by Chris Platt
“He seemed like a very nice boy,” Mrs. McKenzie said, smiling at Jordan.
Jordan quickly changed the subject. “We’re still taking care of Mr. Fisher’s horse,” she told Nicole. “Did you bring Dakota with you today? I was telling my mom about him.”
Nicole took a sip of her water. “No, it’s his dinnertime, so I left him home.” She turned to Jordan’s mom. “I’m hoping Jordan can get a horse soon so she can go riding with me.”
Mrs. McKenzie glanced over at her daughter. “Well, that might be rushing it a bit, Nicole. We only moved in a few weeks ago. A horse is a big responsibility—and a big expense.”
Jordan frowned. It was the same speech her mom had given her earlier. “I’m trying to talk my mom into going to the local auction house and buying some chickens or a goat or something,” she told Nicole. “But she’s not too keen on that idea, either.”
Nicole seemed to sense Jordan’s need for some backup. “Yeah, my neighbors raise miniature goats. They’re really cute, and easy to take care of. And if you got chickens, you could have fresh eggs for breakfast.”
Mrs. McKenzie mulled the idea over for a few seconds. “You know, when I was little, my mother used to have a hen house. It was right out there between the barn and the house. I loved helping her gather the eggs,” she said nostalgically. “Yeah, maybe a few chickens would be good to start. We’ll see about the goat later.”
“There’s a livestock auction coming up this Saturday,” Nicole suggested. “My parents take me to it sometimes. This auction has everything, and it’s a lot of fun to watch. Maybe you guys could go with us?”
Mrs. McKenzie looked at her daughter, who had on her most hopeful face. “I’m sorry, honey, but I’ve got to work this weekend.”
Jordan tried really hard not to show her disappointment, but she could feel her lips settling into a hard line. Going to the auction with her new friend sounded like so much fun.
Her mother hesitated. “Well…maybe if I arrange to meet Nicole’s parents and make sure all these plans are okay with them, then you could go.” She took out a knife and cut a thin slice of the coffee cake Nicole had brought. “That would give me a chance to thank them in person for the welcoming gift.” She took a bite of the cinnamon-and-sugar-laced cake. “Mmmm…” she said through a mouthful of the tasty treat. “This is wonderful!”
“Really, Mom?” Jordan said. “You’d let me go?”
Her mother nodded as she cut several more slices of the coffee cake. “Anyone who can make a cake this delicious has got to be good people.” She handed Jordan and Nicole each a piece. “I think it’s nice that you can make new friends here and have someone who lives close by to hang out with, Jordan. And, I think I’m warming up to the idea of fresh eggs for breakfast.”
“Awesome!” Jordan said. “We’ll make the arrangements for you guys to meet.”
Mrs. McKenzie put the cake away before she wrecked everyone’s appetite. “We’d love to have you stay for dinner, Nicole.”
“Thanks, Mrs. McKenzie, but my mom’s expecting me home. She’s teaching me how to make lasagna tonight.”
“Oh, sounds yummy. Be sure to bring us a sample, okay?” She laughed. “If it’s as good as this cake, I think I’ll be your new best friend.”
Jordan walked Nicole out onto the front porch and slapped her a high-five. “All right! We’re going to the auction!”
Nicole looked her straight in the eyes and grinned. “I couldn’t help noticing that look on your face when your mom talked about Jacob. You like him, don’t you?”
Jordan blew out an exasperated sigh. “It’s no big deal. I don’t even know him. I only got to talk to him for a few minutes after the accident.”
“This town is pretty small,” Nicole said. “I’m sure you’ll run into him again. My dad tells me to stick to Dakota and forget about boys.” She laughed. “Is your dad strict?”
Jordan shoved her hands deep into her pockets and stared out over the cornfields. “My dad walked out on us two years ago,” she said softly.
“Whoa…” Nicole just stood there, embarrassed that she’d put her new friend on the spot. “I’m really sorry, Jordan. I shouldn’t have been so nosy.”
