Joey

by Jennifer Bleakley

  “I got it!” Sarah suddenly shouted, pulling her phone from her back pocket.

  What is she doing? It hardly seemed like the right time to post something to Instagram! But then Lauren heard a steady beat—a clicking sound—from Sarah’s phone. Of course! The metronome. Everyone at Hope Reins had heard about Hank using a metronome app to let Joey know where Hank was while he made repairs in Joey’s paddock.

  Lauren winked at Sarah. “Great idea!”

  Sarah tucked her phone back in her pocket and called out, “Joey, walk.” And just like that, Joey followed the sound. Sarah led Joey around the arena twice, his nose occasionally bumping her back pocket. As they approached the gate the second time, Sarah turned the phone volume down as Lauren called out, “Joey, one, two, three, stop.”

  He stopped on “three.”

  “You did it, Joey!” both women exclaimed.

  Joey tilted his head as if to say, What’s all the fuss about? His look was rewarded with rump scratches and neck kisses.

  Sarah and Lauren repeated Joey’s riding lessons each day for the next week. And each day he grew more and more confident. By day four, Lauren was riding bareback. By day seven, Joey no longer needed the metronome. He responded to Lauren’s vocal commands and adjustments to the reins. Of course, that first time without the aid of the app wasn’t perfect. There were some missteps—her leg scraped against the fence a time or two, and Joey sped up when he should have slowed down—but he had done it. They had done it. That day—her first completely solo ride with Joey—with the sun beating down on her back, and with sweat dampening Joey’s coat, Lauren brought him to a halt, beaming when he stopped on “two.”

  She had just ridden a blind horse around the large arena! A woman who had suffered for years from unseen, unknown ailments had just ridden a horse who couldn’t see the ground below him. It was too much to take in at the moment. Besides, Joey needed to be congratulated and fussed over. But she would process this experience for months to come.

  The exercise affected Lauren deeply, for she was just beginning to see a glimpse of how God had been leading her all these years—all these pain-filled years. He had never abandoned her but had always been right there.

  She climbed off Joey’s back and wrapped both arms around the horse. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OF autumn were evident throughout the ranch. Decorative apple crates, pumpkins, and scarecrows lent a festive feel to the horse farm. The trees lining the riding trail were arrayed in splendid colors, reflecting the artistry of their creator. Seasons came and seasons went, yet God remained the same—that was the foundation of Hope Reins.

  However, the change in seasons brought shorter days and colder weather, and with no electricity at the ranch, sessions were coming to an end until spring of the following year.

  I can’t miss Aly’s last session, Sarah thought. After leaving work, she grabbed a quick dinner at a McDonald’s drive-through, then headed straight for the ranch.

  The team of volunteers dispersed after the pre-session prayer, greeting the children as they arrived. Sarah spotted Aly and her mother and headed their way.

  “Hey, Aly,” Sarah said, giving her a hug.

  She was delighted when Aly reciprocated with a soft hug.

  Sarah hugged Cindy and said, “I can’t believe this will be our last session for a while.”

  “I know. Aly is bummed about that. But I told her maybe we could come visit Joey on Saturdays during barn chores. You’ll still be doing those throughout the winter, won’t you?”

  “We sure will. What a great idea. I think Joey would like that very much.”

  A wisp of a smile brightened Aly’s face. A hug and a smile today! Now, if only the sweet girl would say something. As Cindy left to find a quiet place to work, Sarah could almost feel her discouragement. Aly had been coming to the ranch off and on for a year, and while she had made a lot of progress relating to her peers and to horses, it was obvious that Cindy was beginning to feel that her daughter would forever be trapped in a world of silence.

  Sarah longed to impart some words of encouragement to Cindy. But what could she say? Sarah began to wonder if maybe she was being naive. She had no idea what Aly had endured before being adopted. Maybe just like Joey, who had suffered permanent injuries from being abused, Aly had suffered permanent injury from her past. Sarah felt defeat beginning to well up in her own heart.

  Sarah and Aly headed to the tack shed. Sarah asked Aly to pick out Joey’s halter. As they walked to paddock two, Sarah noticed Aly smile at Spirit, whom she had met during her last session. The little girl seemed happy that Joey had a new friend.

