Joey

by Jennifer Bleakley

  Fencing material was another nightmare, because of the sheer amount needed to enclose the pastures. Wood and traditional PVC horse fencing were out of the question because of the cost. After researching other options, Kim decided to use a combination of flexible fencing material that looked like thin strips of PVC and coated wire. It wouldn’t be as picturesque as the high-end horse farms in the area, but it would keep the Hope Reins herd safe.

  Every day seemed to bring a new expense, a new need, and a new problem—more than Kim could handle herself. She formed a board of directors made up of business-savvy people that met twice a month to help her with the bigger financial decisions.

  Before a single horse stepped onto the property, things had to be checked off a never-ending list. Storage sheds for feed, supplements, and equipment; hitching posts; water troughs and hay boxes. Kim was spending more and more time away from home, which made for some interesting childcare situations as she and Mike adjusted to their new normal.

  “We can’t possibly afford full-time childcare while you’re still trying to get things up and running,” Mike commented one evening, after Kim suggested they hire a temporary nanny.

  “Well, I can’t watch them and oversee the work at the ranch,” she shot back without even thinking.

  “And I can’t have them running around the house all day while I’m on the phone in meetings. Working from home means I’m working at home,” Mike said in exasperation. “We have to figure something out.”

  Kim sighed. Mike was right, of course. But it was one more thing to figure out, one more thing to schedule, one more request for help. Some days Kim brought the kids with her; some days her sister, Christy, or various friends helped out; and other days Mike watched them from home while he worked. It wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t easy, but they somehow made it work.

  As word of Hope Reins began to circulate among Kim’s friends, the church leasing them the property, and her kids’ preschool playgroups, more and more volunteers started showing up for Saturday “barn chore days.” Friends, acquaintances, and strangers helped clear land, build sheds, construct fences, paint wooden surfaces, and even donate a little money. It was humbling to have so many people helping bring Hope Reins to life. Kim had never been more exhausted than during the seven months it took to get the property ready to receive their first horse—Gabe.

  Gabe was a Shetland pony who had been used for children’s birthday parties before his owner sold her farm and donated him to a rescue shelter. Kim had discovered him on the shelter’s website, still full of life and spunk. When she met Gabe, it was love at first sight. The walnut-brown pony with the blond mane belonged at Hope Reins.

  He was quickly followed by an older gelding named Sonny, who was rescued from going to an auction. Barb had found out about the Palomino quarter horse in need of a home, and he was quickly added to the Hope Reins family. For several months, Gabe and Sonny were the sole residents, which was a good thing considering that the staff consisted of Kim and Barb, neither of whom were being paid.

  It wasn’t as if Kim hadn’t tried to pay her friend.

  “You will not pay me a dime!” Barb would continually answer when Kim would broach the subject again. “I believe in this and am delighted to help. Money will come, but for now, being here is all I need.”

  It took months to figure out a routine; Kim lost count of how many times she and Barb had both fed the horses, without knowing the other one had. Or worse, sometimes neither of them fed the horses at all! There was much to learn and much that was needed. But in September 2010 they believed they were ready to hang a wooden sign by the busy highway. The sign simply said Hope Reins of Raleigh, with the silhouette of a horse and a child. With the exception of a little blurb in the newspaper about their new endeavor, the sign was the sole extent of their marketing strategy. Amazingly, that little sign brought more and more volunteers, as well as their first session referral.

  Of course, as sessions—the heartbeat of Hope Reins—became a reality, so did the need for training. All the session leaders were volunteers with horse experience and a desire to help hurting children. Kim would always start a training session with the statement “At Hope Reins, the horses are the counselors, not the humans,” making it clear that the adults were simply facilitators between the horse and the child. Yet it was important that the adults be prepared for working with hurting, and often vulnerable, children. Thankfully, Kim’s good friend Lori was a social worker with a gift for training and equipping lay leaders, and her expertise was invaluable.

