Kneeling down on the hay-covered floor of his stallion, Butler's corral, Nels Oleson inspected the horses hoof. He moved Butler's shoe back and forth, finding it loosened. This was not good, the horse needed shoeing again, and Nel's had an upcoming trip to Mankato.

He released Butler's hoof, letting the horse stand on all four legs again. Perhaps Doc Baker will loan me his Philly, he thought.

Moments later, Nels crossed the road to Doc Baker's office and found the front door locked. A piece of paper nailed to the door flapped in the breeze.

Gone to Tracy to deliver Mrs. Nelson's baby, the note read.

Frowning, Nels wondered who else in Walnut Grove was known for their mastery in shoeing horses. He returned to his barn, and took out Nellie's horse, Bunny, and saddled him.

"C'mon, Boy," Nels said. "Let's go for a ride."

Nellie Oleson was not a happy girl when she walked into her father's barn that afternoon. Someone had stolen her horse! She'd been wanting to take him out and ride him past Laura Ingall's place, if only to taunt the girl as if to say, Hah hah. He's my horse now, not yours!

Oh, how Nellie hated Laura. It seemed as if the little princess never did anything wrong. Everyone loved Laura, Except of course Nellie, Mrs. Oleson, and perhaps Willie Oleson, but Nellie wasn't too certain of that. After all she'd recently seen Willie trade his best aggie away to Laura, in exchange for help with his arithmetic.

"Foolish boy," Nellie hissed, heading toward her parent's store. She shoved the front door open and marched into the store.

Harriet Oleson had several customers to be waited on. There was Ms. Beadle, come to buy more chalk, Nellie suspected, because the awful Ms. Beadle had kept Willie after school these past few days, writing on the black board, phrases like "I will not talk in class."

Oh, how Nellie would hear her mother complain about this, Ms. Beadle wasting the school boards money on extra chalk so Willie could write on the blackboard all afternoon. What a cruel teacher Ms. Beadle was. Every night poor Willie would complain about his hand hurting, cramped up in that chalk holding position, and Mrs. Oleson would prepare a special soaking solution, made with homeopathic tonic all the way from England, for poor Willie's hands. Then Nellie's father would start in on the money Harriet wasted treating Willie… How he deserved to be in pain since he insisted on talking out of turn in class.

Never mind Ms. Beadle, Nellie thought. I'll fix her later.

"Mother!" she yelled. "Someone stole my horse!"