“They aren’t idle!” David shouted. “I’ve got half a mind to give that man a taste of his own medicine.”
“The sad truth is, Jared Collins is Prince’s owner,” Miss Alice said. “There’s not a whole lot we can do about this. Except, perhaps, to appeal to Mr. Collins’ better nature.”
“You’re going to try to reason with him?” David demanded. “A lot of good that will do. You can’t reason with a man like that.”
“Perhaps Mr. Collins doesn’t know about the way the stable hands are treating Prince,” Miss Alice suggested. “Right now, we’re leaping to conclusions.”
“I’m not so sure, Miss Alice,” Christy said. “Maybe I should have seen this coming.”
“You?” she asked. “Why?”
“Right after we sold Prince, I saw Mr. Collins throw away Lundy’s bridle and the blanket the children made for Prince. I went back and saved them.” Christy shook her head. “I know Mr. Collins is a wealthy man and those things must have seemed very crude to him, but there was something so . . . cruel and callous about the way he tossed them aside. It made me worry at the time. Now I see that I should have worried more.”
“All the more reason for me to confront him, man to man,” David said, his jaw clenched.
Miss Alice put a calming hand on David’s shoulder. “David, you know that I, as a Quaker, believe in non-violence. You also know that one of the first things I did when I came to Cutter Gap was buy a gun and learn to shoot it.” She chuckled. “No doubt I’ve had my dear ancestors spinning in their graves ever since.”
“Well, I’ve never seen a better time to use a gun than now,” David snapped.
“I’m a better shot than a lot of men in this Cove. And because they know it and respect it, it’s given me a base for talking straight to them,” Miss Alice said. “But now that I’ve lived here a while and seen violence close up, I believe in non-violence more than ever.”
“Miss Alice is right, David,” Christy said. “Threatening Mr. Collins won’t help. According to the law, Prince belongs to him.”
“So that gives him the right to harm a beautiful, living creature? What about God’s law?”
His question hung in the air. “I don’t have an easy answer, David,” Miss Alice finally said. “But I’ll be heading over toward El Pano at the end of the week to check on Kettie Weller’s new twins. Why don’t I pay Mr. Collins a visit and see what can be done for Prince?”
David frowned. “If it’s all the same to you, Miss Alice, I’d rather go myself.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied. “You’re too upset about this right now. Besides, you’ve got your work cut out for you here, fixing that leak in the schoolhouse roof.”
“I’d like to go along,” Christy volunteered. “That is, if David doesn’t mind watching the children that day.”
“Go ahead,” David said resignedly. “Miss Alice is right. The way I feel right now, I’d probably do more harm than good.” He gave a self-conscious smile. “Look at me! Some minister, huh? I get angry about something, and my first reaction is to lash out.”
“You’re only human, David,” Christy said.
“Then it’s settled,” Miss Alice said. “We’ll talk to Mr. Collins and see what happens. All we can do is take this one step at a time.”
“And in the meantime,” David said darkly, “Prince is the one who suffers.”
Nine
What are you going to say to Mr. Collins when we get there?” Christy asked Miss Alice later that week.
They were almost to Great Oak Farm. The day was overcast and damp, and Christy’s legs ached from the long walk to El Pano. They’d taken turns riding Goldie, Miss Alice’s horse, and last night they’d rested at Kettie Weller’s cabin, but it was still an exhausting trip. Nonetheless, Christy was glad she’d come. Somehow, she felt she owed this much to Prince.
“I’m not sure what I’ll say to Mr. Collins,” Miss Alice said, bending down to pat Goldie’s glistening mane. “But I’m sure the Lord will help me find the words.”
“You always do seem to know just the right thing to say. I’ll bet you would have made a fine writer, Miss Alice,” Christy smiled, “. . . or a preacher.”
“I wouldn’t have the patience to put words on paper,” Miss Alice replied. “And as for preaching, I’m ministering the way I love best—doing a little bit of everything. Teaching, doctoring, you name it. I suppose you could say I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”
Christy lifted her long skirt to step over a fallen log. “You know, I got a letter from my mother not long ago. She said the editor of the newspaper back home in Asheville had suggested I write about my experiences here in Cutter Gap.”
