Have You Seen This Child?

Chapter Three: Meeting Old Friends, Making New Enemies

Moments Later
Manor House

Light spilled from the Wheeler’s front door as the Wheelers themselves rushed forward to greet their new houseguest.

"You’re back so soon!" Madeleine Wheeler exclaimed.

"Welcome to Manor House!" Matthew Wheeler called. "I trust everything went well at the hospital?"

Shrieking as if she’d won the lottery, Margaret raced past the Bob-Whites toward the front porch. When she neared the Wheelers, she leapt into Matt Wheeler’s open arms and shouted, "RED! Oh, my gosh! I had no idea it was you! What a wonderful surprise!"

Laughing, Matthew set her back on her feet. "My dear child, I was hoping you’d be pleased. When my daughter told me your name and filled me in on your little adventure, I had a suspicion it would be you. You’re lucky we know your parents so well, or the hospital was quite prepared to put you into a temporary foster home."

Madeleine gently hugged Margaret. "We were so worried when we heard someone was attacked on our property. But then to know the person involved just makes it all the more troubling! Come inside, sweetie, and tell us all about it. Jim," she called over her shoulder, "be a dear and get Margie’s luggage, won’t you?" Arm in arm, they entered the warm Wheeler mansion, Matthew directly behind.

"’Be a dear’?" Jim muttered, shaking his head.

"'Red'?" Honey repeated, more than stunned by the turn of events.

"'Margie'?" Dan scowled.

Brian and Mart glanced at each other. Di looked bewildered. "What just happened?" she asked.

"Honey? Why do your parents know Margaret?" Trixie asked, getting to the heart of the matter as usual.

"I don’t know," Honey replied. "I’ve certainly never met her!"

"You don’t suppose her parents are the Langs, do you?" Jim asked his sister. "I mean, that would fit."

"Which Langs are the Langs?" Trixie asked. She felt odd, almost bereft. She’d been enjoying the prospect of a new friend and a new mystery. Finding out that the Wheelers knew Margaret, apparently extremely well, bothered her, but she was unable to say why.

Jim replied, "Lang Technologies."

"If they are those Langs," Honey said to her brother, "why would she want to run away?" Her eyes widened. "Or was she running here?"

Jim shook his head. "I don’t know, but I guess we’ll only find out when we go inside. More than likely, she’s telling Mother and Father all about it." Taking the car keys from Dan, Jim opened the trunk and retrieved Margaret’s knapsack. Slamming the lid closed, he announced, "I’m going in. It’s been a long day. Anyone up for some skating tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me," Brian answered, " except we promised our dad we’d help him mulch the Christmas tree."

"Gleeps!" Trixie struck her forehead with her hand. "That means I’ve got to un-decorate the stupid thing."

Diana sighed. "I don’t suppose you’d be interested in some company for that? Harrison took our tree down on the twenty-ninth. I miss Christmas already."

"Sounds great," Trixie agreed. "Can you come over around eight? That way, the boys can mulch while we check out the ice."

Honey nodded her head. "That sounds good to me, too. I don’t think I’ll be able to help you, because of Margaret being here, but I’m sure I can convince her to join us. She might fit into my old pair of skates."

Dan jammed his fists into his jacket pockets. "So we’re meeting around nine? I’ll be there, too. Maypenny’s going to let me sleep in tomorrow."

Tossing the knapsack over his shoulder, Jim grinned. "What, is Mr. Maypenny going soft on you? I’ll have to have a talk with him about that!"

Dan cast Jim a disgusted look, said, "Whatever. I’m going to say ‘hi’ to Uncle Bill. See you tomorrow," turned, and almost stomped into the darkness.

His jaw almost banging into his knees, Jim stuttered, "I didn’t mean-I wasn’t trying to-was he really mad? I should go after him."

Mart shook his head. "No, I think it’s fine. If he says anything to you in the morning, then apologize. But I get the impression something else is on his mind." He stared into the darkness toward the garage and above it to Regan’s rooms. A light turned on over the door as Regan opened it, admitting his nephew inside. Mart turned. "Hey, Diana. Let me drive you back home. I’ll leave the car in front of the clubhouse for tomorrow."

Diana quickly hugged Trixie and Honey good night, then cheerfully ordered Mart to start the engine and warm up the car: she was freezing! Mart took the keys from Jim and obeyed her. As Mart carefully turned the car around, Jim headed up the sidewalk to his house. When he disappeared inside the house, Trixie realized that that just left Brian, Honey and herself. Wanting to talk with Honey about Margaret, she looked patiently at her older brother, waiting for him to leave. For some reason, Brian just stared back at her. Why wouldn’t he leave? she wondered impatiently.

"Well, Trixie. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then," Honey said almost wistfully.

"Sure. You ready, Brian?" Trixie asked.

Brian hesitated. He glanced at the garage. "I think I’ll wait for Dan and find out what’s going on. You go ahead home. Tell Moms I won’t be out late."

"Okay," Trixie agreed slowly. "I will." She waited another moment, but something in the entire situation proved too awkward for her to bear, so she just turned abruptly and started walking home.

Honey shifted nervously on the gravel drive. "What do you think is bugging Dan?" she asked.

Brian shrugged. "I actually have no idea," he admitted. "I just wanted to say good night to you in private."

Honey blushed lightly. "Oh. Well, okay."

"Good night, Honey. I’ll see you tomorrow," Brian said sincerely. He held out his hand and touched her cheek gently, drawing a finger from her ear almost to her mouth. "Sweet dreams," he wished her, then turned and followed his sister’s path homeward.

Although the temperature that night was well below freezing, Honey felt quite toasty, despite her unbuttoned parka and her fashionable boots. In fact, she scarcely noticed her boots, since she floated all the way inside.

*     *     *

"So, did you or Maypenny find anything today in the Preserve?" Dan and his uncle sat in the kitchenette portion of the room above the Wheeler’s garage. The tiny apartment, perfect for a single person, seemed almost crowded with the two of them. They sat at the two-person dinette, sharing a pot of decaf. From his chair, Dan could see the neat-as-a-pin living room that made the bulk of the living space.

"What makes you think we were looking?" Regan asked. Dan just gave his uncle an ‘I know you better than that’ look. Regan relented. "No. We didn’t find anything new. We searched through that campsite you found, though. Anything useful’s pretty much been lost thanks to Mother Nature’s minions."

Dan nodded, sipping at a mug of his uncle’s coffee. "Actually, I’ve been thinking about it. I’m not sure that that is my old gang out there."

Regan frowned. "Why not? From what you told me, whoever it was clearly came from the city."

"Yeah, but so did Margaret Lang." Dan launched into a brief retelling of the evening’s events, finishing with, "so she could have been the one camping in the woods."

"I don’t think so. If she is one of those Langs, then I doubt she’s the ‘camping under the stars’ type."

Dan looked up in surprise. "You know the Langs?"

"Sure I do. I almost went to work for them." He refilled his own mug and returned to the dinette. His long legs stretched into the middle of the kitchen. He took a quick sip of the steaming brew, then explained. "The guy I worked for when I left Saratoga was selling all his horses and moving to California. He knew I was looking for a new job, so he recommended me to some of his wealthier friends. I interviewed with Matt Wheeler the day before Victor Lang came to see me, so I was already thinking about coming here, but when I met Mr. Lang, I knew I would never be happy working for him."

Intrigued, Dan leaned forward. "Why not?"

Regan frowned, remembering. "I’m not sure. I had a sort of feeling about him. I didn’t like the way he talked about his horses. Like they were things. Possessions. Equipment. He said something about replacing his previous groom because he didn’t keep ‘the stock’ in good condition. That was how he put it. ‘The stock’. He also felt horses were interchangeable. Whenever one got injured or sick, he sold it and got another one. When he talked more about the condition of the horses, I knew without him saying so exactly who was responsible for their injuries and illnesses. The Langs themselves." He finished off his coffee and got up to rinse out the mug and leave it in the sink.

Dan rose to do the same. "How do you mean? They neglected them?"

"Kind of," Regan replied. He began to disassemble the coffeemaker and clean it. "In a way. They rode them too hard. They rode them at all hours of the day and night. They interfered with the horse’s routines. I knew I couldn’t work for a family who took so little notice of animals and their needs." He leaned against the counter, drying the carafe. "I also didn’t like the way the man flaunted his wealth. And he was very, very wealthy. He seemed to take it as a personal insult when I told him I was going to take the position with the Wheelers’. He didn’t like it at all."

"Interesting. I think their daughter has inherited that same attitude. What is it about the rich?" Dan wondered.

Regan chuckled. "Come on, now. Some of your best friends are rich." He reassembled the clean coffeemaker and set it up for the next morning.

"I know. I just can’t take the attitude sometimes."

Worried, Regan asked, "Did something happen?"

Dan waved away his uncle’s concern. "No, no. Not really. Jim made a joke but I didn’t take it well. It’s not important. I’m just tired and it’s getting late. I’d better get back home."

"You know you’re welcome to stay here," Regan offered.

Dan looked around the efficiency apartment. "And sleep where? With you? Uh-uh. People will talk."

Regan laughed. "Oh, all right. You can have the sofa-bed. I’ll be generous and take the floor."

"Ha! I’d rather go back to sleeping on the street. It’s a lot more comfortable than that instrument of torture," Dan grinned in return. "Still, I’d better get back. I’ve got some things to do tomorrow before I meet everyone to go skating."

Regan bid his nephew good night and watched him walk into the inky woods towards Maypenny’s cabin. A stab of worry struck and he wondered where the mysterious campers were, and if they were watching for Dan, perhaps laying in wait for him. He shook his head. No. Thinking that way was foolish. Stupid. Senseless. Dan could take care of himself, after all, and if not, he knew those woods now better than any thug from the city.

Satisfied with this realization, Regan quickly pulled out his bed from the sofa and grabbed his quilt from the closet. Slipping out of his jeans and T-shirt, he scrambled under the blanket and shut off the light. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

*     *     *

The next morning came too early for Trixie’s satisfaction. Breakfast flew by in a blur and, before Trixie had even finished dressing, Diana arrived on the doorstep, ready to be put to work.

"I appreciate you letting me help Trixie, Mrs. Belden," Diana said. "I kind of miss not being able to un-decorate my own house."

Mrs. Belden smiled. "Don’t think twice about it, Diana. It’s always nice to see you." She looked quickly down the hall, then leaned conspiratorially close to the younger girl. "Mart is in the kitchen, doing the dishes. Why don’t you go in and say hello?"

Diana blushed prettily, bowed her head and stepped quickly down the hall. Helen giggled, thinking to herself, I really ought to be ashamed of myself, meddling in Mart’s love life, but I can’t help it! They’re just so cute together! Hearing footsteps rushing upstairs, she called, "Trixie! Diana’s here!"

"Coming, Moms!" Trixie called back.

Instead of her daughter, however, an extremely animated Bobby Belden rushed downstairs. "Did she bring Terry and Larry?" he asked.

"No, I’m afraid not. Perhaps they’ll call and you can go play later on, okay? Remember, you have to clean up your room today and I expect you to make your own bed." Helen smiled at her youngest child.

Bobby puffed out his lower lip and sat on a step. "I never get to have any fun!"

"Trust me, Bobby," Trixie huffed as she hurried down the stairs, avoiding her younger brother, "it doesn’t get any better as you get older, so you’d better enjoy it while it lasts!"

