Katie and the Mustang, Book 2 by Kathleen Duey Read Free Book Online Page B

little girls who stayed close to their parents. I didn’t know their names except for Rachel, Andrew and Hannah’s baby daughter.
    I glanced back toward the ferry landing. Hiram had walked our wagon to one side. So the Kylers were going first. I exhaled slowly. It’d take two or three trips across just to carry their animals, I realized—they had twenty or thirty horses and a bunch of mules, and all the ox teams, too. And then their six wagons...
    I felt my stomach loosen; it’d be hours before we went. I patted the Mustang and combed his mane with my fingers. I liked the idea of learning to swim. I couldn’t think of a single girl I knew about who could—and not that many boys, either. I imagined walking up to my uncle Jack’s door and meeting my cousins for the first time. I would tell them I knew how to swim in a careless way, like it was nothing at all.
    â€œKatie?”
    It was a shout. I turned and spotted Mr. Kyler, hands cupped around his mouth.
    â€œYes, sir?” I called back.
    â€œHiram says to tell you he wants to go over first load,” he yelled.
    â€œYes, sir!” I shouted back, and my stomach tightened right back up as I started down the hill. I stared out at the river. The ferry was halfway back.
    As I got closer, I saw Hiram climbing back up on the driver’s bench. Our goods were neatly arranged in the back of the wagon. The mares were standing quietly, their hips sloped. They were both resting one back leg.
    â€œSorry to surprise you,” Hiram said as I came closer. The man down at the ferry said prices are better once you get across—there are so many over there they compete with one another more.”
    He looked at me intently for a moment. “You be steady and he will.”
    The ferry was sliding toward the planked dock. The men poled it in fairly straight. It only took them a minute or two to get it lined up with the ramp.
    Hiram clucked at the mares, and the wagon wheels turned. I stepped forward, keeping our distance behind the wagon the same as it was when we were going down a road.
    The mares balked a little, and I caught my breath, slowing the Mustang down. Then they set their hooves on the ramp and Hiram popped the whip once to let them know they had to do this, that he wouldn’t let them argue about it.
    The ferry sank a few inches under the weight of the wagon and the team, then bobbed up level again when the Mustang and I faced it. I forced myself to step right onto the planks, knowing that Hiram was right. If I hesitated, the Mustang would know how uneasy I was.
    I followed the wagon just as we had been following it for weeks, and the Mustang followed me. I felt him hesitate for a second once his forehooves were on the swaying deck, but then he came forward, lifting his hooves high as though he was walking in a bog. When Hiram reined in the team, I stopped and held the Mustang steady. He stood still, his head high and his eyes flickering from the boatmen to the mares, then out over the brown water.
    Hiram set the brake and climbed down to pat the mares as the ferrymen set their poles in the muddy bottom and pushed away from the shore.
    The Mustang snorted and shook his mane when the boat began to move. I forced myself to sound calm as I talked to him and rubbed his neck with the palm of my hand. I tugged at his mane. He blew out a whuffling breath and switched his tail even though there weren’t any flies to speak of.
    â€œHow long has this ferry been here, sir?” Hiram asked the men.
    â€œNot long, sir,” one of them called back without looking. “Colonel Sarpy got the cables set less than a year ago.”
    They were bending their backs now, poling in long glides that sent us farther from the bank every second. I looked at the surface of the water and saw shapes just beneath it. Fallen trees? Sunken ferryboats? The shapes slid past, and I couldn’t see them anymore.
    I felt the current pushing