Rescue

by Jessie Haas

  Text copyright © 2018 by Jessie Haas

  All rights reserved.

  For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, contact permissions@highlights.com.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Boyds Mills Press

  An Imprint of Highlights

  815 Church Street

  Honesdale, Pennsylvania 18431

  boydsmillspress.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN: 978-1-62979-880-6 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-68437-139-6 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017949850

  First e-book edition

  Design by Anahid Hamparian

  The text of this book is set in Minion Pro.

  H1.0

  For Rebecca Davis

  CONTENTS

  One: The New Girl

  Two: Minis

  Three: Captive Animals

  Four: “Get Off and Walk!”

  Five: Character

  Six: “It’s O-o-o-o-o-ver!”

  Seven: Mrs. Abernathy

  Eight: Eyes

  Nine: Fields

  Ten: Coal-Black Morgans

  Eleven: Electric Fence

  Twelve: A Dog Crate

  Thirteen: Patrick

  Fourteen: A Lesson

  Fifteen: Sheep

  Sixteen: Baling Twine

  Seventeen: A T-Shirt

  Eighteen: “How We Eat the Grass”

  Nineteen: Wave. Say Hi.

  Twenty: “I Can’t Stop Them”

  Twenty-One: “You Girls”

  Twenty-Two: Brave

  Twenty-Three: “One of Us”

  Twenty-Four: On the Bridge

  Twenty-Five: Equals

  Twenty-Six: “The Kid Who Saved Those Minis”

  Twenty-Seven: Cake

  ONE

  The New Girl

  Joni crossed in front of the school bus, swinging her backpack. The sky was blue, the fields brilliant green, a cool breeze swayed the sheep-shaped farm sign, and summer vacation started in just two days. Perfect! She whirled the pack all the way around like a discus thrower as she turned to wave to the driver—and there was that new girl, watching her through the bus window. As soon as Joni spotted her, the girl looked back down, so Joni could see only her hair.

  No, her hairstyle. Who had a hairstyle in sixth grade? Nobody around here! For that matter, who started a new school so close to the end of the year?

  But so what! It was time for a ride. Joni dragged her bike out of the weeds and soared down the dirt farm road. Sheep raised their heads, a gang of lambs bounced away, and black flies bobbed around Joni’s face. Yay! Black flies! They would drive Archie into the stall, so she had a chance of catching him.

  She swooped into the farmyard, scattering hens from their dust baths. Four dogs rose to their feet. The two border collies quarreled about who would greet her first. The Great Pyrenees guard dogs ambled over, wagging their tails.

  “You guys should be with your sheep!”

  The Bears smiled their warm brown eyes at her. Sheep were boring. They preferred hanging out with people.

  In the kitchen, Joni slung her pack on a chair. Dad was already pouring her a glass of milk. “Hi, Joni Macaroni! How’s my little girl?”

  “Dad? Remember?” Technically, Joni was his little girl. The Big Girls were Kate and Olivia, his daughters from his first marriage. They’d graduated from college and didn’t live here anymore, so it didn’t matter what Dad called them. But next fall, Joni would be in middle school. What if Dad called her his little girl in public? She was training him, but he was about as easy as Archie.

  “Sorry,” he said. “How was school?”

  Should Joni tell him about the new girl? From California, Mrs. Emmons had said, when she introduced her. From a city—San Something-or-other.

  But then Dad would ask, Did you talk with her? Joni hadn’t. None of them had, not even Danae and Alyssa, Joni’s best friends, who were usually unstoppable in the talking-to-people department. The new girl stayed inside at recess, bending her California hairstyle over a book. At lunchtime, she took her shiny, insulated bag to the teachers’ table and ate there.

  So it looked like she was shy, but that wasn’t it. Joni was shy. The new girl was something else. If she were a store, there would be a Closed sign in the window. She wore bright leggings and a T-shirt layered over another shirt in a sophisticated way that Alyssa said was cool—but when the new girl got on their bus and sat looking at her phone, even Alyssa didn’t go talk to her.

