Jumper (6 page)

“Thanks,” I muttered. Then I glanced up. “Why are you doing this?” I asked point-blank. “We're not even friends.”

“I know,” Kayla answered matter-of-factly. “But I happen to love horses too, you know. If I can help you save this one, I will. That's all. It's not like I like you or anything.”

“Oh. Good. Because I still don't like you either,” I said.

Kayla raised one eyebrow. “The phone? Call information first.”

I dialed 411. An operator's recorded voice came on. “For what city, please?” I panicked and hung up.

“What did you do that for?” Kayla demanded.

“They want to know what city. I have no idea,” I said.

Kayla grunted in exasperation and reached for the yellow pages on Laurel's desk. “We'll try this first, then.” But flipping through
it gave us no leads. There was nothing under “slaughter.”

“Try meat,” I suggested. There were meat markets, meat wholesalers and meat packers. “Meat packers might be it,” I said doubtfully.

“Yeah, but there's quite a few,” Kayla answered. “Would Bellamy bring his horses into Calgary?”

“Maybe not. I tapped my chin thoughtfully with a pencil. “In fact, probably not. He's some kind of businessman in town. The ranch is kind of second for him. He probably wouldn't want the controversy if people found out. He'd take the horses somewhere else, some place harder to track.”

“Okay, then. Let's phone information and get numbers for any place near Bellamy's ranch. I'll do the talking this time.”

I didn't protest. I handed Kayla back her phone and waited while she dialed. She spoke to the operator like a pro and got the numbers of three different meat-packing companies. “I have no idea if these guys are slaughterhouses or what,” Kayla said.
“But let's call and say we're calling on Jim Bellamy's behalf and ask if a delivery date has been set.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“Then the secretary checks and either tells you yes or no.” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to call?” She tapped her fingernail impatiently against the phone.

“No. I'll do it.” But my hands were trembling. The whole reason for this production had unnerved me. I reached for the phone and dialed.

Someone answered.

“Yeah?” It was a gruff, male voice.

This wasn't what I expected at all. I cleared my throat. “Is this Glenridge Packers?”

“Yeah.” The voice was still a guttural croak.

“I...uh...am calling for Jim—James—Bellamy, to confirm a delivery date.”

“Hang on, I'll check.” The man dropped the phone with a clatter and there was a pause for several seconds. Soon he was back. “No Bellamy on the records. You sure you got the right place?”

“Maybe not. Thanks for checking.” I hung up quickly and drew a deep breath.

“Well?” Kayla demanded.

“That's not it.”

“Try the next one.”

I was nervous, but Kayla pushed the phone back into my hands. I dialed again. This time I got a woman who answered more politely, which meant I had to lie more thoroughly. I was not a good liar.

“I'll have to look. What's the name again?” she said suspiciously.

I gave it to her and waited while I was put on hold. She came back on the line abruptly. “Mr. Bellamy is scheduled to deliver livestock this Friday.”

“Oh. All right.” I tried to sound official. “I'll let him know. Good-bye.” I hung up and sank back in the chair.

“Well?” Kayla asked.

“They have Bellamy scheduled to deliver livestock tomorrow,” I answered.

“What kind of livestock?”

“I don't know,” I said irritably. “I thought it would be kind of obvious if I asked.”

Kayla pursed her lips. “True. But now we have to find out. He could have cattle he's bringing in.”

“What difference does it make?” I pointed out. “I know he's going there. Why can't I just sneak onto the ranch and let Rosie go?”

“Because if you do, you're going to be charged with theft!” Kayla snapped. “You have to prove that Bellamy is going to slaughter that horse, and then you can go to the guys who ran the auction and tell them that Bellamy is breaking the rules. Weren't those horses supposed to be kept for a least a year? They made that rule so people wouldn't turn around and make money off them.”

“Yeah, but what if I can't get proof in time? What if the military guys won't listen to me? I'm a kid. What if they don't take me seriously?”

There were footsteps in the hall, and Laurel poked her head through the doorway before Kayla could answer. “The lesson started ten minutes ago, Kayla.”