  “All right, kiddo, let’s go get Joey.”

  Aly’s eyes sparkled as she approached her favorite horse with confidence. She held her tiny hand under Joey’s nose, and his muzzle engulfed it as he inhaled her sweet scent. Aly wasn’t afraid at all when Joey stepped closer.

  “Joey’s happy you’re here,” Sarah said on behalf of the horse. “Do you think he would like to walk with us to the hitching post?”

  Aly nodded vigorously. She was too small to put Joey’s halter on, so Sarah took care of that, then handed the lead rope to her. Her wide eyes gave away her excitement at the new responsibility.

  “We need to lead Joey along the same path he always takes to his hitching post,” Sarah instructed as they exited through the gate. “Since Joey can’t see, we need to help him know where he is and where he’s going. Going the same way to his post and the arena is one way we can help him feel safe.”

  Aly nodded and then purposefully took charge. At the hitching post, Aly and Sarah wound Joey’s rope around the wooden rail.

  Sarah handed her young partner a medium bristle brush to give Joey a quick cleanup, while Sarah inspected Joey’s hooves. When they finished, Sarah said, “Would you like to ride Joey now?”

  Aly ran her small fingers, the nails dotted with peeling red polish, along the spots she could reach on Joey’s side and eagerly nodded.

  “Would you like to try riding Joey bareback, without a saddle?”

  Aly’s eyes grew wider than Sarah had ever seen them. Her little lips parted as she looked lovingly at Joey. The first time Sarah had watched Lauren ride Joey bareback, she immediately thought of Aly. Sarah had loved riding bareback as a child. The closeness of your body to the horse makes you feel as if the two of you are one. She suspected Aly would be thrilled to have that experience.

  After leading Joey over to the arena, she placed a thin suede bareback pad on him—so that his back wouldn’t get sore—and secured the girth. Sarah helped Aly with her riding helmet and then gave her a boost onto Joey’s back.

  “Okay, sweetie,” Sarah said, holding onto Aly’s leg. “This is quite different from riding with a saddle, but it’s a lot of fun.”

  Aly wound her fingers through Joey’s mane as Sarah talked.

  “Joey is very used to being ridden like this, so it isn’t strange to him. And since I’m going to lead him with his halter and lead line, you just put your hands on either side of his neck and hold on.” Sarah positioned Aly’s hands on Joey’s neck. “We won’t even worry about reins today. You just enjoy your ride on Joey. But if you feel like you’re sliding off when Joey starts to walk, push your bottom down more firmly, okay?”

  Aly took in every word intently.

  “I’m going to lead him very slowly at first so you can get used to it, and if you feel comfortable, we can pick up the pace a little. If not, we’ll stop. Joey’s ready. Are you ready, Miss Aly?”

  A definite yes.

  Sarah paused. She reminds me of myself at that age. She studied the now six-year-old. Aly didn’t look like Sarah at all, and her background was totally different. And yet, for some reason, Sarah identified with the girl.

  With Joey’s lead line in her hand and Aly’s trusting face looking down at her, Sarah felt her stomach tighten a little. If only I could hear your voice. Her thoughts w
ere interrupted by Joey’s impatient pawing at the ground. Let’s get moving here.

  Shaking off the feeling, Sarah clucked her tongue. “Joey, walk.”

  The horse immediately responded. Sarah glanced up at Aly, whose dimples expressed her obvious delight.

  After they completed one lap, Aly’s smile grew even wider. Just then, Heather, another session leader, entered the arena with Gabe and a young boy. Oh no, Sarah moaned silently. Will we have to cut the session short? She couldn’t risk Joey getting distracted by Gabe.

  She tried to get Heather’s attention, but Heather’s back was turned as she helped the boy onto Gabe’s back. Sarah quickly decided the best plan was to let Aly ride Joey back to the hitching post, where they would end their session by grooming him again.

  As she started to turn the horse back toward the entrance, a strange feeling came over her that made her stop. Somewhere deep inside her heart, she heard a clear directive to stay in the arena. Tears welled up in her eyes as she obeyed and resumed another circuit with Joey.

