Joey

by Jennifer Bleakley

  “I just can’t believe I didn’t think about the wire fencing,” Kim said, still frustrated from her lack of foresight. “We talked about moving obstacles from the paddock, but the fencing never occurred to me. It just never crossed my mind . . .”

  “We discussed this, Kim, remember?” he said. “You cannot possibly plan for every situation that will come up with Joey. His blindness will continue to present challenges. In fact, there will be times that you are caring for him when you will feel like it’s ‘the blind leading the blind.’ But you will figure it out.”

  Dr. Gallagher removed Joey’s halter and unhooked the lead line, putting the objects in his bag. “You have my number, Kim. Call me anytime. If I’m with another patient, then leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you. But I promise, you’ve got this.”

  “Ryan, I—we,” she clarified, looking at the team of volunteers around her, “we cannot thank you enough for coming out this morning to treat Joey. And thank you for answering all my questions the past few weeks. Your belief in us means a lot.”

  Sarah overheard Kim ask the vet what she owed him as they walked from the paddock. Sarah couldn’t hear his reply, but a shake of his head, followed by a hug from Kim, made it pretty clear what the answer was.

  Joey’s nicker got Sarah’s attention. He was shifting his weight and stomping his back leg. Then he took a step forward, bobbing his head up and down.

  Across the field, Speckles was clearly making his presence known, whinnying, bobbing his head, and stomping the ground. I completely forgot about Speckles. Joey’s ears turned toward his pasture-mate standing about thirty feet away, and the blind horse began walking in the direction of the sound. Speckles’ dark eyes followed his every move. After several steps, Joey halted, craning his head back toward his leg, trying to reach the gash on his thigh.

  Speckles whinnied again, and Joey’s attention was refocused on the other horse’s location, leading Joey right to him. Joey now stood just a few feet from Speckles. Sarah balled her hands up in her pockets, wishing she were still holding Joey’s lead line. What if Speckles tries to bite or kick him?

  Joey took another step forward and bumped his head into Speckles’ neck. Sarah, who had been following Joey from a safe distance, bit her bottom lip. Here it comes. Joey has violated Speckles’ personal space.

  But to Sarah’s amazement, there was no reaction from Speckles. No angry thrashing. No biting. No kicking. Instead, Speckles took a step back before letting out a forceful snort. Joey responded by raising and lowering his head as if wholeheartedly agreeing to something Speckles said.

  Sarah stood riveted as Speckles walked several feet away before stopping and nickering. Joey’s ears flew forward, and he answered with a low-pitched neigh. Sarah started toward him, but Speckles stomped his foot and snorted again, causing her to freeze in her tracks. Joey walked right to Speckles and placed his head on Speckles’ shoulder. Speckles mirrored the motion, resting his head on Joey’s shoulder in what appeared to be an equine embrace. The two stood together, nuzzling each other, for several minutes.

  Sarah could hardly believe her eyes. What is happening? Who is this gentle, docile horse nuzzling Joey? It almost looked as though Speckles were trying to comfort Joey instead of shunning him—inviting him closer, as if he understood that Joey was hurt and that he couldn’t see.

  By nature, horses are pack animals, driven by instinct, hierarchy, and dominance. Weaker members of the herd are treated as such, seen as a liability and often attacked. But Speckles was doing no such thing. Instead, he was literally reaching out to Joey. It was fascinating to watch. Sarah, deciding that it was safe to leave the two horses alone, made her way to the front of the field, where PJ was filling up the water trough.

  After a few minutes of peaceful companionship, Speckles walked to the feedbox full of fresh hay and began eating. A moment later, Joey joined his new friend there.

  Yet, when Joey began to lower his head into the box, Speckles lunged at him—neck outstretched and front hooves slamming the ground, letting loose an ear-piercing warning. Joey, not the least bit deterred by his injuries, shot off away from the hay box as if it were on fire. Tail low and ears flat, he made his way to the place where Sarah had first found him. Every time Speckles raised his head from the hay box, he looked at Joey. Stay away.

  “Well, that’s gonna be a problem,” PJ said to Sarah.

