Hoofbeats of Danger by Holly Hughes

rivalry between Butterfield and the Overland way too serious,” the drover said. “But we got him arrested for that trick in Sacramento. The Butterfield bosses fired him afterward, or so I heard.”
    â€œGood for them,” Ma declared.
    â€œHe was plenty sore,” the drover went on. “I still remember him yelling after us as the sheriff led him away in handcuffs, ‘I’ll make the Overland Express pay for this! You can’t ruin Chet Ambrose like this! I’ll get my revenge!’”
    Annie felt a chill creep up her spine.
    She faced the drover with steady eyes and a pounding heart. “If this Chet Ambrose is the same Chet Ambrose you knew …”
    Mrs. Dawson put an arm around Annie’s shoulders. “But if he hates the Overland Express so much, why would he work for it?”
    â€œHe said he wanted revenge,” the drover said. “What better way to get revenge than by working from inside the company?”
    As the drover walked off to treat his sick mule, Ma took Annie by the arm. “How can you be so sure Ambrose poisoned Magpie?”
    Words bubbled out as Annie told her mother about the faked arrow wound, the boot print, the snagged green wool, and the blood-crusted pocketknife. As she was talking, Davy came running from the barn, waving the McGuffey’s Reader. He proudly showed Ma his sketch of the boot print as Annie finished telling the story.
    Ma sighed unhappily. “Your father did mention to me this morning that there was a wound on Magpie’s flanks—just before the … accident. Oh, I wish he were here to help sort this out!”
    Annie cast a worried look at the station house. “I know. But I’ve already sorted it out, Ma. Don’t you see? Ambrose faked the arrow wound so we’d blame Magpie’s poisoning on Indians. He figured it would stir up the old trouble between the Overland Express and the Indians. That’s his revenge!”
    â€œNow that I think on it,” Ma slowly recalled, “Ambrose was awful quick to blame Redbird for meddling with the horse this morning. Shooting off that gun and all, like he wanted to draw attention—”
    Just then, the sound of crashing underbrush and pounding footsteps came from the pine scrub. Annie turned toward the noise, muscles tensed.
    Billy burst from the trees and leaped across the yard, weaving through the clutter of freight wagons. “Annie, where’s Redbird?” he yelled.
    â€œIn the station house,” Annie called.
    â€œQuick, fetch her out here!” He gasped for breath. “Magpie’s getting worse!”

C HAPTER 13
    N O T IME TO L OSE

    Curious drovers clustered around Billy, and Jeremiah came striding from the barn. Redbird darted out of the station house. “Billy? What’s wrong?” Her slender dark face was taut with worry.
    Billy fought to catch his breath. “For a while Magpie seemed to be calming down. But then suddenly she started to tremble and sweat, and she was fighting to breathe. She was trying to lie down—I had to keep pulling her back up. I came here quick as I could.”
    â€œSounds like the beginnings of colic,” Redbird said, frowning with concern.
    Annie felt her stomach tighten like a fist. She knew colic could be deadly. All her excitement about solving the mystery turned sour. What good did it do to know how Magpie had been poisoned, if the poison still killed her?
    Redbird laid a hand on Mrs. Dawson’s shoulder. “If it’s colic, I think I can help her. But you need me here, too, don’t you?”
    Ma sighed. “You said yourself there ain’t much to do now ’cept wait for James to wake. You go on and help that pony. I’ll stay by my husband.”
    Redbird turned and ran back toward the station house. “I’ll get my medicine pouch!” she called over her shoulder.
    Annie tugged miserably on Billy’s elbow. “Well, at least we