Joey

by Jennifer Bleakley

  “Lauren, let’s face it. Speckles needs a safe person. That’s what we want our trainers to be for our horses—a safe place. A person who learns to read them and understand them, and then lets the rest of us know what they need.” Kim paused for a moment before adding, “So, what do you think?”

  Lauren’s mind raced. Me, a trainer? For the most difficult horse at Hope Reins? Yes, she had expressed interest, even shadowing a trainer during a few sessions. But she had assumed that her first horse would be one of the easygoing, laid-back ones. There was no way she was qualified for something like this. Still, Kim was waiting for an answer. She had to say something.

  “Me?” was all she could get out.

  “Yes, you. You are really good with him, and more important, he already trusts and respects you. I know you can do this. If it’s not too much . . . I don’t want you to do anything that will cause you more pain. Will you at least pray about it?”

  Kim’s eyes sparkled with hope. Lauren glanced at her daughters, their pleading stares willing her to answer. How could she possibly say no?

  CHAPTER 7

  SARAH STOPPED, closed her eyes, and let the sun warm her face before entering paddock two. Spring grass densely covered the field like a vibrant shag carpet, and the trees were already budding. I can’t believe it’s been two months since I first met Joey. Pulling back on the latch, she released the gate with a squeak. The Appaloosas turned toward the sound.

  Sarah clutched a halter in both hands as she made her way to Joey. Kim had left a note for Sarah on the whiteboard in the hay shed asking if she would check on Joey after she finished feeding the herd.

  Ever since Kim had discovered Sarah’s past experience with an equine care and wellness team at a riding barn in Minnesota, she had been entrusting more and more of the horses’ care to her. Sarah was happy to help and anxious for the chance to prove herself, especially after being at a loss for how to care for Joey that first morning.

  The note also asked Sarah to check Joey’s legs for any signs of rain rot—a bacterial skin infection common in light-colored horses, especially during wet months.

  She gave Speckles a wide berth as she passed him. “I’m only here to check on Joey,” she said. “You just do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”

  Speckles flicked his ears at her, yawned, and then continued grazing.

  Joey was resting near an oak tree. Sarah put the halter with an attached lead line over his head. “Hey, big guy.” She ran her hand along his side. “You’re looking good this morning.”

  The horse leaned his head into her shoulder in his usual trusting response.

  Sarah clucked her tongue and began walking, and Joey followed on the lead line. And then, much to Sarah’s surprise, so did Speckles, from fifteen feet away. As the brown-and-white horse approached, her shoulders tensed. She studied his awkward gait, his guarded eyes. He was the complete opposite of Joey.

  Without thinking, Sarah dropped Joey’s line and slowly approached Speckles. She stopped four feet in front of him, observing as he came closer. Then she cautiously extended her hand toward him. A moment later, his nose hit the target and Speckles sniffed her. When his lips parted, Sarah started to jerk her hand away, but the horse didn’t strike or snap. So she relaxed her arm, keeping her hand under his muzzle. Soft, fleshy lips rooted around her hand, his whiskers tickling her.

  “Maybe you aren’t so scary after all,” she whispered.

  Just then Joey, who had quietly walked up behind Sarah, stomped his front hoof impatiently, startling her.

  “Sheesh, Joey, way to interrupt a moment,” she teased, picking up his lead rope and navigating him to the gate. The two of them exited the field, leaving Speckles alone to graze.

  Sarah led Joey over to a hitching post, one of the many wooden rails located throughout the Hope Reins property. As she stopped to secure Joey, he kept walking—right into the rail post. Joey came to an abrupt halt as his chest hit the barrier. I hope no one saw that, Sarah thought, quickly looking around. Thankfully, everyone was busy getting ready for a big group session with some kids from the Durham County foster care program.

  In the short time Sarah had been volunteering at Hope Reins, she had learned a lot about sessions—the time when a child gets to work with a horse. She had even been asked to serve as a session leader. “You’d be a natural given your experience with horses,” Kim had said, encouraging her to consider taking on the responsibility.

