The Unicorn Thief (2 page)

Chapter 3

“What's wrong?” Ben said.

A stampede of girls filled the entryway behind him.

“Indy's getting restless out there,” Mr. Murley said. “I could use your help calming him down.”

Twig reached for her red jacket—the one she liked to zip up like a turtle shell.

“Hold on, Twig.” Mrs. Murley came up behind the girls. “David, do you need Twig out there?”

“I think Ben and I can handle it.”

Twig scrunched her face up. “What about Wonder?”

“She's a little upset, but she'll be fine once Indy's under control,” Mr. Murley said.

Ben bit back a laugh at the thought of Indy under control. He turned to put on his boots, but something thwacked the side of his head. A sock.

“Hey!” Ben pivoted around to face the girls. Twig's blue eyes gleamed with triumph at her victory.

“What are you smiling about, Ben?” Regina, the oldest after Twig, narrowed her dark eyes at Ben.

“Yeah, it's not funny that Twig can't go,” added Casey, with those big brown eyes. Eyes that had searched the woods for him long before that desperate, awful night when he'd come to hide a unicorn here on the ranch. She'd known he was out there, even when he wasn't supposed to exist.

“I wasn't laughing at Twig,” Ben said.

“Yeah, right.” Mandy tilted her head of blond curls at him skeptically. Her usual scowl deepened.

“You're already behind, Twig,” Mrs. Murley said. “Just get that work done, and you can go see Wonder.”

Twig glowered at Ben and flung her jacket aside. She muttered something about it not being fair and fixed her eyes on the rain-streaked window.

Ben picked up the jacket and handed it to Twig over her shoulder. Mesmerized by the rain, lost in thought, she made no move to take it. He gave her pale braid a little tug, and she glanced back at him.

“Sorry. I wish you could come. I wish we could ride.”

He wished so many things that couldn't all be, at least not at the same time.

Ben grabbed his cape and hurried into his boots. Poor Twig. But even worse was Indy, shut up in the stable. His unicorn stallion didn't know what to make of this place. He was used to running free on this island, the home of the Earth Land's only unicorns, the last free herd of unicorns in any world.

Ben had spent the whole morning indoors—a unicorn rider, buried in books, captivated by the world within those bright yellow ranch house walls. The warmth, the contraptions, the people—people who cared to know where he was, what he was doing. Oh, they tried to give him his space. They weren't the same with him as they were with each other. But still…

He was so used to being on his own since his father died. And before that—being with Father had been like being on his own, only without the loneliness. They had known each other so well. They'd worked together as unicorn herders for most of Ben's life. Sometimes Ben wondered who he was without Father.

He didn't know the answer yet, but one thing was for sure—he was a herder and Indy's rider. Foul weather or not, he belonged in the woods with his unicorn, breathing in the wild, cold fragrance of cedar and rain, not cinnamon French toast, hot coffee, and lemony spray cleaner.

He hurried outside and jumped down the porch steps and over a row of daffodils bent low with the heaviness of the spring rain. He darted to the stables, where Mr. Murley already had the door open.

The stable was alive with the distressed wails of the more skittish ponies. Others nickered attempts to make peace with the fearsome Indy, who was locked in the back stall with his daughter, Wonder. All along the stable aisle, the ponies—one for each of the six girls—tossed their heads in agitation. Over the stall wall, Mrs. Murley's horse, Feather, bared her teeth at Indy. Indy's horn ripped through the air. Feather backed away, neighing her remorse.

Sparkler, the alpha mare, neighed threateningly at Indy, a fearless—and foolish—attempt to come to Feather's defense. Wonder leaped and rammed the stall with her horn. Ben jumped back. The ponies cried wildly as the young unicorn took her father's side against the stable full of animals she'd grown up with. Ben's heart thudded in his chest and rain pelted the skylights overhead, adding a fierce, angry rhythm to the stable sounds.

“Indy,” Ben said firmly, reassuringly, “I'm coming. Stand down now, the both of you.”

Indy's low growl-snort answered him. A smaller whirl of white mane swished next to Indy's majestic head. The long, gleaming spiral of Indy's horn with its midnight-blue stripe streaked back and forth above the stable walls in a pantomime of battle. Ben knew how well-trained and disciplined his unicorn actually was. He was merely mimicking fighting his way out. He was powerful enough to thrust his horn right through the stall walls until they were nothing but a pile of splinters.

