A Horse to Love

by Marsha Hubler

  “There you go, Morgan.”

  Skye watched Morgan motor up the long wooden ramp onto the platform and position herself to put the bridle on Blaze.

  “Do you want to help?” Morgan asked.

  “Sure, why not,” Skye said. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Check on the other side to make sure the brow band is on correctly around the ears, okay?”

  “Okay,” Skye said, making sure the bridle fit correctly. She glanced under Blaze’s head at Morgan. She stil couldn’t quite believe this disabled kid was going to ride a horse without fal ing off.

  “Ready, Morgan?” Mr. Chambers asked.

  “Yep.”

  Mr. Chambers gently lifted her from the wheelchair into the supportive saddle and secured her legs tightly with two Velcro straps on each side of the horse.

  “Huh,” Skye said, watching Morgan jog to the center of the field. The warm-up exercises were even more impressive, but Skye was blown away when Morgan completed a barrel race in lightning-fast time.

  “She’s something else, isn’t she?” Mrs. Chambers said, joining her husband and Skye as they leaned against the fence. “Ask her to show you the ribbons on display in her bedroom. Most of them are blue.”

  “No kidding,” Skye said.

  Skye’s ten-day suspension seemed to fly by. Never had she enjoyed a school suspension so much, even with al the uncertainties and the fact that she was missing her friends. She couldn’t help thinking that getting suspended again, or expel ed for that matter, would be a cool idea. Then she could spend al her time with Champ.

  The warmth of Saturday’s sun released the sights and smel s of a perfect spring day. The horses frisked about in the pasture, running down to the pond, chasing and nibbling at each other. And now, not even two weeks after she first touched a horse, Skye found herself on Champ, fol owing Mrs.

  Chambers and Pepsi on a dirt road in back of the pond.

  “You know, Skye, it’s nothing short of a miracle the way you’ve taken to horses,” her foster mother said as she led the way along a trail through the woods.

  “Are you sure you’ve never ridden before?” Mrs.

  Chamber’s blue eyes smiled from beneath a suede Stetson hat.

  It had been a long time since Skye had told a big lie just for the sake of tel ing one. She needed practice, and now was the perfect time. “Wel , I did know how when I was little, but I forgot,” she answered curtly.

  “Oh, I see,” Mrs. Chambers replied. “Wel , relax and enjoy the ride,” she added. “I’m going to give you a crash course on trail riding. Ah, maybe I should rephrase that. I’m going to show you the ins and outs of trail riding. And I want to show you a very special place. Bring Champ up here. There’s no need for you two to fol ow us. The road is wide enough for both horses.”

  Skye clicked her tongue and confidently rubbed her calves along her horse’s bel y. With a hop, Champ started jogging, coming alongside Pepsi and matching her pace. It was like being in the best movie Skye had ever seen. Bril iant shafts of sunlight lit up budding trees with pink and white blossoms, squirrels chattered, and birds chirped.

  It was so peaceful that words would have ruined the magical moment. The clip-clop of the horses’

  hooves on the dirt road, the jingle-jangling of the bit shanks, and the squeaking of the leather saddles said it al . Skye hated to admit it to herself, but she was having the time of her life.

  Final y, Mrs. Chambers spoke. “You know, I’ve never gotten over the thril of riding a horse down a path in the woods. I think it’s about as close as you can get to heaven. God made al this beauty, kiddo.” Skye cringed. She reached down and patted the horse’s neck. Champ she liked — no, loved . But Mrs. Chambers? Just a necessary inconvenience to get what Skye wanted.

  The long trail through the woods led into a smal pasture nestled at the base of three sloping hil s.

  Blossoming trees dotted a field that overflowed with tawny grasses. Skye focused on a covered wagon in the center, nestled under a clump of scrub pines. As the horses swished their legs through the tal grasses, a gentle breeze stirred, sifting the smel of pine through the meadow.

  “Wow,” Skye said. “This is so cool.”

