let me talk to Hawk if I hadnât been in the room. âOkay.â
I jogged to the workshop. âDad, Madelineâs on the phone. Should I tell her youâre too busy toâ?â
He brushed past me in his rush for the phone. âWinnie, see if you can get those screws out of the shower door while I talk to Madeline.â
âOkay. But I have to do barn chores first.â
âAll done,â Dad said, picking up the phone.
âWhat?â
âI asked Lizzy to do them so we could get down to business.â
âOur Lizzy did barn chores?â Lizzy would happily hold snakes, lizards, and bugs. But she sweats if she gets within 10 feet of a horse.
âShe wasnât crazy about the idea,â Dad admitted. âBut once I explained our urgency with your invention, she agreed to help. Geri too.â
Unbelievable.
For the rest of the morning Dad and I raided junkyards, which Dad called âdiscovery centers.â We found hoses and showerheads, not to mention dead raccoons and live skunks.
Dad kept up a steady stream of dialogue. âDid you know, Winnie, that in the 1500s, whole families bathed in a single tub of water? The man of the house got to bathe first. Then he left his water for his wifeâs bath. When she finished, the children took turns in order of their ages. Last, the baby was given a bath. Hence the expression âDonât throw the baby out with the bathwater.â We have come a long way, but you and I are about to bring the American family the rest of the way.â
Back in the workshop, Dad kept me busy cleaning showerheads. He answered all phone calls. We didnât even break for lunch. Lizzy and Geri brought in lime milk shakes and fried-egg sandwiches.
It wasnât until Dad was wedged behind the shower stall, blowtorch in hand, that I was able to escape the workshop. The phone rang, and I dashed out to get it before he could stop me.
âHello?â
âWinnie! Where have you been? And how can you not have an answering machine?â
âKaylee? Iâve been waiting for you to call. Howâsââ
âMe? You were supposed to call me back! Iâve been waiting all day. Didnât your dad tell you?â
âHeâs so into this invention stuff he must have forgotten.â But I knew Dad hadnât told me on purpose. âIâm sorry, Kaylee. Go on! What happened at Happy Trails?â
âWinnie, it was awful!â Kaylee broke down. I could hear her choking on her tears. âBandit wasnât there. And, Winnie, they said the buckskin never existed!â
Kayleeâs words echoed over the receiver: âThey said the buckskin never existed.â
âW-wait,â I stammered. âWho said Bandit didnât exist?â
âThe big man with the honking nose!â
âLeonard?â I asked, remembering what Pat had said about Lazy Lenny.
âHeâs a horrible man, Winnie! He acted like I was crazy. Then he brought out this horse that was kind of the same color as Bandit, but it wasnât Bandit. And my parents believed him! They couldnât tell the difference.â
I didnât like it that Leonard would lie about the horse and say the buckskin never existed. If heâd sold Bandit, why wouldnât he have just said so?
âWinnie, Iâm at Summerâs. For her party, you know. Will you come get me? I have to go back to Happy Trails and look for Bandit.â
âWinnie!â Dad shouted from the workshop.
âKaylee, I donât know if I canââ
âPlease, Winnie!â She sounded so desperate.
âHang on. Iâll be right there.â
It wasnât easy to convince Dad to give me a break from inventing. I had to promise to work all night if he needed me.
Lizzy and Geri were feeding Annie Goat when I walked into the barn.
âIs this goat always so crabby?â Geri asked.
âPretty much,â I