Bird returns to Saddle Creek and her beloved horse Sunny for Christmas. Bird always dreads Christmas. For as long as she could remember, her mother Eva goes into a tailspin of selfishness and drama as the holiday approaches. This one will be no different, as Bird is once again dumped at Saddle Creek Farm with her Aunt Hannah while Eva parties. At midnight on Christmas Eve, in the midst of an ice storm, Cody (the loyal coyote) alerts Bird that elderly Laura Pierson is in danger down the road. Bird mounts her champion show jumper Sundancer, and with Cody they head out to save her. The family’s plans change because of the storm, but everyone finally gathers for Christmas dinner. Then, while the after-dinner bonfire burns, a Christmas miracle unfolds, but at great cost to a loved one. In Christmas at Saddle Creek , Bird beholds the magic of the universe and the circle of life, and learns the true meaning of Christmas. Shelley Peterson is the bestselling author of several novels for young readers, including Sundancer , Christmas at Saddle Creek , and Jockey Girl . She raises horses at Fox Ridge, her family’s stable in Caledon. CHAPTER 1: BACK AT SADDLE CREEK FARM ’Twas the night before Christmas … Alberta Simms awoke with a start. Her eyes flew open to a wall of blackness. The cozy bedroom overlooking the front field at Saddle Creek Farm was totally dark, and apart from the steady pinging of freezing rain on the windowpanes, totally silent. Her cellphone read 11:33 p.m. What woke me up this time of night? she wondered. She slipped out from under her warm covers, and her bare feet felt the cold of the old pine as they touched the floor. She padded the two small steps to the window, pulled open the curtains, and peered outside into the darkness. Alberta Simms was known by her nickname, “Bird.” At sixteen, she was still slight and sinewy, but rapidly changing from girl to woman. Her skin was the colour of caffe latte, her eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and she wore her shiny dark hair long and loose. Bird was proud to be First Nations, and she looked far more like her First Nations father than her blond, blue-eyed mother of British heritage. Her eyes began to adjust to the murkiness outside, and with effort she could make out the line of split-rail fencing that followed the laneway. Through the hail and fog she could see the three big maples on the lawn. One stood right in front of the house beside her window, and the others were on either side of the front walk. They looked blurry, but their forms were recognizable. She could identify nothing that might have awoken her from her sleep. Tonight was Christmas Eve. Tomorrow was Christmas. So far, her sixteenth Christmas was shaping up to be just like the fifteen that came before ― full of disappointment and stress. Her mother, Eva, was throwing hissy fits and bickering with her latest husband, Stuart. Bird and her little sister Julia joked that “Eva stole Christmas.” But it was true. How much fun is it when somebody in the family is miserable and brings everybody’s spirits down? No fun at all. Bird groaned as she replayed this week’s scene. Eva, with her face red and streaked with mascara, clothes strewn all over her bed and floor, whined that she didn’t have anything to wear to Stuart’s annual Christmas party. In Bird’s opinion, Eva was right. Nothing in those rumpled piles suited her. She should throw out all the ribbons and bows and flouncy short skirts. It was embarrassing. Add overbleached, overcurled, long blond hair, plus too much makeup, and Eva looked like a cheap, wrinkly teenager trying out for the 1980 high school cheerleading team. But she shouldn’t have said it out loud. Here was yet another example of how living with elective mutism can be an advantage. It was a horrible, frustrating affliction, and it had caused her untold misery, but when Bird was not able to speak, she never had to watch what she said. Bird had been misdiagnosed with autism when she stopped speaking at age six. She was not typical in most ways, with her unusual ability to communicate non-verbally with animals, so it must have been difficult for the doctors, she conceded. But they got it right when they landed on a diagnosis of elective mutism. Her vocal cords worked just fine, but she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Now the words could come out, and her mother had not taken kindly to being called a 1980 vintage, wrinkly teenager. She “thought it best” that Bird stay with Aunt Hannah over Christmas. So Bird had been dumped unceremoniously at Saddle Creek, while thirteen-year-old Julia stayed with Eva. And now, instead of coming to Aunt Hannah’s for Christmas, they were going to Stuart’s parents’ cottage in Muskoka for a big family gathering. Bird pictured an ornate tree, succulent turkey, lavish gifts, and joyful people hugging each other and laughing. But not with me, Bird thought. She sniffed back the aching feeling of hurt. It wa