  Sarah, however, was less confident. She loved working with animals, but she wasn’t always as comfortable around people. Animals were easy to please. They loved you no matter what. The betrayal and hurt she had experienced growing up had taught her to keep a safe distance from people.

  “Sorry about the post, Joey,” Sarah said, wrapping the lead line around the rail. “I promise I really do have experience with horse care.”

  Joey shook off an annoying onslaught of flies.

  “I just don’t really have any experience with a blind horse,” Sarah confessed.

  Joey craned his head back, then bent down to nibble an itch on his upper front leg.

  Sarah ran her hand along Joey’s side and down each leg. All of his leg wounds were completely healed. Only a few scars remained where the deeper cuts had marred his skin. The large gash on his upper thigh had also healed, and hair was already growing back.

  “You heal pretty quickly, Joey.” Sarah made a second pass on each leg, looking for any scabs around the pasterns (ankles) or lower parts of the leg, telltale evidence of rain rot. All four legs looked good.

  “I’ll be right back, Joey,” she said, giving his nose a good rub. Sarah made a dash for the nearby tack shed to grab some grooming supplies. When she emerged, Joey was nowhere to be seen! How did he get loose? How could he have disappeared so quickly? And where did he go? Her pulse quickened as she took in the empty arena.

  The woods! “Please, Joey. Please don’t be in the woods,” she cried aloud. There were too many roots, holes, and low-hanging branches there, all potential hazards for a blind horse. Sarah raced to the edge of the woods, listening for any rustling sounds. Thankfully, there was no sign of the black-and-white beauty, just two squirrels romping through the fallen leaves. She glanced across the property to the parking lot. No horse on the run. She turned around, and there, as if following a trail of bread crumbs home, was Joey, sashaying back to his field without a care in the world. Sarah ran to catch up to him.

  “Whoa there, big guy,” she said, grabbing the lead rope that hung limply beside him. “Don’t you ever wander off like that again,” she said, surprised at how emotional she was getting.

  Sarah let Joey graze for a few minutes while she calmed herself. “Okay, let’s try this again,” she said, turning Joey around and retracing their steps to the hitching post. She wound the rope tightly around the rail and started to clean dirt and leaves off Joey’s back with a stiff bristle brush.

  Just then, Sarah heard large vehicles pull into the gravel lot, followed by the sounds of excited children. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group of at least twenty kids being led by Kim across the ranch to the riding arena where Gabe and Shiloh waited.

  I need to hurry. She wanted to finish Joey’s grooming and get him back to his field before the kids left the demonstration and started to disperse around the ranch. As she picked up Joey’s hoof to clean it out, Sarah noticed a boy fall back from the group, head over to Kim’s office, and plop down in one of the rocking chairs on the little porch. Sarah expected someone from the foster care center to intervene, but everyone was at the arena.

  What’s he doing? Sarah wondered.

  The boy appeared to be around twelve or thirteen, with messy, light brown hair. He wore baggy jeans and a faded Star Wars T-shirt.

  Sarah watched the boy glance at his shoes and then toward the parking lot. I need to do something. After making sure Joey’s rope was still secure, she commanded him to stay and walked over to the boy.

  At that moment Sarah rea
lized that knowing you should do something and knowing what to do are two very different things.

  The boy’s head was still turned toward the parking lot as Sarah approached.

  “Hey,” she said rather tentatively, “I noticed you sitting here all by yourself. Don’t you want to see the horses?”

  No answer. No eye contact. Nothing but silence.

  “My name is Sarah. I volunteer here. What’s your name?”

  Silence.

  “Do you . . . like horses?”

  Deafening silence.

  I am horrible at this. She glanced over at Joey, calmly standing at the hitching post.

  “Ethan.”

  Okay. Progress.

  “Hey, Ethan, nice to meet you. Whatcha doing over here?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. Then, “I had to come. They never give us a choice about anything. We’re just here because all the girls begged to come. Horses are for girls.”

  “Well, you’ve got me there,” Sarah confessed. “I’m a girl, and I do love horses, but I know lots of guys who like horses too.”