"You’re impossible," Helen laughed. "Diana’s in the kitchen waiting for you. Brian has already brought down the ornament boxes and the ladder. Do be careful when you take down the mistletoe, okay?" She started up the stairs. "Remember, the sooner you start –"

"The sooner I finish. I know," Trixie grumbled, and set out toward the kitchen. Once there, she found a strange, but not too unexpected sight. A short stack of dirty breakfast dishes sat on one side of the sink while the drying rack stood just half full of clean plates. A clear stream of fresh water poured from the faucet into the soapy water side of the sink, causing huge bubbles to spill over the counter and down the cabinets onto the floor. Her brother Mart, the orchestrator of the chaos, had, she supposed, a good reason to ignore the overflowing sink.

He was way too busy kissing Diana good morning.

"Mart!" Trixie couldn’t help but shriek angrily. She rushed forward, bumping into Mart and Diana, and shut off the faucet. She stepped back from the sink, careful not to step in the suds piling up on the floor. She turned to stare angrily at her brother.

A hot blush colored the guilty expression on her near-twin’s face. He didn’t look at her or Diana, but just grabbed a dry dish towel and began sopping up the water.

Trixie sneaked a look at Diana, ashamed to see tears glistening in her violet eyes and dots of scarlet on her cheeks that couldn’t be explained by the weather. "Come on," Trixie began lamely, "let’s get started on the decorations." She gently tugged on Diana’s elbow, urging the girl to leave Mart to clean up the mess. Just before they passed through the doorway, Trixie glanced back at her brother. He didn’t so much as glance in their direction.

The girls spent a subdued hour removing the Belden family’s Christmas decorations from the living room. Trixie tried her best to keep up a running chatter, but Diana failed to keep up her conversation. Miserable, Trixie didn’t know what to do. If only Honey were here. She’s got tact to spare! This is so awkward. I wish I knew what to say…

They finally sealed the last box of ornaments, when Trixie realized they had forgotten to take down the mistletoe in the front hallway. Dragging the ladder into the foyer, Trixie asked Diana if she could run up to inform her mother they were finished. "The boys are going to take the boxes upstairs later on," she said. "So if Moms says it’s okay, we can go skating." Wordlessly, Diana hurried upstairs.

Trixie steadied the ladder under the small chandelier that hung in the center of the foyer. Keeping her eye on the dried clump of medieval aphrodisiac, she climbed the steps. She had just reached the top of the ladder when the front door opened, slamming into the ladder, knocking her off-balance. The ladder tilted, then tipped, sending Trixie onto the hardwood floor.

*     *     *

"Trixie? Can you hear me? Are you all right? Trixie? Speak to me!"

The voice sounded very far away, the words almost as if in a foreign language. Trixie saw stars, so she assumed her eyes were open. Why was everything but the stars dark, then? She heard a voice ask, "Is she all right, Brian?"

"If she’d just open her eyes, we’d all know for sure."

"My eyes are open," Trixie forced herself to say. She felt strong hands rubbing her wrists, stimulating her circulation. She sensed she had been left on the floor, but now someone had an arm around her and was picking her up. "Where are we going?" she asked.

"Come on, Jim, lay her on the couch." That was Brian’s voice, she knew. But Jim was here? When? Where? What happened to her?

Whoever carried her laid her gently onto the plush couch, a pillow just below her head. A soft, familiar voice asked, "Trixie? Are you all right?"

Finally, her eyelids began to lift. She frowned at the unwelcome intrusion of light and reality, then smiled to see Jim’s bright green eyes staring down at her. "Hi, Jim. What are you doing here?"

"Nearly killing you, apparently," he said without humor. "How do you feel?"

She thought about it. "My head hurts. Did I hit it?"

"On the floor. Do you hurt anywhere else?" Jim asked.

Just my heart and my pride, she thought. Aloud, she only said, "No. I think I’ll live."

"More’s the pity," Mart cracked, still feeling embarrassed over getting caught kissing.

Brian, unaware of the previous incident, shot him a quelling glare. "She could have been seriously hurt. A few inches to the right and she’d have cracked her head on the oak hall table. At the least, she would have needed stitches." Mart closed his mouth, but he clearly was unimpressed. "Let me feel your head, Trixie," Brian suggested.

Jim helped Trixie sit up slowly. Sitting behind her, Brian carefully probed the back of Trixie’s head, feeling a small bump develop. "Does that hurt?" he asked her softly.

Trixie, her fingers comfortably enclosed in Jim’s warm hands, gingerly shook her head. "I’m fine. Thanks, Brian."

Brian stood. "I hesitate to suggest you go ice skating today, but if you promise no jumps or spins, you should be all right. And if you experience any, and I mean any, changes in your vision, you stop skating immediately and tell someone, okay? That could indicate brain damage."

"You mean, beyond what’s already been damaged," Mart cracked again.

Brian caught his brother’s gaze. "Come on, Mart. Let’s go finish cleaning up outside. Now," he added, before Mart could protest. He grabbed his brother on the shoulder and ushered him to the kitchen and then outside, not giving him any chance to protest.

Trixie glanced around the family room. "Where’s Diana and my parents?"

Sitting next to her legs on the couch, Jim replied, "Your dad’s outside, your mom’s upstairs with Bobby and Diana’s with her. I’m really sorry, Trixie. Your brothers told me just to go inside and get you, so I did. I didn’t know you were right there on the ladder." His face paled. "When I realized what I’d done, and saw you fall, I – I didn’t know what to do. I just ran over to you and tried to wake you."

Trixie flushed. "What did I do?"

Miserably, Jim couldn’t look at her. "You just sort of moaned. I ran outside to get Brian. Your dad is all the way in the garage, so he didn’t hear. Your mom came downstairs, but so did Bobby, and he freaked when he saw you lying there. Apparently, he thinks you’re dead, like Margaret. It took your mom and Diana to get him upstairs and calmed down. I think maybe you should go up there and convince him you’re all right."

Trixie nodded her head. "You’re probably right. The poor kid. He was asleep when we got home last night, so I didn’t get a chance to tell him about Margaret being at the Wheeler’s until this morning at breakfast. I get the impression he doesn’t quite believe she’s okay."

"Maybe we should take him to the lake today?" Jim offered.

"I’ll ask Moms about it. I’m sure she’ll be happy to get him out of the house for a little while at least." Trixie swung her legs off the couch and stood up quickly, instantly regretting the swift movement. Jim grabbed her arms and helped steady her. She shot him a grateful grimace and headed off to see Bobby.

Jim watched her leave, and felt his adrenaline level drop accordingly. What was he thinking? Just barging into the house like that! He could have killed her! Jim resolved to be more careful. He had to be more careful where Trixie was concerned!

*     *     *

Placating her mother’s worries by volunteering to watch Bobby for the rest of the morning and not skate in her usual exuberant manner, Helen Belden agreed to let Trixie go skating with the rest of the Bob-Whites. "As long as you do as Brian suggests and not overexert yourself. And if you keep an eye on that bruise. I’m not entirely convinced it’s not more serious. And don’t skate too fast. Or too long. Or too-"

"I’ll be perfectly fine, Moms! Really," Trixie interrupted. "Trust me. Both Jim and Brian will be there to watch out for me." Helen nodded her agreement. Trixie hurried to get her skates and her BWG windbreaker, and meet Diana in the farmhouse foyer.

"Are you sure you should be going with us?" Diana asked.

"Not you, too!" Trixie sighed. "I already promised Moms I’d be careful."

"We all worry about you, Trixie. You take so many risks."

"I was just getting mistletoe off the chandelier. Harmless, ordinary, everyday mistletoe! What’s the risk in that?" Exasperated, Trixie opened the front door and stepped onto the freshly swept porch.

Diana, following, said, "Well, Mart told me that mistletoe is poisonous, so…"

Trixie couldn’t help it. She had to laugh.

Trixie’s brothers had already begun to mulch the Christmas tree. Trixie could hear them in the garage, the noisy wood-chipper growling and choking on the blue spruce. "What do you do with the mulch?" Diana asked.

Trixie thought a moment before answering. "Well, mostly we’ll put it over Moms’ flower garden in the spring. Mulch prevents the ground from drying out so much when we get droughts. At least, that’s what Mart says about it. This is the first year we’ll be trying this."

"Well, if Mart says it’ll work, it will. He’s very smart about agriculture," Diana said with a proud smile.

Trixie glanced at her pretty friend. "You really like my brother, don’t you?" She watched Diana blush, answering her question. "Can I ask why?"

"Ha!" Diana said. "As if you have to ask! He’s your brother! Don’t you know what’s so wonderful about him?"

Did she really want to have this discussion? But, if Diana was offering to explain… "No," she said honestly. "I don’t know. Tell me."

Flustered, Diana spread her hands and shrugged. "Okay. He’s smart. He’s funny. He’s really cute, even if he cuts his hair too short. And, well, he’s a great kisser."

"Diana!" Trixie shrieked. "You win. I did NOT need to know that!" Horrified at the thought of her brother kissing anyone well, she immediately headed toward the garage. "Let’s get Bobby and go to the lake. Right now. I do not want to talk about this any more!"

With an satisfied grin, Diana hurried after her.

They found Jim questioning Mr. Belden about the operation of the wood chipper, which he’d borrowed from Mr. Maypenny for the day. Trixie interrupted their ‘guy talk’, as she called it, to collect Bobby and head for the lake. Jim accompanied them, ostensibly to watch over Trixie’s health. Brian and Mart agreed to hurry along as soon as they could. Reddy, torn between staying with the men and following his youthful master, ran back and forth between the diverging groups, finally choosing his tail over either option.

"Why didn’t Honey come with you?" Diana asked as Bobby raced on ahead.

Jim sighed. "She’s with Margaret, trying to find some clothes that will fit her without looking too dumpy."

"Dumpy?" Trixie asked. "What does Honey own that could possibly look dumpy?"

"Well, Honey is pretty tall and thin. Margaret’s pretty short, so… I’m guessing that Honey’s clothes are just too big for her."

"Is that it?" Trixie asked.

"What do you mean?" Jim said neutrally, ducking under a tree branch, heavily-laden with snow.

Trixie and Diana easily avoided the snowy branch. "It sounds like there’s more you haven’t told us. Like what she told your parents last night about why she was in the woods."

"Don’t make this a mystery, Trix," Jim warned.

"I’m not! I’m just asking, is all."

Jim sighed again. They’d made it to the boathouse and the sundeck. Jim brushed snow off the benches and Diana and Trixie sat down and began to put on their skates. Bobby was already tying his laces. Jim said, "She just told them what she told us in the hospital. Nothing much. She said she was actually trying to go to Jersey, but took the wrong bus and got lost. She said when she realized where she was, she ‘kinda sorta’ started looking for Manor House, hoping to surprise ‘Red’ and ‘Maddie’, but simply got lost. Someone jumped her, she got away, Dan found her, etc. etc. etc."

"What’s with the ’Red’ and ‘Maddie’?" Diana asked.

"That’s what she calls Mother and Father," Jim explained.

Diana and Trixie shared a look. Somehow, they couldn’t imagine Honey’s elegant parents responding to such common nicknames. Trixie said, "But, last night she said she didn’t realize that your parents lived in Sleepyside. How could she have been looking for them here if she didn’t know they’d be here?"