Indy wouldn't do it, especially with Ben there. But would Wonder? Sparkler reared, and again Wonder rammed the stall. There was a slam-crack. Wonder was young, impulsive, not as disciplined as Indy, and her rider wasn't here. Rain Cloud called for Sparkler to lay off, and Indy gave Wonder a poke with his horn, but his heart wasn't in it. He shot Ben a defiant glare as if to say,
I
won't break out of here, and I won't charge at that impertinent pony, but if Wonder wants to do it, why should I stop her?

“Ben?” Mr. Murley couldn't quite hide the tremor in his voice.

“Get Twig, Mr. M. Quick.”

Wonder backed up. She bent her knees. Ben knew that look. She wasn't going to charge this time; she was going to jump. Right out of her stall and into Sparkler's. The pony wouldn't stand a chance.

“Wonder!” Ben said firmly.

The feet came down, still in her own stall. Wonder hadn't jumped quite high enough. But was it just because Ben had distracted her? Could she really jump out of the stall? She never had before, but she seemed to amaze them with some new feat almost every day.

Ben hurried to open Sparkler's stall. The frightened pony rushed out. Before he could get hold of her to take her outside, there was a flash of white mane and flying hooves. Ben jumped back and plastered himself against the stalls at the side of the aisle.

“Stop right there!”

Hooves skidded on the dirt floor of the aisle, sending stray bits of wood shavings flying.

Twig was there, soaking wet, jacketless, and in stocking feet. She grasped Sparkler's halter in one hand and held her other palm out, the picture of calm determination and authority. “Just what do you think you're doing, Wonder?”

Wonder dipped her head and neighed her appeal to her rider. Mrs. Murley ran in and took Sparkler from Twig. Mr. Murley was right behind her.

Twig caught a handful of Wonder's mane, then slipped her arms around her neck.

Ben let out a breath of relief and strode to the stall the two unicorns shared. Though they were solidly built, the walls rumbled with Indy's angry movements.

“There, now. I'm here.”

Indy pawed the ground and fixed Ben with a fierce stare. And Ben saw, not anger anymore, but fear and yearning, barely contained by the stallion's dignity. Mr. Murley stayed back a few paces behind Ben in the aisle, quiet and still, just in case Ben needed him.

“I'll get this troublemaker out of here.” Mrs. Murley snapped a lead on Sparkler's halter and took her outside.

As Ben opened the stall door, Indy gave the air one last slash with his horn, just to show Ben he really meant it.

Behind him, Ben sensed Mr. Murley jolt and move closer.

“It's okay,” Ben told his uncle before he could jump in front of him and upset Indy all over again. “Indy, stand down.”

Indy bowed his head, though he sent Ben a sideways look of contempt with his eyes, the dark, liquid silver color of all unicorns. Ben stroked Indy's neck. “It's just the rain, Indy-boy. I know it sounds strange.”

The island wind attacked the glass with a heavier pelting, trying to batter its way in. Or to drive Indy out, where he belonged. Indy neighed, ears pinned back.

“Ah, Indy. You're right. I'm sorry. Your island wants you, and you want your island.” Ben stroked Indy's neck, and Wonder jumped in a circle around Twig, showing her own younger, fresher brand of impatience. “You too, Wonder. Outside with both of you. Sparkler can come back in and calm down where she feels more comfortable.”

The ponies nickered their agreement, and Wonder nuzzled Ben's side.

Mr. Murley glanced at the skylights, at the downpour pounding the glass.

“They'll be all right,” Twig said. “They can handle a little rain.”

Mr. Murley did what he could to help turn the unicorns out. Which mostly meant staying out of their way and opening the paddock gates.

Twig ran back to the house to get her jacket and to get Mandy to help her calm Sparkler. Ben had a little talk with Indy about staying in the pasture and making sure Wonder did too. Indy and Wonder were expert jumpers, a combination of natural ability and the training Ben and Twig had put them through. They could leap the fence and disappear into the woods if they wanted to. But both creatures were loyal to their riders, and Wonder would follow Indy's lead.

