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Copyright © 2010 Shelley Peterson
Illustrations © 2010 Marybeth Drake
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Peterson, Shelley, 1952-
Mystery at Saddle Creek/Shelley Peterson
ISBN 978-1-77086-077-3
I. Title.
PS8581.E8417M97 2010 jC813’.54 c2009-905176-1
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To every person whose life has been touched by mental illness:
those who suffer, and those who try to help
If you stand high on the cliffs behind Saddle Creek Farm, the shape of the river below forms the outline of a saddle. The water twists and winds its way through the rocky, dramatic landscape of the Niagara Escarpment in Caledon, connecting all who cross its well-worn path.
Wild animals—deer, raccoons, squirrels, porcupines, coyotes and fox—come to drink. Hawks and owls compete for field mice, and songbirds trill in the treetops. Beavers dam off sections to build their homes, and fish are plentiful in the cold, deep pools.
If you were to paddle a canoe down the creek from the Grange to King Road, you’d pass Owen Enterprises, the Piersons, the Malones, Hogscroft, Bradley Stables and, of course, Saddle Creek Farm. It is a tightly knit community—a place where people care deeply for one another, and for the land around them. It is also a community that is passionate about its horses.
And what horses! Those in the area are famed for their talent and strength: the legendary Dancer; Sundancer; Moonlight Sonata. All were foaled within walking distance of Saddle Creek, and all have carried themselves and their riders to victory—both in the ring, and beyond. Some wonder what secret the area holds, to bring forth such amazing creatures. Some say it’s in the water.
PROLOGUE
Tanbark was very hungry. He hadn’t eaten a thing all day. The walls of his stomach rubbed together, screaming for food. Worse, it had been raining steadily, and he was soaked and shivering. Darkness was rapidly descending. He needed a fire to warm himself, and to cook the rabbit he’d killed with his slingshot.
Tan pushed his matted, dull brown hair out of his eyes and leaned over a pile of wet twigs. His numb hands shook uncontrollably as he tried to ignite the cardboard match. He concentrated as hard as he could, willing his hands to be still and do as he bid. On the third try, the match bent in half. Tan grunted in frustration. He hurled the matchbook as far as he could and fell backward, spreadeagled on the ground.
Life wasn’t fair.
After a couple of minutes he opened his dark, hollow eyes. He gazed up through a canopy of maple leaves into the swirling sky. Drops of rain bathed his face and filled his eyes to overflowing. He clenched his fists.
Nobody understood.
His friends had long since deserted him. They all believed he’d gone insane. They didn’t say it, but he knew. They looked at him with stupid pity, and Tan couldn’t stand it. They were the ones to pity! They wanted him to be the same guy he used to be, but why? That whole life, everything he’d done and thought before the change, was fake. Sports, jobs, school, clubs—all of it fake. Just like them and their lives—they were hamsters running thoughtlessly on their little wheels. But they couldn’t see it.
People were fools.
Even his own mother was no better. She wanted him to get help. Help? What did help mean? Medication to make him normal. As if becoming a drooling zombie was normal. And being locked up in a mental hospital? Just until he was sorted out, she’d said. Right. Like he wanted to be imprisoned with crazy people. Tan felt a familiar panic rise in his chest. His heart pounded.
And anyway, help for what? He liked the way he was now. He was so much happier, so much better. And way smarter.
Tan jumped to his feet and spun, looking in all directions. He would never be found. Nobody would take him away and lock him up. He’d rather die. He searched for the book of matches and bent to his task with renewed vigour.
He’d show them.
Soon, very soon, they’d discover how much he could teach them. They’d recognize his brilliance. Then they’d all want to know him! People would line up around the block to hear his words. They’d pay any amount of money to sit at his feet and glean his wisdom. He was so close to finding what he needed to find. So close. He just needed a little more time to figure things out. And he needed his freedom for that.
Freedom was everything.
Tan smiled as the match caught fire. It was an omen; things were going to be all right. He shielded the tiny flicker carefully with his cupped hand and held it to the dry leaves under the twigs. He watched with satisfaction as the leaves curled, contorted, then burst into flame.
He sat on his haunches and sighed. Here, finally, among the rocks and trees of the Niagara Escarpment, he’d found a home. Here, he had the peace he needed. Here, he would discover the real purpose of his life.
Here, he could find out about the other half of his family.
1
BACK AT SADDLE CREEK
Tan ran as fast as he could through the dense underbrush, back toward the safety