Jim shrugged. He’d put his own skates on and was carefully stepping across the rubber safety mats to the lake. "’Red’ didn’t ask."

"He didn’t ask," Diana repeated.

"He didn’t ask," Trixie nodded. "Wonder why."

"Well," Diana said, standing up carefully, "when Honey gets here, you can ask."

*     *     *

By the time Honey and Margaret, dressed finally in borrowed clothing, arrived at the lake, the rest of the BWG’s had already taken several turns about the ice. "What took you so long?" Trixie called out to them. "We’ve been here for ages!"

Honey merely smiled and shrugged. "Sorry!"

Trixie skated close to the shore, braking several feet from the bank. She looked closely at her friend, noting the strain around her eyes and mouth. "Is something wrong?" she asked quietly.

Honey just shook her head. "No, everything’s fine." She glanced sharply to her left, where Margaret stood, staring at the frozen lake. "I can’t wait to get started."

Margaret stepped carefully onto the boathouse’s sun deck. She made it to one of the built-in benches and sat down stiffly. Honey joined her after a moment. "Okay, Margaret. First thing is to take off your boots and put on the skates. Make sure your heel goes against the back of the skate."

Margaret followed Honey’s directions slowly and carefully. As Honey demonstrated how to pull the laces tight, how to wrap them around the hooks and indicated the best way to wrap the extra long laces around the boots, Margaret followed suit.

After several moments, Trixie walked off the ice and onto the deck, balancing perfectly on the metal blades. "Something wrong?" she asked.

"Margaret’s never skated before," Honey supplied.

"You’re kidding."

"Afraid I might tell you the truth?" Margaret snapped.

Trixie swallowed hard. Why couldn’t she find a way to be nice? "It’s not that. I just assumed that everyone knew how to skate."

Sitting up straight, Margaret scowled at the lake, then smiled broadly at Trixie. "Well. Just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I don’t know how."

Trixie automatically returned Margaret’s smile, but something about the way her brown eyes burned cold stuck at her. "Honey’s a good teacher. I’m sure you’ll pick it all up in no time." She caught Honey’s look, an almost frantic plea for understanding. She nodded, then headed back to the ice.

Finally finished with the skates, Margaret clapped her palms on her knees and took a deep breath. "Okay. What now?"

Honey stood. "You stand up." She held out her hands to help Margaret balance.

Margaret grabbed Honey’s hands and pulled herself up. She immediately felt her ankles give way, but the stiff leather uprights on the boots forced her to remain standing. She swayed forward, leaning heavily onto Honey. They fought for balance together and found it a moment later.

Margaret was afraid to move. "Okay. I’m standing. Now what?"

Honey took a deep breath. As far as she could tell, Margaret was too terrified to take a step. "You walk out onto the ice. Carefully. Put your weight on only one foot at a time, bending the knee you’re leaning on. Like this." She demonstrated, walking carefully to the edge of the lake, checking over her shoulder to make sure Margaret followed suit.

As soon as Margaret’s blades met the ice, however, they shot out from under her, landing her on the ice on her butt. Her mouth open comically, Margaret could only declaim, "Oh!"

Honey allowed herself a grin at her houseguest’s expense. "Ice is very slippery. Try not to move your feet unless you plan to move your body."

"Great advice," Margaret scowled. "Now help me up."

Honey skated easily around in front of Margaret and held out her hands, digging the picks of her figure skates into the ice, bracing herself against Margaret’s weight. "One skate and then the other, Margie, and I’ll pull you up."

Margaret looked angry as Honey pulled her upright. "Don’t call me that."

Honey’s hazel eyes turned questioning. "Call you what?"

"Margie. I hate that name." She mimicked, "'My little Margie'. Ick."

Honey’s hazel eyes turned even more confused. "But my parents call you that and you don’t complain."

"Yeah? So? Your parents are useful. They can call me anything they want."

"What’s going on?" Brian hockey-stopped a few feet away, spraying ice chips onto the slushy snow bank.

"I’m teaching Margaret how to skate," Honey answered.

"Unless you’d rather do it," Margaret fairly cooed.

Shocked at the blatant flirtation, Honey just stared at the other girl. Brian, however, felt a blush creep up the sides of his neck. "Umm…" he stammered. "I’m sure Honey will be a great teacher. She’s a really good skater. I guess I’ll see you out there, then." He turned and skated away from them, his skates clicking sharply against the thick ice.

"Is he seeing anyone?" Margaret asked.

Honey could only blink. "Um, no. He’s not. Not that I’ve heard, anyway."

"He is so handsome. Don’t you think? And unattached to boot. Grrrowl." Margaret clucked her tongue and stared across the ice as Brian joined in a game of tag with the others.

"I guess so," Honey managed. She found out last night that Margaret was the equivalent of a high school Junior – Mart & Dan’s age, in fact. She was going to be 17 in February, while Honey would only be turning 16. Brian, on the other hand, was 18 already. The three year age difference between Honey and her most major crush seemed insurmountable. Why shouldn’t he be more attracted to an older girl?

"Well?" Margaret asked. "What’s the next lesson?"

Recovering her sensibility, Honey began teaching Margaret how to skate. First, she demonstrated how to bend the knee to keep balanced, while turning the other foot out to push off the ice. Then she skated backwards while pulling Margaret, allowing her to get a feel for the ice and attempt a few pushes herself. Steadily, Margaret’s sense of balance improved and she grew sure enough of herself to inquire about the other Bob-Whites, and the little blond demon zipping between and around them.

"That’s Bobby Belden, Mart and Brian and Trixie’s younger brother. He’s real sweet," Honey said. "You’ll like him."

"I don’t like little kids."

"How can you not like little kids?" Honey asked, astonished.

Margaret shrugged. "I guess it’s not really like that, exactly. I should say they don’t like me. I never know what to say to them."

As if his ears were burning, Bobby skated directly for them, hockey-stopping and shooting ice onto their jeans. "Hey!" Margaret shouted, angry.

"Bobby! That’s not nice!" Trixie scolded her brother, skating to join them.

Bobby’s big blue eyes filled with dismay. "I’m sorry, Trixie. I just wanted to say hello and see if the strange girl was all right. I didn’t mean anything. Honest!"

Trixie relented, as she always did, at Bobby’s apologies. "It’s okay, sweetie. But you shouldn’t shoot ice at girls. It isn’t nice."

Margaret, stung by Bobby’s tag of her as ‘the strange girl’, decided then and there her next project was to make the skating cherub her friend. Other girls knew how to befriend children, she thought, how hard could it be? "You can shoot ice at me if you show me how to do it, too."

Bobby laughed. "Girls don’t shoot ice!" Cackling gaily, he skated away from the group.

Well, that was that. Nice try, Lang. Trying not to show her disappointment, she turned to Honey. "See? Kids don’t like me."

Honey had no reply. Trixie, feeling out of her depth, just let Honey resume the skating lesson on her own and returned to the game of tag.

Mart was ‘It’, and he seemed determined to get Brian, so Dan had an opportunity to question Trixie. "What’s Margaret like? Has she said anything more about the incident?"

"No," Trixie shook her head. "Not a peep. It’s just so mysterious that she knows the Wheelers, but that she’s never been to Sleepyside before. And if she were looking for Manor House, why would she have been in that part of the woods? You can easily see the house from the street since it’s so high up on the hill and it’s winter. Plus there’s the sign on the mailbox."

Dan sighed. "It is mysterious. She still won’t say why she’s hiking around the Catskills in the middle of winter?"

"She’s looking for Albany. Like it floated down river or something." Trixie snickered.

"You don’t believe her?" Amusement flickered in his dark eyes.

"Not a bit! To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure she’s Margaret Lang."

Overhearing that bit of conversation, Jim skated closer. "Well, I can tell you: she is. Mother and Father were all over her last night and this morning."

"Define ‘all over her’," Trixie requested.

Jim shrugged. "It was all, ‘Margie, are you warm enough’, ‘Margie are you cool enough’, ‘Margie, did you sleep long enough’, ‘Margie, did you oversleep’. It was almost sickening."

Thunderstruck, Trixie laid her hand on her heart. "Do my ears deceive me? Jim Wheeler is actually admitting to having less-than-charitable feelings toward a guest in his very own home?"

Jim’s face flushed scarlet. "Never mind," he grumbled and turned away.

"No! No," Trixie hastened to explain. "I don’t mean to tease! I just thought it kind of funny to hear you go on about it. I mean, you didn’t mention any of this earlier." From the corner of her eye, Trixie saw Honey and Margaret, still skating slowly around the edge of the lake.

Jim sighed. "I know. I try to be nice to people because I remember a time when no one was nice to me. I remember how that felt."

Dan laughed. "Tell me about it. It’s real hard to figure out where you belong in a –oh, what did Mr. Santelli call it? An ‘established social system’."

Jim nodded. "Santelli’s a good teacher. I had him for Psychology, too."

Chagrined to remember that she was the main culprit in making life difficult for Dan when he first arrived in Sleepyside, Trixie resolved to be nicer to Margaret. Still, she felt she needed to explain her earlier remark. "I only meant she doesn’t ‘look’ like a Margaret. And have you noticed that every time you call her that, she kind of flinches and looks away?"

Seriously, Jim stared at her. "Trixie, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about."

"Yeah, I’d have to agree with Jim. Of course, I haven’t been around her near as much as you two, but she seems to answer when you call her, so…." Dan shrugged.

At that moment, Mart’s triumphant cry echoed across the lake. "You are IT, Brian! IT! IT! IT!" Mart hurried to the center of the ice, crowing at the top of his lungs. Almost simultaneously, Diana’s laughter turned to a shriek as Brian easily caught up with her, making her ‘It’.

The game of tag continued for another hour, interrupted by several time-outs to retie skates and demonstrate tricks. Eventually, they had crisscrossed the entire lake. By the time the game ended, Margaret, who did not play or join in the showing-off, could skate on her own. "I want to try backwards now," she announced as the games wound down.

"Bad idea!" Mart panted, exhausted from trying to keep up with Dan and Brian. "Sorry, but there’s too much ice chopped up. You’d be sure to fall and then probably cut yourself." Margaret scowled angrily. Mart lifted his hands as a mock shield and yelped, "Hey! She’s blasting me with her x-ray vision!"

"Ugh!" Margaret grunted. "Superman uses heat vision to burn things. X-ray vision is just for looking through things. Get it right, will you?"

Eight pairs of stunned eyes stared at her. Bobby was the first to speak. "Mart? Why is Margie mad at you?"

"For heaven’s sake! Stop calling me that! My name is not Margie! Can’t any of you get that straight?" Flushed red with anger, Margaret turned and tried to skate directly to the shoreline, but her skate tips caught in a divot in the ice and she went down, hard, on her hands and knees and stomach, her momentum shooting her across a thin layer of melted ice about twenty feet away from the group. It was a spectacular slide.

As Margaret slid, however, the ice cut into her palms. She instinctively curled into a ball as she coasted to a stop. She looked at her hands, trembling with the cold, red with friction burns and cursed. Loudly. Profanely. Her curse word of choice echoed across the ice and rebounded on the tree line beyond the shore. She sat upright and stared at her hands. She was bleeding. She cursed again, still loudly, just as profanely. Tears stung her eyes and she tucked her hands under her armpits. Ice water soaked into the seat of her jeans and froze into chips in her borrowed sweater. She was now cold, wet, bleeding and utterly, utterly miserable.