  “Welcome to Piney Hol ow,” Mrs. Chambers said as they approached the wagon. “Let’s rest awhile.” The horses walked to a wooden railing, one of several on the side of the wagon, as if they knew just where to go. Mrs. Chambers and Skye dismounted, wound the reins around the railing, and walked to a clearing that included a circle of rocks for a campfire surrounded by wooden crates to sit on.

  “I bet you’re wondering what goes on here, aren’t you?” Mrs. Chambers asked. “We use it for trail rides, camping trips for our church youth group, and special chapel services when the weather permits.”

  “Chapel services?” Skye’s face contorted, weighed down with al kinds of questions.

  “Look over there.” Mrs. Chambers pointed to something behind Skye.

  Skye turned and focused on several rows of benches hewn from tree trunks. In front of the benches, set against the sharply rising base of a hil , was a monument of cemented stones about as tal as the wagon with a beautiful y carved stone cross projecting from the top.

  “That’s our chapel. We’ve had a lot of church picnics here. You haven’t lived until you’ve eaten a hot dog or marshmal ow roasted over an open fire.” Mrs. Chambers tapped on Skye’s hardhat. “Why don’t you give your head a rest and take that off?” Skye gladly took off the hat and ran her fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. She plopped down on a crate across from her new foster mother.

  “Isn’t this place a sight for tired eyes?” Mrs.

  Chambers said. “It amazes me how God gives us the desires of our hearts. I never knew serving him could be like this.” Mrs. Chambers paused. “Tel me about your other foster homes, Skye. Which ones did you like the most?”

  “There’s nothing to tel ,” Skye said. “I hated al of them. Sometimes I felt safer at juvie hal .”

  “Wel , we hope you feel safe — and loved —

  here.”

  “At first I thought you were trying to kil me when you put me on him,” Skye said, nodding at her horse.

  “But riding Champ isn’t so bad. It’s pretty cool.”

  “We’re praying you’l think living here is pretty cool too, and you’l be able to cal our place ‘home.’ We’d like nothing better,” Mrs. Chambers said as she stood. “I guess we’ve rested enough. Let’s take advantage of a perfect day. We can talk while we ride through the woods.”

  Skye was glad their little chat was over. This God talk was getting on her nerves.

  chapter six

  The restrictions Skye faced at the Chambers’ home offset the freedom she experienced whenever she rode Champ. And to make sure she remembered the rules, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers had reviewed them with her every evening the fi rst week she had moved in.

  “Wel , Skye,” Mr. Chambers said one night as he stirred cream into his coffee, “how do you think you’re doing with al these rules we have here at Keystone Stables?”

  Skye nibbled on a brownie and took a big gulp of milk.“The only difference between here and juvie is you don’t make me wear those stupid khaki uniforms. I hate those things. They make me feel like a private in boot camp.”

  “Honey, we want you to understand one thing,” Mr.

  Chambers said. “We have rules for one basic reason — so you’l feel safe. You might feel like you’re in a straitjacket now, but believe me, as time goes by, you’l get used to them. And after you’ve lived here a while, we won’t need some of them anymore. You’l be so used to the other ones, you’l think life has always been like this.”

  “The only thing I figure is that you’re getting ready to ship me off to the Marines,” Skye complained.

  “Actual y, that would be like a vacation.” Mr. Chambers chuckled and wiped his mustache with a napkin as he pushed his cup aside and reached back to the counter to retrieve a pa
per.

  “Let’s go over this list one more time. If you want to discuss any of these, just speak up.” A barrage of barks echoed from Tip and Ty, who sat on the floor between Mr. and Mrs. Chambers’

  chairs.

  “Not you two,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Whenever they hear the word ‘speak,’ it sets them off like robots with new microchips.”

  Skye grinned in spite of herself.

  “Okay, here we go,” Mr. Chambers said.

  Skye folded her arms, slid into a half slouch, and rol ed her eyes. “I can hardly wait,” she grumbled.

  “Careful,” Mrs. Chambers warned.

  Mr. Chambers started reading:

  “Use of the playroom, including computer games, email, and TV — one hour a day under close supervision.”

  Skye stared passively at a brownie crumb.

  “Boom box and CDs — Christian music only.” Gag me, she thought.

  “Phone — one ten-minute cal a day under close supervision.”

