Read The Way Home for Free Online Page B

Julia coming to her room. And Cathy was cranky, shooing Tory outside with the promise that she would call her right away if there was any news.
    When Tory came back inside at lunchtime, Julia had propped a book up against the sugar bowl and was reading. Tory ate her tuna fish sandwich in silence. She swung her legs and by accident kicked Julia.
    â€œHey!” said Julia. “What was that for?” She kicked Tory back, hard.
    â€œOw!” yelped Tory. She leaned forward and knocked over Julia’s milk so that it poured onto her lap.
    â€œYou idiot! These are my best shorts!” shrieked Julia. “Now they’re ruined.”
    Cathy sent both of them to their rooms. Julia slammed her door but Tory’s anger had drained away. She lay on her bed, listening for the phone. She told herself that if she hoped hard enough, someone would phone to say they had found Lucky.
    But no one did.

    The boy waded deeper into the river, approaching Lucky slowly. When he was close enough to touch the pony, he reached out his hand and stroked his neck.
    The panic that Lucky had felt since he had met the man with the sour smell melted away. The boy held onto a piece of Lucky’s mane and clucked with his tongue. Up until then he had made no sound, and Lucky sensed that there was something different about this silent boy. Something different, but not something to fear.
    The boy led the pony out of the river, holding onto his mane but never tugging or pulling. When they were back on the shore, the dog danced around Lucky, barking. The boy pushed the dog away gently. Then he crouched down and examined the slashes on Lucky’s legs.
He gasped.
    The edges of the cuts gaped open, swollen and red. Lucky bunched his muscles, ready to jerk back in pain, but the boy just looked and didn’t touch. Lucky blew out his breath through his nostrils.
    The boy stood up and brushed the hair off his forehead while he thought about what to do. Then he made a clucking sound again and started to walk along the bank, the dog scampering beside him. He looked back and smiled when he saw that Lucky was following them. He led the pony around a bend in the river, walking slowly and matching his steps to Lucky’s painful ones. He stopped several times so Lucky could rest.
    They walked past four small brown cabins tucked back in the trees. At the end of the row of cabins, beside a meadow, nestled a bigger house, painted moss green with yellow trim. It had a wide front porch that faced the river.
    A golden retriever and a black and white spaniel, tails wagging, ran out to meet the boy.
A goat tethered on a line looked up, grass hanging from his mouth. A stripey orange cat watched from the porch railing, his ears twitching.
    A man and a woman were sitting on the porch. The man had gray hair tied back in a ponytail and was wearing bib overalls. He was reading a book. The woman, dressed in faded jeans and a blue shirt, was shelling peas into a wooden bowl. They both stood up as the boy approached.
    The boy led Lucky right up to the porch.
The pony planted his feet, his head hanging, refusing to take another burning step.
    â€œWe have to help him,” said the boy.
    In the four months that the boy had been living with the man and woman, these were the first words he had ever spoken.

Chapter
Fifteen
    A week went by and no one phoned about Lucky.
    â€œGo outside and play, Tory,” said Cathy. “You’re as jumpy as a rabbit.”
    â€œShe’s driving me crazy,” complained Julia. “All she talks about is Lucky.”
    On Thursday morning, Tory went to the general store with Oliver to buy some milk and pick up
the mail. She ran to the bulletin board to look at her
sign. Her heart sank when she saw that all the little tabs with their phone number were still there.
    When they got back to the house, Tory spotted Linda’s blue car right away. Sometimes Linda came just to say hello and visit, but this time Tory was