Almost silently, Brian skated over to her. He knelt beside her and gently tugged her hands out so he could inspect them. He took in the inflamed flesh, the long scrapes and the beading blood. He brushed off the remaining ice. "You’ll be fine," he told her, then looked into her face. He easily read the anguish and misery on Margaret’s face and somehow knew it wasn’t from embarrassment, although she was clearly embarrassed. There was something more bothering her, and instincts told him it had to do with people calling her ‘Margie’, but for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. "Help you up?" Brian asked.

Dan skated around behind her and, without preamble, slipped his hands under her arms and lifted her easily.

Margaret avoided their eyes, feeling tears slide down her cheeks. Concentrating on regaining her balance, she allowed herself to ignore the slow arrival of the others. Honey skated next to her and, slipping her arm around her shoulders, said softly, "Lean on me if you like. I’ll help you off the ice." Margaret sniffled, allowing Honey to tow her.

When Trixie saw Margaret flying across the ice, her first impulse was to burst out laughing. It was just such a comical conclusion to a rather dramatic episode, she thought. But when Margaret cursed, automatically Trixie’s hands covered Bobby’s ears in a vain attempt to keep him from hearing it, or the phrase that followed. Now that Margaret was standing, and Brian, Dan and Honey were helping the girl off the ice, she let Bobby’s ears alone. "Stay with me, Bobby," Trixie ordered softly, perfectly willing to let others deal with the situation.

Mart, first astonished at Margaret’s angry attack and then amused to see her pride had literally gone before her fall, followed the group off the ice. Trixie took Bobby’s hand and towed him toward the shoreline where the Beldens had left their boots earlier. Jim skated slowly after them, staring at the ice where Margaret had fallen. He caught up with Trixie a little distance away from the others.

"She must have hurt herself badly," Jim told her.

"Oh?" Trixie glanced up at the handsome redhead. "It seemed more like she just got the wind knocked out of her." She focused on getting Bobby’s skates off his feet and then his feet into his snow boots.

"There’s blood on the ice."

Trixie’s head snapped up in surprise. "She really cut herself? Wow." She looked to see if Bobby were paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he seemed preoccupied with scraping the ice off his skate blades.

"Something’s bothering her," Jim whispered tersely.

"No kidding," Trixie said, just as terse.

"You think we should call a meeting about it?"

"Sure. This afternoon all right?"

Jim nodded. "I’ll tell the others." Walking steadily on the deck, Jim joined the rest of the Bob-Whites and Margaret.

The red-haired girl sat on the bench, surrounded by Di and Honey on either side, Brian kneeling in front of her and Dan and Mart standing guard behind her. She was crying, almost uncontrollably, as Brian removed her skates and tried to calm her down.

"Shhh," he was saying, "it’s all right. You’ll be fine. You’re off the ice now."

Margaret kept shaking her head and muttering. Honey patted her on the shoulder and told her, "Don’t worry. Your parents will be here soon and then everything will be fine."

At that, Margaret jerked violently away from the dark blonde girl. "No! Nothing will be fine when they get here. Don’t you see?"

Helplessly, Honey turned her hazel eyes to her adopted brother. "Jim? Maybe you can help?"

Jim knelt beside Brian. Reaching under the bench, he got Margaret’s shoes and helped Brian put them on her socked feet. "Why did you run away, Margaret? What did your parents do?"

Still sobbing, Margaret could only speak in quick bursts of breath. "I’m not – Margaret. How – many times – do I have to – to tell you?"

Trixie sent Bobby to play in the softer snow beyond the boathouse and eagerly joined the group huddled around Margaret. She knew the girl was on her way to revealing her secrets and she was determined to hear them firsthand. As unobtrusively as possible, she moved to stand next to Dan, behind the bench.

Jim answered Margaret’s almost unintelligible question. "But of course you’re Margaret. It says so on your driver’s license and your library card and your American Express. If you’re not Margaret, then who is?"

Bleary eyes met Jim’s. Margaret shook her head. "I don’t think she exists." Her brown eyes fluttered and her head drooped. Her hands in Di’s began to tremble.

"Uh, Brian? I think something’s wrong with her," Di said, worriedly.

Brian felt Margaret’s pulse and lifted an eyelid to check her pupils. "I think you’re right. Does anyone have anything to eat? A candy bar or something chocolate?"

They glanced at each other, patting their jacket pockets and grimacing. "No, nothing," Mart said. "Does anyone know if there’s something in the boathouse icebox?"

Trixie snapped her fingers. "Bobby! He’s got some cookies in his jacket. I saw him eating one earlier. I’ll get them." She hurried after her little brother. She returned a moment later with two crumbly chocolate chip cookies, proudly held aloft in her hands. "He always sneaks sweets." She handed the cookies to Brian, who promptly broke off a piece and held it to Margaret’s lips.

"Brian? What’s wrong with her?" Honey asked.

"I think her blood sugar’s dropping. The cookie should bring her level up enough to get her back to the house for something to eat." Brian didn’t have any luck just giving her the cookie, though. She kept turning her head away from him. "She didn’t bring her medication with her, did she?"

Honey shook her head. "No. Is she going to be all right?" A tear escaped her eye and she wiped it hurriedly off her cheek in an effort to appear brave and responsible.

"She’ll be fine if I can just get her to have some of this cookie." Growing more irritated, Brian finally just shoved the cookie chunk between Margaret’s teeth. Remarkably, she began to chew and swallow, then hold her mouth open for more. Brian fed her the rest of the cookies until the glassy look retreated from her eyes and she stopped crying. "Margaret? Do you understand me? We’re going to go back up the hill to the house and get you something to eat, okay?"

Looking at him through narrowed eyes, Margaret told him, "I’m not a child nor am I an invalid. I just have a medical condition. I don’t need your patronizing attitude nor do I need your help in getting back to the house."

"Yes, you do," Dan corrected her. "Had Brian not given you that cookie, you’d probably be passed out by now, on your way to a coma. That what you want?"

Margaret didn’t look behind her to see him, but she glared all the same. She seethed with impotent fury, her lips compressed tightly to prevent herself from unleashing her rage. She noticed her feet were back in her shoes, the laces left untied. She bent over to tie them, pointedly ignoring Jim’s attempt to tie them for her. "I can tie my own laces," she said. "I learned when I was three."

"Whatever," Jim said, standing abruptly. "Then you can get up the hill by yourself, too. But I kind of doubt it. When you’re ready to accept some assistance, let us know. We’d be glad to help you. Guys?" Jim glanced at each of the Bob-Whites in turn, warning them with his eyes to leave Margaret alone. As one, they all backed away from the bench and began to remove their own skates and slip on their boots.

Margaret kept her eyes downcast, Trixie noticed. Clearly, something was seriously bothering her. What did she mean, ‘Margaret doesn’t exist’? She must be Margaret, since it was clearly her picture on her license. And she admitted to as much yesterday in the hospital. What was going on? And who attacked her in the woods? Someone who looked like Dan. That could be anyone. What if it were someone from school? Someone she knew, even? It was a mystery all right, and Trixie itched to solve it.

The Bob-Whites finished tying up their skates and stood, prepared to leave the lake. Margaret hadn’t moved. Helplessly, wordlessly, Honey pleaded for an idea how to proceed with her houseguest. She caught Jim’s resolute expression as he passed her. "Coming, Honey?" he said.

"Sure," she answered reluctantly, and turned to follow him off the deck and toward the driveway.

One by one, the rest of the Bob-Whites followed, except Trixie and Dan. Trixie saw Bobby building a snow fort several yards away. She glanced up at Dan. "How about you?" she asked.

"I’ll be along. Lunch at the Wheeler’s, right?"

"Right. We’re meeting up as soon as we get our skates back in the clubhouse and I bring Bobby home," she said. She didn’t want to leave Margaret alone with just Dan. She didn’t know if he’d be able to get more information out of her or not, and if he did, she wasn’t sure he could be trusted to let her in on any interesting information. Fighting her snooping instincts, Trixie decided she had better get Bobby and just go home.

Dan watched Trixie leave. Margaret still sat staring at the lake. He saw her breath puff into the air and crystallize into huge clouds. Just standing without moving, however, allowed the cold to penetrate to his bones. He bounced lightly on his feet, trying to get his blood moving. He figured, he could outlast Margaret’s stubbornness. Couldn’t he? Eventually, she would have to try and make it up the Wheeler’s hill, right? And she would see that she needed help, wouldn’t she? And he’d be there to give her that help, right?

Ten minutes passed.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Dan grew worried. When would he know if something more serious was wrong with Margaret? Brian seemed to know with just a touch if she was sick or not. Dan wondered if he could run up the snowy hill and return with her medicine before she went into shock. Just how long did that take, anyway?

Suddenly, Margaret said, "Are you really just going to stand there all day?"

Startled, it took Dan a moment to make a reply. "If I have to," he said finally.

She shook her head in disbelief. "So, you have no life?"

"I have a life. Mostly it’s about helping people, now."

"What was it about before?"

Dan shrugged. "Hurting people."

"Huh?" She turned her head to the side, interested. He stood directly behind her, so she still couldn’t see him directly.

"Just what I said. I used to hurt people. I ended up hurting myself, though, in the end."

Margaret leaned back against the bench. "You mean like, you were a bully?"

Dan smiled humorlessly. "Not exactly. I was in a gang."

"A gang," she repeated. "What kind of gang? Because, I noticed you all keep wearing the same jackets. Aren’t you a member of a gang now?"

"No," he said bluntly. "It’s a semi-secret organization."

She nodded. "So what does ‘BWG’ stand for?"

"That’s the secret part."

Now she did twist in the bench to look at him. "You’re kidding, right?"

Straight-faced, Dan said, "Nope."

She looked him up and down. "When were you ever in a gang? I bet you’ve never done anything illegal in your life."

Now Dan had to laugh. "Actually, I’ll be on probation until I’m eighteen."

Her eyebrows rose sharply. "Probation? You mean like, real, get-out-of-jail-and-you’re-on-probation probation? Whatever for?"

"I told you already. For hurting people. And, yeah. It was either probation here or Juvie Hall. Which would you have picked?"

She thought about it. Shrugging, she said, "Freedom, I guess."

He sighed. "Well, there’s freedom and then there’s freedom. I’m out here, but I can’t leave the county without my Probation Officer’s okay or I’ll violate my terms. Travel restrictions bite, you know?"

"All restrictions bite." She twisted completely around on the bench to face him more comfortably. She took a good long look, pleased to realize that Dan, standing straight and tall, his dark hair blowing gently in the icy breeze, his cheeks ruddy with cold, resembled nothing so much as a modern-day Heathcliff. "So, tell me about this gang you were in."

Staring over Margaret’s head across the lake, Dan thought he detected movement in the far trees. He waited, but the movement was not repeated. Something told him, however, that it wasn’t a deer. "I’ll tell you on the way up to Manor House."

"Ick. Do we have to go back?"

"Yeah. We do. Let’s go, okay?" Dan looked at her petulant expression. "Come on. Face it. You can’t out-stubborn me, okay? I come by it naturally and I’ve got it in spades. Besides, that’s the deal. You come up the hill with me and I tell you all about my wicked past."

