A Wild Ride: The Adventures of Misty & Moxie Wyoming (Girl Detective & Her Horse Mystery Story Ages 6-8 & 9-12) Read online

  A Wild Ride

  The Adventures of Misty & Moxie Wyoming

  By

  Niki Danforth

  Illustrated by

  Gary McCluskey

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Wild Ride: The Adventures of Misty & Moxie Wyoming

  Copyright © 2015 Niki Danforth

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed, electronic, digital or any other form without permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of authors’ rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Publisher: Pancora Press, New Jersey

  Book Design: Donnie Light eBook76.com

  Cover art: Gary McCluskey

  Cover Design: KT Design, LLC

  Enjoyment Level: 7-12 years old, but content appropriate for children as young as 5 years old

  Dedicated to

  Misty of the Darwin Ranch

  and

  Moxie Wyoming Sigel

  who loved and cared for

  Misty during her final years

  In Memory of

  Brad Hendricks

  1941-2014

  When it was time for the real Misty to retire from the Darwin Ranch, Brad, the inspiration for the character of Grandpops in the novel, came up with the brilliant idea that this feisty little horse should move to his daughter and son-in-law’s ranch in southeastern Wyoming. That is where a rich friendship developed between Brad’s beloved granddaughter, Moxie Wyoming Sigel, and Misty, Queen of the Darwin Herd.

  Horse Talk

  (in order of appearance)

  Mare: an adult female horse or pony, at least four years old

  Corral: a pen or enclosure for animals, such as horses and cows

  Blacksmith: a person who trims a horse’s hooves, and also makes, fits, and attaches horseshoes to the hooves

  Cutting horse: a saddle horse trained to separate a selected cow from a herd and prevent it from returning to the herd

  Roundup: circling around animals to gather them together

  Snowies, or Snowy Mountain Range: a mountain range in southeastern Wyoming

  Palomino: a horse or pony with a golden coat and white mane and tail

  Paddock: a fenced area near a barn where animals wander safely

  Foal: a baby horse or pony less than a year old

  Lope: faster than a trot and slower than a gallop

  Gallop: the fastest speed a horse can go

  Colt: a young male horse or pony, less than four years old

  Filly: a young female horse or pony, less than four years old

  Chapter One

  “It’s my birthday!”

  Moxie Wyoming Woodson popped up in bed, her brown hair sticking out every which way.

  “And I hope, I hope, I hope that Mom and Dad will give me my very own horse.”

  Moxie blinked at the early morning light streaming through the window. It landed on her favorite poster of a wild Mustang herd galloping through a canyon.

  She listened to the rooster crowing, rubbed her eyes, and jumped out of bed. Today was also the start of summer vacation, and she didn’t want to miss a second of it.

  In a flash, Moxie brushed her teeth, used her fingers to comb her shoulder-length hair into loose pigtails, and threw on some jeans and a tee-shirt. She heard a barking noise and rushed downstairs.

  “There you are, Bunkie-Bunkie!”

  Moxie plopped down at the bottom of the staircase and nuzzled the family dog, a lovable golden retriever mix from the local pound.

  “Oh, my Bunker!” He licked her nose, and Moxie giggled. “Are you wishing me happy birthday?” She scratched behind his ears and hugged him. “You are sooooo cute!”

  She looked up at a large painting hanging in the front hall. It was a portrait of her great-grandmother from long, long ago, dressed head to toe in pink cowgirl clothes, sitting on a beautiful black horse.

  “I wonder if I’ll ever grow up to be a champion like you, Granny Rose.” Moxie sighed. “Then I could be extra-special, too, like you.” She hopped up and hurried into the kitchen with Bunker.

  Moxie added milk to a bowl of cereal her mother had set on the table, and gulped it down. She rehearsed a short speech for her father, reciting it to Bunker. The dog tilted his head while she practiced, as if he were listening, but she knew he was really more interested in what she was eating. Placing the bowl on the floor for Bunker to lick, Moxie dashed out the door.