“And what was your response?”
“I told her to tell him I was flattered, but that I didn’t think I’d be very good at it.”
Miss Alice shook a finger at Christy. “You’d be good at anything you set your mind to, Christy Huddleston. I truly believe that.” She paused. “Although in this case, you probably made the right decision. The people of Cutter Gap are a proud lot— proud and terribly private. I’m not sure how they’d take to the notion of your writing about them.”
“I tried to start an article,” Christy admitted. “You know—just to see if I could do it.” She shrugged. “Actually, I was just writing in my diary, and it sort of turned into a piece about Prince, and all he’d meant to the children. But after everything that happened with him, I couldn’t find the heart to finish it.”
They came to a fork in the path. On the right, the path broadened into a wide, dirt road. “Another half-mile or so up that road, and we’ll be to Great Oak Farm,” Christy said.
“You know, I’d like to read that story about Prince sometime, if you feel like sharing it,” Miss Alice said.
“I’ll think about it. But first, let’s see if it’s going to have a happy ending.”
“Well, it’s a beautiful farm,” Miss Alice said. “I’ll give it that much.”
Christy surveyed the manicured lawn and immaculate stables. The imposing white house was a few hundred yards from the stables. A broad path lined in stately oaks led to the front porch. “Should we go knock on the front door?”
Miss Alice dismounted and tied Goldie to a nearby tree. “We’re here to visit Prince,” she said firmly. “Better to arrive unexpected and see how he’s doing first. Then we’ll say hello to Mr. Collins.”
They started for the largest barn. In the fenced-off field in the distance, several beautiful horses grazed contentedly. “They look happy enough,” Christy whispered to Miss Alice. “Maybe Mr. Pentland’s friend was wrong. Maybe this is all some terrible mistake.” But even to her own ears, her words sounded hollow.
The barn was cool and quiet, filled with the sweet scent of hay. Most of the stalls were empty, and there were no stable hands in sight. Christy and Miss Alice walked slowly down the aisle, taking in the brass name plates on the door. Rebel. Jericho. Long Shot.
And then, there it was: Prince.
Christy ran her fingers over the engraved name. Suddenly, a terrible noise met her ears—the heart-breaking sound of an animal in pain.
“Prince!” Christy cried. “That’s him, I know it is!”
She ran down the aisle to the end of the barn, with Miss Alice close on her heels. At the open door, they stopped short.
In a nearby paddock stood four men. Prince was in the middle of the paddock. His mouth was foaming. His coat was slick with sweat.
“Told you he can’t be ridden.” One of the men spat in disgust. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he ain’t saddle-broke.”
“I’ll show him who’s boss,” another man said.
Christy grabbed Miss Alice’s arm. “That’s Uriah Wynne,” she said, “the stable hand at the auction.”
Uriah grabbed a whip and coiled it in his right hand. Slowly he approached Prince, talking to him under his breath. “You better mind me, boy, or you’ll be worm food before I’m th
rough with you,” he muttered.
With each step closer, Prince grew more agitated. His ears flickered wildly, and his eyes were wide with fear. Suddenly, he reared up, his great hooves flailing in the air, towering over Uriah.
Crack! In a flash, Uriah let loose the whip. It caught Prince on his right shoulder, and the stallion leapt back in shock.
Again Uriah let the leather whip fly. The whip cracked, and the stallion reared up in pain.
“I don’t care what it takes,” Christy cried in horror. “I’ve got to find a way to get Prince away from here!”
Ten
Stop it!” Christy screamed, dashing to the fence. “Stop it, now! You’re hurting him!”
“Well, looky here,” one of the men said. “We got ourselves some lady visitors.”
Miss Alice strode up calmly. “Prince,” she said in a soothing voice. “Calm down, boy.”
Prince lowered his front hooves. He jerked his head in confusion.