  She took a chance and sat down in the other rocking chair.

  “What about all those tough cowboys in the Wild West?” she suggested. “They liked horses. And all the warriors on horseback in history that fought in battles. They probably really liked them.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess.”

  Sarah cringed at the eye roll. “A lot of veterinarians are guys . . .” She stopped before she repeated herself once again.

  You are trying way too hard to prove your point, she chided herself. Ethan picked at the rubber outsoles of his well-worn gray Converses. His fingernails, Sarah noticed, were in desperate need of a trim.

  “We used to take my dog to the vet,” Ethan said flatly. “He didn’t like the guy too much.”

  “What kind of dog did you have?”

  “I don’t know, some kind of mutt. He was cool, though. His name was Bo.”

  “Bo is a cool name for a dog. I always wanted a dog when I was a kid, but my parents never let me. As soon as I can afford a house, I’m getting a dog.”

  Ethan stared at her, silent.

  Sarah glanced at the group of children across the way. “You sure you don’t want to head over there? I’ll go with you.”

  “Nope, I’ll just stay here till they drive us back.” He looked at Sarah in defiance, adding, “You don’t have to babysit me, you know.”

  I definitely prefer working with horses rather than people.

  As if he heard her thoughts, Joey let out a loud nicker. He was digging the ground with his hoof, and Sarah knew she couldn’t leave the horse alone any longer. But she didn’t feel comfortable leaving Ethan alone either.

  “Hey, would you like to meet a blind horse?”

  “A blind horse?” he asked skeptically. “Doesn’t he, like, fall down and stuff?”

  “No, not at all. His name is Joey,” she said, pointing toward the hitching post.

  The boy stood up and started walking. Sarah had to run a few steps to catch up to him. He was taller than she had first thought, and he seemed to be all arms and legs, like a large-breed puppy who had yet to grow into his limbs.

  Ethan came to an abrupt stop about ten feet in front of Joey and studied him. “He doesn’t look blind.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” Sarah agreed. “You wouldn’t know anything was wrong with him just by looking at him. After I finish grooming him, do you wanna help me get him back to his field?” she asked.

  “I guess. What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, first let me get some of this on him,” she said, giving Joey a quick application of fly spray to help keep the pesky bugs away from his sensitive skin. “And this,” she added, applying a dab of sunscreen on his pink freckled nose. “Now that the sun is getting more intense during the day, we don’t want Joey to burn.”

  Sarah unwound Joey’s lead rope and handed the end to Ethan. “Okay, follow me.”

  “Is he gonna bite me?” Ethan asked.

  Sarah stroked Joey’s neck. “No, Joey’s really gentle, and I’ll be right beside you.”

  Sarah caught Barb’s attention as they walked by.

  “Ethan, would you mind staying with Joey for a second while I ask my friend Barb a question?”

  “Whatever,” he mumbled.

  “Hey, Barb,” Sarah began, “is it okay if I take Ethan to paddock two? I promised he could help me with Joey.”

  “We saw the two of you talking,” Barb said, smiling. “The counselors from the program were surprised you got him to say anything, let alone help with Joey.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “It turns out that Ethan has been a pretty tough nut to crack,” Barb began. “According to his counselor, he is the oldest of four siblings who were placed into foster care after a teacher noticed the kids all showing up at school covered in bruises. Apparently, the foster family was terrific, but they only wanted to adopt the three younger kids.”

  “Ouch,” Sarah winced, glancing back at Ethan, who was now totally preoccupied with Joey.

  “Since then, they said, he’s pretty much retreated inward,” Barb continued. “Puts on a tough-as-nails facade and just keeps to himself.”

  Sarah couldn’t imagine going through all of that at Ethan’s age. Her childhood might not have been ideal either, but at least she had grown up with two parents who loved her. Well, at least a mother who loved me, she mentally clarified.

  “If you’ve got him talking, that’s a huge step forward,” Barb continued, effectively bringing Sarah back to the present. “You two go ahead. I’ll let the others know he’s with you.”