They stared at each other in awkward silence, then Jordan spoke up. “It’s okay. It’s his loss. He doesn’t get to see what a great kid I am,” she said, laughing at her own humor.
Truth was, Jordan tried not to think about how much she had lost in the whole process.
She walked Nicole down the porch steps. “We’re friends now, right? So if we’re going to be hanging out together, I guess that’s a part of my life you should know about.”
Nicole gave her a quick hug. “Sometimes dads do some really stupid things. It’s not your fault. Maybe someday he’ll wake up and see what a fool he’s been.”
Jordan nodded, then shifted to a lighter mood. “Okay, enough seriousness. Let’s concentrate on getting to the auction and buying some chickens so I can move on to bigger and better things—like a horse!”
“I think it’s a good sign that your mom’s letting you go to the auction with us.” Nicole smiled and headed toward the road.
Jordan waved goodbye. For now it was just chickens, but she was sure it was the first big step toward getting a horse of her own!
four
The next afternoon, Jordan was cleaning Bob’s stall when she heard someone enter the barn. Her mother came forward with a big smile and a handful of carrots. The old horse eagerly stretched his neck and extended his lips, trying to grab the treats before they were even within reach.
“You’re right,” her mother said, being careful that Bob didn’t mistake her fingers for a carrot in his haste to gobble the treats. “It is good to have an animal around the farm. Truth is, even though they’re not really what I consider pets, I’m really looking forward to getting those chickens.”
Jordan finished with the cleaning, and let herself out of the stall. “We can get more than just chickens, Mom. Nicole says there will be lots of animals at the auction: cows, goats, horses, pigs…”
Her mother shook her head. “No, I think I want to start small, then maybe we can work our way up to a lamb or something later on.”
“Okay,” Jordan said, wondering if she’d ever be able to talk her mom into getting a horse. “Baby goats and potbellied piglets are really cute, though,” she said. “What if I come home with one of those?”
Her mom fed Bob another carrot. “If you come home with anything more than chickens, you’re grounded.” She gave Jordan the Mom Look. “I mean it,” she said.
Jordan breathed a sigh of disappointment. She knew her mother meant every word.
A soft tap sounded on the barn door and both their heads snapped up in surprise. They weren’t expecting visitors.
“May I enter?” a voice called from the doorway.
Jordan’s stomach did a little flip when she saw Jacob step into the dim light of the barn. His blond hair gleamed in the one shaft of sunlight that sliced through the broken board at the side of the barn. She was uncomfortably aware that she had on her old, baggy sweat pants and a wrinkled T-shirt. They seemed so shabby compared to the boy’s simple, clean, and neatly pressed clothes.
“Carrots, huh?” Jacob said. “You’re going to spoil this horse so much that he won’t want to go home.”
“Well, hello, Jacob,” Jordan’s mom said. “You found us. I wasn’t sure if my message had ever reached Mr. Fisher in the hospital.”
“He got it.” He held out a piece of stale bread and the gelding took it, munching happily. “Also, Dr. Smith called my father and told him that the horse was okay and where to find him. Brother Fisher asked us to come over here and fetch him.”
“How’s he doing?” Mrs. McKenzie asked.
Jacob ran a hand through his thick hair and frowned. “They kept him there a couple of nights for observation and X-rays. They were afraid he’d fractured his pelvis, but it turns out he’s only got a small break in one of th
e bones in his lower arm. It isn’t all that serious, but he won’t be driving Ned any time soon.”
“Ned is this horse’s name?” Jordan could tell Jacob was trying not to laugh. “We’ve been calling him Bob. And he eats bread? I didn’t know horses liked bread.”
Jacob offered Ned another piece. “It’s made from grain. A lot of horses won’t eat it, but some of them develop a taste for the stuff. Brother Fisher doesn’t like to see anything go to waste, so he puts the stale bread in his pockets and feeds it to the horses and birds.”
He let himself into the stall and put the halter he’d brought with him over Ned’s head. “He said to thank you for taking care of his horse, and for helping us after the accident.”
