The Long Ride Home

by Marsha Hubler

  “Morgan, what’s the matter? You’ve just not been yourself lately.”

  “I already told you,” Morgan said. “It’s the same old thing. I want us to be friends forever.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Skye said. “C’mon, tell me what’s bugging you.”

  Morgan sniffled, then she forced out a stingy smile. “If you find them, do you want to go and live with them?” Suddenly, Morgan’s eyes released a flood of tears that ran freely down her fiery red face.

  “What?” Skye said. “C’mon, spill the beans, Morgan. What’s bugging you?”

  Morgan took a few deep, choppy breaths. Again, she wiped her cheeks. In all the time she had known Morgan, Skye had never seen her so upset.

  “M-maybe I’m just being selfish,” Morgan gasped, “but I’m going bonkers worrying that you’re going to leave. You and Mr. and Mrs. Chambers are my family now. I don’t want anything to spoil that. If you leave, nothing will ever be the same again at Keystone Stables.”

  In disbelief, Skye stared while Morgan just sobbed and sobbed. Without warning, tears burned in Skye’s eyes, too, and her face flushed as she tried to figure out what to say to her very best friend.

  “Morgan—”

  “Oh, this is so stupid,” Morgan cried. “I’m sorry, but I had to get this out. It’s been bottled up inside me ever since we met Millie.”

  “No—no, that’s okay.” Skye took a deep breath. “Best friends tell all, and we’re best friends. I want to know how you feel.”

  Morgan released a long, slow sigh. “Oh, Skye, I’m just afraid of losing my—my best friend.”

  “Morgan, you’re never going to lose me as your best friend, no matter where I am.”

  “What does that mean?” Morgan’s eyebrows peaked.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” Skye said. “I just want to find out where my parents are, that’s all. As long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted to know my roots. To tell you the truth, I have no idea how I’m going to feel if I find them.”

  Morgan wiped her eyes and gave Skye her signature smile. “Just so we stay best buds, okay?”

  “No problem.” Skye gave Morgan a sincere smile. “I’ll always think of you as my sister, too.”

  “I feel a whole lot better,” Morgan said. “A whole lot better.”

  “Me too,” Skye said. “Now let’s get going. The horses and potatoes aren’t going to wait all day for us.”

  With no response from her dad, Skye hoped and prayed all week that she’d hear something from the other inmate. “C’mon, Charlie. You gotta come through for me,” she said before going for the mail every morning.

  And Charlie did!

  On Friday, Skye pulled a letter from the mailbox with her name and her present address scribbled on the envelope. With no return address anywhere, she tore it open and read a short note that appeared to have been written in a hurry:

  Dear Skye, Your father is not here anymore. He was released early because he kept his nose clean. He left here about two years ago. He wrote to me for a while. The last I heard from him, he was living in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Good luck trying to find him.

  Charles P. Hamlock

  Chapter seven

  In record time, Skye dashed back to the Chambers’ cabin where she knew everyone was probably still sound asleep. She came to a skid stop at the door and glanced at her watch. Almost six. It’s time for them to get up anyway. She burst through the doorway with absolutely no thought of restraining her excitement.

  “Mom, Dad, I got a letter from Charlie!” She rushed to a bottom bunk and shook Mrs. Chambers’ shoulder. “Mom, wake up. I’ve got the best news ever!” She pulled on her foster dad’s arm that was dangling over the top bunk, then rushed to Morgan’s bunk where she poked at Morgan. “Wake up, everybody. I have news about my dad!”

  Morgan struggled to open her eyes, her frizzy red hair suffering from what looked like an all-night wrestling match with the pillow. Her wandering eyes finally focused on Skye as she yawned. “What has you going bonkers at this hour of the morning?”

  “I heard from Charlie Hamlock,” Skye bubbled, rushing back to the other set of bunks. By now, both Mr. and Mrs. Chambers were leaning on their elbows, trying to get their wits about them.

  “What’s that, honey?” Mrs. Chambers asked. “What about Charlie?”

  Mr. Chambers scratched his disheveled brown hair and yawned. “Well, you’re certainly the loudest alarm clock I’ve ever heard.”