  “School was stupid!” Joni said, reaching for an oatmeal cookie. “We shouldn’t have to go the last week. They don’t teach us anything.”

  Dad said, “I’m pretty sure there’s a flaw in your logic. Isn’t that an infinite regression? So you’d never go to school?”

  “I’d go to school,” Joni said. “Just not in June! I’m going for a ride.”

  “Getting ready for camp?”

  “No, just a trail ride,” Joni said.

  “So you’ve got the beast under control?” That wasn’t really a question. Dad was pushing, saying Joni should be getting ready, and he was right. Last year at camp, Archie ran away with her across the whole equestrian center and through three riding lessons. It made them famous, not in a good way.

  “He hasn’t run away with me since last fall,” Joni said—which wasn’t really an answer, but fair was fair. She shoved on her riding boots, grabbed another cookie, and she and Dad went out together.

  Immediately, they were in the center of a swirl of dogs. The border collies quivered with hope. Maybe, just maybe, the sheep wouldn’t come when Dad called them for milking. Maybe, just maybe, he’d need their help. They circled, watching, ready for a command. The Bears padded along, panting happily.

  Dad paused by the milking parlor. “Where you heading? In case Archie comes back alone.”

  “North Valley Road, I think.”

  “You think?” Dad waited. As a free-range kid, it was Joni’s responsibility to make a plan, tell somebody what it was, and stick to it. Within reason, anyway.

  “Yes,” Joni said. “North Valley Road.”

  “Okay. Have fun!”

  Archie was in his stall, hiding out from the flies. Joni closed the door, slipped on his halter, and kissed his gray velvet nose. He gave her a bitter look, and she kissed him again. “What you got planned for me today, Mr. Growth Opportunity?” Carleen, her camp instructor, called him that—“a growth opportunity on four legs.” He was a Morgan-Welsh cross, only fourteen hands high, which was two inches too short to be officially a horse. He looked like a horse, but he had a pony mind, cheerful and devious.

  Joni brushed his white coat, put on fly spray, and lifted the saddle onto his back. Archie took a deep breath, expanding his belly so the cinch didn’t even reach the buckle. He pinched his lips tight and stared straight ahead, with an inward-looking expression.

  “Archie, the amazing balloon horse!” Joni led him in a small circle and tried again. “Wow, you can hold your breath for a long time!” Another circle, a third. Archie heaved a sigh. “Thank you!” Joni tightened the cinch, put on Archie’s hackamore and her own helmet, and led him out to the big rock she used for a mounting block. She climbed onto it. Archie swung away so the stirrup was out of reach and stood looking innocent and bright-eyed.

  Joni picked up her stick—a stalk of last year’s goldenrod, actually, light and brittle as uncooked spaghetti—and touched him on the rump. Archie aimed a nip at her leg, then sidestepped close enough for her to get on. One of those days! Sh
e settled herself firmly in the saddle and headed down across the big front field. The hackamore didn’t have a bit, but it was actually stronger than his old bridle. With luck and careful attention, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t get run away with today.

  Beyond that, Dad was right. She hadn’t advanced much in a year. Carleen had said, “You’re at the age when you should kick it up a notch. Bring some finesse to your riding.”

  But finesse didn’t happen just because you’d turned twelve. It didn’t happen fooling around out on the trails. And so what? Riding was supposed to be fun, especially after a day at school. How many kids her age would dare even get on a horse like Archie? Anyway, she had more than a week to get ready.

  Archie strode along cheerfully. He liked going places. What he hated was being tacked up and handing over authority. Entering the woods, he broke into a smooth, swift trot—which Joni hadn’t asked him to do, but okay. The brook trail was one of his well-behaved places. The trees on each side funneled him straight forward, so he didn’t have many options.

  Three big rocks marked the end of the trail. Archie stepped through the opening between them, onto the dirt road. Here, they could turn left, farther into the woods. Joni never met anybody out there, just birds and sometimes a deer. It was an easy ride.