“It was our pleasure,” Mrs. McKenzie said. “Would you like me to follow you home in our car? That’s how we got Ned back to our place. How far from here do you live?”
Jacob smiled. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. My dad brought our horse trailer. He’s waiting out front.” Jacob looked directly at Jordan, playfully daring her to ask if Amish horses were allowed to ride in trailers.
Jordan kept her mouth shut. She now knew that there were big differences in the way Jacob’s Mennonite family lived and the traditions of the Amish community that Mr. Fisher belonged to. She wanted to learn more, but she refused to let the boy lead her into asking more questions. He’d just think she was a dumb city girl. He almost looked disappointed when she didn’t rise to the bait, and the thought made her smile.
“Jordan, why don’t you go with Jacob and help him load Ned?” Her mother shooed her toward the door.
She gave her mother a quit-playing-matchmaker look.
Jacob glanced over his shoulder. “Come on, Jordan. I’d be happy for some help.”
She hesitated, then decided to go. She’d never had a chance to load a horse into a trailer before. It would be a good learning experience. And that, she told herself, was the only reason she was following the tall blond boy.
Ned stumbled a bit going up the slight incline to their driveway, where a big white truck and horse trailer were parked. Jacob put a steadying hand on the old horse’s neck and spoke words of encouragement to him.
When they reached the trailer, Jacob introduced Jordan to his father. She shook hands with Mr. Yoder, who stood several inches shorter than his son. He wore a straw cowboy hat and had a closely trimmed beard. Jordan instantly liked his kind smile.
“It was good of you and your mother to take care of this old horse,” Mr. Yoder said. “Samuel’s wife sent something for you.” He walked to the cab of the truck and pulled out a box, which he handed to Jordan.
The warm, yeasty smell of freshly baked bread wafted from the box. “Mrs. Fisher is known for her bread and her rhubarb pie—a specialty of many of the bakers in this area.”
“This is awesome!” Jordan said. “Please thank them for me, Mr. Yoder.”
“You can call me Mr. Yoder if you’re more comfortable with that, but everyone around here calls me Leroy. I’ll be sure to relay your message.” He opened the door to the trailer and nodded for Jacob to load the horse.
As soon as Jacob tossed the lead rope over Ned’s neck, the old horse walked straight into the trailer on his own.
“Well,” Jordan said, “I was a lot of help.”
The boy grinned sheepishly. “You needed to come get the bread anyway. And it gave me a chance to talk to you again.”
“Come on, Jacob, let’s get going,” his father called.
Jacob gave Jordan a smile that made her heart quicken. She chided herself for being so goofy. Boys had smiled at her before; what was it about this one that was different?
He made her feel welcome, Jordan thought. That was important when you were the new kid in town.
“I’ll see you around.” Jacob waved and stepped into the truck.
“See ya.” Jordan waved back. She hoped he was right. But the chances of seeing him before school started again were slim. And he’d probably forget all about her by the time school started in the fall.
As they pulled out onto the main road, Jordan wished she had thought to ask what kind of horses the Yoders had. They definitely had a nice rig.
She watched the big truck and trailer until it was out of sight, then headed into the house with the box from Mrs. Fisher. It might wreck their dinner, but Jordan was all for cutting into the rhubarb pie right now. A big piece of bread with jam on it didn’t sound too bad, either.
Jordan spent the next several days checking out the local scene, which had a whole different meaning in Los Angeles than it did here in this cow town. She bought ice cream at the hardware store, and tried to start a conversation with some girls who came in. They were friendly enough, but they seemed to be in a rush to get their cones and go somewhere else. A couple of times, Jordan made an effort to meet the eyes of kids she passed on the street, but most of them just looked at her like she didn’t belong. She felt like she had new girl stamped in the middle of her forehead. She had better luck with older people, though. If she walked through town in the late afternoon, they’d be sitting on their porches, and they’d always wave to her when she went by.
With Nicole’s help, Jordan tacked up signs around town looking for odd jobs, and she soon had a list of several people who were willing to pay her to mow their lawns and weed their flowerbeds. One person called to see if she’d shovel out his cow barn for twenty dollars. Jordan respectfully declined that job.
