This is my first American Girl Fanfic, so if you like it, could you please review telling me if it was a Hit or a Miss? Thanks!
Sarah
Rebecca Davidson wiped her milk-soaked hands on her fraying apron, giving Louise one more pat before picking up the heavy bucket of frothy milk. Some of the warm milk sloshed out of the wooden bucket and on to her skirts, as she hurried to finish her chores. She moved quickly covering the space between her families barn and house, her arms burning with the weight of the milk.
Thirteen-year-old Bekka was trying to finish her last two chores, knowing that once she was done, she would be allowed to go riding in the trails with her best friend, David Walker. A fourteen-year-old farm boy who live on the outskirts of town. The Walkers and the Davidsons had always been good friends, as had David and Bekka.
A little more milk spilled over the edge as Bekka separated the cream from the milk. In her mind she was already riding through the woods in her nice leather saddle. A little too hurriedly, Bekka poured the cream in to the churn for her older sister, Bethany, to make in to butter. She dumped the remaining milk in to a pitcher and placed it in the ice box before snatching the rug beater from the nail by the window. Not bothering to stop to admire the view, which was a habit of Bekka, she made her way toward the door, laboriously picking up the three rugs that Bethany had rolled for her before stepping outside.
She half sprinted, half drug, the hand woven rugs to the clothesline at the far end of the yard. Anxious to be done. Once at the line, she threw the rugs over top of it and began beating them not at all consistently. After she was "done" (leaving the rugs looking worse than before) Bekka dropped the beater and left the rugs to air out, before turning and sprinting inside.
Bekka burst through the door, surprised to see her mother standing in the doorframe. Not Happy.
Bekka smiled sheepishly, knowing her chores had not been done well.
Felicity Davidson did not share the smile.
"Rebecca Nan Davidson, none of your chores were done properly! You forgot to bolt Louise's pen, the chickens water was tipped over, the rugs are dirtier than ever," her voice trailed off, "do you wish to explain?"
Bekka could see that the innocent act was NOT going to work, so she went with honesty.
"Mother! David asked me to go riding! We have been having such hot, dry weather and today is so cool! Couldn't I go? Please!?" she cried, her eyes wide.
At first it looked as if Mother was going to refuse, but then a smile crept on to her face.
"Oh, go on," she said, giving Bekka's head a little swat. "I'll finish up today. But this is the last time, Understand?" she wagged a finger at Bekka's nose.
Bekka smiled. She gave Mother a quick kiss before grabbing her bonnet andand pulling it over her strawberry-blonde ponytail while racing for the barn. She moved quicker than ever in saddling, Zypher, the jet black mare with white 'socks'.
Once on her horse, she spurred her forward, riding through the streets toward the grove that David and she used as their meeting spot.
She found the teen boy laying in the grass with a piece of grass in his mouth, his brown mare drinking from the small stream.
David looked up when Bekka dismounted.
"Well," he said, "It took you four days but you're here."
Bekka smiled. David had untidy blonde hair that he never wore in a ponytail like most boys his age. He had brown eyes that seemed to glisten when he was exited.
"Excuse me," she joked, "But I had to do something called chores, ever heard of them?"
David smiled.
"Only in stories. So should we go? Or are we just gonna sit here and watch grass grow?"
"Well, the grass is nice," replied Bekka, "But I'm going to have to go with riding."
The two mounted their horses, starting slowly but gaining speed. They were just beginning a race, when something stopped them.
They were just outside of Mr. Achley's farm, an old man who attended their church. He was sweet and allowed all of the young children to come out to his farm to play with his mammoth sized sheepdog, Rex. But what Bekka and David saw was not children, or Rex, but a crowd of about two-dozen people, gathered outside the pen where Mr. Achley kept his sheep. David and Bekka shared a look of confusion before dismounting and joining the crowd. Being nimble, Bekka was able to weave in and out of the small gathering with ease, while David had to wait for her to return. Once at the front of the group, Bekka could see clearly what the problem was. The door to the pen was hanging on one hinge, scratched and gnarled. The inside of the pen was worse, wool tufts were scattered all over, covered in a crimson liquid that looked like blood. There were huge tracks that looked like a huge coyote, or wolf. Mr, Achley's face was white. Bekka knew that those sheep were his living. He sold the wool and meat to the Merriman's store and sold the lambs.
Bekka made her way back through the murmuring crowed, her face ashen. David watched her expression once she emerged.
"Bekka? What's the matter?"
"The sheep," she turned to face him. "Something got them...all of them."
I know I know, not much of a mystery, but trust me it get's better! I promise.
Hey! Push that purple button, It works miracles!
Sarah