Lester tore off the bandana. “I’m supposed to be a pirate, not a cowboy.”
“Be whatever you want,” Turo said, giving up.
“I’m going to dress as Stella, cousin of Maricela of Miradero,” Stella announced proudly, refusing even to look through the costumes.
“You sure you don’t want this bonnet?” Pru said, holding up a frilly pink hat with lace strings that belonged to her grandmother. “It’s pretty.”
“No thank you,” Stella said, but then when Lilly started looking at it, she changed her mind, put it on, and smiled. “I’d like to wear it, actually.”
Lilly took a fur trader’s hat instead.
Snips smeared mud on his face and arms and said, “I’ll be a pig. Surely there were pigs at the warrior parties.”
“Maybe for dinner,” Pru whispered to Lucky, who giggled.
“That costume suits you, Snips,” Abigail told her brother. “You did eat five eggs for breakfast.” She’d been late downstairs, and he’d eaten both his breakfast and hers!
“Oink,” Snips replied sassily.
They moved on to painting the horses.
Spirit was very patient as several kids decorated him with handprints and lightning bolts and words like Good Luck and Fly Fast.
“Who drew a bunch of carrots on Spirit?” Lucky asked, looking straight at Snips.
“Uh, I don’t know.” Snips turned away, digging the toe of his shoe in the dirt and whistling, before bursting into a giggle fit and running away. He made sure Señor Carrots was always front and center.
Everyone was having a good time—except Oliver, of course—but was it enough to make them stay in the PALs’ camp?
Aunt Cora came by, obviously unaware of the trouble her nephews were causing, with a tray of horse-shaped cookies.
“Let’s take a break!” Lucky told the campers, who were now in costumes and covered with paint. It looked as if there was more paint on the kids than any of the horses. They all left their horses behind to gather around for cookies.
“Thanks, Aunt Cora,” Lucky said, picking a cookie that looked a lot like Spirit. She took a bite and muttered through crumbs, “Mmm. Delicious.”
“You can thank Julian for the idea,” Aunt Cora said. “He thought you all would like a snack.”
“Julian?” Pru asked, nearly choking on a bite of Chica Linda–looking cookie.
“He’s so thoughtful,” Abigail said, but then corrected, “I mean, he’s thinking all right, but what’s he thinking about?” She put a finger against her temple. “It boggles the mind.”
Lucky swallowed hard. It felt as if the cookie were suddenly caught in her throat. “What is he up to?” she asked herself. Then to Aunt Cora, she asked, “Where is Julian? I’d love to thank him for his role in this delightful idea.”
“He was here a moment ago.” Cora lowered the tray so Snips could get a second cookie. Holding the tray steady, she looked over her shoulder. Julian wasn’t there. She glanced over her other shoulder, then turned completely around. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible he went to get the children drinks to go with the cookies.”
“I am thirsty,” Abigail said.
“That would be nice of him,” Lucky agreed, “but there’s no way.” She was fully convinced he was up to something. But what?!
They had only another hour before the campers went to Julian’s Con Boy Camp, so Lucky said, “Thank you so much, Aunt Cora, for the treats.” Then she announced to the campers, “Time to ride!” There were several events in a traditional O-Mok-See, and they were determined to do as many as possible before lunch. “Let’s go!”
She really hoped that Oliver would get involved. But so far, it wasn’t looking good.
Speaking of Oliver…
Lucky asked Pru and Abigail, “Have you seen Julian Junior?” She was kidding, but it turned out to be a nickname that fit!
While they’d been having cookies with Cora, Julian and Oliver had been working on their own project. The two appeared around the corner of the barn with sneaky grins on their faces, leading the horses behind them.
“I cleaned the horses for you,” Julian said, as if that were a good thing. He indicated Spirit. “That one refused to be washed, but the others enjoyed it very much.”
The way he said it made Lucky wonder if Oliver had actually helped him, or if this betrayal was all Julian’s doing. All the horses looked just like they had at the beginning of the day. None of them had any festive paint on them anymore. She felt as if her blood might boil right out of her skin.
“It’s not the horses’ fault. Boomerang loves a bath when it’s not lavender-y,” Abigail said. “Julian tricked us.”
Lucky, with Pru and Abigail on her heels, marched up to where Julian was putting away the bucket and brushes.
“You had Aunt Cora bring cookies so you could distract us,” Lucky accused him.
“Is that anyway to thank me?” Julian replied. “I had Aunt Cora bring the kids some delicious treats and I washed the horses.” He set down the bucket. His shirt was all wet. “You’re welcome.”
“You knew the horses were painted for the O-Mok-See!” Pru poked Julian in the chest with a finger. “You’re trying to ruin everything so your camp is more fun.”
“No,” Julian countered. “My camp will be more fun because going to Dusty Dan’s grave will be much more of an adventure than riding around a few barrels on a painted”—he paused—“on a nice clean horse.”
“Ugh!” Lucky was exasperated. “You’re hopeless.” She looked at Oliver, who wasn’t wet, but who was laughing. “And you, too.”
“Am not,” Oliver said, then stuck out his tongue.
Lucky wished Aunt Cora had seen that! Maybe then she’d realize the truth about Julian and Oliver.
“Forget about them,” Pru said, pulling back Lucky. “Let’s get the horses painted up—even a little bit of color would be good—and start the activities. We’re running out of time.”
Lucky huffed. “Fine.” She gave a deep stare at her cousins. “But don’t interfere. I promised you could take the campers this afternoon, but the deal is off if you mess with our plans again.” She turned to Oliver. “And until lunch,