  My life is so totally ruined.

  “Chores, including the house and the barn —

  washing clothes, ironing, housecleaning, cooking, gardening, and mucking stal s. But you’re not a lonely island out there by yourself,” Mr. Chambers reminded Skye. “It takes al of us to run this place. It’s just part of maintaining a home. You’l be glad when you’re older that you learned how to do these things.” Yeah, I’m the luckiest girl in the world! Skye stewed on the inside.

  “Skye, you’re a beautiful young lady. It’s important to have proper personal hygiene, not only for your health, but to keep flies out of the house.” Mrs.

  Chambers laughed gently. “Of course, that means a shower, including shampooing your hair every day, brushing your teeth twice a day, and trimming your nails with scissors rather than biting them off. From the looks of those gnawed-off nails, you could use some finger etiquette.”

  Skye rol ed her eyes again. “Could you get any grosser?”

  After having the rules dril ed into her night after night for a week, she could hardly forget.

  Nonetheless, she fought them like a badger in a bag.

  She would run the shower and sit on the vanity, while gal ons of water ran down the drain — just so they would think she was getting clean. Rules were made to be broken, she reasoned, and she was there to break every one. How else was she going to have a little fun?

  Although hostile to the Chambers, Skye studied Morgan with calculated interest. She thought she saw another teenager with a kindred spirit who could join in her rebel ion and help buck the system. Or so she thought.

  The first evening after the school sent assignments home, Skye answered a knock at her bedroom door and invited Morgan in. A tower of books were stacked on Skye’s desk, waiting.

  “Mrs. Chambers mentioned that you had homework,” Morgan said as she motored in.

  “Suspension doesn’t mean a vacation!” Skye sat on her bed, hands behind her head, feet stretched out and crossed. She eyed Morgan as she entered escorted by Tip and Ty, whose toenails clicked on the floor until they settled on a throw rug beside the bed.

  “Yeah, big deal,” Skye answered. “Those books can sit there until they turn to dust. I’m not doing any homework.”

  “What do you mean you’re not doing any homework?” Morgan asked. “Don’t tel me you’re one of those poor little mistreated foster kids who claims she can’t read. Get a life!”

  “Yeah, I can read, but only things I like. When it’s too cold for me to walk around downtown, I go to the back room of the city library, hide in the corner, and read good stuff. Nobody ever bothers me. Sure, I can read, but not that trash.” She nodded toward the desk. “Anyway, I’m not going to do homework just because Mrs. Chambers says I have to. How can you stand al their stupid rules?”

  “They’re not that bad,” was Morgan’s encouraging answer.

  “Yeah right. Of al my foster homes, this is the weirdest! What real y bugs me is this God thing al the time. It makes me sick. How long have you been here, and how can you stand it?”

  Morgan raised her eyes as though she were reading from the ceiling and then looked back at Skye. “It’l be three years this summer. I had just turned twelve when my parents got divorced. Dad left us and ran off to California with another woman. It was too much for Mom. She had three other ‘normal’

  kids to support, so I landed here. Mom’s always been a little unstable. If the Chambers hadn’t taken me in, I’d probably be in an institution somewhere.”

  “Do you ever see your parents?”

  “Not Dad. He has a new life, he says, and doesn’t see any of us. Mom moved closer to Aunt Martha down near Phil y. She cal s every now and then. I did see her and my brothers and sister last Christmas, but we only connected for a few hours. They’re real y not like my family anymore. The Chambers are more like parents to me. Do you ever see your parents?” Skye blurted out a sarcastic laugh. “That’s a joke. I don’t even know where they are or if they’re even alive.I’ve been in foster homes as long as I can remember. They don’t want me, obviously, or they would come to get me. I don’t know a stinking thing about them, good or bad.” Skye’s tone changed. “So you’re in ninth grade at Madison?”

  “Yeah. Next year I learn to drive.”

  “Learn to drive? In that thing?” Skye snickered and pointed to the wheelchair.

  “Sure. Why not? Lots of chal enged people drive.

  You’ve seen me ride a horse, haven’t you? Why can’t I drive a car?”

  “But how?” Skye’s face contorted.