  Sarah nodded. Feeling the need to reassure Joey that everything was going to be okay after Speckles’ bizarre Jekyll-and-Hyde behavior, Sarah pulled a generous handful of hay from a bale just outside the paddock and walked over to the quietly grazing horse.

  “Well, buddy,” she said, “it looks like your new friend is fine with nuzzling but isn’t much for sharing, huh?” She rubbed his chin. “One thing at a time, I guess, right? One thing at a time.”

  CHAPTER 5

  KIM STOOD WITH a small group of trainers and feeding volunteers outside Joey’s paddock, her fingers on her temples, pushing against a tension headache. The pressure had started the moment she answered her phone and heard about Joey’s accident. She squeezed her eyes against the throbbing pain. Joey’s first night at Hope Reins had been a disaster. She had promised to protect him and yet had traumatized him instead.

  “Kim, are you okay?” The concern in Barb’s voice made Kim open her eyes.

  “Yes, sorry,” Kim replied with as much of a smile as she could muster. “Just a bad headache.” As she ran her fingers through her hair, she continued. “I am sick about this. I should have thought about the electric fencing—but thank God I had forgotten to turn it on!” she said, suddenly realizing how much worse Joey’s injuries could have been if the wire had been hot.

  “Kim, you had no way of knowing this would happen,” Barb shot back. “This was not your fault. You’ve given that horse a home—a second chance. This accident could have happened just as easily to a seeing horse.”

  Everyone encircling her nodded in agreement. Too choked up to speak, Kim mouthed the words Thank you.

  These people had quickly become like family. When she decided to follow God’s call and start the ranch, she knew she would be caring for horses and—hopefully—helping people. But she had no idea that she would be receiving so much—so much love, so much encouragement.

  Kim glanced across paddock two and saw Sarah standing halfway between Joey and the gate. She waved Sarah over.

  Kim had only talked with Sarah twice. In fact, the first time she met her was the day Tom had called about Joey. Sarah had come to the ranch that day looking for somewhere to volunteer. She had seemed so nervous. It all made sense when Sarah confessed to Kim that she had already reached out to six other ranches, all for-profit riding barns, who had dismissed her offer to volunteer her time, either claiming that they had enough help already or simply never calling her back. Kim couldn’t imagine turning away willing help. She had eagerly welcomed Sarah.

  Kim forced her attention back to the pressing issue at hand: Joey’s safety.

  “Barb is right,” Kim said, determined to be the leader this group deserved. “We are not going to sit around blaming ourselves. Joey got hurt, and we all hate that. So let’s channel our energy into forming a plan to prevent this from happening again.”

  The speech was as much for herself as anyone. The group immediately began firing ideas.

  “What if we build an enclosed stall for Joey?” Jo Anne asked.

  “Maybe we move him to the big field?” Barb suggested.

  “I’ve heard that sometimes having a goat in with a blind horse is helpful,” Sarah said.

  “Or,” Jo Anne said, “we could take the electric wire fencing down.”

  “What about creating a barrier in front of the wire?” Barb added.

  All good ideas, but none would solve the immediate problem of ensuring Joey’s safety this moment. And none that would help him learn the boundaries of his field for the future. Suddenly, Sarah’s phone dinged, signaling an incoming e-mail. Everyone look
ed in her direction.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” Sarah said, reaching in her pocket to silence her phone.

  “That’s it!” Barb shouted. “What about chimes?”

  Barb explained the idea. “If we hang wind chimes around his fencing, maybe he’ll realize there’s a boundary there and he won’t walk into the wire again.”

  Kim thought about it for a moment. Could that actually work? It made sense—at least in theory. Joey needed to hear his boundary markers. And it was something that could be implemented today. Anxious to try anything, Kim said, “Okay, wind chimes it is! How many do you think we’ll need?”

  “As many as possible,” Jo Anne said. “We can attach them to the fence posts all along the perimeter, and maybe even hang some from the trees.” She gestured toward the wooded area.

