After an afternoon of hard work, the Aldens were hungry when dinnertime came. Dinner at Sunny Oaks was served family-style, and the farm guests gathered at two long tables set up in the Morgans’ dining room. Benny was happy to see a big bowl of butter beans. “I helped pick those,” he said proudly.
“And the black-eyed peas and tomatoes,” Sarah reminded him. “You’ve had a hard day.”
Benny gave an enormous yawn. “I never thought a vacation could make me this tired,” he said, and everyone laughed.
Mr. Morgan passed a basket of biscuits before sitting down. “How did you like riding on the tractor, Henry?”
“It was great,” Henry said, reaching for a second helping of mashed potatoes. “You feel like you’re up in the sky!”
“I’ll teach you to drive it, before you leave,” Mr. Morgan promised. “Do you remember how many gears it has?”
“Eight forward gears,” Henry said promptly. “And three reverse ones.”
“It sounds scary,” Daisy said in a little voice.
“No, it’s not. There’s a kill button,” Henry told her. “You just press it if something goes wrong, and the tractor stops right away.”
It was early evening when the Aldens finally headed back to the bunkhouse, and Benny was half asleep. “Let’s walk by the stables,” Violet suggested. “Maybe we’ll see Oliver up close.”
“I think all the horses are already in their stalls for the night,” Henry said. “Sarah said her father was going to round them up while we were having dessert.”
“Well, we can at least try,” Violet said. She didn’t want to go to sleep without getting a glimpse of Danny’s horse.
When they swung by the stables, Mr. Morgan was unloading bales of hay from a flatbed truck into the stable. Violet heard some soft whinnying sounds from the half-open door, and she hurried over.
“Mr. Morgan, can we help you?” she pleaded. “We’d love to see the horses.”
For the first time, a frown flitted across Mr. Morgan’s face. “I don’t think so, Violet. You’d best go on to the bunkhouse for a good night’s rest.”
“But we’re not tired, and we could help you,” Jessie said. Benny gave a loud yawn and she nudged him in the shoulder.
“You’ve done enough work for one day,” Mr. Morgan said flatly. He seemed uneasy, and Jessie wondered if something was wrong. After they said good night, she turned to Violet.
“I wonder why Mr. Morgan wouldn’t let us help him with the horses. Do you think we did something to annoy him?”
Violet shook her head. “I don’t think so. I think he’s just tired. Don’t forget, he’s already put in a fifteen-hour day.”
“And he has to do it all over again tomorrow,” Henry chimed in. “Starting bright and early.”
“Poor Mr. Morgan,” Jessie said.
Benny gave another giant yawn and stumbled into the bunkhouse. “Poor us!” he mumbled. “Now I know why they call it a working farm!”
CHAPTER 3
The Mystery Horse
“That’s right, Jessie,” Danny said encouragingly the next morning. “Use short strokes with the dandy brush, and don’t be afraid to press hard.” Jessie and Violet were helping Danny groom a horse named Oliver. He was a large Appaloosa with colorful markings and striped hooves. They were working in the north pasture, and Jessie suddenly noticed Daisy watching from a few yards away. “Are you sure you don’t want to help?” Jessie offered. “It’s a lot of fun.”
Daisy shook her head. “He might kick me.”
“Oliver’s a gentle horse,” Jessie told her. She paused, resting her arm on Oliver’s gleaming flank. “I have an idea, Daisy. How would you like to comb his mane when we’re finished? You can even braid it if you like.”
Daisy’s eyes lit up. “Maybe,” she said slowly. “If you promise to hold him still.”
They had been working for over half an hour when Danny realized he had forgotten Oliver’s hoof pick. “I’ll run back and get it,” Violet said.
The stable was cool and dark as Violet hurried past rows of empty stalls to the tack room. All the horses were supposed to be outside grazing, and she was surprised to hear a soft whinnying sound inside. Puzzled, she retraced her steps and found that one stall was closed and padlocked. She put her ear to the sturdy wooden panel and heard more whinnying. Why was one horse left all alone? And why was there a padlock on the door? She quickly grabbed the hoof pick and headed back to the pasture. She was very curious.