  She saw her dad by the barn loading gear into the bed of his truck. She tiptoed over and noticed how his shaggy dark hair stuck out every which way. She loved that he looked like her when she got up in the morning, but he got to look that way all day long. I guess it’s ‘cause he’s a grown-up, she thought, and he doesn’t have a mom making him comb his hair.

  He was also wearing his favorite faded denim shirt and tan work pants, held up by wide red suspenders that Moxie had given him for Christmas. She quietly reached up from behind and playfully snapped the suspenders, surprising him. “Daddy, what’s up?”

  “Hey, Moxie Wyoming! Happy birthday!” Laughing, Mike Woodson swooped up his daughter for a good morning hug and kissed her on the cheek. His unshaven face tickled her.

  “Daaad-dy!” She wiggled loose. “Where are you going?”

  “I just got a call from Officer Clem Brown over at the highway patrol,” he said. “He thinks wild horses may have broken through some of our fencing near the road to town.” Her dad checked the hitch connecting the back of the truck to a trailer. “I’m worried our own horses will get loose, so I want to get over there and repair the fence.”

  “Me, too,” Moxie said, looking hopeful. “You can help me saddle up, and I can ride with you.”

  “Now, darlin’, I don’t have the right horse for you...at the moment,” he said, glancing at the trailer.

  “But, Daddy, that’s just what I want to talk to you about. Even though we’re not celebrating my birthday until tonight, I’m already ten this morning...” Moxie tilted her head down and launched into her speech. “And if I had my very own horse—which I hope I will sooooon—I could ride with you and help with your chores. Like fixin’ the fence.”

  Her father walked to the back of the four-horse trailer. “Moxie Wyoming, we’ll just have to see—”

  “We’d have more daddy-daughter time,” she interrupted, and beamed her widest smile at him. Chuckling, he closed the doors of the trailer.

  “Hold it, Daddy. Where’s your horse?” Moxie asked. “Aren’t you riding over to fix the fence?”

  “Like I said, kiddo, the broken fence is close to the road, so I don’t need a horse to get there.” Her father climbed into the truck and started the engine. “Anyway, when I’m finished with the fence, I’m driving on to Laramie.”

  “But what’s in Laramie? And why do you need the trailer?” Even as Moxie asked, it dawned on her that he’d only take the trailer if he needed to pick up a horse, maybe a birthday horse? “Daddy—”

  “Later, squirt.” Waving to her, he put his foot on the gas and the truck rolled down the road.

  Moxie climbed aboard one of the ranch’s all-terrain vehicles and propped her dusty, brown
cowboy boots on the handlebars. If her father was picking up a horse for her, wouldn’t he take her along, especially on her birthday?