  “Dad, didn’t you hear me?” Skye shoved the letter under his nose. “I heard from Charlie Hamlock. He said my dad might be living around Gatlinburg, Tennessee!”

  “That’s our girl,” Mrs. Chambers chuckled. “Calm, cool, and collected.”

  Morgan sat up and looked in Skye’s direction. “The last time I saw you this wound up, you and Champ had just won State in the Western Pleasure Class. Or was it when Chad winked at you last year at the Youth for Truth Christmas party? Cool it, girl.” Morgan’s usual friendly tone had an air of sarcasm.

  She almost sounds angry, Skye thought. What gives? “This letter is better than any of that. I might be able to contact my dad.”

  Mr. Chambers took the letter in one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other. “Skye, we know you’re terribly excited about this. We’re just having a little fun with you. Now let me see what this says.”

  Skye’s foster mother wiggled her way out of the bottom bunk. “Let me see this very important note.”

  Mr. Chambers handed her the letter, yawned again, and drew his fingers down over his mustache. “This is good news, Skye. Now we’ve got something to go on.”

  “When can we go to Gatlinburg, Dad? When?” Skye raked her fingers through her hair and chewed her lip.

  “Hold your horses, honey.” Mrs. Chambers handed the letter back to Skye. “This calls for a family powwow that will take more time than we have now. We’ve got to be at breakfast in a half hour and we have a full day of activities ahead for all of us.”

  “When can we talk about what to do next?” Skye’s anxiety level had her mind churning like a windmill in a tornado.

  Mr. Chambers threw off his sheet, swiveled on the mattress, and dropped to the floor next to his wife. His western pullover top and shorts matched Mrs. Chambers’ outfit to a T. “Eileen, don’t we have a free hour after supper tonight?”

  Mrs. Chambers rubbed her eyes and thought for a moment. “Why, yes we do. The hayride doesn’t start until around seven.” Her glance darted from her husband to Skye. “After supper, we can all meet here and discuss this latest development.”

  Skye shifted to Morgan who had managed to position herself against the wall so she could watch the show. “Morgan, what are you doing after supper?”

  “I’ll be up to my ears in dirty pots and pans. I don’t need to be in this meeting. You can fill me in later.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Skye said. “I keep forgetting that somebody has to clean up the mess in the cafeteria every time we eat. I guess that’s why they call it a ‘mess hall.’”

  “And camp critters sure can make messes,” Mr. Chambers said with a sly grin. “Now, about our family meeting. Right after supper, we’ll have our powwow here and see what we can do about Gatlinburg. Right now I could use a shower and a shave.” He rubbed his stubby beard and smiled.

  “Skye,” Mrs. Chambers suggested, “if you have any time at all today, go online to that website we searched the other day. Now you can plug in ‘Gatlinburg,’ and it should tell you how many of those Jacy Nicholsons live in that area, if any.”

  “I hardly have time to breathe today,” Skye said. “I have a full day of riding lessons right until supper.”

  “Well, the laptop will be waiting for you when you get back here then.” Mrs. Chambers slipped her arm around Skye’s shoulders.

  “And let’s keep this whole situation a matter of prayer all day long,” Mr. Chambers said. “If God’s in this, and I believe he is, then we’ll find the right Mr.
Jacy Nicholson.”

  Skye looked deep into her foster parents’ eyes and beamed a broad smile. Then she glanced at Morgan, who had a strange, faraway look. What is wrong with that girl? I thought everything was okay.

  All day Friday Skye and Champ worked their tails off in the squelching heat of the South Carolina sun. Although Skye enjoyed every minute with her horse and the camp kids, no matter how hot it was, her thoughts constantly drifted about 350 miles northwest to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, where she hoped and prayed she’d be able to find her real dad.

  At suppertime, she gobbled down her hot dog and fries and made a mad dash to the family chalet. As she set up the laptop at the small table and went online, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers came in and joined her. As the three sat gawking at the screen, Skye typed in her real dad’s name in the family and friends search engine. Three Jacy Nicholsons popped up for the Gatlinburg area along with their addresses, but only one had a phone number listed.

