gal there is Sandy.”

“Awww…” Abigail leaned over the edge of the stall. “Hi, Sandy!”

“Don’t let looks deceive ya. She’s the wildest mini horse I’ve ever owned. Had to bring her to the auction today just to keep an eye on her while I’m away from my barn! Otherwise, I’d probably come home to a pile of planks and rubble. Isn’t that right, Buster?”

Buster gave a little nod, but he could have just been looking for a snack instead of agreeing.

“Really?” Lucky replied, regarding the cream-colored horse. “But she’s so… itty-bitty.”

“You’d be surprised. She’s incredibly strong and packs a big punch when she wants to. Doesn’t want to be trained, either. Do you, girl?” Mr. Rollins opened the gate and whistled. At this, Sandy whinnied, then did a little spin. She was clearly trying her best to look cute. “That’s about as far as we’ve gotten, and it’s not good for much.” Mr. Rollins laughed and wiped the sweat from his brow. “But enough about Sandy. Were you interested in Buster?”

Once the girls located Al Granger, he immediately fell in love with the Clydesdale. While he busied himself with getting acquainted with Mr. Rollins and asking all the necessary questions, Lucky saw her opportunity. She wondered if Pru and Abigail had the same idea that she did. There was no doubt about the fact that Buster was the perfect specimen—strong and big. Just what they were looking for. But Lucky couldn’t get Sandy out of her head. She was clearly a handful, but maybe she didn’t have to be. Not with their help!

Lucky quickly pulled Pru and Abigail aside to an empty stall for an impromptu PALs meeting. She spoke in hushed tones. Luckily, all the hay around them helped deaden the sound. “We need a new horse to train to become Trail Trainers, right? And Sandy needs training—desperately! Let’s ask Mr. Rollins if we can bid on Sandy. It’s perfect. What do you guys think?”

A moment passed before anyone said anything. Lucky held her breath as she waited. Finally, Pru raised an eyebrow and admitted, “Well, the timing is perfect.…”

“And she’s just so cute!” Abigail added. “How hard could it be?”

“Not as hard as it will be convincing my dad to let us bid on Sandy,” Pru retorted. She paused for a second, considering. “But that’s never stopped me before. Let’s do it!”

“Trail Trainers, here we come!” Lucky cheered. “Okay, we have to hurry.” They didn’t have much time. Buster was set to go to the auction stage soon. The girls knew that as soon as Al bid and won his horse, they’d have to leave Silverlode.

Sure enough, when they rushed back over to the corner stall, Mr. Rollins was trying to untie Buster’s rope. Sandy put her head right in the way of where Mr. Rollins was trying to reach each time he extended his arm. The little horse had her mouth open and kept nibbling at the rope, causing quite the added difficulty for all three of them. Buster flicked his tail and turned his ears back in annoyance.

“What a troublemaker!” Al Granger laughed. “Good luck getting that filly off your hands today.”

“Oh, I’m not even going to put her up for auction,” Mr. Rollins admitted. Finally, the cowboy was able to untie the rope and get a harness on the horse. He began to lead Buster out of the stall, but Sandy ran between the stallion’s legs and blocked him. “No one would bid on her, anyhow.”

“Except us!” Pru blurted out. “We want to bid on Sandy.”

“Oh boy.” Al crossed his arms over his chest and met his daughter’s eyes. “Didn’t we have a deal today?”

“Deal?” Pru echoed innocently. “Oh, yeah, ‘stay focused on the goal.’ But, um… see, well, we have a side goal now, too.”

Al raised his eyebrows. “Side goal?”

Pru motioned to her friends and her words all came spilling out at once. “The three of us want to become Frontier Fillies Trail Trainers, but to do that, we need to teach Lucky how to train a horse from scratch and Sandy is the perfect horse for the job! Between the three of us, we have a little money saved up from our apple baked goods sales and horse washes, so we can put in a bid ourselves.”

“Whoa there, little filly!” Mr. Rollins put up his hands in a “stop” motion. “Let’s just back it up for a second.”

Lucky was sure that Mr. Rollins was about to tell them their idea was out of the question, but instead he tilted his head to the side and asked, “Where did you all say you’re from again?”

“Miradero,” Mr. Granger replied. “Do you know it?”

“Sure do.” Mr. Rollins nodded. “In fact, I’ll be heading out that way in a couple of weeks for the Founders’ Day Parade. I’ve got some… business to attend to for the parade,” he said vaguely. Of course, Lucky and her friends knew all about the upcoming parade that featured famous “front-row” horseback riders who were chosen each year to play the parts of the Miradero founders. Abigail and Pru had always wanted to be picked, but the honor usually went to much more skilled riders.

“Tell you what”—Mr. Rollins pulled a piece of hay from his vest pocket and began to chew on it. He narrowed his eyes, wheels clearly turning in his mind—“if you girls can train Sandy by then, you can keep her. But if she’s not up to snuff, I’ll have to take her back for her own good. Who knows—maybe you’ll have better luck than me.”

“We can take her home with us? Just like that?” Lucky asked, trying to contain her excitement.

“Well, you seem like responsible young horse wranglers.” Mr. Rollins turned to Al. “What do you think, Dad? Are they trustworthy?”

“They are a little too impulsive.…” The stern look on Al Granger’s face melted away. “But yes, they’re trustworthy.” He sighed with a chuckle. “It’s not too much trouble for you?”

“Actually, you’d be doing me a favor. I love the little gal, but I have a lot of horses to keep me busy. She clearly needs some extra attention.”

“Now, that we can do!” said Pru as she, Abigail, and Lucky rushed over to pet Sandy. She tried to lick their hands, looking for wayward popcorn. “How much do we owe you?”

“Did I hear you say you’re bakers?” asked Mr. Rollins with a little wink.

“Yes, sir!” Abigail chirped. “Apple pies, apple turnovers, Apple Abigails, horse oat biscuits, scones, biscuits for people, cookies, brownies—”

“In that case,” Mr. Rollins interrupted, “how does one apple pie sound?”

A new mini horse to train for the price of one little baked dessert? Lucky could hardly believe her good fortune. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a pretty sweet deal, Mr. Rollins!”