  “We have a real y neat van with special gears and pedals up in the dashboard to use with your hands. It is so cool. I’l have to show it to you sometime.” Skye’s face grew serious. “Since you’re at Madison, do you know Sooze Bodmer — it’s real y Susan — and Kenny Hartzel ? They’re seventh graders.”

  “Nah. High school kids never have any contact with kids in other buildings. Why?”

  “I need something from them. Fast. They’re my special friends, if you know what I mean.”

  “Look, kid, that kind of stuff won’t fly around here.I’m tel ing you, Mr. and Mrs. C. wil find out.

  You’d better not pul any stunts like that.”

  “C’mon, Morgan. You can do it. If you can’t connect with my friends, get some stuff from somebody in your class. I need it to get me through this nightmare. Anything! What do you say?” Morgan’s freckled face grew as serious as Skye’s. “I say you’re just plain stupid, Skye. I guarantee you won’t be getting away with any of your old behavior here. Look, I’d like nothing better than for us to be friends,” she said and then smiled, “even though you are a lowly seventh grader. But I won’t get you any stuff.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause I don’t do those things anymore. Skye, my life real y changed when I moved in here. With the Chambers’ help, I learned about God. I accepted Christ as my personal Savior, and he helped me kick al my bad habits. I don’t have anything to do with those kids anymore.”

  “Not you too! I can’t believe it! You’re a religious nut? C’mon. Couldn’t you just smuggle me in something?”

  “Not in this lifetime! With the Chambers’ and God’s help, you can change and get rid of those things that are messing you up too.”

  “I am not messed up!”

  “Have you looked in a mirror lately?” Morgan taunted.

  Skye’s face flushed hot, and she raked both hands through her hair. “You mean you’re not going to help me?”

  “Yeah, I’l help you, but only with things like your homework. Forget that other stuff. It’s your cal if you want to be friends.”

  “Thanks for nothing,” Skye growled and folded her arms tightly across her chest.

  “And you are s o not welcome,” Morgan said as she motored to the book pile on the desk. “Look. We have hours of work ahead of us. Let’s get started.” She grabbed the top book and opened it on her lap.

  “I am not doing homework, Mor
gan, so you can just forget it!”

  “Hey, listen. I’m just trying to help. If you don’t do this, you’l lose privileges.”

  “Privileges?” Skye whined as she sat up straight and tucked her knees to her chest. “What privileges?

  Al I need is a straitjacket and my life wil be complete.”

  “I’m tel ing you for your own good. You’ve only spent a few hours at Maranatha since Monday, right?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “Wel , the individual counseling and group therapy can be intense, to say the least. Rebel ing like that wil only earn you more time with the counselors.

  Then there are your riding privileges here at Keystone Stables. Are you sure you want to give up Champ for a week at a time? I can tel you’re already hooked on him.”

  “No way. Just because I don’t do this stupid homework?”

  “Duh! Yes with a capital Y-E-S!”

  Skye just sat there.

  Morgan reached toward the desk, searching for something. “Your assignments should be here somewhere.Wait, here they are,” she said, pul ing folded papers out of a book. “Wel ?” Skye’s face shriveled like a dried-up prune.

  Marana-tha? Big deal. I can take anything they dish out to me.But lose Champ?

  “Okay,” she snarled. She shuffled to the edge of the bed, scaring the dogs out of her path. “If you’re dumb enough to waste your time in here, I’l do it. But don’t offer to do me any more favors. I made it on my own this long and I’l make it on my own again. Got it?”

  “Man, you’ve got a lot to learn and not just in school,”Morgan snapped as she motored toward the bed.

  chapter seven

  Skye decided the awfulness of living with the Chambers paled in comparison to what she suffered at Maranatha Treatment Center. The place was beyond awful as far as she was concerned.

  She had a long history of counseling with tons of psychologists who had tried to figure her out. But Maranatha was different. It was a Christian counseling center supported by local churches and run on a shoestring budget. Skye thought it was dork central, but on the very first day Skye discovered her manipulative strategies wouldn’t work there. The place crawled with weirdos like Eileen Chambers.