The children sat on the corral fence as Cookie and the young woman talked to the policeman. “So,” the policeman said, writing in his notebook, “you’re the new head wrangler.” The young woman nodded. “My name’s Alyssa. I’ve been riding here at the ranch since I was a little girl. Last month, when the head wrangler retired, I applied for the job. Cookie put me in charge of caring for the horses.” “And you’re sure two of them were stolen?” the policeman asked. “Where else could they be?” she asked, her voice shrill. Cookie patted the young woman’s shoulder. “Every morning, Alyssa brings horses from the pastures to the corral so we can check them over.” Cookie pushed a wisp of white hair off her forehead. “Some horses need shots or ointments. Others need their hooves picked, or new shoes put on.” “And we put out oats,” said Alyssa. “Honey and Bunny love their oats. They’re usually the first ones into the corral. But not … but not today …”
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