  Or, if she was feeling strong-minded, she could turn right, cross the bridge that Archie pretended to be afraid of, and ride along North Valley Road. Past the white house with the For Sale sign. Past the empty red barn. Past the little house with the ponies, and beyond, all the way to the dairy farm. That was where she’d said she was going, so that was where she should go. But was this a strong-minded day?

  Not so much, Joni thought, if she could be intimidated by just a hairstyle. And that was ridiculous! She shortened the reins and firmed her seat in the saddle.

  “Archie? Get your big-horse pants on! We’re crossing that bridge!”

  Archie pricked his ears right and left at the flowing water. He ducked his head to look at the worn boards of the bridge. For a second, he hesitated. Then, as if it was his own idea, he walked calmly across it, onto North Valley Road.

  “Awesome possum!” Joni let him trot. They swept around the corner toward the white house.

  On the lawn where the For Sale sign had been, watching them come, was the new girl.

  TWO

  Minis

  Joni would have to say hi. She couldn’t just ride by—unless Archie decided that’s what they were doing! She slackened the reins. But Archie pricked his ears and veered toward the girl. She stood her ground, dark eyes widening, as he marched up and poked her with his nose.

  Apparently, she didn’t have treats. Archie sighed, yanked the reins through Joni’s hands, and put his head down to graze. Joni felt her face get hot. Way to go, Arch! He’d made her look like a helpless dork, again!

  The new girl wasn’t looking at Joni, though. She was gazing at Archie, eyes shining. “Is he a Lipizzan?” she whispered.

  Joni managed not to laugh. “No. He’s part Morgan and part Welsh. His name is Archie.”

  “Because Lipizzans are white,” the girl said, as if she hadn’t heard.

  “Lipizzans are white, but not all white horses are Lipizzans,” Joni said. That was logic. Dad would be proud. “Anyway, Archie’s really a gray horse. He was dark when he was born, and he got lighter as he got older. Like Lipizzans—they’re not really white, either.”

  The girl looked up at her. “You know a lot,” she said. “You’re—Joni? I’m Chess. C-h-e-s-s.”

  “That’s not what Mrs. Emmons called you,” Joni said.

  “No, it’s Francesca, but I’m changing it.” The girl was looking at Archie again, drinking him in.

  “Why didn’t you tell her?” Joni asked.

  Chess shrugged. “Why bother, for three days? Next year in middle school, I’ll start them off right … wow, he’s so beautiful!”

  “Yeah, he’s cute!” Truthfully, Archie was gorgeous. Sometimes Joni gazed for minutes at a time at the long white eyelashes sweeping across his dark eyes. His conformation wasn’t technically outstanding. His neck was too thick, his pasterns and shoulders too upright. But this wasn’t a horse-judging contest. There was no need to point out Archie’s faults. So what was she supposed to say? Should she get off? She hadn’t been asked to. The new—no, Chess—was completely focused on Archie, and if there was a next thing to say, Joni couldn’t think of it. Why did you come to school, with only three days left? Why did you look like you didn’t want us to talk to you? Are you talking to me now just because I have a horse? Those were things not to say.

  “Well, I should get going.”

  “Will you ride back this way?” Chess asked.

  Joni nodded.

  “I’ll have a carrot for him. If that’s okay. Does he like carrots?”

  “He likes everything!” Joni hauled Archie’s head up. A troubled frown came over Chess’s face, and Joni’s own face burned. This was terrible riding and she knew it. But it wasn’t hurting him, and it was the only way. She turned Archie’s head toward the road. He bent his neck, but not his body, and carried her farther up the lawn. She booted him in the ribs. He kicked up his heels in a tiny buck, just to show that he didn’t have to do what she wanted. Then he surged up North Valley Road at a much faster trot than she’d intended.

  Joni was sweating. Why was she so bad at talking? And riding! Even Chess could tell how awful that was. Now she would have to ride back past the house, and talk some more, and—

  Archie pointed his ears at something ahead. Joni slowed him to a walk. They were almost at the house with the ponies, and something was going on in the front field.

  The ponies had arrived at this house in early spring. The buildings sat so far back from the road that Joni had only seen them from a distance, just enough to tell that one was chestnut and one was black.