"Oooh!" she jumped up off the bench. "It’s wicked? Let’s walk slow!" She followed him off the deck into the snow. She tucked her hand into his arm and grinned excitedly. "Okay. I’m ready. Tell me all about this gang of yours."

 

Chapter 4: The Plot Thickens! (sort of)

Trixie arrived at Manor House for lunch as soon as she could. It hadn’t taken as long as she had feared to pass Bobby off on her mother and then scoot up the trail to the mansion. By the time she made it to the front porch, the rest of the Bob-Whites had already gotten warm and cozy inside. Trixie joined them after putting her coat in the hall closet and removing her overshoes. She hurried into the living room and stopped short. "Where’s Dan?" she asked.

Honey glanced at Jim, then said, "He’s still waiting with Margaret."

Trixie nodded slowly. "So, we’re just going to let them sit out there all day?"

Jim moved to stand near the large stone fireplace. He stared up at an oil painting of Madeline Wheeler and sighed. "No, I guess not for much longer. I didn’t think she’d be this stubborn about it, you know?"

Diana and Mart sat next to each other on the smaller sofa close to the front windows. Mart glanced outside. "I don’t see anyone coming yet. But as long as she’s with Dan, she’ll be okay. Right, Brian?"

Brian shrugged. "I guess so. I only remember what they taught me last summer in that EMT course."

"Well, you certainly seem to know what you’re doing, anyway," Honey said loyally.

Brian grinned at her. "That’s what they taught me in that EMT course. No matter what you do, do it with authority."

Trixie joined in the light laughter that followed. She turned as Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler entered the room. "Hi, Mr. Wheeler. Mrs. Wheeler," she said. "It’s nice to see you. What’s that in your hands?"

Madeline Wheeler smiled. "It’s an old photo album, from years ago, when Matthew and I socialized more with the Langs. There are several pictures of Margaret here. I thought she might like to see them."

Honey’s mother looked so worried and fretful to Trixie, however, that she impulsively asked, "Oh! May I have a look, please?"

The older woman smiled and handed the album to Trixie, who immediately began flipping through the pages. "Oh, look, Honey! She’s so cute in this little sailor dress!" They laughed at the photo, then Trixie brought the album to show Diana.

Madeline smiled approvingly, then asked her daughter, "Honey, where’s Margie?"

Honey glanced at Jim, uncertain exactly what to tell her parents. Jim turned and said, before she could speak, "She’s still at the lake. Dan’s with her."

"That boy is with her?" Madeline turned worried eyes to her husband. "Matthew, is that best?"

Matthew shared his wife’s concern. He slipped his arm about her slender shoulders and said, "Don’t worry, darling. Margie’s just down the hill. She’ll be fine."

Mart glanced out the window once more. "Hey! Here they come!" He pointed at the figures of two people, one in a bright red jacket, trudging up the snowy drive, arm in arm.

Madeline rushed to the window. "Oh, thank God she’s all right!" she cried. "I was so worried about her!"

Trixie frowned. "What’s to worry about, Mrs. Wheeler? It’s not like Dan would let anything happen to her."

The older woman turned away from the window and said sadly, "Children, there are things about Margie that you just don’t know."

"Like what, Mother?" Honey asked.

"Matthew?" Madeline ceded the floor to her husband.

Matthew cleared his throat nervously. "It’s not a big secret, you understand. As you all know already, Margie has diabetes. Now, what that means for her is she’s got a delicate constitution. She has to watch everything she eats and does for her entire life. No slip-ups, no mistakes, nothing."

"But, sir," Brian said, "diabetes doesn’t mean she can’t live a fairly normal life."

Matthew glanced at his wife. "No, not ordinarily. But Margie’s diabetes has been getting worse over the last couple of years, despite all the best doctors and hospitals in the world. Her parents have taken her to Europe several times in efforts to improve her health, but nothing’s worked. Last I heard, they were considering a transplant operation of some kind."

"You mean, she’s dying?" Honey’s voice quavered and her eyes filled with tears. Even Trixie felt badly for the strange, mean-spirited Margaret Lang.

"Oh, Honey," Madeline said, crossing the room to enfold her daughter in a warm embrace. "We don’t know for certain. But people do die from diabetes, and it’s likely Margie will, too. Someday. We just hope it’s not anytime soon. When I think of what a happy child she was. Such a delight. And so smart! Seeing her now, well, she’s not the same girl at all."

Trixie glanced at Jim. He seemed uncomfortable about something. Was he regretting his earlier decision to just leave Margaret by the boathouse, in hopes of teaching her a lesson about asking for help?

From the living room, they all could hear the front door open and Dan and Margaret enter. They were laughing hysterically, stomping their feet free of snow, removing their jackets and setting down their skates.

"I can’t believe you did that! I mean, really! That was really, very cruel!" Margaret said, her laughter echoing in the hallway.

"Come on! He deserved it. What else was I going to do, say it was mine? Not likely!" Dan laughed.

"Guess I should have known better than to think you’d tell a cop the truth! Especially after all you’ve already told me."

Dan and Margaret turned the corner into the living room, grinning. Margaret said bluntly, "What’s wrong with all of you? Did somebody die or something?"

"I’m sorry if we upset you earlier," Honey blurted out. "We didn’t mean to get you mad."

"Um. Okay," Margaret replied dubiously. She glanced at Madeline and Matthew. "So, when’s lunch? I’m starving."

"Right away, Margie!" Madeline assured her. "We were just waiting for you." She stepped forward and tucked her arm in Margaret’s and fairly pulled her across the floor toward the dining room, Matthew following closely behind.

"I guess lunch is ready," Jim said, and ushered them all into the dining room.

*     *     *

"That was delicious, Celia. My compliments to Cook, please." Madeline Wheeler dabbed her napkin at the corners of her mouth and set it lightly beside her plate.

"Thank you, Ma’am. I’ll pass that along," Celia said, collecting the lunch plates. "Miss Margaret? Are you finished?" Celia hesitated by Margaret’s chair. The girl had barely finished half her knish and only a quarter of her stew.

Trixie, sitting across from her, observed carefully as Margaret said, "Yes, I’m done. It was good, but I’m just not overly fond of knishes."

"Margie, dear," Matthew said, "shouldn’t you be eating more? Your parents will think we’re not taking good care of you here."

Trixie didn’t miss the fury that suddenly lit Margaret’s brown eyes, nor the effort it seemed to take the girl to force a cheerful smile, look directly at Mr. Wheeler and say, "They know I eat what I can when I can. I’m fine, really. I’m sure I’ll eat more at dinner."

"You’re just so thin, dear," Madeline sighed. "We’re concerned about you."

"I know, Maddie, and I appreciate your concern. But I’m fine. Really." Margaret returned her attention to her place mat.

The discussion seemed settled for the moment, so Honey asked brightly, changing the subject, "What should we all do now?"

The Bob-Whites glanced at each other. Their usual routine was to go horseback riding after lunch, split up and then meet back after dinner for marshmallow roasting at the lake or for games at the clubhouse or someone’s living room. But now they had to figure in Margaret to those plans.

"If I remember right, you guys keep horses here?" Margaret asked.

"That’s right, dear," Madeline replied. "The children usually go riding after lunch. Why don’t you go with them?"

Jim and Honey glanced at each other. "Actually, Mother, I’m not sure we have enough horses for everyone."

Diana said, "Well, if I can swing by my place, I can pick up Sunny, and Mart could ride my dad’s horse. That’s two."

"And with me on Lady and Trixie on Susie, that will leave Starlight, Strawberry and Jupiter for Jim and Brian and Margie. I mean, Margaret. Plus Dan already has Cranberry here. We’ll be fine," Honey said. "Margaret, Strawberry is really gentle. Or you could ride Lady, if you prefer. She’s Mother’s horse and very quiet."

"No, thanks," Margaret replied. "Red, if I remember right, you once told me about your horse and how you weren’t sure I’d be able to handle him. I’d sure like to try, now that I have the opportunity."

Trixie waited to hear Mr. Wheeler laugh disbelievingly, deny her request or order her to remain behind. Wasn’t Margaret in ‘delicate health’? How could she hope to handle Jupiter, known for being difficult to control? Instead, the man nodded thoughtfully. "You know," he said, "this is the perfect time. Let’s all go to the stables and see how you do!"

*     *     *

In the stables, Trixie hurried to saddle Susie. She whispered loudly to Honey, saddling Lady in the next stall. "Do you think he’ll allow it?"

"I don’t know," Honey whispered back. "He’s so protective."

"And he’s got such a temper," Mart, added, overhearing. "I can’t hang around to see what happens. I’m taking Diana to pick up Sunny. It’ll be interesting to see what ‘Margie’ ends up riding, will it not?" Mart went outside to where Diana waited.

Trixie led Susie out of her stall into the main walkway of the stables. She met Honey with Lady and they led the horses slowly toward the center of the stables, where a battle of wills was being waged.

"I’m telling you, Regan," Matthew said tightly, "this girl knows how to ride. She’s got ribbons and trophies up the -, well, she’s got walls full!" The two men stood a few feet apart, Regan holding the reins to Jupiter, a huge black horse and one of the subjects of discussion.

Regan stared evenly at his boss. "That’s nice, Mr. Wheeler, but that doesn’t mean a thing to me. She got those ribbons on her own horse. A horse that knew her and understood her. We’ve discussed Jupiter before. He needs a rider who can handle him properly. Not bully him and not be afraid of him, either. Can you honestly say this Lang girl can do that?"

"That’s what we’re aiming to find out." Margaret entered the stables then. She’d taken the time to change into her own jeans and an old pair of Honey’s riding boots before joining the others.

Trixie watched as Margaret strode confidently into the room and stood in front of Mr. Wheeler, facing the groom. "Now," she said, "you are…"

"Call me Regan," he said, holding out his hand.

Margaret glanced at it, hesitated, then lightly shook his hand. "I’m Margaret Lang. This is Jupiter, I presume?" She nodded at the horse.

Mr. Wheeler took hold of the reins a few inches above Regan’s grip. "Yes, it is, Margie. You can ride him just as soon as Regan okays it."

"Excuse me?" Margaret glanced up at Mr. Wheeler. "It’s under his say-so? I thought it was your horse."

Trixie glanced sideways at Honey. She sensed Brian, Dan and Jim nearby, also hanging on every word. What would Regan, known for his temper where the horses were concerned, do now? What would Mr. Wheeler say next?

Mr. Wheeler didn’t let go of the reins. His smile was friendly, but a warning light entered his eyes as he spoke calmly to his employee. "Regan, let her ride the horse."

Regan regarded Margaret. She stared up at him defiantly, almost daring him to turn her down. He looked up and down her, trying to judge her horse-sense. She was smaller than he would have preferred. Jupiter was probably too big an animal for her to ride comfortably. A pony would be too big for her, he thought wryly. She had attitude, however, but there was something else in her eyes, something beyond the attitude and the condescension. "Sorry, Mr. Wheeler," Regan said. "But I have final say over the horses. I’ve only got a snaffle on Jupiter and I’d rather get a better sense of her skill before allowing her out there."

"Better sense-!" Margaret sputtered, her hands on her hips.