  “I guess it’s not happening...” She rubbed the small scar on her elbow. “I’ll probably be an old lady before I get a horse. And that will look just weird.”

  ~~~~~

  Later that afternoon, Moxie sat on the step by the kitchen door next to a purring gray barn cat as her father pulled up. Her chores were done. She had also gathered eggs in the chicken coop, eaten lunch, and been waiting for what seemed like forever. Now he was back. Finally.

  “Hey, Dad, what’s in the trailer?” Moxie called out. She grinned, hopeful again. “My birthday present?”

  “How’d you know, kiddo?” Mike Woodson smiled at his daughter as he climbed out of the truck.

  “Sure, Dad. Right.” She figured he was kidding.

  He unlatched the back door of the horse trailer and stepped into the dark. Moxie could hear her dad moving around inside, speaking quietly to someone. With growing excitement, she walked over, carrying the cat in her arms.

  “Come on, girl,” he urged gently, as he came out. “Come see your new home.”

  Expecting to see a fine-looking young horse stride down the trailer’s ramp, Moxie stopped in her tracks and dropped the cat when she finally got a look. This could not be her birthday present. It had to be a terrible mistake.

  Chapter Two

  Moxie watched her father lead off the trailer what she thought was the saddest excuse for a horse ever. The animal’s black coat was so gray-flecked, that he—or was it a she?—looked more gray than black, making it look old. But the horse’s most noticeable feature was the steepest swayback Moxie had ever seen. It swooped down and made the animal’s belly hang as low as low could be.

  “What’s up with that horse, Dad? You could skateboard down one side and up the other,” she sputtered.

  “Moxie Wyoming, you cool it,” he said and smiled. “This little mare is yours!” The barn cat meowed and ran off. That cat feels the way I do, Moxie thought.

  “Daddy, is this a joke?” She took in his expression which said no. “Can I even ride this horse?”

  “Yes, you can,” he answered.

  “Aren’t there any others in Laramie? This one looks really old and kind of ugly—”

  “Hold it there, young lady. She can’t ride fast anymore, but she’ll get you where you want to go around the ranch.” He gave his daughter a stern look. “I did go to Laramie to pick her up, but Misty—that’s her name, by the way—is from much further away, all the way across the state. She’s retiring from the Darwin Ranch near Jackson.”

  “But Dad—”

  “Now, listen, Moxie. Misty’s a legend at that ranch and a real favorite of the Darwin guests,” he continued. “Even though she’s more than thirty years old, she’s been queen of the herd out there forever.”

  Moxie’s face drooped in disappointment. “Why’d she—”

  “Every morning at the Darwin, the wrangler rounds up the horses for the guests. And Moxie, Misty was always out front, leading the herd back to the corral at a full gallop.”

  He scratched Misty’s neck. “And even though the guests didn’t ride her much anymore, she was still the boss of the Darwin corral.”

  “So why’d she have to come here?” Moxie pushed out her bottom lip.

  “Your grandfather’s a good friend of the owner of the Darwin, and they decided it was time for Misty to retire.”

  Her dad must have noticed her quivering lip, and he said in a gentle voice, “Grandpops and the owner thought our ranch would be a nice place for her to live out her golden years.”

  “But I can’t ride her in the barrel races at the rodeo like Pickle’s cousin.” Moxie sniffled. “Or Granny Rose.”

  “That’s true. Misty is pretty much retired,” he said. “Hey, birthday girl, stop your whining. One day you’ll have a horse for barrel racing. In the meantime, Grandpops and I thought you’d be the perfect candidate to take care of this little mare.”

  Moxie didn’t feel convinced, and sniffled again.

  Her dad pushed his hat back from his forehead. “Now, Moxie, everybody knows how you love animals. Every time I turn around, you’ve brought home some injured critter or abandoned little one you find around the place. I should call you Doctor Moxie, the way you like to take care of animals.”

  He nodded toward the gray cat as it darted past them into the barn. “Why, there goes Pie. You took him in during that snowstorm last winter. Remember?”

  He offered Misty’s lead rope to his daughter. “Come on, squirt. Don’t you want to meet her?”

  Moxie noticed that the old horse looked bored and sleepy, as if she didn’t want to be there, either.

  Moxie shuffled over, frowning and kicking up dust with her cowboy boots. Reluctantly taking the lead rope, she stood sighing heavily before her dad as he made the introductions. She did happen to notice Misty’s one white sock on her left hind leg.

  Her dad noticed the leg, too. “Looks like Misty’s lost her shoe on that hoof. We’ll have to get the blacksmith over to take care of that.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” Moxie said, glancing at the horse’s face. She was surprised to see Misty’s brown eyes wide open and looking straight at her.

  Then Moxie watched something peculiar. While the horse’s left eye stayed open, her right eye closed and then snapped open again.

  Is she winking at me? Moxie wondered and looked at her dad. But he was busy examining Misty’s hoof that was missing a shoe.

  Moxie looked back and the little horse did the winking-thing again and smiled at her, showing all her teeth. This is definitely weird, Moxie thought.

