Sundance

Chapter 1

Malachi Adams struggled through the wet undergrowth beside the narrow stream. Each step brought a fresh stab of pain to his numbing toes, as icy water seeped through his sneakers. Zipped up to his chin, even his light jacket couldn’t protect him from the damp chill of early spring.

Ouch! He snatched his hand from the prickle bush a moment too late. His windbreaker had snagged on a thorn. He yanked, but the bush refused to release his sleeve. He tugged a second time, and a third, until the nylon shell of his jacket ripped, leaving a three-inch gash.

Mom would be furious.

Mal didn’t care.

The fallen log must be somewhere nearby. He’d crossed this stream once last summer while exploring with his Golden Retriever. Sunny would have known the way.

But Sunny wasn’t here to guide Mal to the hidden log or to lick away the blood pooling on the top of his hand. She’d never race through these woods again. Never bark wildly as she chased a squirrel up a tree. Never snuggle against Mal’s side, calming his anxious thoughts when he woke in the middle of the night.

How could Mom have done this without him? He should have been there with Sunny. He should have cradled her in his arms. Told her not to be afraid. That he would always love her. Never forget her.

Instead, Mom brought Sunny to the vet while he was in school. When he’d come home this afternoon, it was too late. Sunny had been his best friend for twelve years, and Mom hadn’t even given him the chance to say goodbye. Sunny had died without Mal by her side.

“I didn’t want you to go through the pain of watching it happen,” Mom had explained. “I didn’t want to trigger your… well, it’s done now. She’s in a better place.”

Mal would never forgive his mother.

Or himself.

Not knowing what else to do, he’d ran out the door, angry tears blurring his vision as his feet pounded down the driveway. Mom had yelled after him, but he refused to turn back.

Where was that stupid log? He must have passed it already. He’d just have to cross over the stream without it. What did it matter, anyway? The water was only a few inches deep, and his socks were already soaked.

He jumped onto a wobbly rock, teetered on his left foot, and leaped again, landing with a splash just short of the edge of the stream. His arms flailed as he struggled to catch his balance. He lurched forward, his hands and knees landing in cold, sticky mud.

Mal wiped his fingers on his now filthy jeans, considering his next move. When he and Sunny explored these woods, there’d been a trail to the log’s right, leading to an old granite quarry. Since he’d crossed the stream in the wrong place, there was no clear path to follow. He needed to walk along the side of the stream until he found it.

Mal still couldn’t find the log or the path to the quarry after bushwhacking for several minutes. Maybe he’d crossed too early after all and gone in the wrong direction. He headed back through the tangle of brush.

Where had he crossed the stream? Mal shivered even as a bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. He couldn’t be that lost, could he? He just needed to keep searching for the path. But what if he didn’t find it? Even if he waded back to the other side, he’d still need to locate the trail home.

He’d gotten lost once before, with Sunny. She’d stood beside him, pressing her nose against his thighs until Mal’s panic subsided and he figured out which way to turn next.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as Dr. Solomon had taught him. Breathe in. And out. In. Out.

A high-pitched whinny broke Mal’s concentration. His eyes flew open.

If there was a horse nearby, there must be a person riding it. Or, even better, a farm where the horse lived. He just needed to head in the whinny’s direction. He’d have to leave the edge of the stream, though, and if he did, he’d risk getting even more lost.

The horse called again, and Mal hurried toward the sound. His feet slipped on rotting leaves and brown pine needles as he scrambled up the wooded hill. As he climbed higher, the trees thinned out. And just ahead… a field!

When he reached the edge of the field, however, electric fencing blocked his way. It would be easy enough to pass through if it wasn’t turned on, but what if it was? Would touching it electrocute him?

The fence couldn’t go on forever. He’d just follow along the winding perimeter until it came to a road or a barn. He’d still be lost, but at least he wouldn’t be in the woods, freezing to death or eaten by bears before anyone found him.

He hadn’t walked far when the horse whinnied again. Mal looked up, spotting the animal about a hundred yards away. Its coat was a pale yellow, almost the same shade as Sunny’s. The horse stared at him, its head high and ears pricked forward.

And then it trotted toward him.

Mal didn’t know much about horses, but this one looked much wider than he’d expected. Not fat—in fact, as the horse approached, he could see the faint outline of her ribs—but wide, with a bulging belly like a giant watermelon. Or…

“Are you expecting a baby?”