  “Good idea,” said Kim, genuinely smiling for the first time that morning. “All right, ladies—we’re off to Walmart!”

  As Barb, Jo Anne, and Sarah headed for the parking lot, Kim flagged down Jo Anne’s husband, Hank, who had become their all-around handyman. She pulled him aside and asked if he could try to repair the wire fencing that Joey had gotten tangled up in.

  “Make sure you wear heavy work gloves,” she cautioned, nodding in Joey’s direction. “That stuff is razor sharp.”

  Hank gave her a wink, gently implying he was more than capable of handling the wire and yet too much of a gentleman to tell her so.

  Truth be told, Kim wished they didn’t need the electric fencing at all. But the flexible PVC alternative fencing they had was too flimsy to keep the horses safely confined on the property. And with twenty rolling acres to enclose, who could possibly afford that much wooden fencing?

  Worry and trust. “I need to get better at the second half of that,” Kim scolded herself quietly as she headed to her car.

  At Walmart, the four women quickly discovered that the middle of February is not the optimal time to shop for wind chimes. So after grabbing the entire, albeit meager, supply, they continued to make the rounds of every lawn and garden store in a ten-mile radius until the trunk of Kim’s car was full. The ride home was quite musical, each bump and turn producing a cacophony of jingles and clangs.

  There was an eclectic mix of traditional and whimsical designs: round wooden tops with long metal tubes; dainty chimes featuring butterflies on clear wire; repurposed kitchen utensils; animal cutouts; and even rainbow-colored swirls—close to forty chimes in all.

  After stopping for a quick bite to eat at a local deli, they headed back to the ranch with the booty.

  “How should we hang these?” Jo Anne asked Kim as they unloaded the wind chimes into a wheelbarrow.

  “Let’s use bailing twine to tie them to each fence post.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Kim headed to the office to grab the twine. A thick blanket of clouds was moving in, quickly turning the sky gray. Spring could not arrive soon enough for her. After scouring the small room and rummaging through all the bins, she finally found several rolls of jute twine left over from their grand opening event, just over six months ago.

  The newly finished ranch had had such a festive feel that day. Kim had been surprised that so many people had come out to explore the ranch. But, then again, it was a free event with an open invitation to come and meet the horses, which was a big draw for families with young children. Overall, the event had been a success, generating several referrals and many donations.

  We might have to do that again sometime, Kim thought, tossing the rolls of twine into an old water bucket. Soon.

  As Kim approached paddock two, she heard a soft but distinct and steady clicking sound. It was if someone far away were banging a wooden spoon against a pot. Where is that coming from? She called out to Hank, who was repairing the wire fencing. Although he couldn’t hear her, Hank headed her way with Joey following close behind. The closer Hank got, the louder the clicking became.

  “Hank, I think your pants are clicking!” Kim said, laughing.

  Hank looked at her sheepishly. “That they are, I suppose,” he said, pulling his phone from his back pocket and pausing the sound. “I didn’t want ol’ Joey to bump into me while I was fixing the fence. I figured if he could hear me, he would know where I was. Same idea as the wind chimes, I suppose. A while back, my granddaughter downloaded a metronome program on my phone to use when she practices the piano at our house. It makes a steady beat, so I thought it might work for Joey.”

  “You’re a genius, Hank! We are so blessed to have you working with us.”

  Hank patted Joey’s neck. “Joey likes the clicking, so I predict he’ll respond well to the wind chimes, too.”

  “Thank you, Hank.” Kim smiled as the older gentleman made his way back to the office, and a rush of gratitude flowed over her. I have incredible people helping me. “Are you ready to hang some wind chimes, ladies?”

  As soon as Jo Anne pulled the first set of wind chimes out of the wheelbarrow and handed them to Sarah, Joey’s ears flicked and twitched inquisitively.

  Speckles was standing near the gate when the women entered the paddock. He turned his backside to them and Joey, seemingly indifferent to the clanging intrusion. But as the volunteers began untangling the chimes, Speckles whinnied his concern and took several steps back. Kim noticed Sarah tensing up in response to Speckles’ reaction.