  ~~~~~

  That night, Moxie huddled under her blanket in bed. She watched her long, lean mother cross the room in a few graceful strides to turn off the lamp. Moxie could hardly wait for the growth spurt that would put her on the road to her mom’s almost six-foot height.

  “That was a delicious cake you made for my birthday. Thanks, Mom.” Moxie reached up to play with the thick strawberry-blond braid that hung down over her mother’s left shoulder. “But please make sure Bunker stays away from my cake, ‘cause chocolate will make him sick...”

  Jane Woodson tucked the light cotton blanket around her daughter. “Now, Moxie Wyoming, I know this birthday didn’t work out quite the way you’d hoped,” she said. “But give it time. You’ll feel better about things in a few days. You’ll see.” She kissed Moxie on the forehead and left the room.

  Moxie pulled an envelope out from under her pillow. She flicked on a flashlight and reread the letter from her grandfather.

  Dear Moxie Wyoming,

  She may not be much to look at, and I’d have to admit she’s even kind of homely. But I promise you that Misty is one special mare. You can’t even begin to imagine how this old girl will change your life, even though she’s a senior citizen, like me. Just give her a chance and let her into your heart.

  Your dad and I figured you were the perfect gal to look after her because you love helping animals. Why, I remember when Bunker arrived at your house, scared to death. And now look at him. What is it you like to call Bunker? A regular love bug? And it’s all because of how you took care of him.

  By the way, Misty’s going to need you as a friend, ‘cause I’m sure she’ll miss her buddies at the Darwin Ranch. There’s Bandit, Misty’s son...he looks just like her but light brown, and he’s kind of taking over now that his mom isn’t around anymore to lead the herd. There’s huge Hector, Misty’s protector. There’s the spoiled peanut butter-colored pony named Heber...

  Moxie Wyoming drifted off to sleep, thinking about all the different horses at the Darwin Ranch. In her dream, she did not see Misty, who would have probably slowed her down and gotten in the way. Instead, Moxie sat on top of a beautiful, frisky, golden-colored horse with a white mane and tail, proudly leading the herd across a meadow.

  Chapter Three

  Moxie
Wyoming loved going to the rodeo in Laramie with Pickle Turner. The two had been like brother and sister since first grade, when Pickle’s father, Willie, came to work for Moxie’s dad at the family’s Moose Creek Ranch.

  Their first meeting had been memorable. Moxie had filled a glass jar with crickets, hoping to surprise the skinny kid with wild, curly, blond hair. Pickle thought Moxie just wanted him to look at the bugs, but Moxie surprised him by dumping them all over his head.

  Instead of yelling the way most kids would, Pickle had jumped up, laughing that the crickets tickled. Moxie couldn’t believe Pickle’s reaction. To top things off, Pickle had bravely picked up some of the insects and thrown them back into Moxie’s hair. That sealed the deal, and they became best friends forever.

  Now, Moxie sat in the rodeo bleachers with Pickle and his mom, Carol Turner, cheering on Pickle’s older cousin, Sue. They watched Sue Turner race her horse around barrels set up in a clover-leaf pattern. Sue rode a special cutting horse that she had trained to separate cows from a herd of cattle.

  More than calf roping, team roping, or bull riding, this rodeo event, barrel racing, was Moxie’s favorite. She could imagine herself chasing around those barrels in record time, winning first prize just the way her Granny Rose had done so long ago.

  If I just had the right horse, instead of that old Misty, she thought, I could practice to be a real champion. She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe my wish will come true.

  The cheering of the crowd turned her attention back to the rodeo as Sue Turner finished her ride in record time. Moxie Wyoming jumped to her feet. “You know what? I’ve been wishing on my lucky star, my horseshoe, and my rabbit’s foot for a great horse. I’m going to practice riding around barrels every day. And before you know it, I’ll ride in the rodeo and be a champ just like Sue.”