“—priiiiiiiize-winning donkey,” Mr. Atkins said with a proud smile as Timmy and Kelly stared through the fence rails and into the pasture at Pedro.
Maybe Kelly was right, Timmy thought. Pedro was dusty and unkempt, the donkey’s tail working furiously in a losing effort to chase away the flies.
Mr. Atkins continued, “You know Pedro’s from the finest line of donkeys in the land. That donkey brought home a blue ribbon from the Lubbock, Texas Fair in . . . uhhh . . . when was that again?” He stared down at his big, brown boots as if the answer were stamped across the toes.
Kelly cleared her throat. “Um, can we go in and see him?”
Mr. Atkins looked up and squinted. “Who? Pedro? Yeah, sure you can see him. Come on.” He waved his hand toward the pasture, then ducked his head and squeezed his wiry frame between the fence rails. Kelly went through next, followed by Timmy. They trudged across the grassy field toward Pedro.
Pedro strolled over to meet Mr. Atkins, stopping close enough to sniff the man’s hand. Then the donkey pulled back his hairy muzzle revealing rectangular teeth.
Mr. Atkins yanked his hand back. “No, I ain’ts got no carrot, Pedro you mangy donkey!”
Kelly nudged Timmy and whispered. “You see, I told you he was mangy.”
Timmy stared at Pedro, searching for any trace of unusual intelligence; for the same type of silly behavior he’d encountered earlier or even for some kind of private glance of recognition from the donkey. He paid particular attention to the donkey’s large, docile eyes. But Pedro just stood there jerking his head, rolling his lips up and down, and showing his teeth. Looking stupid. Like a donkey.
Kelly approached Pedro. Reaching up, she scratched his mane. The donkey shut his eyes in contentment.
“You see?” Mr. Atkins said. “Pedro likes you, Kelly. He don’t normally shut his eyes, ‘cept when the flies is bothering him.”
“I wish I had a treat to give him,” Kelly said stepping back. She wiped her hand on her blue jeans. “He may not be mangy, Timmy,” she said, “but he sure is dusty.”
“I reckon he is due for a brushin’,” Mr. Atkins said with a chuckle. “And he don’t need no treats. He eats enough as it is.” He patted the donkey’s flank to prove his point.
Pedro snorted.
Cautiously, Timmy moved toward him, still searching for a sign of the extraordinary qualities the donkey had revealed to him last week. He positioned himself to Pedro’s left and stroked the donkey’s neck and then leaned in and whispered in his ear.
“Don’t you remember me?”
Pedro’s ears twitched, the fur tickling Timmy’s nose, causing him to draw back his head. Determined, Timmy leaned in and whispered again, “Pedro, say something. Even if it’s just to Kelly, the girl over there. Prove I’m not crazy.”
Pedro pinned his ears back and let out an ear-shattering bray, forcing Timmy to clamp his palms to the sides of his head. He staggered away toward Kelly and Mr. Atkins.
“You trying to talk to my donkey?” Mr. Atkins said with another chuckle. “Pedro’ll give you a good nip if you whisper in his ear.”
Timmy put his head down in frustration. Maybe I am going crazy, he thought as he stared at the grass. Some of it was topped with clusters of purple flowers that had survived the grazing donkey and horses.
“Hey, Mr. Atkins,” Kelly said, “has anyone ever ridden Pedro?”
The Texan slapped his thighs and let out a guffaw. For several moments, Kelly and Timmy waited as Mr. Atkins finished reacting to the idea of someone riding Pedro. When he finally composed himself, he faced Kelly and said, “Not recently, but you is small enough if you’d like to try.”
Kelly smirked at Pedro. “Are you ready, old boy?” she asked.
Pedro pinned his ears back and once again showed his slimy, square teeth.
“Should I take that as a ‘no?’” she said to the donkey. “Well, I’m gonna ride you anyway, and you better be good.” She turned to Mr. Atkins. “Do I need a saddle?”
Mr. Atkins shrugged. “I’m not sure I got one for Pedro.”
“How about a bridle and reins?”
Mr. Atkins scratched his chin. “Yeah, I suppose I can go and get the set I had from that pony I sold. And maybe the saddle will fit, too.” He started off. “Stay here, I’ll go and look for it.”
He returned ten minutes later with a bridle and set of reins. “Dern it, I couldn’t find the saddle. I must’ve sold it.”