The unicorns leaped in the rain. They kicked up mud and turf, delighting in the fresh, wet air. Mr. Murley stood at the pasture gate, watching them. David Murley was the great-grand nephew of Edward Murley, an early settler in Washington state, and the first Earth Lander to settle—or try to settle—on Lonehorn Island. Edward Murley was Ben's great-great-grandfather.

Edward's sons had disappeared into Terracornus through the island's hidden passage. As far as Ben knew, they were the first Earth Landers to settle in Terracornus in hundreds of years. The original unicorn herders had taken the last, endangered unicorns from the Earth Land to the newly discovered, empty world they named Terracornus. They had to protect the magnificent creatures from people who hunted them for their supposedly magical horns.

Much later, when Terracornus had become dangerous, no longer the sanctuary it once was, a few unicorns had been let back into the Earth Land through the island's passage. Ben's great-grandfather, Elijah Murley, had taken on the duty of keeping watch over Lonehorn Island's small herd—the last
free
herd in any world.

“Indy cannot stay here, Mr. M.” As much as he liked him, Ben didn't feel right calling a man he'd just met
uncle
, and just plain
David
seemed disrespectful, so he'd adopted Janessa's name for him. “Indy cannot handle being fenced in.”

Mr. Murley nodded at the woods surrounding the ranch. Cedars and firs, thick ferns and mosses growing in their shadows. Tangles of brambles taking over any spot where the sun dared to peek through.

“It's cold and wet out there, Ben. When it doesn't rain, there's the fog. We've had some sunny days, but summer's still a long way off.”

“But it's still home.” Not the ranch. Not Terracornus. Not anymore. He belonged in Lonehorn Island's misty woods with the herd his father had raised him to protect. “It stays dry in our hollow, mostly.”

“What about the herd? Is Indy safe out there with them?”

As if in answer, the distant call of a unicorn sounded. Plaintive, searching. Possibly injured.

The herd would be looking for a new leader now that Dagger was dead. It was Ben's job to make sure they ended up with a better one.

Yesterday, he and Twig had planted trails of apples and carrots in the woods, leading to bins of feed. Normally, he wouldn't feed wild animals. It was best for them to graze naturally, and there was plenty for them to eat now that spring was here. But with Dagger, these unicorns had begun to hunt, killing rabbits and raccoons. They'd become more predatory the more they killed. He wanted to make sure they were too full of oats to continue down that deadly path—and that they were as content as possible when he and Twig began to approach them.

“I'm not sure. Some of them are hurt, and we might be able to help. It's time to think about the unicorns and what they need.”

Mr. Murley nodded thoughtfully. “But what about you, Ben? What do you need?”

Ben opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“How would you like a room of your own? I could add one, on the back side of the house.”

A room of his own! Ben had watched the ranch being built. He'd spent countless hours staring at the place from the cover of the brush at the edge of the clearing, wondering what it was like inside. The thought of living here permanently…

He didn't want to go back to Terracornus. He wouldn't, no matter how many messages Merrill sent. But staying at the ranch would make the Murleys guardians of sorts. They'd feel even more responsible for him.

And Ben had learned something about this world—the Earth Land—that he'd never understood before. They expected different things—lesser things—from their youth. Above all they wanted them to be safe, where above all Ben's father, Darian, had wanted him to be honorable and brave.

Ben twisted a fold of his cape in his hand. Rain washed over his red-cold knuckles. His father's violent death gave Ben respect for the values of this world. So did the depth of the Murleys' love for each one of their girls. But he didn't know how to live like that. How to be
Ben
like that.

“I need to be out there, with the herd. I thank you for everything, Mr. M, but I just cannot stay.”

Sadness, then acceptance glimmered in Mr. Murley's eyes.

“Twig's a herder now too. She—”

Already Mr. Murley was shaking his head. “Twig has to stay here. She's our responsibility. As long as she gets her schoolwork and her chores done, she can help you. But this is her home right now.”

“I understand,” Ben said.

But he didn't like it, not one bit. She was a herder at heart, just like him; he knew it. And soon her father would come back from that war he was fighting in a far-off desert land. He'd take her home with him, away from the Murleys. Ben understood that the Murleys wanted this time with her, but shouldn't she be allowed to spend what little time she had left on Lonehorn Island leaping through the mist, being a herder and Wonder's rider?