By the day of the auction, she had almost eleven hundred dollars in her account. Too bad she only had permission to buy chickens with it.
Jordan rose early that morning. The auction didn’t start until ten, but Nicole and her parents had said they’d be here to pick her up at eight-thirty. They wanted to have plenty of time to get their bid card and look at all the livestock that would go through the sale ring.
Excitement made Jordan’s pulse quicken when they pulled onto the auction grounds. It felt like a whole new world. As soon as they got out of their car, a cacophony of animal sounds greeted them. Cattle bawled as they were moved through the high wooden chutes to sale pens; goats and sheep bleated their concern at being in a strange place. Once she thought she heard a donkey bray. She was most excited, though, when a horse neigh came from one of the barns.
The parking lot was filled with cars, trucks, and trailers of every imaginable description. She saw everything from rigs worth tons of money to homemade contraptions that were no more than several two-by-fours fitted into the back of a pickup to allow for the hauling of smaller livestock.
Nicole’s mom and dad steered them toward the registration booth. Jordan people-watched as they made their way through the crowd. Most of the auction-goers were farmers, but a few looked more like city folks. One man in a suit and tie looked totally out of place. Jordan wondered if she also stood out as a city slicker. She hoped she could just blend in with the farmers.
Several Amish families had set up booths and were selling garden vegetables, freshly baked pies and breads, and homemade jams. Other booths displayed handmade leather goods, such as bridles and harness. She looked for Mr. Fisher, but didn’t see him.
“Let’s get our bidding number, then we can go look at the animals,” Nicole’s mother said. “Jordan, would you like to have your own bid number? I know you’re buying chickens for your farm. You can have your own card if we sign for you.”
Jordan hesitated. “Um, sure, Mrs. Wilson. That would be great.”
Jordan and Nicole followed her mom to the registration office, where they had to stand in a long line. The girls chatted and fidgeted, anxious to be off exploring the auction grounds. Ten minutes later, they weren’t much closer to the front of the line. Nicole begged her parents to let her take Jordan to see the animals.
“Oh, all right,” Nicole’s mom said with a laugh. “Go explore the sale barns. We’ll catch up with you two as soon as we’re finished here.”
“That way,” Nicole said, pointing the way to the s
ale barns.
The first one they came to had a dozen stacked cages of chickens and turkeys. Jordan looked them over carefully and decided she liked the black-and-white speckled hens the best.
“Poor turkeys,” Nicole said. “They fill up the entire inside of their cages. I wonder if my parents will let me buy one?”
A concerned neigh sounded and Jordan immediately lost all interest in the chickens. “Let’s go!” she said. They followed the direction of the sound to the pens behind the barn. Several Quarter horses stood in a large area eating hay. A couple of auction workers answered questions, while another man haltered a horse for a buyer’s inspection.
The two girls hung around for a while watching the horses, then Jordan told Nicole she wanted to check out the chickens one last time.
Nicole waved her on. “I’ll meet you inside. My parents always sit in the third row.”
Jordan nodded and hurried toward the poultry cages. The muggy heat of summer was bearing down, and she decided to detour through the next barn to get out of the sun.
A soft nicker drew her attention when she entered the barn. Jordan looked around but didn’t see any horses. The stalls in this section held mostly goats and pigs. There were signs everywhere asking people not to enter the stalls. Jordan imagined a stampede of goats or pigs caused by someone forgetting to latch a stall door.
When she heard a rustling sound from a stall several yards away, she went over to see what was there. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Jordan was surprised to see a large, black draft horse standing in the back corner with its head hung low.
Jordan leaned over the stall door, attempting to get the horse to move forward. She couldn’t tell if it was a mare or a gelding, but whatever it was—even in the dark stall—she was sure it was beautiful!
“Come here, baby,” she crooned. The horse flicked its ears, but remained where it stood in the gloomy corner of the stall.
She had to see this horse. Already she sensed something wrong, the way it stood in the shadows like it didn’t want to be bothered.