  Now they stood in the garden patch harnessed to a cart, motionless, only their tails swishing. Nearby, their owner, a tall old lady in overalls and a straw hat, was hilling potatoes. Step. Bend. Scratch with the hoe. Straighten. Step. There was a long green row ahead of her, and a longer row behind, with fresh dirt piled up against the necks of the plants.

  The ponies’ ears swiveled, catching the sound of Archie’s hooves. The chestnut nudged the black with its nose. Both turned their heads, and the chestnut pony took a step.

  “Uh!” the woman said sharply. The chestnut pony placed its front feet primly together and stood still. The woman stared at him for a long moment. Then she turned toward Joni and raised one hand.

  Joni waved back. But—oh, groan! The woman wasn’t waving. She was telling Joni to wait.

  She walked toward the ponies, using her hoe as a cane. The closer she got to them, the taller she looked, and the smaller they seemed. She stuck the hoe into a big tube like an umbrella stand on the back of the cart and slid onto the seat. Now the ponies looked extremely small, the size of big dogs—

  “Oh!” Joni said. “They’re minis!” She wasn’t a huge fan of miniature horses. Some were weird-looking, and they were too small for anybody except a very young child to ride. These two were cute, though—

  Archie pulled on the reins. He wanted to jump the ditch and get acquainted. Joni turned him in a tight circle, red-faced again. What was this, Ride Badly in Public Day? Meanwhile, the minis stood like little statues while the woman settled herself, arranged her reins in her hands, and reached for her whip.

  When she was ready, she spoke a quiet word. The cart surged forward, and the minis came trotting up the path between the garden beds. Their eight legs twinkled, sending up puffs of dust. She brought them to a stop in front of Archie, and they turned their heads, trying to see past the blinders.

  “You’re the Campbell girl, aren’t you?” the woman said. “I recognized that handsome pony!”

  “I’m Joni. This is Archie.”

  “Hello, Archie. Joni, I wonder if you’d tell your father that Ruth Abernathy is definitely intere
sted in buying two lambs. We talked about it a few weeks ago.”

  “Okay.” No, that wasn’t how Mom would want her to answer. “Yes. I’ll tell him.”

  “Thank you.” Ruth Abernathy hesitated for a second, looking Joni and Archie over with clear, possibly critical eyes. For a second, she seemed about to say something. Then she changed her mind, touched the whip to the brim of her hat like a salute, and spoke to the minis. They scudded off in a cloud of dust, with her sitting up straight behind them, so large that all Joni could see of them was their rapid little legs. Archie stood rigidly, watching them leave. Then he sent a loud whinny after them.

  Joni slumped. Archie was an only horse, always hungry for the company of other horses. It would take an enormous amount of hauling rein and thumping ribs to make him move on. Once she got to the far end of North Valley Road, she’d have to turn around and come back and have the fight all over again. Groan-a-mungo!

  It wasn’t feeling like a strong-minded afternoon anymore. Joni turned Archie back toward the white house and the new girl. She might as well get this over with!

  THREE

  Captive Animals

  At the white house, a small table and two folding chairs were set out at the bottom of the lawn. The new—no. Chess. Her name was Chess, and she was walking carefully down the lawn, carrying a tray with a large sweating pitcher, two glasses, and several carrots.

  She put the tray on the table. “My mom thought you might be thirsty. Do you want to get off?”

  Joni didn’t. She wanted to cross the bridge and go down the quieter branch of the road, where she was guaranteed not to meet anyone. But she couldn’t say that, and anyway, she was thirsty. She dismounted and loosened the cinch. Archie shook himself, rattling the saddle loudly.

  “Can I give him a carrot?” Chess asked.

  “Okay.” Archie smelled the carrots already, and Joni was having a hard time holding him back.

  Chess held a carrot out on the flat of her hand, with her fingers stretched back out of the way. So she knew how to feed a horse, or she’d read about it. Joni saw her flinch as Archie fumbled with his lips. The carrot rolled off, and he dived for it. It disappeared in two juicy bites.