Miss Alice clucked her tongue, and in an instant, Prince seemed to recognize her. Slowly, nervously, he approached them. Christy leaned over the fence and embraced his neck while Miss Alice stroked his ears.
“This is a fine horse, gentlemen,” Miss Alice said in a stern voice. “But like all animals, he responds better to kindness than to threats.”
“Is that so?” Uriah swaggered over, tapping the whip handle in his palm. “And just who are you to be tellin’ us our business, lady?”
“Uriah!” came a sharp voice. “That will be enough.”
Striding toward the paddock came Jared Collins. He was wearing a starched white shirt, riding breeches, and tall, black leather riding boots.
With a gracious smile, he bowed low to Christy. “This young lady is Miss Christy Huddleston from the Cutter Gap mission,” he said to Uriah, “and to my great delight, our most welcome guest.” He turned to Miss Alice. “Jared Collins, at your service. And you might be?”
“Alice Henderson,” Miss Alice said coolly.
“How can you sit there introducing yourself like nothing’s wrong?” Christy demanded, rounding on Mr. Collins. “Didn’t you see? He—he was beating Prince! How can you let someone like this work for you?”
“Uriah is one of my most trusted hands. He’s worked with horses since he was just a boy. I’m sure you’re misinterpreting events, Miss Huddleston.”
“Misinterpreting?” Christy cried in fury. “He beat him with a whip! You could have heard Prince in the next county, he was in so much pain!”
“The use of a whip when training horses is not at all uncommon,” Mr. Collins said, favoring Christy with a tolerant smile. “In fact, it’s often recommended for a horse with Prince’s—shall we say—difficult temperament.”
Miss Alice cleared her throat. “Mr. Collins, I can tell you with some authority that Prince does not have a difficult temperament. Quite the contrary. When treated with respect and love, he responds beautifully to commands. Certainly he’s strong-willed, but with a knowledgeable rider—”
“I assure you, Madam, I am an accomplished equestrian.”
“Then you know,” Miss Alice continued in her calm, deliberate way, “that a horse who has learned to fear is a horse who cannot be managed.”
“In my experience, fear leads to respect.”
“I know ten-year-old girls who can handle that horse better than your men,” Miss Alice said, “and they do it with love.”
“I own dozens of horses, Madam,” Mr. Collins said dismissively. “I don’t have time for—” he sneered, “love. Besides, look around you. This is the finest horse farm in seven counties. Prince has everything a stallion could ask for. The finest care, the finest food, the finest pasture.”
Christy rubbed her cheek against Prince’s hot, damp neck. “All I know is, I’ve never seen him like this. He’s afraid. He’s unhappy.”
“He’s merely untrained and ill-mannered,” Mr. Collins said. “When a horse won’t respond to a rider of my impeccable training, the problem, dear lady, lies with the horse.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Uriah spat on the ground. Far off in the distance, a horse whinnied softly.
“Mr. Collins,” Miss Alice said at last, “we may differ on how to care for a horse like Prince. But there’s one thing I think we can agree on—he’s a fine animal.”
“Indeed. On that we do agree.”
“Perhaps you’re right, and the problem lies in the way Prince has been trained. If that’s the case, we both know it’s probably too late to change him. Suppose we agree that things haven’t worked out? The mission will take him off your hands, and return your money in full as soon as we can manage it.”
Christy nearly gasped. How could Miss Alice make such an offer? Where would the mission ever get the money to repay Mr. Collins?
Mr. Collins tried to pat Prince on the shoulder, but the horse moved out of his reach. “Thank you for your offer, Miss Henderson. It’s very generous of you. But this horse belongs to me, and I intend to keep him. As a matter of fact, I intend to be riding him before the month is out.” He gave an icy smile. “Perhaps I’ll ride by your dark little corner of the world and show you how it’s done. It’s really very simple. With a dumb animal like this, you just have to show him who’s boss.” He bowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. I’m sure you can find your way out.”
“I still can’t believe you offered to buy Prince back,” Christy said that afternoon as she and Miss Alice headed back to Cutter Gap.