When Violet returned to the pasture, she found Danny and Jessie using a soft brush to clean Oliver’s legs. “The area below the knees and hock is very tender,” Danny was explaining. “Always use a brush with soft bristles or a towel.”
Violet was happy to see that Daisy had edged a little closer and was watching them intently. She handed Danny the hoof pick and said, “There’s one horse left all by himself in the barn. Do you have any idea why?”
Danny shrugged. “Maybe he just felt like staying in his stall today,” he said vaguely.
“On a nice sunny morning?” Jessie asked in surprise. “But you said that horses love to be out in the field!”
Danny ducked his head, working on Oliver’s leg. “I didn’t mean—” he began, and then he stopped. “It could be that he’s sick. Or something.”
“Shouldn’t someone check on him?” Violet asked.
“I think Dad will,” Danny told her.
“But you can’t even see him,” Violet said. “The stall is closed and padlocked.”
“I’m sure he’s okay,” Danny said. “I think we should get back to work now.” He looked very uncomfortable, and the girls knew that he wanted to change the subject.
“Okay,” Violet said. “What should we do next?”
“Oliver’s feet, but I’ll give you a tip first. Never just grab a horse’s hoof and try to pick it up.” He slid his hand slowly down Oliver’s shoulder to his fetlock. “Run your hand over him first, like this. This gives him a little warning, and he’ll know what to expect.”
Violet noticed that Oliver seemed to get the message because he shifted his weight to his other three legs. Danny picked up Oliver’s hoof and motioned to Violet. “Use the hoof pick, but be really gentle.”
“I’ll do my best,” Violet said. Oliver didn’t seem to mind at all, and she cleaned away clumps of mud and several large pebbles that were lodged in his hoof.
When they had finished, Jessie turned to Daisy. “He won’t look really pretty until you comb his mane,” she said.
Daisy hesitated. “How will I reach it?”
“You could sit on his back,” Danny offered.
“No!” Daisy backed away.
“Wait, I have a better idea.” Jessie reached out her hand. “I’ll sit on Oliver and hold you in my lap. You’ll be the one who combs him. Okay?”
Danny squatted down. “Just step on my shoulder, Jessie, and swing yourself up on his back. Then I’ll hand Daisy up to you.”
A moment later, Jessie found herself high above the ground on Oliver’s back. Oliver stood very still, and Jessie patted him on the neck. When Danny handed Daisy to her, she found that the little girl was trembling.
“Don’t be scared, Daisy. Danny has Oliver tied good and tight. He’s not going anywhere.”
Daisy relaxed then and began combing Oliver’s thick, dark mane. She giggled and looked down at Violet. “You know something? This is fun!”
At lunchtime, Violet told Henry about the horse in the padlocked stall.
“It just doesn’t make sense.” They were eating chicken-salad sandwiches under the shade of an oak tree near the main house. “I asked Danny about it, but he didn’t have much to say.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly. “What do you think?”
“It’s true, the horse might be sick,” Henry suggested. “Or maybe he’s very difficult to handle.”
Violet forgot about the horse when Benny and Jessie plopped down on the grass next to them, talking excitedly.
“I r
ode on the tractor this morning,” Benny said proudly. “Three times.” He held up three fingers. “First we mowed the hay, just like it was a lawn. Then we raked it, and then we . . . ” He stopped and frowned. “I forgot what came next.”
Sarah hunkered down next to them. “We baled it, Benny. Remember? Now the hay is in nice square bundles.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said happily. “There must be enough hay for a million horses.”
“Not the way our horses eat,” Sarah said. “Oliver eats twelve pounds a day.”
“Twelve pounds?” Benny sputtered.
“Sometimes even more. Don’t forget, he weighs almost a thousand pounds. That’s half a ton.”
“Wow.” Benny was awed.
Then Jessie told about feeding a baby lamb with a bottle. Violet’s mind went back to the horse in the locked stall. Somehow, she had to find out which horse was in there—and why.
After dinner and a Monopoly game at the main house that evening, Violet decided to walk by the stables on the way to the bunk-house.
“You’re not going to see anything in the dark,” Henry told her. “Everything’s closed up by now.”
