Whispering Hope
Book 7
Keystone Stables
Marsha Hubler
In memory of my father Joe,
who taught me the game of pool.
Map of the Chambers’ Ranch
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Map of the Chambers’ Ranch
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
A Letter to my Keystone Stables Fans
Are Your Ready to Own Your First Horse?
Glossary of Gaits
Parts of a Horse
Resources for Horse Information Contained in this Book
Other Books in the Keystone Stables Series
Copyright
About the Publisher
Share Your Thoughts
Chapter One
Champ, you’re eating like a hog today!” Thirteen-year-old Skye Nicholson smiled as she stroked her sorrel Quarter Horse’s muzzle in a stall in the exhibitors’ barn. She and her foster family were spending the last three days of February at the State Horse Show and Expo in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. “Hold your horses and I’ll get you some more hay.”
Champ nickered and snuggled his nose against Skye’s suede western vest.
“Will you get Diamond an extra section?” Morgan Hendricks, Skye’s fifteen-year-old foster sister, yelled from the next stall where she sat in her wheelchair grooming her bay mare. “Diamond worked up a good sweat in our last class. Of course, she’s eating for two, so she deserves another serving.”
“No problem,” Skye yelled back.
“Sometimes it pays to have cerebral palsy,” Morgan kidded. “Other people get to do the hard work.”
“Caring for horses is not hard work in my book!” Skye said, heading down a long corridor sandwiched between two rows of stalls that buzzed with horse business. She weaved in and out among riders primping their mounts until she reached the corner of the barn. All along the way, she relived the last few wonderful days at the horse show. Second place in Junior Western Pleasure for Champ and me and third for Morgan and Diamond in the Special-Needs Halter Class. Not bad. Not bad at all! At the end of the hallway, she opened the Dutch door to a dimly lit room filled with stacked hay bales. She walked to the stack, and as she reached and pulled down a hay bale, something moved behind the piles, forcing her to jump back.
Must be another stray cat, she thought as she stretched to look behind the bales. What if she just had kittens? I bet she’s hungry.
Skye shifted a few bales to her left to see farther into the corner. “Whoa!” she yelped.
The glinting blade of a jackknife pointed directly at Skye.
In the dim light, Skye strained to study a thin figure holding the knife. His face in the shadow of a black baseball cap, visor cocked to the side, the stranger wore a washed-out jacket and soiled and tattered cargo pants. The right arm of the jacket bore a neon orange patch with the barely legible word “Blades.”
Skye sized the intruder, started to back away, and opened her mouth, but no words came out. For the first time in her life, she was scared down to her toenails.
“Get lost, horse breath!” the stranger ordered. “You’re on my turf now!”
Riveted to the floor, Skye again tried to speak. “I—I was only getting some hay for my horse.”
“I said get lost!” he yelled as he poked the knife toward Skye.
Skye quickly analyzed the situation and decided she was no pushover with kids like this. She had run with this kind a long time ago, before she went to live at Keystone Stables. In fact, she had been a kid like this. Skye’s brown eyes flashed as she raked her hands through her long, dark hair. Should I take on this skinny rail of a kid or not? Better not, she reasoned. Not with that knife pointing my way.
In a flash, Skye turned and ran out the doorway and yelled to anyone who would listen. “Hey, there’s a kid with a knife in this room!”
Every horseman within earshot stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Skye.
“A knife?” one girl yelled as she clutched her horse’s halter.
“Call security!” a woman in English riding clothes and mounted on a black horse yelled as she reined her mount in the opposite direction.
Across the hall, a muscular man in Western attire and a ten-gallon hat came charging out of stall. With a pitchfork pointed in Skye’s direction, he yelled, “Where is he? I’ll take care of him.”
As Skye focused down the long corridor toward the other end of the barn, she spotted Mr. and Mrs. Chambers standing in front of Champ’s stall.