“Sorry.” Kayla hastily put her helmet back on her head. “Don't worry,” she whispered as she followed Laurel out. “We'll think of something.”

“I thought you'd understand,” I said bitterly.

“I do understand. That doesn't mean I'd let you risk your neck, crawling around a pasture in the dark to let loose a bunch of wild broncs.”

Grandpa had been in town to run an errand and stopped at my house for a coffee with my mom. When I finally gave up trying to phone him at the ranch, I called home to ask my dad to pick me up early from my
riding lesson, and Grandpa answered the phone. When I told him what was going on, he came out right away and brought me back to the ranch for supper.

“Why not?” I cried.

“Because, Reese. It's dangerous. It's foolish. I'm not letting you go out there alone.” Grandpa stood with his arms crossed in front of him.

I threw up my hands in frustration. “I will not sit back and let Jim Bellamy kill my horse!” I yelled. “If you think I'm not going to do anything—!”

“Whoa...hang on a second,” Grandpa said calmly. “I said I wouldn't let you go out there
alone
. I'm coming with you.”

“Well, of course you are,” I answered crossly. “Who else is there to drive the truck?”

Grandpa stared at me, then started to chuckle. “You didn't let me in on that part of it.”

“I wasn't sure you would do it,” I said.

“I might not, except that I wouldn't put it past you to walk every step of the way if I didn't,” Grandpa said.

I felt a grin twitch at the corners of my mouth. “I probably would,” I admitted.

“But you need a plan,” Grandpa continued.

“Well, I thought we could go out to the ranch when Bellamy isn't there, find some kind of proof that he's planning to ship the wild horses for meat and then show it to the auction officials.”

“Mm-hmph.” Grandpa stared at me with open skepticism. “And how will you do that, exactly? What kind of proof are you looking for? And how will you know when Jim will be out and when he'll be back so you'll have time to look for it?”

“I...don't know,” I admitted.

Grandpa frowned. “It's a good thing you told me about this, because that plan is not going to work.”

My shoulders sagged. I'd been so sure Grandpa would be able to offer some concrete help.

“Lucky for you, I know some things that you don't. If we think this through, we can probably pull it off.”

“Really?” I shot him a hopeful glance.

“Slaughterhouses have to keep some fairly careful records,” Grandpa explained. “After all the hoopla with mad cow disease, they have to be able to trace an animal back to its owner. Ranchers and farmers have to fill out forms on the animals they're bringing in. All we need to do is get those and it'll show that Jim Bellamy intends to slaughter the horses.”

I heaved a sigh of relief. “That's great.”

“Except there's a bit of a problem with that,” Grandpa continued.

“What is it?” I said.

“Well, those forms have to be filled out when you're bringing the animals in. You can't do it ahead of time. I usually fill mine out the morning I'm shipping them in, and then they have to stay in the truck—that's a rule. The forms have to stay in the transport vehicle. So on the one hand, we know where they'll be, and we can watch for a chance to swipe them. But on the other hand, we only have a small window of opportunity to get the forms before Bellamy loads the animals. We want to get Rosie out of there, and once
she's in the truck, we'll have a real fight on our hands.”

“Are you saying we'll steal her?”

Grandpa shook his head. “No. But Bellamy could technically just drive away with her if she's in his truck. We need to get Rosie out of that corral and then take those forms to the auction officials. We should let them know ahead of time what we think Bellamy is up to.”

“If we do that, can't they just take Rosie away from him?” I asked.

“Not unless we have proof that he is planning to slaughter her, and the only way to get it is to get our hands on those forms.”

“Oh.” I drew a breath. “Then I guess I'm staying here tonight. We'll have to get to Bellamy's ranch early.”

“What about school?” Grandpa asked. “And your parents? I could deal with this without you—in fact, it would be safer for you if I did.”

“But not safer for you. What if Bellamy catches you? No, I'm going,” I said with determination. “Rosie's my horse, and I want to be there. I'll just have to talk to Mom and Dad.”

I tugged on the door handle of Grandpa's truck in the gray early dawn. The door groaned on its rusty hinges, sounding obnoxiously loud in the morning stillness. I jumped in, glad to get out of the strong chinook wind blowing over the pasture.