  From money to resources to training, there was always so much to consider. It had been a long road, but all the blood, sweat, and tears she’d invested in the ranch had been more than worth it.

  Hope Reins had become a beacon of hope—an oasis where hurting children could come and find peace amidst the turmoil of their everyday lives. A place where they could feel safe. A place where, if just for an hour, they could simply be kids, and enjoy a relationship with a horse who would love them—unconditionally. And a place where all the horses would receive unconditional love from those who cared for them.

  CHAPTER 3

  AS KIM SLOWLY MANEUVERED the SUV to the pasture where a team of volunteers waited to help unload Speckles and Joey, she couldn’t help but notice the tractor. Out of service again. The rust-covered machine used to haul hay, heavy equipment, and manure always seemed to be breaking down for one reason or another. Parts of the fence needed mending between the parking lot and the front pasture too. Though the church’s generous offer made it possible for Kim to pay for the land out of the ministry’s spare change, there never seemed to be a shortage of expenses—repairs, hay, grain, supplements, insurance premiums, mulch, monthly farrier fees, and countless vet bills. After all, rescued horses were not the healthiest horses.

  God provided the land, Kim continually reminded herself. He will provide for the rest. “God will provide” had become something of a mantra for Kim this past year and a half. She determined to say it until she started believing it—especially given the fact that things were starting to get a little tense at home. Mike kept running the numbers and was growing more and more concerned about the ranch’s finances. When he would bring it up, Kim’s answer was always the same: “God will provide,” although recently it was sounding more like a question than a statement.

  God had also provided volunteers, horses, children, and several generous donations that had kept them going this long. However, though she didn’t publicize it, the ranch was almost bankrupt. And while the board had suggested charging a minimal fee for sessions, Kim just couldn’t. She had felt a strong call from God to keep the sessions free, and she was determined to do so. However, she did agree to place a donation bucket out during sessions for those who wanted to contribute something. Yes, they had enough money to last the next three months, but after that . . . well, Kim couldn’t think about that right now.

  Trust and worry. Worry and trust. It was a never-ending cycle Kim wished she could break.

  Pulling up to the gate, she forced herself to slow her breathing and relax her shoulders. Yes, God will provide, she murmured quietly.

  But first things first. It was time to introduce Speckles and Joey to their new home.

  Kim and Barb were more than happy to get out of the SUV and stretch after the long drive. Four volunteers, who had all been briefed on both horses’ histories, including Joey’s unique challenges, anxiously awaited the new residents.

  “Did they give you any trouble, Kim?” Carla asked.

  “Define trouble,” Kim said, winking at Barb.

  “Uh-oh. What happened?”

  “Oh, nothing we won’t be able to handle,” Kim responded. “One of them is just a little bit temperamental, but I’m sure he’ll be fine once he gets settled in.” Kim turned her attention to the rest of the group.

  “Thank you all for coming out this afternoon to help welcome our new ‘angels in horsehair.’” She loved using that description for the Hope Rei
ns horses. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate each and every one of you.”

  Kim’s gaze landed on Lauren Mattea, a feeding team volunteer who was starting to develop an interest in horse training. The woman seemed to have a sweet and fun-loving spirit, though at times she also came across as somewhat guarded. I’ll invite her out for coffee sometime so we can get to know each other.

  Also in attendance were Jo Anne, a fun-loving grandmother and the mother hen of the Hope Reins team; Carla, a thin, athletic woman with grown children; and PJ, a spunky brunette whose teenage sons kept her so busy that the ranch was her quiet haven where she could escape.

  Kim unlocked the trailer door for the big reveal—Joey’s and Speckles’ backsides. A chorus of oohs and ahhs erupted from the group.

  Kim laughed at the response. “If you guys think they look good from this angle, wait until you see them from the front!”

  With the ramp down, Kim easily backed Joey out of the side-by-side trailer, and Barb walked him several feet away to a patch of grass in front of the small red building that served as the Hope Reins office. Jo Anne and Carla immediately began stroking and patting the newest Hope Reins resident.

