The Runaway Racehorse by Ron Roy Page B

his mother.”
    Forest reached for the phone and dialed. He listened, then hung up.
    “Mr. Bunks’s line is busy,” he said. He looked at the kids. “If you’re finished, why don’t we jump in my truck and take a ride over there?”
    “I’ll throw down some fresh straw in Whirlaway’s stall,” Sunny said. Sheheaded out the door toward the barn.
    Forest put the fruit back in the fridge and the kids followed him out the kitchen door.
    He led them to the gravel parking area behind the barn. Forest’s pickup truck was filled with bales of hay.
    “Who wants to ride in the back with the hay?” Forest asked.
    “I do!” Josh said.
    “I will, too,” Ruth Rose said. “Otherwise, Josh will be scared.”
    “Just make sure you hang on,” Forest said. “We’re taking the old logging road through the woods and it’s pretty bumpy.”
    Ruth Rose and Josh scrambled into the truck’s bed and sat on hay bales. Dink climbed into the cab next to Forest.
    Forest started the truck and drove into the trees. Dink bounced in his seat as the tires rolled over bumps in theroad. Low branches brushed the top of the cab.

    Dink turned around to look through the rear window. Josh and Ruth Rose were laughing and holding on to the sides of the truck.

    A few minutes later, they came out of the woods. Up ahead Dink saw a barn and a house. Forest pulled into the driveway and stopped behind another truck.
    A dog was tied to a nearby tree. He leaped up and started barking.
    “Calm down, Buster,” Forest said out his window. “Be a good dog.”
    A man came from behind the barn. He was wearing a work shirt, jeans, and a leather belt with a big silver buckle. Muddy rubber boots came up nearly to his knees.
    “Lie down, Buster,” the man said. Buster stopped barking and flopped down on the ground.
    “Afternoon, Tinker,” Forest said.
    Tinker Bunks walked over and leaned on the door. He had a thin face, sharp blue eyes, and thick brows.
    “Good day to you, Forest,” he said. “That horse I sold you still running like the wind?”
    Forest nodded and smiled. “He’s won every race so far,” he said.
    “Winnin’ is good,” Mr. Bunks said. He looked off into the distance for a few seconds. “But I’m glad the racingbusiness is behind me now. A lot of work, horses.”

    He peered into the cab. “So what brings you here today?”
    “I’m afraid Whirlaway has disappeared again,” Forest told Mr. Bunks. “Any chance he’s come to visit his mother?”
    Mr. Bunks arched his eyebrows. “Not so far as I know,” he said, glancing toward the barn. “Let’s go have a look.”
    The kids followed Mr. Bunks and Forest into a large barn. As they entered, Dink heard a horse whinny. “We hear you, Biscuit,” Mr. Bunks said.
    The barn was cool and dim. Dust hung in the air where sunlight came through high windows. A loft held rows of hay bales. The floor was swept clean.
    Dink peeked into several stalls. Each was clean and empty.
    Mr. Bunks stopped at a stall with itstop door open. A pale brown horse with dark eyes stood there waiting. She had a small white mark on her forehead.

    “This is Whirlaway’s mom,” Forest told the kids. He patted Biscuit on her nose.
    “Have you seen your son today old girl?” Mr. Bunks asked his horse.
    As if she understood, Biscuit shook her large head from side to side.
    “I thought for sure he’d be here,” Forest said. He peered into a few of the empty stalls.
    “I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time,” Forest told Mr. Bunks. “Come on, kids. It’s time to call the police.”

CHAPTER 3
    Tinker Bunks looked serious. “If he shows up, I’ll give you a shout.”
    “I’d appreciate that,” Forest said. “He’s running at Saratoga tomorrow.”
    “Is he now!” Mr. Bunks said. “I wish you luck.”
    They all left the barn. The sky had grown darker. As Forest drove through the woods, Dink heard thunder. Wind began to whip tree branches back and forth.
    Forest drove faster. “I’d better