Rescue

by Jessie Haas

  “I’m a vegan,” Chess said. “I don’t eat anything that comes from an animal!”

  Some people thought they knew what vegan meant, but nobody had it exactly right, so Joni learned the range of things that Chess would not eat. Eggs. Milk. Cheese. Ice cream. Of course, no bacon or burgers. Pizza? Only with vegetable toppings and fake cheese. Cake and cookies? Only if made without milk, cream, eggs, or butter. “No wonder you’re so skinny,” Danae said.

  Still, the chocolate cake Chess brought for the picnic was amazing, even better than Mom’s. And Chess could eat potato chips. That was major.

  After lunch, they cleaned out their desks, took down their art projects, and rode the bus home, “for the last time ever.” Joni got ready for graduation and ate an early supper with Mom and Grandma DeeDee. Dad hurried to finish milking, and they all went back to school.

  The gym was loud and crowded, especially around Grandma DeeDee. She’d been the principal until she retired a couple of years ago. Now she was the president of the school board, and busier than ever. Everyone wanted to talk school with her. Joni drifted away to hang out with her class.

  People hugged each other (girls) or scuffled (some of the boys), and Alyssa said quite a few times, “It’s really over.” Chess was there, too, which was a surprise. She’d only been in their class for three days, but the school had decided to include her.

  Mrs. Emmons organized the sixth grade up front. There was a short speech from the principal, and an even shorter one from Grandma DeeDee. Joni had laid down the law at supper. Grandma DeeDee was not allowed to mention Joni’s name or call attention to her. But could Grandma DeeDee be trusted? She wasn’t the most obedient person in the world.

  “Sixth grade, you are a great class,” Grandma DeeDee started. “People may think you’re only children, but I’ve found that who you are in sixth grade is who you are. Period.” She glanced toward Joni and her eyes narrowed in a quick, warm smile, too brief to be embarrassing.

  “What you care about now,” Grandma DeeDee went on, “you will always care about. You have important things left to learn, and plenty of growing left to do, but when you’re grown up and think back to this year, you’ll find that it’s a touchstone. The sixth grader you are now points the way to the adult you’ll someday be.”

  For a moment, Joni felt comfortable, steady. Great, she didn’t have to turn into somebody else.

  But, who you are … is who you are? So she was always going to be a happy camper, a free-range farm girl? Did she want that? She loved her life, obviously, but at some point, you had to kick things up a notch, like Carleen said. Which meant learning and growing—two easy words that usually involved doing something hard and scary …

  … and maybe Grandma DeeDee went on to say something about that, but Joni suddenly discovered she’d missed that part of the speech. The sixth grade went up one by one to get their diplomas. There was punch and cake—probably not vegan— and then it really was over.

  Joni walked out the big front doors with Mom and Dad, feeling loose and dislocated. She didn’t belong in this school anymore, but she didn’t belong in middle school yet, either. Danae and Alyssa were ahead of her in the crowd, Alyssa whispering in Danae’s ear. It was starting already, the summer pattern of them spending every day together, except for the week Danae spent with Joni at riding camp …

  “Horse!”

  Chess and her family were right behind them, the little boy riding his father’s shoulders. He pointed at Joni. “Horse!” Everybody turned around, even Grandma DeeDee.

  “Her name is Joni,” Chess said. “His name is Noah.”

  The parents introduced themselves. They were the Venturas. “Very glad to meet a friend of Francesca’s,” Mr. Ventura said.

  “Chess,” Chess said, under her breath.

  Mrs. Ventura still seemed alarmed when she looked at Joni. She must be remembering the Archie episode. But Chess’s father said, “You’re the people with the sheep farm, right? And you actually milk them and make cheese? I’ll have to try some of that!” So he wasn’t a vegan.

  “Do either of you plan to join the PTO?” Grandma DeeDee asked Chess’s mother. There she went, taking more captives! Joni moved away, embarrassed, and suddenly Chess was beside her.

  “Can I come see your kittens?”

  “Sure!” Joni was too startled to ask herself whether she wanted Chess to come, until after the word had burst out.