I turned to look in the back for the tool-kit—Grandpa figured we might need it—when the lumpy, wool blanket that was wadded up on the seat gave a sudden heave.

I stifled a yelp of surprise and pulled back, my heart hammering against my ribs. Could an animal have gotten in and nested in here last night? If so, it was pretty big and only inches away. I wondered if I could back slowly out of the truck, but as I reached behind me for the door handle, the lump of wool turned and heaved again, the blanket falling away.

I nearly fell off the seat. Kayla sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes. “Is it time to go yet?”

“What—” I gasped for breath, as much from relief that I wasn't about to get eaten as from shock that the last person I expected to be here suddenly was. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping, of course.” Kayla covered her mouth with her hand. “Do you think there would be time for me to brush my teeth before we leave?”

I blinked. No, I definitely wasn't dreaming. She was still there. “Kayla, what's going on? How did you get here?”

“Same way you did—in your grandpa's truck. I hid back there when your grandpa
picked you up from the stable last night.” Kayla gestured to the narrow bench seat behind the front seats, where the toolkit, ropes and other stuff Grandpa kept back there usually sat.

I stared at her in disbelief. “You stowed away in the truck and slept here all night?”

Kayla shook her head. “Uh, mostly.” “You could have frozen to death! Or starved!” I yelled. “What were you thinking? And what about your mom and dad?”

“I phoned them and left a message that I was spending the night with a friend. My mom had a late meeting and my dad was out of town. I doubt very much they would have even noticed I was gone,” she added bitterly. “And it wasn't very cold last night—if it was, I'd have come in the house. Now that you mention it, though, I
am
hungry.”

I snorted in exasperation. “Come on.” I shoved the door of the truck open and led Kayla toward the house. We met Grandpa on the back porch, wearing a wool hunting jacket and holding a steaming mug of coffee in one hand.

“Who's this?” he asked in puzzlement.

“This is Kayla Richards. She's...uh, a friend from riding lessons.”

“Oh?” Grandpa waited to hear more.

“She spent the night in the truck.”

“You did?” Grandpa glanced at her. When she nodded, he frowned. “Now why would you go and do a thing like that?” A flush of embarrassment colored Kayla's cheeks, but Grandpa went on. “That had to be mighty uncomfortable. You'd have been more than welcome in the house.”

Kayla shifted her feet. “I wasn't sure,” she muttered. “I didn't want you to send me home.”

“She's hungry too,” I put in.

“Well, of course she is,” Grandpa said. “Come on, let's get you some breakfast.” He opened the door to the house and led Kayla inside.

I showed her the bathroom, got her a fresh toothbrush and let her get cleaned up. Meanwhile, Grandpa was frying eggs. I put two thick slices of bread in the toaster.

“Fried egg sandwich and juice ought
to hold her,” he said. “Grab a couple of bananas too, Reese.” He deftly flipped the eggs onto the toast, clapped the second slice on top and put the whole thing into a plastic container. I stuffed two bananas and several juice boxes into a plastic grocery bag.

“Mmmm. Something smells great.” Kayla walked into the kitchen. Her face had a fresh-scrubbed shine, and her hair was damp at the temples, but combed back. She looked a little out of place, though, in her riding breeches and knee-high boots, compared to Grandpa and me in our jeans.

“You can eat on the way,” Grandpa told her. “We've got to get out to Bellamy's ranch before he loads up, and I don't know when that'll be. In fact...” Grandpa looked from Kayla to me. “Neither of you girls should be going. I can't take the responsibility for you, Reese, let alone Kayla. Do your parents know where you are?” He turned to Kayla suddenly.

“Sort of,” Kayla said in a small voice. “I left them a message.”

Grandpa smacked his forehead with
his palm. “What have I got myself into?” he asked.

“Grandpa, look at the time. We can't stand around arguing. Kayla came because she wanted to help rescue Rosie, and I'm not going to stay here at the ranch either. If you leave us here, I'll saddle up Paint and Old Ben and we'll ride across the fields to Bellamy's place. Or we'll take the tractor. Or hitchhike.”