The horse nickered in response.

“Yes, you must be p-p-pregnant,” Mal said as the mare stopped a few feet in front of him. He reached his hand through the electric fence, careful not to brush against a wire.

The mare’s nostrils quivered. She stretched her neck toward him, but seemed nervous about touching the fence. Smart horse.

“What’s your name?” he asked, just to be friendly.

She stared at him, blinking her huge brown eyes. Tangled white forelock fell over her forehead, partly covering the wide blaze running down her face to the underside of her muzzle.

“I’m lost,” he confided. “My dog died today. She had c-c-cancer. Her name was Sunny.”

Malachi found it much easier to talk with animals than with people. Animals listened. They didn’t rush in and finish his words for him. They didn’t tell him to just relax and stop stuttering. They didn’t treat him like he was stupid. And they never teased and bullied him because he was different.

When he continued walking, the mare followed from the other side of the fence. They soon came to a metal gate, with a dirt path leading away from the pasture.

Mal blew out his breath, certain the path would take him to a barn with a driveway leading to a road. He said goodbye to his equine companion and turned up the path.

She screamed at him.

At least, that’s what her frantic, high-pitched whinny sounded like.

He hurried back to the gate. “Wh-wh-what’s wrong?”

The mare slammed her chest against the gate. It rattled on its hinges.

“You want to get out?” Mal stroked the horse’s nose to calm her. Did she want to be inside a barn? That was her owner’s decision, not his. Besides, she wasn’t wearing a halter, and he knew nothing about leading a horse.

As he walked away again, the mare whinnied and paced beside the fence.

Why was she so desperate to get out? Could she be hungry? Though it was early spring, the pasture grass hadn’t turned green yet. Did horses eat dead grass? Maybe not.

What about water? He spotted an old-fashioned looking pump with a metal handle. Below that was a large plastic water trough. Empty.

The poor horse! She was pregnant and hungry and thirsty!

Mal hesitated in front of the gate. The horse clearly needed help, but she was a lot bigger than Sunny. What if she kicked him or trampled him into the ground with her powerful hooves? It wasn’t his job to take care of the horse. Where was her owner, anyway?

The mare gazed at him, unblinking. Please help me, she seemed to say.

He couldn’t leave her like this. The horse’s owner would probably bring her back to her stall to feed her tonight, but she needed water now.

She nickered.

The low, rumbly sound vibrated through Mal’s fingertips as he unclipped the chain holding the gate closed. He squeezed through, nervous that the horse would attempt to run through the gate if he opened it too wide, and quickly latched it shut behind him.

The mare nuzzled his shoulder as he studied the pump handle. Was he supposed to pull it up and down to get the water out? When he attempted to push it up, the handle didn’t budge. He gripped it tighter and yanked as hard as he could.

The handle groaned as it inched upward, but nothing happened. Then it gurgled. And sputtered. And gurgled again.

Suddenly, water sprayed out with such force that Mal jumped back in surprise.

The horse jumped back, too. She snorted at Mal, then stepped forward, plunging her nose into the rapidly filling water trough. The underside of her neck rippled with each gulp. Spray from the pump’s spigot splashed onto her face, but she didn’t seem to care. Droplets clung to her eyelashes and mane, and still she didn’t look up.

The trough was full now. Mal grabbed the pump handle and pushed down, but it wouldn’t turn off. The mare continued to drink even as the water spilled over the sides.

He couldn’t leave it running like this. The horse’s owner would be furious! Mal gripped the handle again, jumped in the air, and leaning all his body weight against the pump, he forced it down. It creaked and groaned before getting stuck halfway on and halfway off. He leaped again, tugging with all his strength, and the water finally stopped.

The horse looked up at him, water dribbling from her lips.

“You’re welcome.” Mal reached out his hand.

She stepped toward him and brushed her nose against his fingers.

“I’m Mal.” He stroked her forehead. “What’s your name?”

She didn’t answer, of course, but now that they were friends, Mal felt he needed to call her something.

She closed her eyes and pressed her head against Mal’s chest like Sunny loved to do.

He rubbed her damp, golden coat, the same pale yellow as Sunny’s had been. It was as if Sunny had come back to comfort him, to tell him she hadn’t left him forever. She was still by his side. She’d rescued him from being lost and led him from the woods to this place.

Thank you, Sunny.

Mal blinked away tears. He’d call the horse Sunshine, in memory of his best friend.