  “Tomorrow I can’t,” Chess said. “Mom’s shopping and I have to help with Noah. But I’ll call. You guys are in the phone book, right?”

  “Yes.” They were in the phone book, and also right there at the end of the brook trail, and at the end of the farm road, easily found from any direction. There was no escape. Joni would just have to deal.

  She broke away and grabbed Alyssa from behind, tickling her ribs. “It’s over, Alyssa! It’s o-o-o-o-o-ver!”

  SEVEN

  Mrs. Abernathy

  The first day of summer vacation was a day to sleep late. Mom made bacon and French toast, Joni’s favorite, for breakfast, and all three of them stayed at the table for a long time, talking. Mom had high school graduation this afternoon, and then her vacation began. Dad’s busy season, milking and cheese making and haying, was just getting started. So this was a rare moment of peace for them. When the phone rang, they looked into one another’s eyes. Then Dad made a reluctant face and answered it.

  “Yes? Oh, yes, I did get that message! Could I pen the dogs?” His eyebrows rose. Who was asking him to do that? Joni wondered. “Are they okay with the border collies? Okay. Fine. I’ll do that.”

  Hanging up, he said, “Your friend Mrs. Abernathy, Joni. She’s coming to pay for the lambs, and she wants the Bears penned up.”

  “She can’t be afraid of dogs, can she?” Mom asked.

  “The ponies might be. She’s driving them over. Can you shut the Bears in their pen, Joni?”

  “Okay.” Mrs. Abernathy was the last person Joni wanted to see, after what happened on Tuesday. But this was her chance to observe the minis close up. She could judge their weight and fitness, and look into their eyes. If they were as healthy and perky as they looked from a distance, she could tell Chess, “They’re fine. They’re okay.” And if they weren’t … But they would be. She was almost sure.

  The Bears lay wagging on the grass beside the milk house. They lacked people skills like leading or heeling. She had to tug each one along by its collar. She closed them in their chain-link pen and filled their water dish. The Bears flopped down, as if they’d just put in a day’s work, and encouraged her to scratch their bellies.

  “Sorry,” Joni said. “You guys are gross!” The white fur on their bellies was brown and greasy from constant lying in sheep pastures. Tasha, the younger one, moaned and pawed the air. “Later,” Joni promised. “I’ll put on gloves.”

  Suddenly, Tasha lurched upright and gave a thunderous bark, staring down the field. Niko stood beside her, looking in the same direction. Then he added his deeper warning. After a moment, the minis came out of the woods, pulling Mrs. Abernathy in the cart.

  They turned briskly up the field, their eight little legs twinkling. Mrs. Abernathy looked huge behind them, like some giant float in a parade. They must have gone right past Chess’s house. How did that go? Maybe the Venturas had gone shopping already. But how did Mrs. Abernathy get the cart around the big rocks? She must be a daring driver!

  The minis came on at a rapid trot. Their tiny ears pricked toward the farm buildings, then back at their driver, lively and alert. The chestnut was faster, Joni saw. Mrs. Abernathy kept touching the black one with her whip, just lightly, reminding him to do his share.

  Dad came out to the yard and called the border collies. They circled toward him—they never made a straight line if they could make a curved one—and crouched at his feet. Mom came out, too, and Joni joined them as the cart rumbled up the slope into the farmyard. The border collies whined, quivering all over. No wonder! The minis were
not much bigger than sheep. They stopped, blowing and puffing, craning their necks to see past the blinders.

  “Hello, Ruth!” Dad said.

  “Hello, Steve, Melanie. Joni, would you mind standing at their heads? No need to touch the bridles unless they move!”

  It was a command, not a suggestion. Joni did as she was told. The minis reached their noses toward her—perfect little inquisitive horse noses, reaching up. Their long whiskers trembled. Their dark eyes rolled, looking friendly, mischievous, smart. How could Joni not have liked minis? They were horses. They were tiny. What was not to like?

  Mrs. Abernathy got out of the cart. Standing on her own two feet, she wasn’t huge after all, just a normal-sized older lady. “Thanks!” she said to Joni. “Meet Kubota.” She pointed to the chestnut mini. “And JD.”