  “What’s Speckles’ story?” Sarah asked, keeping a close eye on the unpredictable horse as the group of women made their way further into the field.

  “The person from Equine Rescue League told us that Speckles was purchased by breeders in Virginia who were looking for Appaloosas. He was kept in a stall and only taken out for breeding with no real turn-out time. No time to run around and just be a horse. I guess the owners didn’t want to risk anything happening to their top stallion,” Kim said.

  “After a while, the operation started to lose money, and the owners began to let things go. Apparently someone affiliated with the farm became concerned about how some of the horses were being treated and called animal control. They found several starving and neglected horses. Poor Speckles was found in a dark stall, standing knee deep in his own muck. His ribs were protruding so much that they feared they would break during transport, and his feet were a putrid mess from being in the muck for so long.”

  Sarah flinched at the description, imagining how much distress Speckles had endured.

  Kim went on. “After animal control picked him up, he went to a foster ranch where they treated his wounds, got his hooves healthy, and put some weight on him. They also had him gelded. We visited him twice to make sure he would fit in at Hope Reins. He appeared calm and compliant both times, although we were warned that he was unintelligent and stubborn. All we saw was a horse in need of a home, nothing else—nothing like he’s been the past twenty-four hours.”

  Kim’s voice got quieter. “I’m starting to worry that I might have seen what I wanted to see. I just wanted so badly to give him a second chance, give him a future. Show him that there’s more to life than being used like that.”

  “Poor thing,” Sarah said, looking at the horse with new understanding. “That’s horrible. I can see why you wanted him. Maybe he just needs time to adjust.”

  Kim hoped Sarah was right. Speckles would need time to adjust. He’d been through a lot in the past six months. He had to be disoriented and frightened.

  As if knowing they had been talking about him, Speckles, standing just ten feet away from the group, erupted in a high-pitched whinny. Joey wheeled and trotted over to him, his ears up and his head tilted toward the agitated horse.

  Speckles unleashed another earsplitting cry and looked as if he were about to flee. Instinctively, Kim backed away. Joey took a step forward.

  “Easy, big guy,” Kim reassured him. “No one is going to hurt you—especially not these chimes. We just have to give you some time to get used to them.” Kim glanced at Sarah and tried to smile reassuringly.

  “Absolutely,�
� Sarah said. “I’ll start hanging them on the far side of the paddock.”

  Kim turned her attention back to Speckles. “These are just to help Joey out,” she said calmly. “Wanna see one?” She stretched her arm out, a whimsical frog with lily pad chimes dangling from her hand. Speckles eyed the unusual instrument. He stood motionless for several minutes as Kim urged him forward. Finally, curiosity won out. Standing before Kim, Speckles lowered his head and bumped the wind chime, sending the lily pads dancing. Speckles immediately jerked his head back and stomped his front hooves.

  “Easy, boy.” Kim spoke quietly while holding out the chimes again for the horse to continue investigating. Speckles did have an intimidating look about him, but the truth was, this horse needed them. Kim was determined to give him a better life.

  “It’s okay, Speckles, come on over and—” Kim jumped as Joey suddenly appeared in her peripheral vision, lured by the chimes. The blind horse showed no fear as he made a beeline to Kim and bumped the chimes with his nose to make them jingle. Speckles suddenly lost interest in the new object and turned away to graze.

  “Thanks for the assist, Joey,” Kim chuckled, patting the horse with her free hand.

  Satisfied that the horses were comfortable, Sarah, Barb, Jo Anne, and Kim got to work hanging chimes at each fence post and on each of the trees located in the middle of the paddock. Surely Joey won’t walk into a tree, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.

  Just over an hour after they had begun, the four women stood back to admire their handiwork. The chimes looked surprisingly beautiful, and their wind-generated sounds created a cheery atmosphere in an otherwise dreary day. Other than the occasional sniff from Joey and a curious nibble or two from Speckles, the horses left the tingling chimes alone.

  “Ladies, we did it,” Kim said, placing her arms around Jo Anne’s and Barb’s shoulders. “Thank you so much for your help.”