  “Wow,” Skye said, “there are three in or near that town. But only one has a phone number. Why don’t the others list their phone numbers?”

  “Skye,” Mr. Chambers said, “the Internet has become very intrusive in people’s personal lives. It’s enough that the site posts people’s addresses. Some folks would rather not even have that out there as common knowledge. My guess is that they want their phone numbers unlisted.”

  “Or maybe they have cell phones and don’t want that number shared,” Skye reasoned.

  “What surprises me is that there are three men in that same area with such an unusual name,” Mrs. Chambers said. “That’s amazing.”

  “Are there any websites where we could find more information about any of them?” Skye wrote down the one phone number and then sat poised, her fingers ready to type.

  “Well,” Mr. Chambers said, “why don’t you plug ‘Jacy Nicholson’ in a few search engines and see what happens. The men might have businesses or sell products that they’re advertising on their own websites.”

  “Good idea, Dad,” Skye said as she started to type.

  In seconds, the screen displayed “No Match.”

  “Well,” Skye said, “Besides three addresses, I have this one phone number. Could I call this guy right now? He just might be my father.”

  “Skye,” Mrs. Chambers said, “have you thought at all about what you plan to say? You can’t call and just blurt out, ‘Hello, this is your long-lost daughter. Can we talk?’”

  Skye pursed her lips and folded her arms. “I see what you mean. That would definitely be a total shock.”

  “Why don’t you think about it awhile,” Mr. Chambers said. “The first words you say will be very important. And if he has voice mail, would you want to leave a message? That’s something else that’s very important to think about.”

  Skye slumped back in her chair and sighed. “You’re right, Dad. Can I try calling in an hour?”

  “Whenever you feel that you’re ready,” Mr. Chambers said gently.

  “I probably shouldn’t leave a message,” Skye said. “If it would be the wrong Jacy, he wouldn’t know what in the world I’m talking about. And even if it would be the right one, I’d rather talk to him directly.”

  “A wise decision,” Mr. Chambers said.

  Mrs. Chambers swiveled her chair to the side of the table and faced her husband. “Tom, you don’t have anything pressing back home next week, do you?”

  Mr. Chambers sat, still staring at the screen. With his chin resting on clenched fists, his thoughts were far away.

  “Dad?” Skye poked the man’s shoulder.

  “Huh? Oh, sorry. Just thinking,” Mr. Chambers finally said. “I didn’t schedule any appointments for my computer business for the whole week after this trek. It takes me that long to get back into the groove of ‘life’ again after any trip, no matter where we go. So, if you’re asking if we can go to Gatlinburg next week, the answer is yes.”

  “Do you really mean it?” Skye’s voice reached its highest octave. “We can actually try to find my father?”

  Mrs. Chambers gave Skye a warm smile. “Honey, we can do this. We have the time.”

  “And I think we might be able to mix some business with pleasure, if you know what I mean,” Mr. Chambers said.

  “Tom, are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Mrs. Chambers asked.

  Mr. Chambers gave his wife one of his sly grins. “Skye, plug in ‘AQHA’ and see if the American Quarter Horse Association is sponsoring any horse shows in the Gatlinburg area.”

  “Horse shows?” Skye asked and paused. “Oh, I get it,” she said, starting to type.

  Mr. Chambers relaxed in his chair and folded his arms. “If there are any horse shows in that part of Tennessee—and I’m sure there are this time of the year—we can register ASAP and compete. When we get to Gatlinburg, we can’t be looking for Jacy Nicholson twenty-four/seven, so if we enter a horse show or two, we might win some prize money to help us with our expenses. And I’m sure our four equines don’t want to face a week of nothing but munching hay and snoozing.”

  “Tom, that’s an excellent idea,” Mrs. Chambers said. “We can check out the KOA campgrounds with accommodations for large pets. Some of those campsites have makeshift barns for fur-friends like ours. When we find a suitable camp, we’ll drive down our stakes there for as long as necessary.” She glanced at Skye, who was engrossed with the information on the screen. “And although it looks like our gal isn’t into the tourist mode at the moment, Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge have some very nice attractions that we might be able to check out.”