  Heather smiled at Sarah as she led Joey in a wide berth around Gabe, nodding in silent understanding of the situation. “We’ll stay over here,” Heather called out. Sarah waved her thanks.

  Let go.

  Another inner command, this one seeming to come from inside her ear. Let go of what? She looked at the rope in her hand. The lead line? Why would she let go of that? If she did, Aly would be riding on her own!

  God, is that you? Sarah gasped in silent wonder, overwhelmed at the thought that God would talk to her. The idea seemed crazy. The child had never spoken a word to Sarah. If she rode Joey without Sarah’s guidance, she would have to talk—loudly.

  The inner prompting was too strong to ignore.

  “Hey, Aly, my friend Lauren has been riding Joey without a lead rope. We’ve been teaching Joey lots of new words, so many that he can walk without being led.”

  Aly looked at her expectantly.

  “Would you like to try? You are perfectly safe on his back. Joey won’t fall, but—” Sarah paused and looked intently into Aly’s eyes—“he won’t move if he can’t hear you. We’ve trained Joey to obey voice commands, which means he has to hear his rider speak.”

  Aly blinked, but there was no other telltale expression on her face.

  “If I loop Joey’s lead rope around his neck, I can tie it off on his halter and make reins for you to hold. But he will have to hear you say ‘Walk’ for him to walk. He will need to hear you so that he feels safe. He’ll be scared if he can’t hear you.”

  Will she do it?

  Can she do it?

  “Aly, I know you can do this. But you have to decide, okay? Today is the last day you’ll get to ride Joey for a long time. I can keep leading him if you want, or . . .”

  Sarah was afraid to look at Aly, afraid she would see the girl shaking, not nodding, her head. Afraid that the strong impressions she had heard hadn’t been from God at all, but merely her own wishful projections. After what felt like an eternity, Sarah looked at Aly.

  She sat perfectly still, her back as straight as the hitching post, her pink lips pressed together in a line, her small hands clamped tightly to Joey’s neck. She stared at Sarah without blinking, her brow furrowed.

  Aly turned her head slowly to watch the other rider in the pen, who was riding Gabe on his own while Heather stood off to the side. Sarah could see the longing in Aly’s eyes. She knew the little girl wanted to ride. Please, God, Sarah pleaded desperately from her heart.

  Aly turned back to face Sarah, her eyes averted, her posture now defeated. Sarah clucked. “Joey, walk.”

  Stay. Once again, Sarah heard the order from the unknown source.

  “Do you want to stay and try to do it on your own?” Sarah asked Aly.

  An affirmative nod was the only reply she received.

  Sarah shrugged. The little girl clearly wanted to stay in the arena. Sarah led Joey to the south side of the enclosure, offered up another silent prayer, and looped Joey’s lead rope around his spotted neck.

  “Okay, Aly, Joey’s all yours. But he is going to have to know you are with him. He won’t move unless you say, ‘Joey, walk.’ Take a deep breath, fill your lungs with air, and speak loudly to him. He knows I’m not holding on to him anymore, and he is a little nervous standing here without any connection to me.”

  Sarah saw a glimpse of fear cross Aly’s face.

  “You know how to lead him—lean in the direction you want him to go. He knows this arena well. It’s just like when I was leading him. The only difference is that he needs to hear you, needs to know he’s not alone. Think you can do it?” She paused before remembering to add, “You will say ‘Walk’ to get him to walk and then ‘One, two, three, whoa’ when you want him to stop. Ready?”

  Sarah was a bundle of nerves. Her insides were churning, her McDonald’s cheeseburger suddenly not sitting well. Aly was like a tiny figurine on Joey. She gave no hint she was prepared to move, made no attempt to open her mouth. Sarah waited and leaned in slightly, willing herself to hear something, anything. All she heard were Gabe’s hoofbeats and his rider chattering.

  She smiled at Aly, whose eyes were fixed straight ahead, her pink boots dangling on either side of Joey. A war was clearly raging inside the little girl. A fight for freedom from fear.

  “Joey, walk.”

