BLURB:
During the autumn of 1910 twelve-year old deputy constable
Jo Harper is making the most of a warm Indian Summer until a deadly mystery
brings a winter chill to the season. When chief badge toter Abby Drake asks Jo
to help promote the movie career of Jupiter, an enormous prize-winning horse,
neither of Willowby, Wyoming's top law & order gals expect the storm of
fire and flaming arrows that follows.
And with so many other things straying off the trail—from a
potential new boyfriend to keeping an autograph book, from a perpetually absent
father to the unrelenting progress of 20th century technology—how will Jo rope
her destiny and tie up her most dangerous adventure at the same time?
Jo Harper, Abby Drake, and Frog return with Jupiter, "a
Horse to Remember!" in this sequel to RACING A DOG STAR.
EXCERPT:
Red faced with anger, spectacles sliding
down her nose, her tiny fist clenched into a marble mallet, Beatrice Dunn
pounded the old cherrywood lectern while her gray, crocheted shawl dropped from
her long cotton shirt sleeves to the school room floor.
Twelve-year old Jo Harper had never seen
the new school marm pitch such a hissy fit, and like the dozen students around
her, Jo was fighting a nervous snicker. Chalk dust tickled Jo's nose with each
thump of the lectern.
The target of Beatrice’s anger was one
of the older boys in the row behind Jo, a farm kid with the unlikely name of
Ned Salamander. The herd of wild boys sitting in the bench beside him called
him Sally, and not appreciating the nickname, Ned complained aloud. So they
teased him all the more, even during math lessons. Naturally, it was Sally, er,
Ned that Beatrice blamed for the
ruckus.
“Once and for all, I have had enough nonsense,
Ned,” said Beatrice. “This is your final warning. Do you hear me young man?
Your final warning.”
Seventeen year-old Ned couldn’t keep
sober at being called a young man by the equally young Beatrice and,
turning to the very boys who teased him, pulled a funny face. The boys laughed
like a team of mischievous donkeys. Not that Jo could blame them.
Floundering behind the lectern, Beatrice
was only a few years older than Jo, a student herself when the fall semester’s
first teacher ended up in jail. As a stand-in, Beatrice was in above her head.
And as a girl, she was completely the opposite of Jo. Where Beatrice’s hair was
mouse brown and thin, Jo’s long, thick braid was raven black. While Beatrice
dressed like a spinster with sweaters and long skirts, Jo wore tough canvas
shirts and denim jeans. Beatrice liked to knit. Jo liked to shoot six-guns.
Beatrice had really tried
to be a good teacher, treading water for the past month or two, but she was
going under. Just as Jo started feeling
sorry for her, the teacher turned and stomped down the center aisle, then ran
from the building.
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