  “We’d have to call Chad and ask if he’ll stay at Keystone Stables a few more days. Wait until he hears about my father.” Skye was totally oblivious to Mrs. Chambers’ last words. “Look here. There are two western AQHA shows right in the Gatlinburg area next week.”

  “Then it’s settled,” Mr. Chambers said. “Come Sunday after church, we’re on our way to Tennessee.”

  Skye held up the piece of paper with the phone number. “And if this isn’t my father, the first thing I’m going to do is find a new phone book and see if the other Jacys might be listed,” Skye said. “The locator website just might be outdated.”

  Chapter eight

  An hour later, and every hour thereafter until bedtime, Skye called the number for Jacy Nicholson Number One. When no one answered, she went to bed disappointed.

  All day Saturday while she taught riding lessons and helped with a hayride, she called the number every hour on the hour with the same result.

  Sunday after church, the Chambers’ family said their teary farewells at the ranch and set their sights on Gatlinburg. Again, all afternoon and into the night, Skye had no success with the phone. “This guy has got to be on a vacation or something,” she groaned in the truck cab and flipped the cell phone shut after her last try around 9 p.m. For a while, Skye’s mouth ran nonstop about trying to find her father, but soon pure exhaustion wooed her into a sound sleep. Her dreams flitted from her father to horse shows to the kids she had just left behind to Chad and then back to her missing dad again…Jacy Nicholson…What if he doesn’t want to see me…Does he have other kids now?…Which Jacy is it?…Maybe it’s none of them…

  Close to midnight, the Chambers family pulled into a KOA campground on the outskirts of Pigeon Forge. After Mr. Chambers registered at the office, he, Mrs. Chambers, and Skye bedded down the horses in a small pole barn, then they and Morgan crashed in the bunks in the log cabin and were asleep in seconds.

  At seven o’clock the next morning while Mr. and Mrs. Chambers prepared breakfast at a small brick fireplace and camper’s table in front of the cabin, Skye hurried to the camp office with one goal in mind: to find a phone book.

  “Mom! Dad!” Skye yelled as she charged back to camp. Mr. Chambers was stirring his trademark scrambled eggs in a pan on the fire while Mrs. Chambers buttered biscuits at the table. The table hosted a mishmash of paper plates and cups, plastic utensils, and a quart container of orange juice.
Morgan sat by the fire holding a marshmallow on a stick over the low flame.

  “Sounds like you have some good news.” Morgan’s glance darted from the marshmallow to Skye then back.

  “There are two Jacy Nicholsons in the phone book,” Skye said. “One number is the same as what I found online. Can I call them both now? Can I?”

  “Skye, I hate to keep saying this,” Mrs. Chambers said, smiling, “but you’ll have to hold your horses again.” She glanced at her watch and went back to her buttering job. “It’s not even 7:15 yet.”

  Mr. Chambers lifted the frying pan and shifted to the table where he scraped the eggs into a large plastic serving dish. He then set the pan on the ground beside the fireplace. “Skye, we have to think this through. If those guys are up and about at this hour on a Monday morning, they’re probably getting ready for work or whatever.”

  Skye flopped on a canvas chair near the table. “If, and that’s a big if, Jacy Nicholson Number One is even around here. Maybe he moved.”

  Mrs. Chambers poured four glasses of orange juice. “Skye, I’m sure that sooner or later you’re going to get through to one of these men.”

  “At this hour of the day, they’d probably think it’s a prank call and slam the phone down quicker than you could say, ‘Dada,’” Morgan said. She wheeled her Jazzy to the one side of the table, plopped her gooey burnt mess onto a paper plate, and giggled. “Scrambled eggs and marshmallows. What a treat.”

  “Only a teenager would come up with such a gross combination,” Mr. Chambers kidded.

  “Skye, honey,” Mrs. Chambers said, “You need to put yourself in those men’s shoes. Even if one of them is your dad, you should try to be careful what you say and how you say it.”

  Skye’s mind churned out her next plan while she gazed at two local phone numbers scribbled on a small piece of paper. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that,” she said. “I’ll try to let him know kind of slow and easy that he’s talking to his daughter.”