Regan just gave her a baleful glare, then continued speaking to Mr. Wheeler. "Besides, I doubt she’s got enough strength in her wrists to handle him."

Margaret nearly shrieked. "What a load of sexist nonsense! It’s because I’m a girl, isn’t it! You think I can’t handle him because I’m female!"

Trixie stared as Margaret got as much in Regan’s face as her slight frame allowed. Regan just stood straighter, his mouth flattened into a grim line. Even the horses seemed to be paying strict attention to the unfolding drama.

Mr. Wheeler said quietly, "Now, Margie, I’m sure Regan’s reasons are well considered and correct." He gestured behind him, still meeting the groom’s eyes. "Why don’t you ride Starlight, dear? He’s an excellent mount and it’ll give Regan the chance to judge your skill." He jerked his head in the direction of his son and the horse in question.

Trixie hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath until it all whooshed out of her. She watched Margaret step back from Regan and look up at Mr. Wheeler, ready to argue again. Instead, however, she just clamped her mouth closed, pivoted on her heel and headed straight for Jim and Starlight. She practically snatched the reins from Jim’s grasp and yanked hard, leading the horse outside.

"Well!" Matthew clapped his hands together in an attempt to destroy the tension. "Why don’t you kids all get started, then?"

Trixie and Honey, leading their horses, proceeded into the yard. Margaret had been resting her cheek on Starlight’s nose and stroking the animal’s neck. When she saw the girls had joined her, she moved to the side to mount up. Pointedly ignoring her, Trixie easily climbed into Susie’s saddle and settled herself in place. She tried to hide a grin and not be obvious about taking notice of Margaret realizing she couldn’t get her foot into Starlight’s stirrup. She was a inch too short.

Still holding Starlight’s reins, Margaret glanced around the stable yard, then lead the horse close to the fence. Holding the reins, she climbed up the fence until she was high enough to climb comfortably into the saddle. A wave of smug superiority washed over Trixie. At least she’d never needed help to get in the saddle!

As Trixie watched Margaret on Starlight, however, her smug superiority faded, replaced by admiration and jealousy. Margaret easily adjusted the stirrups, until her legs hung almost straight along Starlight’s sides. She seemed to sit closer to the horse than Trixie thought was possible. Margaret then let out the reins and allowed Starlight to walk slowly around the snowy yard, turning him left and then right.

"What is she doing?" Trixie whispered to Honey.

"Testing him out," Honey replied. "I guess."

Trixie nodded. As Margaret urged Starlight into the main corral, Trixie caught a glimpse of the expression on everyone’s faces. Brian, Jim and Dan had expressions composed of equal amounts admiration and envy, with Dan’s leaning more toward the former. Mr. Wheeler looked proud, nudging Regan with an ‘See? I told you so’ smile. Regan…. Regan had the most curious expression on his face. As she tried to decipher it, Honey leaned over and poked her upper arm.

"Hey! What’s that for?" Trixie said.

"Why are you staring at Regan?" Honey whispered, directing Lady closer to Susie so they could talk more privately.

"I’m not! Not really," Trixie said. "I’ve just never seen him look like that before."

Now Honey turned to look, but Regan had already returned to the stables. "Look like what?" she asked.

Trixie shrugged. "I don’t know. I was trying to figure it out when you interrupted me."

"Oh. Sorry." Honey didn’t look sorry, however. Instead, she gestured to the corral. "Why don’t we go inside and let the horses move around a bit while we’re waiting for Di to get back. Then I can tell you about this morning."

Eagerly, Trixie complied.

*     *     *

"There he is. See him? That’s the lousy b-d who messed me up."

"Which one? I can’t tell."

"The dark-haired one. That’s him. We go after him tonight."

*     *     *

"So? Tell me!" Trixie urged. "I’ve been dying of curiosity since this morning."

"Well," Honey sighed. "You know I don’t like to gossip, or tell stories about people, but I just don’t know what to do. So I guess I’m asking advice. That’s not gossiping, right?"

Trixie kept Susie at a pace even with Lady’s. As they circled the corral, she could see Margaret putting Starlight through his paces. Dan on Cranberry and Jim on Jupiter hung out in the smaller pasture, doing the same. Brian, Trixie noticed, had returned to the warmth of the stable to await Di and Mart’s return and saddle Strawberry. "That’s right," she answered Honey, "you’re just asking my advice about your houseguest. There’s nothing strange in that."

Honey giggled. "Except that you’re always the one coming to me with houseguest problems. Anyway, this is what happened. First, Margaret was late for breakfast, which meant I got a lecture when I dove into the scrambled eggs before ‘our guest’ had even come downstairs. Then, Margaret didn’t eat much at the table and Mother kept plying her with cereal and biscuits and muffins and fruit." Honey shuddered.

"What’s wrong?" Trixie asked. Honey seemed distressed by something other than her mother’s focus on a teenage girl whom, until the night before, Honey hadn’t even know her mother knew, much less knew well.

"Well," Honey sighed, "nothing, really. Except that I remember when Mother used to treat me like that, on those few occasions when I was home sick and they were there, too, and we’d have breakfast together. I used to like all their fuss, because it meant I got their attention. Seeing Margaret, though, I know how I must have looked then."

"How?"

Honey frowned, trying to put her thoughts into words. "I don’t know. Trapped, I think. Anyway, it all just got worse after that. Mother had to oversee Margaret’s bath and her dressing and- what’s so funny?"

Trixie had bust out laughing at the thought of the elegant Mrs. Wheeler overseeing anyone’s bath. "Listen to what you just said and then you tell me!"

Honey thought a moment, and then giggled herself. "That’s not what I meant and you know it! I just mean that Mother made sure she had soft towels and fresh soap and the right kind of shampoo. Then they took a trip through my closet and let me tell you! I had no idea my taste in clothing was so terrible!"

Trixie glanced at Margaret, still safely a good distance away from them and out of earshot. "You’re kidding. She said that?"

"Well, it’s not exactly what she said. She was real careful not to insult me directly, but the effect was the same. Everything was either too big or too ugly. It took Mother, Celia and me an hour to come up with what she had on this morning. And that was the first thing I suggested she wear!"

"What about what she’s wearing now? That doesn’t seem so elegant to me."

"Actually, those are her jeans and they cost over $200. They’re from a store on Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Ultra-designer denim." Honey nodded at Trixie. "That’s right. She told me so herself. Celia had to wash them this morning, even though the hospital washed all Margaret’s clothes yesterday. They didn’t do them right, she says."

Trixie was still puzzled, thought, about one other thing. "What did Margaret tell your parents about Thursday night? What did she say about why she’s in town? Jim only told me that she said she was trying to get to Jersey or something and she got lost."

"That’s what she said, all right," Honey said. "She claims she took the wrong bus out of Manhattan, trying to visit her aunt in Jersey, but she saw the signs to Sleepyside and knew not only that she was going the wrong direction, but that that was where my parents kept a house. She says she remembered the name of the road and was cutting through the woods to get to Manor House sooner when the guy jumped out at her and attacked."

"What a load of bull."

Honey nodded. "Just what I was thinking. Jim, too. I know he doesn’t believe her any more than you or I do, but Mother and Father bought it. They said they were going to call her aunt in Jersey, but Margaret said she didn’t remember the number offhand."

"That’s just stupid!" Trixie said. "That’s not even a good lie! She took the wrong bus?!? What, they forgot to check her ticket before she boarded?"

"Well, I was thinking, why would she have taken a bus at all? I mean, she can easily afford to charter a limo herself," Honey pointed out.

"There’s that, too." Trixie sighed. "Here comes Mart and Di. We’ll probably be leaving now. Great. And this was just getting interesting!"

"I still want to talk to you, though," Honey said. "I’ve got some concerns about something else."

Trixie cast her friend a quick look. "About what? Hurry before they get here."

"I overheard Margaret last night. She had a nightmare and cried out in her sleep, but by the time I got the nerve to go to her room, she had stopped."

"Oooh! Of all the times for Miss Trask to visit her brother and take a vacation!" Trixie grinned to underscore her sarcasm.

"I know. She would have had the truth out of Margaret inside of five minutes. She’s very comforting after nightmares." Honey nodded solemnly.

Trixie’s heart went out to her friend. She remembered Honey telling her about all the nightmares she had had as a child, and that coming to Sleepyside to live made them stop. Something told her, however, that Margaret’s nightmares were of her own making.

The octet assembled just outside of the corrals. Brian and Jim decided to lead the group through the preserve toward Maypenny’s. "Maybe Maypenny will have some Venison Stew ready," Jim grinned. "I could sure go for some, despite just having had lunch."

"It’s cold enough," Diana agreed, "but some of those doughnuts would be just fine by me!" The rest of the Bob-Whites chimed in on their preference for stew or doughnuts, falling in along gender lines.

"Who’s May Penny? Where does she live?" Margaret asked, easily maneuvering Starlight just behind Jim on Jupiter. They had just crossed behind the garage and were entering the actual preserve. She glanced around as the rest of the group began laughing. "What’s so funny?" She began to feel irritated.

"Maypenny is the guy Dan lives with!" Trixie said, then laughed harder as she realized what she had implied.

"Thanks, Trixie," Dan grumbled, trying not to laugh along with her. "Thanks a lot! Mr. Maypenny lives in a log cabin in the woods. I live there, with him, umm…. It’s kind of hard to explain."

Margaret waited as patiently as was possible for her.

"You see, Dan is Regan’s nephew," Jim began.

"Yeah, and Uncle Bill is my guardian," Dan continued. "But he lives over the garage, you see-"

"In one of two efficiencies-" Honey explained.

Dan nodded. "So there’s not enough room for the two of us in one place, and-"

"Since no one trusts Dan on his own," Jim interjected, grinning.

"Oh, gosh, no, that would be too much to ask us respectable citizens to handle!" Honey agreed, her eyes twinkling merrily.

"-I have to stay with Maypenny. Are you two done now?" Dan said, his tone soaked with exasperation.

"You live in the woods? In a log cabin?" Margaret asked, frowning.

"Yeah. Up ahead. It’s not far," Dan said, pointing through the trees. "You can see the smoke from the chimney."

Margaret followed Dan’s direction and saw a long strand of smoke stretching toward the sky. Something about the scene struck her as from out of a fairy tale. There should be a princess, she thought, and a handsome prince, and a curse. Or something.

Conversation skittered around various topics including, but not limited to, the weather, the end of Winter Break for the high school and whether or not it was fair that college had let out for a full six weeks while the high school session resumed its full schedule on Monday.

They entered the clearing where Maypenny’s cabin stood, blanketed peacefully in snow. Tracks from the door to the small barn, from the barn to the water pump, from the water pump to the door and from the door again toward the river told the tale. Mr. Maypenny was not at home.

Dan dismounted and lead Cranberry to the hitching post he’d installed last summer. "He did say he was going to do some hunting today, so there’ll probably be stew in the next couple of days. But let’s see if there’s any doughnuts left."

Margaret dismounted with the others, a wrinkle of disgust marring her otherwise elfin face. "He hunts?" she said to no one in particular. The others headed toward the cabin door, which Dan held open politely.

Jim, however, caught her mutter. "Yeah. He hunts. What’s wrong with that?" he asked as he passed by her on the way to the door.