  Joey happily grazed, periodically raising his head to take in the scents of his admirers and his surroundings.

  Speckles was a different story. As soon as Kim approached him with the lead line, an earsplitting whinny exploded from the trailer.

  “You’re okay, boy,” she said softly. “This is your new home.”

  Kim’s gentle voice did nothing to calm the stomping, nostril-flaring horse. He was agitated and fearful.

  “Come on, Speckles,” she urged. “You can do this. We just want to get you out of the trailer. It’s just a couple of steps back.”

  The horse tossed his head and snapped his teeth. He didn’t bite her or really even come close to her skin, but the unexpected action made her jerk backward. Speckles eyed her warily. It took a moment for her to catch her breath. He was so calm at the foster farm when I visited, Kim thought. Maybe he’s just releasing pent-up stress.

  “Need some help?” Lauren asked, poking her head into the trailer.

  “Maybe?” Yes, the truth was, Kim did want help. But she didn’t want to put any of her volunteers in harm’s way. “He’s really not happy at the moment.”

  Lauren stepped cautiously into the empty side of the trailer, moving with a slight limp toward Speckles.

  “Hey, Speckles,” she said, bravely holding her hand under the horse’s nose to say hello.

  “I wouldn’t . . .” Kim started to caution the new volunteer, but before she could finish, the horse reacted. He lowered his dark brown head curiously, his ears flicking forward. Then he snorted onto Lauren’s hand, threw his head up and away from both women, and startled them with a loud whinny.

  “Well,” Lauren offered, “I don’t know much about horse training, but is it possible he’s just a bit overwhelmed? Maybe a snack would help move him along.”

  “Can’t hurt,” Kim said, willing to try anything. “Stay here and I’ll grab a carrot.”

  Kim was glad for the break. It had been an exhausting day, and they still had to get the horses situated—that is, if they could get the cantankerous one out of the trailer.

  Needing a moment to collect herself, Kim went the long way, across the parking lot, past Joey, and around the stone fire pit in the center of the common area.

  When Kim got to the feed shed, she tugged hard on the door, leaving it open for light to filter in. There was no electricity on the ranch aside from a small generator, used in the summer to power a window air-conditioning unit in their makeshift office, in the winter to power a single light bulb in the feed shed, and year-round to power the low-voltage electric fencing. But they had made do.

  In fact, operating on such a shoestring budget meant there were few amenities on the ranch. For one thing, the only bathroom was a leased porta-potty. No one complained, but Kim felt compelled to remind everyone—including herself—to be grateful for everything they did have. Still, her pep talks were getting harder and harder to give, especially in the cold of winter.

  It took a minute for Kim’s eyes to adjust to the dimness of the shed. The air was thick with the smell of sweet hay mixed with a musty odor. Kim found the bag of carrots where she had tucked them a few days earlier, her private stash of treats to spoil the horses.

  With carrot in hand, Kim walked slowly back to Lauren, passing the ranch’s two miniature horse residents, Hope and Josie. The small mares—Hope a rich mahogany color and Josie with an almond-hued coat—had been donated by a loving owner who could no longer care for them. They had become instant favorites among the children. The commotion in the trailer had certainly gotten the miniature horses’ attention too.

  Speckles was still stomping his displeasure from his stall inside the trailer. Lauren was talking to him while leaning as far away from him as possible in the ten-foot-by-six-foot area.

  “Mission accomplished,” Kim called out, not wanting to surprise either of them. “Let’s see if hunger will override his fear.”

  Lauren exited the trailer as Kim entered. She waved the carrot under Speckles’ nose. His ears perked up as his lips greedily parted. Kim broke off a little chunk and fed it to him flat-handed. When Kim placed another chunk in her hand, she backed up a few steps, just out of the horse’s reach. Enticed by the carrot, Speckles cautiously took two steps back. Kim fed him another carrot chunk and then clipped on a lead line.

  “Back,” she commanded, unconvinced the horse would obey, yet pleasantly surprised when he did.

