The first book in the Lone Star Canyon series, 2000

The bright red bike beckoned Katie Fitzgerald. It lay abandoned in a heap of other more battered bikes, all left behind the ice cream parlor where Katie’s older brother and his friends had gone for an afternoon snack. The pocket of her jeans jingled with the coins her father had given her to keep her out of trouble, and she knew that fresh peach ice cream, her favorite, had been made that morning.

But even more tempting than the thought of cool, creamy ice cream melting on her tongue and slipping down her throat was the realization that this might be her only chance with the bike. The twins, younger by two years, could both ride two-wheelers already, but she couldn’t. Not because she wasn’t coordinated enough but because her parents had never let her try.

It wasn’t her fault that she had been born small, she thought balling her hands into fists. Her father laughingly called her the runt of the litter, which hurt her feelings, but she never let him see the tears in her eyes. Instead she kept her head high and chin thrust out, because she was a Fitzgerald and ten years old, which was practically grown-up.

Katie glanced at the back of the ice cream shop and knew that her brother David would be in there for hours. Once he and his friends got to talking-bragging was more like it-they could waste a whole afternoon. Her dad wasn’t going to be finished with his business until three, and it was barely past one. All she had to do was make sure no one saw her.

Easier said than done, she thought glumly. Lone Star Canyon wasn’t much of a town, and everyone around knew everyone else by sight if not by name. Besides, she was a Fitzgerald, and her father always told her that Fitzgeralds were looked up to by other folks and had a responsibility to act right.