“Mom! Dad!” Skye yelled her lungs out. “There’s a kid with a knife in the hay room!”
The man with the pitchfork charged across the hall. “Get out of the way, kid. I’m going in after him!”
“Skye, get away from there!” Mr. Chambers’ voice echoed down the hallway as he ran toward Skye. “Eileen, call security, and I’ll go check it out!”
Skye took several steps away from the door, and before the cowboy and his pitchfork reached the room, the intruder tore past Skye, the knife nowhere in sight. He took off full speed ahead, weaving around gawking contestants and jittery horses toward the open doorway at the other end of the barn.
“Hey!” Skye yelled, and took off after him.
“Skye, be careful!” Mr. Chambers yelled, running toward the kid.
“I can handle this joker!” We’ll just see how tough this bean pole is without his knife, Skye thought as she picked up speed.
“Give it up, kid!” Mr. Chambers yelled, barreling down the hallway.
Just a breath behind the kid, Skye took a running leap and wrapped her arms around his legs. Falling flat on his chest, he squirted out an “Oomph,” followed by a string of foul language.
With all her strength, Skye wrestled the stranger, pinning him face down. “I’ve got him!” Skye yelled as she spotted a bulge in the back pocket of his pants and retrieved the knife. At the same time, the cowboy and Mr. Chambers grabbed the boy by his arms. “Skye, let go,” Mr. Chambers said. “We’ve got him.”
Skye released her grip, and Mr. Chambers pulled the kid up to his feet.
“Let me go, you scuzzball!” Taking vicious swings at Mr. Chambers and the other man, the kid’s cap went flying.
Skye scrambled to her feet, ready to throw her own punch.
“It’s—it’s a girl!” Skye said, gasping to catch her breath.
Spectators on both sides of the hall gawked and tried to calm their spooked horses.
“Let me go,” the kid yelled. “I ain’t done nothin’.”
“Then what’cha runnin’ for?” the cowboy asked with a firm grip on her arm.
A policeman came running down the hall with Mrs. Chambers trailing right behind and Morgan not far behind.
“All right, that’s enough!” The policeman huffed in short breaths, grabbing hold of the girl, who kicked and tried to shake him off. “What’s going on here?”
Mr. Chambers and the cowboy released their grip, and the cowboy backed away. “Looks like you got this case sewn up,” the cowboy said as he left.
“Thanks for your help,” Mr. Chambers huffed, raising his hand.
“Kid, I’m telling you to calm down right now,” the officer ordered as he scuffled with the girl, “or I’m going to cuff you.”
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br /> Cuffs with your hands behind your back are not fun, Skye remembered as she watched the kid reluctantly give in to the policeman’s demands. Gasping for breath, Skye handed the knife to the officer. “He—I mean she—pulled this on me in the feed stall. I don’t even know who she is.”
“Wanda,” the officer said, catching his own breath, “I thought I told you to stay clear of this place.” He turned and shouted to the mesmerized crowd. “Everything’s okay, folks. We’ve got everything under control. Go about your business.”
With that, the spectators quickly returned to their hustle and bustle.
“Skye, are you all right?” Mrs. Chambers huffed, blue eyes flashing from under her beige Stetson.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Skye released a devilish smile as she brushed off her jeans. “It’s been awhile since anyone pulled a knife on me. Just like old times!”
“Horse breath,” Wanda snapped, scowling at Skye.
Skye studied the semblance of a boy and determined that if Wanda’s chopped-off wavy brown hair were longer—and clean—and she’d gain a few pounds, she would be almost pretty, especially with her dark brown eyes and long eyelashes.
“What’s happening?” Morgan said, parking her wheelchair next to Mr. Chambers. Her freckled face radiated red almost as much as her long kinky hair.
“Folks, I’m sorry about this,” the officer said. “We’ve had trouble with two gangs in this part of town. They’re always having turf wars that include this complex. Wanda here runs with the Blades from the south side. The Scorpions think they control the west side. Somehow, they both claim this territory as theirs. Wanda was probably on a graffiti binge tonight and had some interference from the enemy. Isn’t that right, Wanda?”