“I just want to take a quick look,” Violet insisted. “You can go on, if you want.”
When they reached the stables, they spotted a single light on, way in the back.
“That’s where the stall is,” Violet said quickly. “The one with the padlock on it.” She turned to Henry. “I’m going to go in there.” She carefully slid open the stable doors and stepped inside. Henry, Jessie, and Benny were right behind her. They walked softly over a thick carpeting of hay.
Suddenly Mrs. Morgan appeared from the depths of the barn.
“What are you kids doing in here?” she demanded.
“We’re just—we came to see the horses,” Violet stammered. She peered over Mrs. Morgan’s shoulder and noticed that the door to the last stall was open and light was streaming onto the stable floor. There was a scuffling noise, and suddenly Mr. Morgan emerged from the stall, leading a beautiful, chestnut-colored horse. The horse was tall and slender, and it pranced gracefully with its head held high.
Mr. Morgan stopped dead in his tracks and glanced nervously at his wife. “What are they doing here?”
“They came to take a look at the horses,” she said. Her words came out in a rush, and Violet knew that something was wrong.
“Well, this isn’t a good time,” Mr. Morgan said slowly. “You’d best come back in the daytime, when they’re all out in the pasture.”
“But this horse never goes to the pasture,” Violet said. She was surprised that she had the courage to speak up because she was usually very shy. “He never goes anywhere, does he? You keep him locked in the stall.
Mr. and Mrs. Morgan exchanged a long look. “That’s because he’s very high-strung,” Mr. Morgan said slowly. “He gets nervous when he’s around other horses, so we keep him by himself as much as possible.”
“What’s his name?” Henry asked.
“His name?” Mrs. Morgan repeated. She glanced at the horse, who was tossing his mane from side to side. He had gentle brown eyes and a white star on his forehead. “Star. His name is Star.”
“Wow! I’d sure like to ride him!” Benny said.
“I’m afraid this horse isn’t for riding, son,” Mr. Morgan said gently. “I’ll make sure Danny gives you a ride on Oliver tomorrow.” He glanced at his wife. “And now I think you had all better get on back to the bunk-house. Before you know it, the sun will be up and it’ll be time for chores.”
An hour later, back at the bunkhouse, Violet was too restless to sleep. She kept thinking about Star. She poked Jessie, who was sleeping in the top bunk.
“Do you think the Morgans were telling the truth about that horse?” she whispered.
Jessie yawned. “I don’t know. Why would they lie to us?” She propped her chin in her hand and stared down at her sister.
“I don’t know,” Violet said thoughtfully. “But something just doesn’t make sense. Star didn’t seem high-strung at all, and it seems mean to keep him cooped up like that.”
Jessie shrugged. “The Morgans would never be mean to an animal.”
“That’s true,” Violet admitted. She had seen how much they liked the farm animals and how carefully they tended them.
“So if they’re keeping him by himself, it must be for his own good.” Jessie pulled the covers over her head. “Now go to sleep.”
CHAPTER 4
Chore Time!
The next morning after breakfast, everyone rushed over to check the “Chore List” that Mr. Morgan posted on the pantry door.
“We’ve got kitchen duty,” Jessie said to Benny.
“Sarah and I’ve got something called . . . mulching,” Violet said.
“Henry and I will be pitching hay this morning,” Danny said, bending down to pull on his heavy rubber boots.
“Do you and Henry get to ride in the tractor?” Benny asked.
“Afraid not.” Danny tossed Henry a pair of thick work gloves. “Here, put these on. You’ll need them because the bales of hay are really scratchy.”
Everyone trooped outside to start their chores, and the kitchen was quiet as Benny and Jessie began clearing away the breakfast dishes. Suddenly Mrs. Morgan appeared carrying a giant black cooking pot. She set it carefully on the stove and smiled at the children. “You’ll find some clean aprons at the bottom of the pantry,” she said, tying an apron around her waist. “You’d better put them on, so we can get started right away.”
“Started with what?” Benny asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to put on an apron.
Mrs. Morgan looked surprised. “Didn’t anyone tell you? This is a very special day. We’re making jams and jellies for the Cooperstown Fair.”