In the time Mr. Atkins had been gone, Timmy had whispered every possible phrase and magic word in an attempt to get Pedro to speak in front of Kelly, but to no avail. Timmy wondered again if Mr. Atkins wasn’t secretly aware of Pedro’s special abilities. Did the two of them have long, philosophical, man-to-donkey conversations when there was no one visiting Crabapple Farm? Did the horses—Penelope, Mister Braun, and the others—join in? For now, however, Pedro seemed disinterested in showing off an ability to talk.
Mr. Atkins fastened the bridle around Pedro, and then led the donkey out of the pasture, toward the ring. “Come on, follow me,” he said.
Timmy watched in disbelief as Kelly rode Pedro, the girl using her strong legs to post up and down on Pedro’s back without a saddle or stirrups as the donkey trotted around the ring. She made horseback riding—and standard-size donkey riding—look like an art form.
“You is looking good on ol' Pedro,” Mr. Atkins called out as he and Timmy leaned on the top rail outside the ring and watched Kelly ride.
With Kelly on his back, Pedro took another lap around. As she passed, she winked theatrically at Timmy and said, “This is fun. Timmy, you ought to try. He’s actually a good mover.” And with that, she dug her sneakers into Pedro’s sides and Pedro trotted faster.
After the fourth lap, she pulled on the reins, urging Pedro to stop by the fence where Mr. Atkins and Timmy stood. Mr. Atkins went into the ring to steady Pedro as Kelly dismounted.
“That was cool!” she exclaimed as she walked toward Timmy. “I rode a donkey. What’s next? A camel?”
Mr. Atkins remained in the ring holding Pedro, whispering to the donkey. Timmy watched. Pedro showed no signs of answering.
“Yeah, you’re a good ol' boy Pedro,” the Texan said. “My favorite. But don’t go and tell Penelope that. She’ll go and whack me with one of those long straws of hay when I walk by. Or worse, bite my ear. And Mister Braun, he is one mean son of a . . . uh . . . never mind.”
Timmy blinked. Was Mr. Atkins being serious about Pedro understanding and sharing what he said with the horses inside the stable or was he just sweet-talking his donkey?
Kelly drove her elbow into Timmy’s arm. “Ow!” he exclaimed. “What?”
There was a mischievous look in her sparkly green eyes.
“What?” he repeated, massaging his arm just above the funny bone.
“It’s your turn to ride Pedro, Dumbo.”
Timmy shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want to.”
“Come on,” she said, her teasing smirk turning into a persistent glare. “Why don’t you live a little for a change?”
He looked away, at the ground, at the bottom fence post where a wasp hovered, and then finally at Mr. Atkins waiting with Pedro. The Texan grinned at him challengingly. Timmy turned back to Kelly. “I never rode before.”
“Well, today is your lucky day,” she said, and motioned with her hand toward the ring.
“No.”
Her face puckered. “Timmy Unterkanz, if you don’t get on that donkey right now I am going to make that shot I gave you on the arm feel like a little love tap.”
Timmy stared at her, wondering how serious she was. She made a fist and then lifted her leg to kick him and then stopped herself when she saw him shrink away. She brushed her hair back and cleared her throat. “I was only kidding, Timmy,” she said. “I suppose you’ve already been up to your eyeballs in bullies, even pretty ones like me . . . but I still think you should ride Pedro. It’s fun.”
“No.”
She regarded him with those green eyes, then batted her eyelashes and said, “Do it just this one time, Timmy. For me?”
“You heard the little lady,” Mr. Atkins joined in. “Pedro is waiting, ain’t you Pedro?”
The donkey swished his tail, chasing an insect that was trying to land on his sweaty rump.
“Go on, you can do it Timmy,” Kelly encouraged. “Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid. I just don’t want to.”
Kelly crossed her arms. “And why not?”
Timmy shrugged, and then thought for several moments, careful not to look Kelly in the eye. He didn’t have a good reason not to ride Pedro other than to avoid falling off. But he did have a good reason to go ahead with what Kelly and Mr. Atkins were urging him to do.
It would give him a chance to get far enough away from the others that Pedro might feel comfortable speaking with him again. It would also give him a chance to prove to himself that he hadn’t been crazy last week when the donkey had had a long conversation with him and the horses.