  It was a whisper of sound. Not loud enough to have been heard over a steady rain, and yet, it had been loud enough to break into Sarah’s thoughts. Aly spoke!

  Sarah stood motionless, watching Joey for any sign of movement. Nothing. The soft command hadn’t registered with the big horse.

  “Great job, Aly,” Sarah said, forcing herself to remain calm, even though she wanted to jump up and hug Aly. “That was awesome, and I am so proud of you. Do you think you can do it again, but just a little louder? Joey didn’t hear you because it’s so noisy out here. We have to really speak up, so he can hear us.”

  Aly nodded, but then quickly looked away from Sarah. She kept a tight grip on the makeshift reins. The horse shifted slightly, digging at the ground with a hoof. This was new to him, and he was getting anxious.

  How long should I allow this to go on? Am I doing the right thing? Come on, Aly. You can do it. Speak up. Just two words. Come on! You can . . .

  “Joey, walk.”

  Joey’s ears flicked back, indicating that he had heard the gently uttered words. But he was unsure of the source and who they were intended for. Sarah smiled at the girl’s courage, forcing her hands into her pockets, trying to contain her excitement and focus on helping Aly speak just a little louder to Joey.

  “Way to go, Aly!” Sarah encouraged. “He heard you that time, but he is still a little too scared to move. He needs to know that you want him to walk. Can you say it just a little bit louder? For Joey?”

  Sarah momentarily held her breath.

  “Joey, walk!”

  It was a clear, forceful command, made by a young, sweet voice.

  As if he had been waiting for that command as much as Sarah, Joey began to walk. He held his head regally as if he, too, was proud of Aly. Sarah giggled when she detected a slight prance to his steps. Aly looked just as proud as the blind horse, her eyes shimmering with joy and confidence.

  Aly leaned slightly to the right, and Joey responded. The horse knew this arena so well that he didn’t really need directions, but Aly was taking her job very seriously. Joey wants her to succeed too! Sarah marveled. Aly’s mouth was moving; she was talking to Joey, not just giving him commands! With just two words, everything had changed. A little girl’s voice was unlocked. Aly had faced the fears that had held her captive for years. She had used her voice, not for herself, but for Joey.

  Sarah was so wrapped up in the magical moment that she failed to notice a woman weeping at the entrance of the arena. Cindy had arrived in time to see Aly riding bareback, an amazing accomplishment. But then, unexpectedly, she had witnessed something monumental that shook her to her core with j
oy. Cindy’s hand covered her mouth and tears streamed down her cheeks. Sarah didn’t notice her, not yet. She was transfixed, basking in this sacred moment in which the little girl with no voice spoke up for the horse with no eyes.

  CHAPTER 20

  SARAH WAVED GOOD-BYE to Aly and Cindy as they drove down the gravel drive. The ranch had emptied quickly tonight. Still, Sarah lingered. So much had transpired with Aly, and it was affecting her deeply.

  “Hey, girl,” Kim greeted her as she headed to her car. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh, hey, yeah, I’m good. Just processing the session I just finished with Aly and Joey.”

  Sarah forced a smile.

  Kim studied Sarah for a moment. “Hang on a second. Let me just throw this stuff in my car, and we can talk.”

  Great. Now look what I’ve done. The last thing she wanted was for Kim to see her unmasked and . . . vulnerable.

  “Tell me about the session.” Kim was always interested in the children’s progress as well as how the horses facilitated them.

  Relieved to be talking about Aly instead of herself, Sarah recounted every moment leading up to the girl’s courageous breakthrough.

  “Are you kidding?” Kim squealed. “She talked? Sarah, that’s huge!”

  Kim hugged Sarah tightly. It was such a spontaneous, caring reaction that it shattered Sarah’s emotional walls. Her bottom lip began to tremble, and a quiet sob escaped her. Then the tears began to fall uncontrollably.

  “Oh, honey, what is it? What’s wrong?” Kim asked with concern, tightening her hold.

  It took Sarah several minutes to find her voice, and when she did, it was a hiccuping whisper.

  “It’s just . . . I haven’t . . . Aly speaking . . . I need to . . .” She buried her face in Kim’s shoulder and released the emotions that she had been hiding up till now.