Miss Alice sighed. “It was worth a try.”
“But where would we have found the money?”
“The Lord has a way of providing.”
“Did you—” Christy glanced over her shoulder. “Did you hear something just now? Behind us, I mean?”
“You’re just tired. Why don’t you ride Goldie for a while? It’s your turn.”
“I’m fine. I just thought I heard someone following us.” Christy shook her head. “Every time I close my eyes, I hear Prince crying out in pain. Miss Alice, isn’t there something else we can do?”
“I gave Mr. Collins our address,” Miss Alice reminded her, “and I told him to contact us immediately if he decides Prince is too much trouble. I don’t know what we can do beyond that.”
“It’s so unfair,” Christy groaned. “Owning an animal doesn’t give you a license to mistreat it. I just feel so . . . so hopeless.”
“Whatever you do, Christy, you must never give up hope.” Miss Alice looked down at her with her warm, tender gaze, and somehow Christy felt better. “For now, we’ll pray for Prince’s well-being, and that God will provide a way for us to solve this problem. In the meantime, promise me you won’t stop hoping. Who knows what tomorrow may bring?”
Eleven
That night, Christy lay in her bed, exhausted, sore, and dejected.
She had blisters on both her feet. Her leg muscles had turned to hard knots. Her face was chapped from the cold, wet air. But it was her heart that was truly hurting.
She opened her diary and stared at the single sentence she’d written after coming home:
How could we have abandoned Prince?
But of course, they’d had no choice. Prince belonged to Mr. Collins, and that was that.
Perhaps they could have gone to the local sheriff and complained about Prince’s mistreatment. But Christy knew that would have been pointless. These mountains were ruled by guns. This was a place where women and children could be horribly mistreated, and no one—not even the law— would lift a finger to help them. Nobody in these parts had the time to worry about a mistreated horse. Especially when the horse was living at Great Oak Farm, the finest farm for miles around.
Christy turned to the story about Prince that she’d mentioned to Miss Alice. It began:
He’s just a horse, some would say. Four sturdy legs. A shiny mane. An insatiable taste for sugar.
But I know better. I’ve seen the little miracles.
Around Prince, the li
ttle girl who stutters somehow speaks with ease.
Around Prince, the vicious bully turns gentle and protective.
Around Prince, the child set apart by the color of her skin becomes a friend at last.
He may be just a horse, but try telling that to my seventy Cutter Gap students.
With a heavy sigh, Christy closed her diary. There was no point in reading on. Prince’s story did not have a happy ending, after all.
Christy put out the light and closed her eyes. But every time she started to drift off, she imagined she could hear Prince. Sometimes it was just his familiar, soft nicker. Other times it was the horrifying whinny of terror and pain she’d heard today at the farm.
Soon another noise drifted into her awareness. Tap, tap, tap.
“Miz Christy?”
The muffled voice had to belong to Ruby Mae. Christy climbed out of bed, threw on her robe to ward off the chill, and opened the door.
Ruby Mae was standing in the dark hallway. Her face was in shadow, but there was just enough moonlight spilling from Christy’s window to illuminate Ruby Mae’s huge grin.
“I got a surprise for you,” Ruby Mae said. She was wearing her worn, wool coat over her nightgown. Her feet were bare.
“It had better be a good surprise, at this time of night,” Christy replied.
“I’ll give you some hints,” Ruby Mae whispered loudly. “He can’t read—not yet, anyway. He’s very proud. He’s a good friend of ours. Let’s see what else. Oops. Almost forgot. He’s got four legs and a mighty fine tail.”
Christy grabbed Ruby Mae by the shoulders and pulled her into the room. “Ruby Mae, I want you to wake up,” she commanded. “I think you’re sleepwalking.”
Ruby Mae leapt onto Christy’s bed, laughing gaily. “Not hardly.” She pinched her arm. “See? I’m as awake as can be, Miz Christy.”
Stage Fright / Goodbye, Sweet Prince / Brotherly Love Page 11