Chapter Sixteen
When the white car appeared in the trail ahead, Cookie and Muffin broke stride for the first time all morning. Behind them, the Mistress was frantically tugging on the reins, turning them so roughly that Cookie could feel the metal ring on her bridle cutting into her mouth as her head was wrenched around. The cart was only halfway into its turn when a second car slid to a halt behind them, boxing them in.
Men were piling out of the cars, wearing blue tee shirts with FBI written across the front in large block letters. They held badges in their left hands and pistols in their right. They were shouting.
Cookie’s first thought was that it had been such a pleasant morning, until now, with the wind soft on her brow and the rhythmic clop of their trotting merrily accompanied