  Slightly shaken from the painful memories she always tried so hard to keep hidden, Sarah plastered a smile on her face, nodded to Barb, and headed back to Ethan and Joey.

  “Am I in trouble?” Ethan asked.

  “What?” Sarah asked distractedly, before realizing the boy’s concern. “Oh, no. Of course not. I was just letting Barb know that you are going to help me with Joey. It makes us look kind of bad when we lose a kid,” she said, winking.

  Ethan shrugged in reply.

  When they came to the gate, Sarah released the latch, took the rope from Ethan, and led Joey into the field. Ethan stayed near the gate, outside the paddock. How odd, Sarah thought, seeing several of the wind chimes scattered on the ground. That’s the second time this week those have come down.

  Sarah unfastened Joey’s halter. He gave his head a good shake, then called out to Speckles. A nicker came from the back of the field. While Joey decided whether to join his friend immediately, Sarah introduced Ethan to Joey.

  “When he was younger, Joey was a champion, competing in different horse events—weren’t you, boy?” She put her hand under Joey’s chin, raising it to give him a kiss on the nose.

  “But then he got hurt and couldn’t compete anymore. His owners weren’t able to keep him after that, and so he was sold. Actually, we think he was sold a bunch of times.”

  Joey nuzzled Sarah’s shoulder. “Finally, Joey ended up with someone who couldn’t—or actually wouldn’t—take care of him.”

  “Why would you take a horse if you couldn’t take care of it?” Ethan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “But Joey’s last owner pretty much just left him to die. This beautiful, sweet animal lying alone in his stall, thrown away and not wanted.” Sarah’s voice caught on the last two words. She hadn’t really thought about the similarities in her story and Joey’s. It caught her off guard. Get it together, Sarah. This is about Joey and Ethan, not you. Rubbing Joey’s side, she swallowed hard against the pain and looked at Ethan.

  He seemed ready to bolt again. He looked . . . angry. Or sad. Sarah couldn’t tell.

  “Do you want to greet Joey?”

  He shrugged.

  “Here, just hold your hand out like this.” Sarah showed Ethan how to hold his hand palm down, fingers curved into an open fist. “Put
it under Joey’s nose so he can smell you. It’s like a horse handshake.”

  Ethan put his hand over the fence. Immediately, Joey lowered his head and breathed onto the outstretched hand.

  The transformation in Ethan’s demeanor was instantaneous. “Cool. Can I touch him?”

  “Sure,” Sarah said, stepping aside.

  “How did Joey end up here?” Ethan asked, gently rubbing Joey’s back.

  “Thankfully, a neighbor noticed something wasn’t right and called the sheriff. Joey was rescued and taken to a foster family.”

  The boy’s head jerked up.

  “They have foster homes for horses?” he asked, his eyes widening.

  “Huh, I hadn’t thought about it like that before,” Sarah said, chuckling. “But yes. Joey was in foster care until he came here.”

  “Is he happy here?” Ethan asked, eyes on Joey.

  A breeze ruffled the boy’s hair, lifting it off his forehead. He suddenly looked much younger to Sarah.

  “I think he is,” she answered. “I hope he is. Everyone here loves him. He seems to be adjusting well, and he’s putting on weight. So, yes,” she said, feeling more confident with her answer. “I think he is happy here.”

  Ethan watched Joey for a moment before saying, “I wonder if he misses his original family.”

  Sarah didn’t know what to say. Could a horse miss someone? Did Joey remember what his life had been like before? She studied the boy as he studied Joey.

  “Um—” Ethan motioned to the fence—“is it okay if I come in there?”

  “Sure,” Sarah said, opening the gate. Wait! I should ask someone first, she quickly thought. But everyone was far away. We’ll just stay close to the gate, and I’m sure it will be fine, Sarah decided—hoping Barb would agree.

  As Ethan entered the paddock, Sarah cast a quick glance at Speckles. His head was raised, assessing the new intruder, but he remained in the back of the paddock, making it clear he was not in the mood to be disturbed.

  Ethan looked at Joey, then raised a questioning eyebrow to Sarah.