Kazzam remained settled and content, and they trotted on until the next highway. This one was half the size of the first, and the traffic was minimal. Evie tried not to show any concern and continued singing, “… the ci-ircle of li-ife.…” By good fortune, there were no cars when they got to the intersection, and they rode right through to the other side.
Evie smiled broadly. The two highways had been safely crossed and they had only three more concessions to go — one straight ahead, then a left turn and two more. They trotted the first two and walked the entire third, to cool Kazzam down.
There, in front of them, the old Henson barn stood black against the night sky. It looked spooky with its missing boards and tilted silhouette. But at least it was still there. The farmhouse was not. In its place was a huge pile of caved-in bricks and lumber.
They walked along the road, past the old driveway and the falling fences, until they got to the barnyard gate. Evie slid down from Kazzam and gave his ears a rub.
She led him through the unhinged gate toward the dark, decrepit building. It leaned dangerously to one side and smelled of mouldy hay and wood rot. Kazzam shook his head and cleared his nose. His eyes rolled at her.
“I know. But it’s better than nothing, don’t you think?”
Evie wasn’t sure herself. It looked like it might fall down.
Kazzam fidgeted and didn’t seem too happy about this place. Evie couldn’t blame him. The stables at Maple Mills were luxurious, especially by comparison.
Evie continued to investigate. By the light of the moon she could see a separate fenced area with a small building. That might be a possibility. The split-rail fence was rickety but still standing, and the ancient board gate was still on its hinges. She unlatched it and pushed it open. The ensuing creak was loud enough to startle Kazzam.
“Easy, boy. You’ve escaped a dire fate at the hands of my father and faced two highways tonight. A little rust shouldn’t upset you.”
He trembled with apprehension and snorted, but walked through with her. She closed the gate behind him slowly to minimize the noise, then looked around the small yard.
In the dark it was difficult to know exactly the condition, but the walk-in shelter seemed to be okay. In any case, it was much better than the derelict barn, and the roof leaked no moonlight. After assuring herself that the fences enclosed the paddock entirely, she took Kazzam’s saddle off and removed his bridle. They would stay here for the night.
She watched him check out the small field and nibble some grass. He then dropped to his knees and rolled over onto his back to give it a good scratch. He rolled over twice before he stood up and shook his body from head to toe. Evie was satisfied. Horses don’t roll unless they feel safe.
Evie carried his tack into the shelter and looked for a place to put it. She squinted into the murky darkness and waited until her eyes adjusted. At the back in the corner was a pile of odds and ends. A broken pitchfork, ceramic bits and pieces, a rubber pail, and — what luck! — a dusty old wooden sawhorse. Maybe it’s a sign that things will turn out well, she thought, as she placed the saddle on the sawhorse and hung the bridle on the end. Who needs a fancy tack room?
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a large, irregular, light-brown lump on the ground. What was it? She kept perfectly still and stared at it. It didn’t move. She could not identify it by sight. Cautiously, Evie crept closer to see what it was. She really didn’t want to find a dead body, animal or human, and the hairs on her neck stood up straight.
Gathering all her courage, she kicked it hard. It was a pile of burlap feed bags.
Evie shuddered, then suddenly laughed. What an idiot! Talk about an overactive imagination! She lifted the top bag and shook it out. It didn’t smell bad at all. Maybe a little like wet dog, but not rot or some disgusting dead thing. The burlap bags would really come in handy. She rubbed Kazzam down with the one she had in her hand.
Evie felt good that she’d thought of this place. They had shelter, there was grass in the paddock for Kazzam to eat, and the pile of burlap feed bags could serve as her bed for the night. The only thing missing was water.
She fumbled around, looking for a tap. She had seen a large aluminum basin upside down beside the gate. Interesting. She strode toward it and smacked right into something metal and large, stinging her thigh. An old- fashioned water pump. We’re getting closer, she thought, rubbing away the pain.
She grabbed the handle and pumped. It squeaked noisily and the handle worked far too easily. Evie knew little about water pumps, but the phrase “priming the pump” came into her head. What did it mean? Knowing that might have been helpful.
She kept pumping. If nothing happened after a few minutes she’d have to go in search of water. She’d noticed lights up the road at the next intersection. If she remembered correctly, there were a few houses there, a gas station and a variety store.
But something was happening. The pump handle was becoming harder to lift up and push down. Promising. All at once, water gushed out. Evie thought it looked rusty in the moonlight, so she kept pumping madly until the water became clear. She grabbed the basin, turned it over under the spout, and resumed pumping. She washed out the basin as best she could and began to fill it up.
Water, beautiful, clear water came rushing out.Wonderful, plentiful water for Kazzam. The gelding wandered over and sniffed it. He splashed it with his upper lip and sniffed it again. The water kept coming as Kazzam put his mouth into the cool liquid and drank his fill.
When the basin was full to the brim, Evie rinsed her hands and arms and face. She let the water run down her back and front, and she combed it through her sweaty hair. Now she leaned over the trough and drank as much as she wanted. It tasted surprisingly good.
Evie felt content. A wave of fatigue came over her. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. It had been a very long day, starting early that morning with the big Caledon race. She’d call Aunt Mary first thing in the morning and hope that her aunt was there to take the call.
Evie gratefully sank into the pile of burlap, using her sweatshirt as a pillow and her windbreaker as a blanket. It was a warm, breezeless night, and the sound of Kazzam quietly foraging grass comforted her. She was sound asleep within minutes.
She dreamed that a cold, wet nose was sniffing her face. She rolled over. The nose pushed at one of her hands. She moved her arm and adjusted the windbreaker.
Now something thumped on her back. Evie sat up quickly, wide awake, and looked around. She could see nothing. The moon had disappeared, and the sky was pitch-black. She could barely make out the silhouette of Kazzam, outside grazing.
What was in her shed? What had come so close? And why was Kazzam so tranquil when some large creature with a cold nose might have attacked and eaten her?
Evie decided that it must’ve been a dream. It had felt very real, but if any animal had been there, the gelding would’ve been tense and pacing and totally upset. She sighed and drifted off, telling herself to quit imagining things. Soon, she was back in a deep sleep.
The next morning Evie awoke and yawned happily. In daylight, she was pleased with what she saw. The shelter was old but sturdy, and the paddock wasn’t overrun with burdocks and weeds, the way one might expect of an untended patch of grass. Kazzam was having another drink at the basin, and he looked rested.
She stretched. She’d get up and go to the variety store along the road to pick up a few things to eat. Her stomach rumbled at the thought. She’d find a phone there, too, to call Aunt Mary. They’d figure out where to meet in Toronto and how to find Evie’s mother. The only question was whether Kazzam would be fine at the Hensons’ for the day. Evie wasn’t quite sure. She’d have to think about it a bit more.
Also, she had a huge amount of cash.