Hoofbeats of Danger by Holly Hughes

the distinctive mew of a catbird. Sunbeams sparkled on the rain-drenched pine needles. The air was crisp and cool.
    They were still some distance from the station when Annie heard the far-off crack of a whip and an ominous rumble of iron wheels. Startled, she jumped up on a granite boulder to look.
    The stagecoach was jolting down the eastward track, leaving Red Buttes Station.
    She urgently waved at Redbird. “They’re going! Whoever poisoned Magpie could be riding away on that stage right now. We’ve got to stop them!”
    Redbird scrambled up behind Annie on the rock. “Forget it, Annie,” Redbird said, her eyes on the departing stage. “You’d never convince that driver to stop. You have no proof that anybody on that stagecoach did anything wrong.”

C HAPTER 10
    H ARD P ROOF

    A dread silence hung over the station as the girls entered the empty yard. Things often seemed extra quiet after a stage had left, Annie had noticed. But it was even worse today.
    Without speaking, they went inside the station house. The main room was in disarray, with empty porridge bowls, tin mugs, and dirty spoons still sitting on the plank table. Annie set a tipped-over rocking chair back upright. Someone must have knocked it over when the sound of Pa’s accident had first drawn everyone to the yard. In the distress ever since, no one had thought to right it again.
    Redbird gave Annie a quick hug. “I’ll be by his bedside if you need me,” she said softly. “Good luck—I hope you can figure out who poisoned Magpie.” She headed into the Dawsons’ sleeping room.
    Annie hung back, peering hesitantly through the half-open door. She could see her father’s still form under the tattered quilt, and her mother seated on a wooden stool, her lips moving as she read the Bible.
    Annie turned her face away. She’d seen her share of illness and death; disease had often raged through the poor, makeshift homes of the California mining camp. But she was still stunned to see her own father struck down. He had always seemed so strong, so hard, so tough.
    â€œAnnie?” came a small voice by the fireplace. Surprised, Annie noticed Davy, seated forlornly on the woodbox.
    Her heart went out to her little brother. The best thing she could do for him was to keep matters as normal as possible, she figured. She took a deep breath, suddenly feeling bone weary from grief and strain—not to mention spending all last night riding in the rain. But the time to rest had not yet come.
    â€œHeavens, who let that fire go out?” Annie asked briskly. “Have we got any kindling, Davy?”
    Davy unfolded his tightly curled limbs. “Th-there’s kindling here in the woodbox.”
    â€œWell, pile some on, and maybe add a couple new logs,” Annie directed him. “I’ll get the tinderbox to light the fire. Let’s get this mess cleaned up before Ma comes out.”
    For once, Davy seemed glad to be told what to do. He and Annie bustled around the room, making up the fire and then clearing the table. She yearned to head out to the barn, to try to solve the riddle of what had happened to Magpie. But for the moment, Magpie was safe—nobody was going to shoot her right now. And Annie was badly needed here.
    Once the fire was blazing, Annie heated water in an iron kettle over the flames. She dipped each bowl in the kettle, scraped off the dried porridge with a stiff little bundle of straw, swirled the bowl around, and then handed it to Davy to dry.
    â€œAnnie?” Davy frowned at the bowl he was wiping dry. “How long do you figure it’ll be before Pa gets better?”
    â€œI don’t rightly know,” Annie answered. “But say, wasn’t it lucky that Redbird was here already? Can you imagine if we’d had to ride up and fetch her after the accident? But instead she’s right by his side, fixing him up as good as new”
    Davy thrust out