Benny grinned. Jams and jellies? Things were looking up.
“Sunny Oaks always wins ribbons for its preserves,” Mrs. Morgan said proudly. She thumbed through her recipe book. “I think we’ll start with ginger-peach jam,” she said thoughtfully. “If you’ll get me a dozen or so peaches from that bushel basket by the door, we’ll get started.”
“I helped pick these!” Benny exclaimed. He filled his arms with peaches and dumped them on the counter.
“That’s right, you did,” Mrs. Morgan said. “Everything we enter in the fair is grown right here at Sunny Oaks.”
Benny was thrilled. It seemed amazing that “his” peaches could end up in a jar of jam!
“How do we get started?” Jessie asked.
“We need to peel about three pounds of peaches,” Mrs. Morgan said. She filled the cooking pan with water and turned on the stove. “If we put the peaches in boiling water for a minute, the skins come right off.”
They worked steadily for the next half hour. The kitchen was bright and sunny, and they hummed as they worked.
After the peaches were peeled and crushed, Benny added lots of sugar, a little lemon juice, and some candied ginger. Jessie added a package of pectin to make the jam thicken and stirred the big pot on the stove.
“I’ll show you how to melt the paraffin, Jessie, but you have to be very careful,” Mrs. Morgan warned. “The trick is to do it slowly, and watch it every second.”
Jessie picked up a sheet of hard, waxy material. “It smells like a candle,” she said, surprised.
Mrs. Morgan nodded. “That’s how we’re going to seal the jars of jam,” she explained. Jessie plunked the sheet of paraffin into a pan and watched as it slowly turned to liquid.
“I think the jam is ready,” Benny spoke up.
Mrs. Morgan peered into the cooking pot and nodded. “It looks perfect, Benny. I’ll pour the jam into these glass jars, and then we’ll seal them with melted paraffin.”
With Mrs. Morgan’s help, Jessie poured hot paraffin on top of each of the jars of jam. The liquid paraffin immediately hardened into a thick white crust, like ice on a lake.
“Wow! It’s like magic,” Benny exclaimed.
Mrs. Morg
an lifted up one of the jars. “Looks like a winner to me. You and Jessie did a great job.”
A little while later, Jessie was surprised to hear a soft tapping on the door.
“That’s Lamby,” Mrs. Morgan said. “If you want to feed her, Jessie, Benny and I will start making sandwiches for lunch.”
“I’d love to,” Jessie said eagerly. She hurried to the refrigerator where Danny kept Lamby’s bottles. Since her mother had died, the baby goat had to be fed with milk supplement four times a day. Jessie warmed Lamby’s bottle under hot water from the tap, and rushed to the back door. Lamby was waiting impatiently. The moment Jessie sat on the steps, Lamby nuzzled her hand, eager to start on her bottle. Jessie patted her downy fur, while Lamby guzzled contentedly. Jessie was happy, too.
Meanwhile, Violet was learning all about mulching.
“Mulch is such a funny word,” she said to Sarah. “I thought it would be a lot messier than this.”
“Maybe you were thinking of muck. Mucking out the stalls is a really messy job,” Sarah told her. “Mulching isn’t so bad. And it keeps the weeds away.” She and Violet were spreading mulch around rows of yellow wax beans and black-eyed peas. They had just finished three rows of blueberry bushes and five dozen pepper plants.
“You mean it keeps the weeds from growing?” Violet asked.
“That’s right,” Sarah said. “On big farms, they have mechanical mulchers. They lay strips of black plastic along the ground between the plants. But Dad likes the old-fashioned way. He thinks that there’s nothing better than a mixture of grass clippings, leaves, and wood chips.”
Violet thought about the scene in the barn the night before, and wondered if she should mention it to Sarah. Would Sarah tell her the truth about Star? She was positive that there was more to the story than Mr. and Mrs. Morgan had told her. She was wondering how to bring it up, when Sarah interrupted her thoughts.
“It’s noontime,” she said, glancing at the blazing sun that was high in the sky. “I’m ready for lunch, how about you?”
Violet nodded as her stomach rumbled. “I’m more than ready!”