  “JD!” Dad said. “For John Deere?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “His original name was Muffin—can you believe it? Since they were going to be my garden tractors, I thought they should have proper tractor names.”

  “I always heard it was bad luck to change an animal’s name,” Mom said.

  “I believe in making your own luck!” Mrs. Abernathy’s mouth twisted and she gave a short bark of laughter. “Ha! Look how well that’s worked out! But a name is just a cue. It means, ‘Hey you!’ They’re perfectly capable of learning more than one word for that.” She reached into the side pocket of her jacket and brought out a check. “I believe this is the amount we agreed on.”

  Dad looked at the check and nodded. “Do you want me to deliver them, or will you take them in the cart?”

  “That might be asking too much of these guys. The bleating, I mean. The weight is nothing.” She slanted a quick glance at Joni. “They can pull more than twice their weight. Did you know that?”

  A slow wave of heat rolled up Joni’s face. She thinks it was me! Maybe Mrs. Abernathy didn’t even see Chess, down there at bike level. Maybe she heard a shout, saw Joni across the field on Archie—and now Joni was being educated!

  “Really?” Dad said. “Twice their weight?”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “And that’s on a sled, not a wheeled vehicle. This pair has won pulling contests against draft horses.”

  “No!” Mom said.

  “Yes. Some pulling contests are judged by the proportion of body weight each team pulls. Ponies have a lower center of gravity, so they’re tremendously powerful, and minis are even more so. This team was banned from competition, they won so many times! I don’t ask anything like that of them, but they make themselves useful.” Joni caught that quick glance again. Her face burned.

  “I’m so glad you have them,” Mom said. “It must be good to have horses again.”

  Mrs. Abernathy smiled. It made her square, plain face look suddenly handsome. “I never thought I’d be caught dead driving minis. I had a pair of coal-black Morgans! But I can’t afford horses like that anymore, and I can’t do justice to them. There are thousands of these little beasts around the country eating their heads off, perfectly useless, so I thought—why not? They’re cheap to feed, they work cheerfully—it’s better than having a man on the place!”

  Dad laughed, and Joni saw him decide against making a comment. “How are your potatoes coming along?” he asked. Good! Potatoes were a nice, safe thing for them to talk about.

  She looked the minis over, trying to do a body score the way Kalysta had taught their 4-H group. She’d give these guys a Seven, she decided, or maybe an Eight—Fleshy, or Fat. Their spines made little dents down the centers of their plump backs. She’d have to prod their sides hard to even find a rib. On the other hand, they seemed fit. On this warm morning, they were barely sweating, and already their breathing had gone back to normal. They were certainly not being overworked.

  That wouldn’t be enough for Chess, though. Joni could hear her. Do they like pulling the cart?

  And who knew? Who could read a horse’s heart? The eyes behind the blinders looked calm, cheerful, curious. Their focus had shifted to the grass that grew thick and lush at the edge of the dirt road, just like Archie’s would. They wanted some, but they didn’t need it. If he was happy, they were happy.

  She put her hands down to their faces. Two small muzzles poked into her palms, not nipping, just checking. Was it possible that she had treats? Kubota’s muzzle quivered. In the middle of saying something to Dad, Mrs. Abernathy made one of those noises. “Uh!” Kubota went still, his eyes widening innocently. Joni wanted to kiss his little nose, but she wasn’t sure Mrs. Abernathy would go for that.

  “I should let you people get back to work,” Mrs. Abernathy said at last. “Will you head them again, Joni?” She got into the cart, settled herself, gathered the reins, and took up the whip, all in the same methodical way Joni had seen before. It was pretty much exactly the opposite of how Joni rode, but it was cool, the way they stood and waited, the way Mrs. Abernathy took time for every detail.

  She nodded. Joni stepped away from the minis. Mrs. Abernathy spoke to them, and they leaned into the collars, starting the cart with a little jerk. They made a wide circle in the farmyard and headed back down across the field.

  “Whew!” Dad said. “I guess she’s doing okay!”