Wanda pulled her arm free from the officer and picked up her cap. She yanked it down on her head, folded her arms, and said nothing. All the while, her eyes scanned the scene as if searching for someone.
Who’s she looking for? Skye thought.
“Wanda, that expression on your face means only one thing,” the officer said. “You’ve got some Scorpions hot on your trail, don’tcha?”
Wanda lowered her head and said nothing.
“Well, they won’t find you tonight, not where you’re going.”
“Juvie hall,” Skye said.
“That’s right, young lady,” the officer said. “She’ll be safe there until she sees the judge—again. This time she’ll be sent up. She has a record as long as a flagpole.”
Mr. Chambers quickly squared his tan Stetson and extended his hand to the officer. “I’m Tom Chambers. This is my wife, Eileen, and these are my two foster daughters, Skye Nicholson and Morgan Hendricks.”
Wanda looked up with a scowl and stared at Skye. “Whoop-dee-doo,” she slurred.
“Wanda, just be quiet,” the officer said as he shook Mr. Chambers’ hand. “Officer Bill Connors, third precinct. This is my turf when the horse show is being held.”
Wanda just folded her arms and scowled.
Mr. Chambers smoothed his brown mustache and released a friendly smile. “Officer, we own Keystone Stables, a special-needs dude ranch and foster-care facility about an hour north of here. My wife is also a special-needs therapist at the Maranatha Treatment Center near our ranch. Our lives are dedicated to helping salvage the youth of today that are so—well—I wonder if this young lady would like to spend a year at our place, away from the Scorpions.” He directed his last words right at Wanda.
“There’s always room for another kid at Keystone Stables!” Skye said, staring at the girl.
“I ain’t in need of no ‘salvaging,’ ” Wanda declared. “Me and my gram get along just fine.”
“Sure you do,” Officer Connors said. “The last time I talked to your grandmother, she said you hadn’t been home nor in school for two weeks. Hanging out with that gang spells nothing but trouble with a capital T.”
Mrs. Chambers smiled and reached out to shake Wanda’s hand. Wanda just stared and scowled.
“Wanda,” Mrs. Chambers said, “I’m very glad to meet you. I’d love if you’d consider spending some time with us. It’s not that bad. We have horses and two dogs, and a game room, and a pool table, and—”
“A pool table?” Wanda looked up, and, although the girl made no attempt to shake hands, Skye thought her eyes betrayed a sudden interest.
“Yeah,” Skye said. “My friend Chad, who’s in our youth group at church, is showing me how to shoot pool.”
“A lot of kids in the youth group like to shoot pool,” Morgan said. “They’re always hanging out at our place.”
“Now you’ve got her attention,” Officer Connors said. “Whenever I want to find Wanda, all I need to do is go to Joe’s Billiard Room on Fifth Street. If she’s not with the gang, she’s usually hanging out there. She’s a regular pool shark. Has her own stick and everything.”
“You’d really like it at the ranch,” Morgan said. “There’s lots to do with the horses.”
“I hate animals,” Wanda said, “especially horses.”
Then you’ll hate Keystone Stables, Skye reasoned.
“I think you’d like them if you spent some time with them,” Mr. Chambers said.
Officer Connors slipped the knife in his shirt pocket and squared his hat. “Well, folks, if you really want this kid, you’re looking at a two month wait until the court schedule opens up to adjudicate her into your care. But that will give you time to put bars on all your windows.” He chuckled.
“Very funny,” Wanda sneered.
“I know a quicker way,” Mrs. Chambers said. “If Wanda agrees to come, we can have papers drawn up immediately that her grandmother can sign to release her into our custody. We do it all the time when family members are involved.”
Wanda stood in silence, pretending not to listen. Then she scowled in Skye’s direction. “I ain’t goin’ no place where Horsebreath lives.”