"Why can’t he just get his meat from the butcher like normal people?" she asked, following. Trixie, Honey and Di entered the snug cabin. Dan followed the girls, leaving the door for Brian to hold open.

Jim shared a look with Brian and Mart. "Where do you think meat comes from?"

Margaret looked at Jim slantways with disgust. "I’m not an idiot. I just think it’s rather cruel to kill an animal just for a few strips of meat or something. What’s the point? Is it the testosterone boost that comes from killing? Is it the thought that, hey, now you’re on top of the food chain? Is it the guns? The blood? Meat is meat. Just get it from the grocer and be done with it."

Jim just shook his head. "Why don’t you go inside?" he said wearily. "You’re letting out all the heat." He waited for Margaret to disappear inside before almost growling, "She is driving me crazy! I swear, I thought Regan was going to blow his top, I really did! When she got in his face-! You didn’t see it, Mart, but she practically condescended to him. To Regan! I couldn’t believe her nerve!"

"I know," Brian said. "I couldn’t believe it, either. I just hope she doesn’t tick off Maypenny or something about hunting."

Mart blinked at both of them. "Some chíca loca comes to visit, irritates Regan and insults Maypenny and we’re just standing out here in the snow? Let’s get in there and see what she does for an encore!" He pushed past them and entered the cabin.

"’Chíca loca’?" Jim asked, frowning.

"Crazy girl," Brian replied. "Apparently, since we’ve been away, Mart has decided to become proficient in a language besides English."

Jim nodded. "I see. Sounds good."

"Yeah," Brian said, ushering Jim inside. "We’ll see how long it lasts."

*     *     *

"Have you figured out where we are yet?"

"I think so. That’s the river and so that’s east, right?"

"Idiot. If that’s the river, then that’s west. We’re east. So where’s this cabin and where’s the nearest road?"

"Wait. If you climb up here, you can see the cabin. There they all are. They’re going inside."

"What are they doing about the horses?"

"They’re just leaving them there."

"Perfect. Let’s play!"

"Ugh. I never should have agreed to see Desperado with you. Antonio Banderas you are not."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

*     *     *

Inside Maypenny’s cabin, a small fire burned in the huge fireplace, maintaining a degree of cozy warmth. The teens crowded into the kitchen/dining room, searching for any leftovers they might be able to ‘borrow’. Diana found a canister of snickerdoodles. There was much rejoicing as Dan produced a jug of fresh milk from the icebox and eight glasses and mugs.

They crowded around the small table and waited as Dan and Diana served cookies and milk. Trixie noticed how Margaret only sipped at her milk and nibbled at her cookie. She remembered how Margaret had insulted Honey’s wardrobe and, wanting to wreak a little vengeance, she asked, "What’s the matter? You don’t like the cookies either?"

Startled, Margaret glanced up, wide-eyed. "They’re fine. But they’re too sweet. I probably shouldn’t have them."

Trixie instantly felt guilty for bringing it up, especially when she saw how Margaret set her half-eaten cookie back on her napkin and folded her hands, waiting for the rest of them to finish. Trixie tried to see the others from Margaret’s point of view. She saw the boys take fifth and sixth helpings of cookies and even Honey pour herself and Di a second glass of milk. They all joked and laughed easily with each other, teasing Diana about wearing Mart’s old BWG jacket and Honey about the fact that she was wearing the same earrings now for the past week. Of course, Brian had purchased those earrings for her Christmas present, and that fact contributed to most of the bantering.

But knowing how Margaret might be feeling left out of everything, conversation and snack time included, stole a bit of the fun from Trixie’s afternoon. Just great, she thought. Here I am, surrounded by my brothers and best friends for the first time since Jim and Brian left for college, and I can’t enjoy it because I’m too concerned that some brat might be feeling left out. I just hate growing up!

Dan made sure to leave a few cookies for Mr. Maypenny, "in case he wants to have some of the cookies he baked himself," he said, and cleared the table for his friends. "Why don’t you all go hang out in the living room for a minute while I rinse these glasses?"

Margaret hung back while the others filed into the living room. "Dan? Can I ask you a strange question?"

"Shoot."

"Okay," she said slowly. "Did Mr. Maypenny build this cabin all by himself?"

Dan glanced around the kitchen as if to be certain of his reply. "Yeah. He did. Well, renovated it, anyway. He’s really an excellent carpenter. He can build anything. Anything at all. Most of the property bordered by the highway and Glen used to belong to his family, but they sold it all to the various farmers around here a couple generations back. These 10 or so acres are all that the Maypennys own anymore. Apparently, this used to be a hunting lodge until he remade it about 15-20 years ago."

Margaret nodded. "That’s interesting. I’d like to see more of the place, if you don’t mind."

"You’re interested in log cabins?" Dan asked.

She shrugged. "Sure. I’ve always wanted to live in one. They just seem so comforting and safe. Don’t ask me why. Mother says they’re drafty in the cold and drippy when it rains."

He chuckled. "Actually, this is probably better built than Manor House, but yeah, I’ll give you the nickel tour. Hang on a sec," he said as he finished rinsing the glasses and setting them in the rack to dry.

As they passed through the living room, Dan told the others, "I’m taking Margaret on a quick tour of upstairs. We’ll be right back."

Maypenny’s cabin had two floors above ground and a series of cellars below. The living room, kitchen/dining room, a guest bathroom and a closet took up the ground floor. A steep set of stairs ran up the side of the cabin and led to the second floor landing, and Maypenny’s bedroom and Dan’s room, and the bathroom they shared between them. The landing stretched from the back of the cabin to the front, where a long hall led to the bedrooms.

"Why does the floor go all the way back that way?" Margaret asked, pointing out an unnecessary ell in the landing.

"Oh, that." Dan thought a moment. "Maypenny told me once he’d had plans to expand the cabin that way. This is only about half the size house he originally wanted."

"Why did he stop building it, then?"

"Oh, well," Dan said, "there’s no need. The cabin’s still almost too big for two people. Why should he add on?"

Margaret frowned. "But it was in the original plans."

"Yeah, but plans change." Dan hesitated to tell Margaret the real reason the planned expansion of the cabin had stopped. He decided to just answer exactly what she asked. Hopefully, she wouldn’t ask the right questions. She looked at him calculatingly. He froze, knowing she somehow knew just the right questions to ask.

"Why was it in the original plans?"

Oh, no. How could he tell her without breaking Maypenny’s confidence? Except, of course, that Maypenny had never actually told him it was a secret. Then again, the old guy really valued his privacy. This could be difficult. "Because he originally planned for more people to live here." There. That might do it.

Margaret shook her head slowly in disbelief. "You’re stubborn, you know that? Is this too personal or something? You can tell me if it’s none of my business, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why it should be such a secret."

Dan sighed. "Come on, I’ll show you the other rooms." He lead her down the hall. Dan pointed out Maypenny’s closed bedroom door at the end of the hall, the oversized bathroom with the claw foot tub and collapsible shower and then opened the door to his room.

Margaret boldly pushed past him in an effort to get the full effect. Dan’s room was situated over the living room, in the middle of the cabin. Directly across from the door a small, navy blue curtained window allowed the western light to enter. The hand-carved headboard of a twin-sized bed took up the northern wall. A solid oak dresser, at least six feet tall, dominated the eastern wall while a closet and desk took up the southern. The floor sported a thick, multi-colored woven rug. A small chest sat under the window.

Margaret entered further, intending to look out the window when she discovered she had to abruptly duck her head from the slanting ceiling. "Whoa! Who put that there?" she muttered.

"Sorry?" Dan asked, entering the room after her.

She glanced back at him, a rueful smile on her lips. "I guess I always thought the ceiling was higher." She leaned to look out the window, pleasantly surprised to see a rather pastoral scene. A long stretch of meadow gave way to a small path and a copse of trees. Beyond the copse, she saw a small, fenced-in yard. "What’s that out there?" she asked.

Dan leaned in close beside her, peering out the window. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and asked, "What’s what out where?"

Margaret could feel the heat emanating from Dan’s body as he leaned closer to her, ostensibly because the window was rather small and he just wanted to know what she was looking at. She pointed at the wrought iron fence and asked again, "What’s that?"

"Oh, that." Dan moved away to the center of the room where he could stand comfortably again. "That’s a graveyard."

Margaret turned, frowning. "Who’s buried there?"

Dan took a deep breath. "Mr. Maypenny’s wife and kid. Among other people." Sympathy welled up in Margaret’s eyes. She turned once more to the window and leaned to look out.

"How did they die, his wife and kid? Was it an accident?"

"Um, no. Actually, I’m not sure. I’ve never asked. He doesn’t talk about it much, you know? I got the impression that they died round about the same time, years ago."

"Was it a boy or girl?"

Dan thought about it for a moment. When Margaret turned with the question still on her face, he shrugged. "Sorry I don’t know all the details. Guys just don’t talk about things like that."

She nodded. "It was a girl, then." When Dan asked how she could be so sure, she smiled sadly. "Because a son is what every man wants. Therefore, if he’d had a son, he would have said so."

What could he say to that? Nothing, he figured, so he just let her continue to inspect his room.

Margaret noticed a small lamp, several books and a dirty glass on the bedside table, a pair of skis leaning against the wall nearest the closet and several schoolbooks, notebooks, pens and pencils on the desk. Three rows of bookshelves had been installed above the desk as well. She leaned closer to read the titles. Apparently, Dan had a fascination with science fiction. She saw plenty of Asimov, Bradbury and Clarke.

"I’m impressed," Margaret smiled. "You’ve read 2001 and the Foundation series?"

Dan hesitated. "Actually, no. Those are Maypenny’s books. He’s into all that. He’s a real sci-fi nut."

She returned her eyes to the books. "So, what do you read?"

He grinned. "I like detective stories. Agatha Christie, Sue Grafton. Like that." He pointed to the lowest shelf. "Those are mine."

"I see." That wasn’t too bad, she supposed. A bit too good to be true if he was a ‘sci-fi nut’, she supposed. She glanced around one more time, pleased to notice the only poster on the wall was for something called a Winter Carnival, and not the latest cheesecake-pinup model. Belatedly, she saw a small framed photograph on his desk. Without asking permission, she picked it up and studied it carefully.

The 3X5 photo showed a young woman with vividly red hair and bright blue eyes holding a small baby wrapped in a blanket. A surprisingly handsome young man, with very dark hair and eyes, had his arms around them both. The young couple smiled happily into the camera. "Are these your parents?" Margaret asked softly.

"Yeah. It’s all I have left of them. I carried that picture around in my wallet after she died," he said in a voice thick with emotion.

"I’m sorry. I should have guessed that something like that had happened. Has it been a long time?"

"It’ll be two years in August that my mother’s been gone. My dad died when I was eight." Dan noticed Margaret looking at him with sympathy and something else. He wasn’t sure, but he did notice that, when she wasn’t sniping at someone or afraid, she was actually quite pretty. And she seemed to like spending time with him. And he liked being around her. He’d have to give it all some more thought.

Margaret set the frame back down, quelling the sudden, strange envy that flooded her. She wanted to feel free enough to give Dan a hug, maybe even a small kiss, but, circumstances being what they were, she refrained.

*     *     *

"Stay down, you idiot! Stay down!"

"Hey! Watch who you’re shoving!"

"Well, get with it. Hurry up."

"These knots are in here too tight."