“Okay,” he said, and then climbed between the fence rails.
“Yay!” Kelly said.
Mr. Atkins squatted next to Pedro. Interlocking his fingers, he flipped his hands over, his palms facing up.
Standing beside Pedro, Timmy just stared.
“This is called a leg-up, Timmy,” Mr. Atkins explained. “Grab the reins and then step into my hands and I’ll boost you up.”
Timmy did as instructed, and with a little lift from Mr. Atkins he was able to swing his right leg over Pedro and straddle the donkey’s back.
Mr. Atkins said, “Good. Now you knows how to stop him, right? Just pull back on the reins firmly, but gently.”
Timmy nodded, but he wasn’t sure about this. There was no saddle, no stirrups, and no safety belt. He swallowed. “How do I get him to start?” he asked.
“You give’em a little nudge with your foot.”
Timmy swung his left foot out and then brought it back into Pedro’s flank.
The donkey swished his tail and snorted.
“Not hard enough,” Mr. Atkins said. “Hold on tight now. I’ll take care of this.” He strode behind Timmy and slapped Pedro’s rear.
Pedro took off, sending Timmy flying backwards almost right off the donkey’s back. Timmy righted himself and gripped the reins.
“Like I’s said, hold on Timmy!” Mr. Atkins shouted. “Grab his mane too!”
Timmy grabbed two fistfuls of Pedro’s mane and held on for dear life as the donkey trotted around the ring. Riding donkeys hurt, especially without a saddle. Pedro’s spine was rising and stabbing his butt.
“Wrap your legs around him, Timmy,” Mr. Atkins called.
Timmy could hear Kelly laughing. “This is so priceless,” she said.
Pedro circled the ring with Timmy somehow managing to stay on the donkey’s back, bouncing.
“I said wrap your legs, boy!” Mr. Atkins hollered.
Timmy squeezed his legs around Pedro’s sides and rode the bouncing rhythm of the donkey’s movement. There. That’s better, he thought. I’m starting to get my balance.
Pedro took him past where Mr. Atkins stood inside the ring, and then past Kelly who leaned on the outside of the fence, her arms on the top rail. Timmy gave them a nervous smile.
“All right Timmy!” Kelly said, raising her fist. “You’re riding a mangy donkey.”
“Hey!” Mr. Atkins said. “Only I can call Pedro that.”
“Sorry,” she said.
And then Timmy was out of earshot as Pedro circled the ring again.
He loosened his grip on Pedro’s mane. This isn’t so bad after all, he thought as they came around the corner and approached Mr. Atkins and Kelly a second time.
“Hey! Ow!” Kelly shrieked.
Timmy turned and saw her waving at something. Mr. Atkins said, “Oh chiggers. I knew I should have sprayed them dang yeller jackets.” He hurried over and grabbed Kelly’s wrist and pulled her into the ring, then shuffled her behind him. “Where’d it git you?”
“On the hand,” she cried.
“What’s going on?” Timmy said, pulling on the reins. Pedro slowed.
“Them dagnabbit yeller jacket wasps,” Mr. Atkins said, swatting at the air. “We better gets inside until they calm down. Kelly must have gotten too close to the sneaky buzzers’ nest and—” Mr. Atkins stopped in mid-sentence. Timmy noticed him staring open-mouthed at him as he sat atop Pedro.
“What?” Timmy said fearfully.
“Pedro, look out!” Mr. Atkins yelled.
Timmy glanced back and saw a small swarm circling Pedro’s rear, the donkey’s tail swishing furiously.
And then—
Pedro squealed and took off. He galloped toward the center of the ring, approaching the jumps.
“No, Pedro, you dumb mule!” Mr. Atkins shouted. “Watch out for the jumps!”
Timmy heard Kelly shriek as Pedro leapt, and before the momentum could throw him to the ground and a most certain death, he tightened his grip on the reins and seized Pedro’s mane with all his might.
Pedro landed on the other side of the cross rail jump and kept going.
“Pedro stop!” Timmy cried. “I wanna get off now!” He was getting dizzy and his stomach was churning with fear and nausea.
Pedro circled to the right and headed back toward the center of the ring toward a wooden jump painted to look like a brick wall.
“No Pedro!” Mr. Atkins hollered. “Not the wall!”
Pedro grunted and left the ground. He and Timmy soared over the jump . . . and then landed safely on the other side.