Skye found herself with mixed emotions. As a Christian, she knew that with God’s help she and her foster family could give Wanda a second chance in life. Yet she wasn’t sure about this tough gangbanger who could turn everything upside down in everybody’s life. I don’t know if I can take a whole year of insults, Skye thought. But then, God changed me, so he can change anybody!
“Mr. Chambers, if you can get permission from her grandmother, that’ll work,” Officer Connors said. “What I can do for all of you is take you to see Wanda’s grandma as soon as possible. Wanda, is she home?”
Wanda just shrugged.
“What’s your phone number?” he asked.
“None of your business,” Wanda snapped.
“Miss Smart Aleck, you deserve a year’s worth of shoveling horse manure. That will be better for you than any juvie hall or residential treatment facility I know.” Officer Connors punched numbers into his cell phone. “I’ll call headquarters and get the phone number. How long are you folks staying in town?”
“We were going to leave this evening, but we’ll change our plans if we need to,” Mr. Chambers said.
“With any luck, you can meet Wanda’s next of kin tonight and get the process moving. In the meantime, Wanda will be spending a little time downtown.”
Wanda shot another sour look at Skye, more hateful than the last. “Horse breath,” she growled.
Skye gave Wanda a forced smile and sent up a quick prayer. God, I’m going to need you big time with this one.
Chapter Two
It was a bitterly cold Saturday in March, exactly a month to the day that Wanda had caused so much trouble at the horse show. Now Skye was coming to grips with the fact that for the next year she would have a new foster sister.
“When are Mom and Morgan getting here with Wanda?” Skye stirred a huge bowl of macaroni salad in the kitchenette next to the game room in the basement.
Mr. Chambers, standing beside Skye, had a large pot of beef barbecue bubbling on the stove. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, let’s see. They left at eight this morning
to pick up Wanda at her grandmother’s. An hour down, an hour to pack the car and say goodbye, and another hour back. They should be here any minute.” He adjusted his towering chef’s hat, which he always wore just for fun, and stirred the steaming hot food. “I hope the youth group gets here before they do.”
“Me too,” Skye said. “I think your idea to have Wanda meet the Youth for Truth kids from church is a great idea. Although it’s going to be tough sharing Keystone Stables, you and Mom, and the pool table, and practically everything else but my toothbrush with this kid, I know that’s what God would want. All Wanda’s known for years is gang life and running the streets. I bet she doesn’t have one single friend in the whole wide world. Gangbangers will turn on you in a sneeze to save their own hide. I have a feeling she’s already found that out. I sure found out the hard way. Been there. Done that.”
“New friends would certainly help her think in a different way. And Christians are the best kind of friends. They’re usually there for you when you’re hurting,” Mr. Chambers said.
Skye grabbed a pack of paper plates and started to stack them on the serving counter.
Knock! Knock! Knock! The outside door to the basement rattled, accompanied by a barrage of squeals and laughter.
“Hey, Tom, are you in there?” a familiar voice yelled from outside.
“Oh, good. The kids are here,” Mr. Chambers said then yelled, “C’mon in, George!”
Mr. Chambers swept off his chef’s hat and hurried to let in the crowd. Before he got there, the door flew open and a herd of about a dozen giggling, laughing, and talking-too-loud teens invaded the game room. After they greeted Mr. Chambers and Skye, they targeted the ping-pong table, three computers loaded with video games, and the pool table. In seconds, the place buzzed with explosive teen energy.
Skye slowed her kitchen duty to a snail’s pace while she examined every face that rushed inside. Where is he? she wondered.
Her glance shifted to the doorway where the last teen, Chad Dressler, hurried in carrying his guitar. His curly blonde eyelashes and chipmunk smile immediately lit up the whole universe as far as Skye was concerned, and her heart started to pound like a bass drum. When Chad saw Skye, he made a beeline to the serving counter.
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