"Use your knife, then. Just do it and hurry up!"

"Okay, okay." Snikt! "I got it. Let’s go."

*     *     *

"I’ve got an idea," Trixie said, just after Dan and Margaret disappeared upstairs. "Let’s have a snowball fight."

"So you can pummel Miss Lang with consolidated chunks of crystallized H2O? That’s hardly the thing a well-brought up young lady should be suggesting," Mart replied, smirking.

"That’s not what I was suggesting! I was thinking it might be a kind of ice-breaker, literally, for Margaret to get to know us. That’s all. Her parents are supposed to be here soon, right? So why can’t we just have some fun?" Trixie wanted to know.

Honey clapped her hands excitedly. "I think that’s a great idea! We’ve finally got even numbers, so we could go boys against girls, or brunettes against blondes. And redheads," Honey added for Jim’s benefit.

Jim frowned. "But that would be five against three. Margaret’s a redhead, too."

The girls chuckled. The boys looked confused. "No, she’s not," Diana explained. "She colors her hair. She’s a brunette."

"She does? She is?" Brian and Mart glanced at each other, then at Jim. "How can you tell? I didn’t see roots," Brian continued.

"She’s got a good hairdresser," Honey said. "But, come on. That shade definitely came straight out of a bottle."

Trixie sighed loudly. "Forget it, Honey. Guys are so easily taken in by those things."

Jim frowned. "Are you sure? I mean, come on. How can you girls always tell these things?"

"I don’t think they can," Brian said, before the girls could explain. "I think they just tell us they can, so they can feel superior to us in some small way."

Mart frowned. "You mean like with breast enlargements?"

"Mart!" Trixie shrieked, scandalized.

"Well, come on, Trixie! Admit it," Mart said. "Girls say they can take one look at someone and know if they’re ‘slinging silicon’, but no one has ever been able to explain to me how they can deduce that information just by quick observation. If you can explain it, please. Be my guest. Elucidate the matter for the assembled company."

Trixie covered her ears and closed her eyes. She chanted loudly, "I am not having this conversation. I am not having this conversation…"

Honey smiled at Trixie’s antics, then said, "All right, Mart. You’re on. It’s all in the cleavage." The contrast between Honey’s persona, that of an elegant young woman, and the rest of her conversation, describing the difference between silicon-enhanced cleavage and the natural kind, provoked the expected reaction among the group. Brian and Mart blushed, Jim closed his eyes and fought a grin, Diana and Trixie smirked to each other. When Honey finished, she asked if there were any more questions, but the guys all cried, "No! That’s all right! We believe you!"

Smugly, Honey folded her arms. "As well you should. You should all understand that there are certain things that women just know and that men will never be able to figure out."

"Well, a snowball fight sounds real good to me, anyway. I’m going to get some more cookies and boost my energy levels. Any of you guys want some?" Jim grinned and headed for the kitchen. As he passed the front windows, however, a flurry of movement caught his attention. He ran up close to the window and stared outside. The horses were racing around the yard, stomping and rearing.

"Damn it!" Jim cursed. "The horses are loose! We’ve got to go get them before they run off and hurt themselves!" He grabbed his jacket and slipped it on as he bolted through the front door, the other Bob-Whites close behind.

Diana, the last one out the door, called up to Dan and Margaret, informing them of the crisis.

Upstairs, Margaret and Dan heard the sound of galloping hoofbeats. Margaret whirled and returned to the window where she saw Jupiter and Susie racing across the meadow. She pointed them out to Dan, but he had already fled down the stairs. She hurried after him.

Confused disorientation overtook the Bob-Whites. While Trixie examined the hitching post and found the cut reins, Brian and Jim raced after Starlight and Strawberry, Diana hurried after Sunny while Honey lunged to catch Jupiter’s reins before he chased after Susie behind the cabin. She slipped and fell in the slush.

Dan burst from the cabin door and quickly took in the chaotic scene. He whistled sharply, but Cranberry just reared and whinnied, then bolted toward Glen Road. Margaret, racing from the cabin, almost ran straight into him. "What spooked them?" she shouted over the din of hoofbeats, horses and the Bob-Whites’ yells.

Dan shook his head grimly. He didn’t know, but he had a pretty good idea. A moment passed as the yard cleared out of horses and people and even Trixie gave up her impromptu investigation and took off into the woods after the errant horses.

Silence reigned, broken only by the distant and lessening sounds of horses and teenagers, crashing through the underbrush.

"Perfect. They’re all gone."

"What’re we going to do now?"

"We let Danny-boy know the score, that’s what."

Two thin figures separated from the afternoon shadows of the woods and approached the log cabin. The taller of the pair strode purposefully toward the cabin door in a peculiar, lock-kneed lope, while the smaller one hesitated, listening.

"Will you hurry up? They’re gone, all right?" the taller one complained.

"Sorry. It’s just so eerie up here. All quiet and everything. You can’t hear anything, you know?" The smaller one hurried across the open yard and joined his friend at the door.

The taller one had long dark brown hair, light brown eyes and a thin face. His oversized leather jacket hung off his shoulders at least three sizes too large. He grinned at the smaller guy and shoved on the door, opening it. In seconds they were inside. Moments later they found Dan’s room.

After six minutes inside the cabin, the pair exited the cabin. The smaller one, at his friend’s direction, pulled out an aerosol can. They left the yard two minutes later.

*     *     *

"Whew! I think that’s got to be the last of them," Brian huffed as he tied the last set of reins. He and the other Bob-Whites had successfully rounded up the horses and returned them to the Wheeler stable, though it had taken the better part of the hour.

Jim counted the horses. "Yeah, and with Diana and Mart taking her horses back to her house, and Dan leading Cranberry back to Maypenny’s, that is all of them." He sighed heavily. "I guess now we have to start cleaning them up."

"What a mess," Brian said sourly. The horses had had a great deal of fun, traipsing through the muddy slush of the creeks, running across snowy fields, avoiding capture. Each was liberally muck-splashed.

"I’ll get the girls to help. They should be done explaining it all to Regan by now." Jim clapped Brian on the shoulder in an effort to boost his friend’s spirits and left him alone with his thoughts. He approached the groom and the girls as unobtrusively as possible. He didn’t relish the prospect of facing one of Regan’s lectures.

"But, Regan! We did properly tie them to the post! And we did keep an eye on them! We don’t know how it all happened. Honest," Honey exclaimed earnestly. She stood in front of a terrifically angry Regan, pleading for clemency.

Trixie, on Regan’s left, nodded her head in agreement. "That’s true, Regan! Someone deliberately cut the reins and frightened the horses! See?" She held up two short lengths that used to be part of Susie’s reins. "I always double tie the knots when I hitch a horse. Whoever untied the horses couldn’t undo my knots so he or she had to cut them."

Regan took the reins from Trixie’s hand and examined them, unmoved. He stuffed the short lengths into his back pocket, then raised his eyes to look at Margaret. "Are you going to try to convince me I shouldn’t be angry about this, too?"

Nonplused, Margaret stared back at him. "Excuse me? Why should I care if you believe us or not? The horses got loose, we found them all and returned them, none the worse for wear, end of story. So some reins got cut. Someone played a practical joke on all of us. So what?"

Wide-eyed, Trixie and Honey shot each other a warning glance and each girl took a step backward as Jim joined them. He glanced briefly from Regan to Margaret, shooting missiles at each other with their eyes. "What’s going on here?" he asked. When no one volunteered an answer and neither Regan nor Margaret even blinked, he said, "They’re all safe now, Regan. Brian and I are going to start grooming Jupiter and Strawberry. That leaves Susie for you, Trix, and Lady for you, sis. Margaret, I can show you where the combs and stuff are kept, whenever you’re ready."

Margaret flicked her attention to Jim. "Why would you do that?"

Jim stuttered briefly. "Uhmmm, well. Because you’re going to want to groom Starlight."

"I am?" She looked surprised.

Jim nodded. "Of course. Those are the stable rules. You ride a horse, you groom it afterward. You rode Starlight, so…"

Margaret frowned distractedly. "Excuse me? What did you say?"

Regan took a step forward, his hands still on his hips, and said calmly, "You rode Starlight, you groom him. What’s so difficult to understand?"

"Hold on a second," Margaret said, her hands up defensively. "Let me get this straight. Matt Wheeler owns this place. He owns these horses. He owns everything I see here. He pays your salary. I’m a guest, here at his invitation. He suggests I ride his horse Jupiter. You, his employee, deny his request for no good reason and now, when I’ve returned from my ride on a horse barely worth my time or effort to go chasing after through the woods, I’m informed that I’m supposed to groom the animal. Correct me if I’m wrong, because I so hate to possess incorrect information, but you are a groom, right? That’s your title, your job description, your lot in life? That’s what you get paid for? Well, let me tell you, Regan, there’s a horse over there that needs some grooming. Get to it."

"Now see here, Margaret," Regan began, but she interrupted him.

"Excuse me, Regan," she ground out imperiously, "but you’re treading on dangerous ground. I’m a guest of your employer. I suggest you show a bit more deference and respect when dealing with me or you’ll be dealing with the unemployment line. Understand?".

"Better than you think," Regan muttered.

Margaret stiffened. "What did you say?"

Regan smiled pleasantly, but his blue eyes had long since iced over. "I said, ‘right away, Miss Lang’." He waited as the girl turned on her heel and stalked toward the house. Before she had gotten ten feet away, Regan pivoted as well, marched to where Starlight had been hitched, grabbed the reins, untied them in a smooth movement and yanked the horse’s head toward the stable.

Horrified, Trixie and Honey stared at each other. What would Regan likely do now? They both recalled how Mr. Wheeler always said, if Regan ever left him, he’d sell the horses. Would he be likely to quit now that he had been dressed-down like that? In front of them? From a girl their own age?

"Is it safe to breathe yet?" Jim asked softly, his eyes huge and round with shock.

Brian approached swiftly. "Did I really hear what I thought I just heard? Did Margaret really tell off Regan?"

Honey nodded slowly, hot tears swimming in her eyes.

Trixie moaned. "I am so afraid to go in there, and terrified not to! What if he thinks we think of him the same way? Like an employee? What if he thinks - ! Oh, gosh, Honey! Why didn’t we stop her? Why didn’t we say anything in his defense?"

Honey could only shake her head. "I don’t know! It all happened so fast. And then she was pulling rank and what could I do? She is my parent’s guest! I’m supposed to help keep her happy and-and calm and what happens? I can’t do it! Mother and Father will be so angry with me!"

Jim slipped an arm around his sister. "Take it easy, Honey. We’ll explain everything to Father and it will all be all right. Promise. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? ‘Things will get better, trust me’?"

Honey lifted her tear-soaked hazel eyes to his. "Yeah, I guess so. But what should we do about Regan?"

Jim smiled. "Simple. We treat him exactly the same way we’ve always treated him."

Brian nodded. "Right. We go in there and we groom the hell out of those horses. Come on, guys! Let’s make those horses shine! I want to see my face in their flanks!"

Honey rewarded his mock exuberance with a tremulous smile. She wiped at the corners of her eyes and went to untie Lady from the fence. Trixie followed suit with Susie and soon all four of them were inside the snug stable, grooming their horses, listening to the ominous silence that emanated from the last stall on the right, where Regan worked, grooming the hell out of Starlight.

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