“Oh my patched up heart,” Mr. Atkins said, then slapped his thigh and cried, “Yeeeeee-hawwwwwwww!”
Still in a gallop, the donkey squealed again, and then loudly enough so only Timmy could hear he said, “I hayyyy-tuh yellow jackets. Brrr-uh . . . ooh, that smarts. Right on my butt.”
Chapter Fifteen
“You kids go and get inside,” Mr. Atkins said. “I ain’t allergic or afraid of dem nasty stingin’ pests. Kelly, I want you to wash your hands and then put some ice from the refrigerator in a dishtowel and hold it over the sting.” Mr. Atkins took Pedro by the bridle and led him toward the gate as Timmy and Kelly headed toward Mr. Atkins’ house.
As they crossed the lawn, Timmy pinched himself. He couldn’t believe what had just happened: Pedro had just jumped two high jumps, jumps intended for horses, and then . . .
The donkey had spoken to him again.
Kelly noticed Timmy pinching his cheek and said, “Did you get stung, too?”
Timmy shook his head and opened the door to Mr. Atkins’ farmhouse.
They stepped into a cluttered foyer where they removed their shoes. The kitchen lay to the left, up a single step. Kelly went to the sink and washed her wound and then dried her hands with the dishtowel.
Timmy opened the door to the freezer and found a large receptacle filled with ice. He brought it to Kelly and as she took it from him and placed it on the kitchen counter, he stared at the top of her hand. The wasp had left a tiny, pink welt.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
“It did at first. But now only a little.” She grabbed a handful of ice, placed it in the dishtowel, and then folded the corners up into a bundle. She held the ice pack over her hand. “You know what stuns me more than that wasp is the way Pedro cleared those jumps.”
Timmy sighed, his mind reliving the experience. His ride on Pedro had been scarier than some of the amusement park rides he’d gone on back when he’d lived in Connecticut.
Kelly said, “That donkey jumps better than some ponies I know. Say, you wanna know what?”
“What?”
“This summer I’m gonna be riding at the county fair and there’s this donkey and mule event—”
Timmy didn’t like the sound of this. “Kelly—”
“Wouldn’t it be fun if you entered the donkey event riding Pedro?” She gazed at him, her green-eyed, frec
kled face beaming. “I’ll go and ask Mr. Atkins if we can borrow Pedro.”
Timmy shook his head again. “Nuh– no,” he stammered. “No way.”
“Too late,” Kelly said with a giggle and trotted across the linoleum floor toward the foyer. “I’ve already made up my mind.”
Timmy heard the back door slam with a sharp crack. He winced and thought, With friends like her, who needs enemies?
Chapter Sixteen
As the days passed, Timmy felt his life improving. He had his mom’s constant love. He had Kelly’s persistent friendship. He had Mr. Atkins’ stern, but caring wisdom. And he had Pedro whom he began riding on the weekends. Tentatively at first, but after a while, with the kind of confidence gained from practice and Mr. Atkins’ good-natured instruction.
Months passed . . . Christmas, which was spent in Connecticut with Uncle Bob, Aunt Molly, and Timmy’s cousin Brett . . . then New Year’s . . . Easter . . . and before long the school year was winding down with little trouble from Eddie Batts and his band of bullies. Whatever Dr. Marchland had said and done to Eddie must have finally worked, because Eddie no longer glared at Timmy. He didn’t even make eye contact anymore, and he and his goons hadn’t chased Timmy since Timmy’s mom had shown up at school that one afternoon to save the day.
Timmy could relax more, and the exercise he was getting with Pedro energized him. He not only rode the donkey Saturday afternoons with Mr. Atkins around, and sometimes Kelly, but he would often return to Crabapple Farm on Sunday mornings while Mr. Atkins was away so that he and Pedro could talk freely and practice mule-kicks at the fence rails. It was early June now, a beautiful, sunny day and the school year was almost over. Timmy threw a kick behind him at the fence.
Pedro shook his head in disgust and said, “Timmy, you’ve gotta bend your knees and lean forward before throwing your kick. Try it in slowwwwww motion.”
His back to the fence, Timmy bent his knees then tucked his chin into his upper chest.
“That’s it,” Pedro said, “now lift your right knee.”
Timmy raised his knee.
Pedro snorted. “Higher.”
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