  Mom said, “I’m sure she feels more than she says.”

  EIGHT

  Eyes

  Chess called that night after supper. “I can come tomorrow morning, if you meet me.”

  “Meet you where?” Joni asked.

  “At the bridge,” Chess said. “My parents are afraid I’ll get lost.”

  Nobody could get lost on that trail! But the Venturas didn’t know that. “Okay, what time?”

  “Eight thirty.”

  Eight thirty? It was summer! It was time to not have any plans, let alone eight-thirty-in-the-morning plans. “Nine,” Joni said.

  She was ready at eight thirty, anyway. She’d forgotten what summer was like. Quiet. Really quiet. After a day at school, Joni loved that quiet, and the freedom opening up around her. But on a summer morning with Mom sleeping late and Dad busy in the barn, freedom seemed more like boredom. Danae and Alyssa were probably doing something together already. Joni wished she lived closer to them.

  Well, she did live close to Chess. She trotted Archie across the field and down the brook trail, wondering. Could this work? If they avoided Mrs. Abernathy? Because—that laugh. And the way Chess asked questions and spoke her mind. She seemed more grown up than Joni felt, but Chess actually admired her. Thought she was brave.

  Anyway, how amazing was it that there were any kids at the white house, let alone a girl Joni’s age! It was meant to be.

  They came upon a line of miniature horse poop. “Cute!” Joni said. Archie put his nose down to sniff it. Then he sniffed along the whole rest of the trail, just like a dog. It had been twenty-four hours since the minis came this way, but he could still smell them—

  “Hi!”

  Archie jolted to a stop, throwing his head up. Chess sat on one of the big rocks at the end of the trail. Her bike leaned up against it.

  Archie blew his breath out loudly. Joni could feel his whole body surging backward. “Say something!” she yelled. “He doesn’t know what you are!”

  “Oh. Sorry. Why doesn’t he know?” Chess slid off the rock, and Archie’s neck softened. Now he could see that this was a person he knew, and not a talking rock.

  “Horses don’t see like we do,” Joni said. “They have a hard time focusing on things in front of them.”

  “But they can see all around themselves, right?” Chess asked. “I read that.”

  “Sort of,” Joni said. “Their eyes are on the sides of their heads, so they see out to the sides. But it’s like—well, put your hands up beside your ears.”

  Chess obeyed. “I can sort of see them.”

  “But you can’t count your fingers, right?” Joni said. “Not without turning your head. That’s what it’s like for them. They can see a lot, but it’s pretty out of focus.�
�

  Chess stood with her hands up, slowly wiggling her fingers. “Wow,” she said. “How can they run if they see that badly?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “But you ride him!” Chess said. “It’s like, if my dad smeared hand cream all over his windshield and then drove seventy miles an hour. I mean—you go fast! How do you dare?”

  “I don’t think about it,” Joni said. This was embarrassing. The last time she’d ridden Archie fast, she was running away from Chess. “Let’s go.” She turned Archie back toward the farm. Chess followed on her bike. The trail was flat and fairly smooth, but Chess bumped and puffed, and dropped behind.

  “It’s easier to walk,” Joni called. “Leave your bike here.”

  “I didn’t bring my lock.”

  “Nobody will take it. There isn’t anybody!”

  But Chess wheeled the bike all the way to the field, and left it leaning against a tree. She walked along beside Archie. “I’ve been thinking about those poor ponies.”

  “Miniature horses. They’re fine!” Joni said. “She drove them here yesterday and I saw them up close. They’re in great shape! Did you know that ponies can pull—”

  “But their eyes!” Chess said. “Imagine if you could see the way they do! Three hundred and sixty degrees! And then they have to wear those blinders and they can’t see any of it! Just that little bit in front of them.”

  “But that’s because—” Because why? Actually, Joni always felt a little sad when she saw driving horses wearing blinders. Their eyes were so beautiful, she hated not being able to see them. But there was a reason, and after a moment, she remembered it. “It’s to keep them from shying if they see something unexpected.”

  “You don’t make Archie wear them! You don’t even make him wear a bit.”