  “Just a few more steps.” The moment Speckles was freed from the confines of the trailer, he began to calm down. Kim gave him a well-deserved back scratch.

  “Here you go, boy,” Kim said, watching him gobble down the last of the carrot. “That’s much better, isn’t it?”

  Lauren tentatively approached the pair.

  Kim motioned her closer.

  “Thanks for the snack suggestion,” she said, offering Speckles’ lead line to Lauren. “It clearly worked.”

  After a brief hesitation followed by a hint of a smile, Lauren accepted the line and joined Kim in scratching the horse’s side. Speckles accepted her touch, then began moving toward Joey. Two more curious onlookers raised their heads in a nearby field, a white pony named Shiloh and a chestnut mare named Essie.

  Joey’s ears flew forward and he took two steps back as Speckles approached. The two Appaloosas looked like twins from the back, differentiated only by the color of their spots—Joey’s were black and Speckles’ were brown. Kim, Lauren, and the group of volunteers held their collective breath as the two horses greeted one other.

  Joey is your friend from the trailer, Speckles. You’ve both traveled a long way to get here. In her mind, Kim willed everything to go smoothly, knowing that oftentimes, introductions between horses can lead to rearing, kicking, or even biting. Given Speckles’ earlier reaction, Kim was concerned for Joey.

  “Barb, be ready to move Joey back if necessary,” Kim instructed, grateful for her friend’s natural giftedness with horses. Then, to the rest of the team, she added, “Let’s just give the horses a minute to adjust and see how it goes.”

  Please, God, let this go smoothly, she silently prayed.

  Lauren held Speckles’ line loosely. As Kim turned to take the line from her, the horse lunged at Joey, teeth bared. Lauren held fast to the line, her eyes wide and fixed on Speckles. Joey and Barb didn’t move as Speckles reared up. Lauren instinctively tightened her grip, trying to keep the line from being jerked out of her hand. Joey’s head shot up, but he still didn’t move. Speckles wasn’t done, letting out a long whinny to proclaim his dominance. Joey took a step back, answering with a whinny of his own. Satisfied with Joey’s seeming submission, Speckles abruptly ended the greeting and started to pick at the grass.

  Everyone was relieved. After letting the horses spend a few minutes peacefully grazing, Kim looked at Lauren
and Barb. “All right, guys. Let’s get these boys into paddock two.” Paddock two, a large rectangular-shaped field, was adjacent to Shiloh and Essie’s pasture. It stretched from the edge of the common area to where it paralleled Highway 50. Each of the four fields on the ranch was cordoned off with flexible slat fencing topped by electrified wire.

  Within the paddock, there was a three-sided wooden run-in shelter, a deep, black rubber water trough, and a wooden feedbox. Several trees—oaks, sweet gum, and a maple—stood at attention toward the back of the field, providing a canopy of shade in the summer.

  Kim opened the gate, motioning Lauren to lead Speckles in first. Barb followed with Joey. Once everyone was inside, Lauren and Speckles headed left to the feedbox, while Barb and Joey lingered along the front perimeter by the water trough. After a few minutes, the two volunteers removed their respective horses’ halter, giving the newest angels the run of their new home.

  “Will they be okay?” Lauren asked Kim as they watched the two horses silently graze.

  “They’ll be just fine,” she said. But truthfully? She had no idea. Lord, please let them be okay, she silently pleaded, suddenly wishing they were able to afford an overnight caretaker. She would sleep so much better knowing someone was watching over Joey to make sure he didn’t fall, or trip, or get attacked by Speckles. Normally, she would not put two horses together right away, but they seemed to be getting along relatively well, and Tom had said it was important for Joey to have a companion.

  The sun was dipping below the tree line when Kim walked the volunteers back to the parking lot, thanking them for being there to help with the unloading. As the small welcome committee dispersed, Barb hugged Kim, saying they should both go home, take a long, hot shower, and get a good night’s rest.