“Okay,” Jonathan signed.
Skye mounted Champ and rode him around the corral one time, stopping in front of her watchful student. “I’ll do it once more,” she signed. “You watch my balance and my feet. Also, look at how little I pull on the reins. Okay?”
“Okay,” he signed.
Again Skye trotted around and stopped in front of Jonathan.
“Now, you try it. Remember, don’t pull back hard on the reins. And don’t kick him. Just rub his belly with your heels. Buddy will respond.”
“Okay.” Jonathan smiled. He started, first in a walk, then in a proper trot. But halfway around the corral, he started pushing his weight forward in the stirrups and lifting himself out of the saddle every other beat of Buddy’s trot.
“He’s posting!” Skye said with no one listening. “Jonathan!” she screamed.
Shifting his weight forward, Jonathan sent Buddy into a full canter. The boy yanked the reins to the side, turn ing the horse into the center of the corral. Buddy came to an abrupt and confused stop.
Skye raced Champ into the center of the corral, coming to a sliding stop next to Buddy. Panic filled Buddy’s eyes as he sidestepped, fighting the tight hold Jonathan had on the bit. Skye reached down and grabbed the horse’s bridle, attempting to settle him down.
“Jonathan, relax the reins!” she signed. “You don’t post when you ride Western style. Buddy has no clue what you’re doing.”
“I always ride like that!” Jonathan signed.
“Only because you learned English style on an English-trained horse. Now listen! All these horses at the camp are trained Western.”
“No,” Jonathan chopped the air. “I don’t like this way.” He started pulling Buddy to the side.
Skye grabbed Buddy’s bridle again and calmed him down. “Jonathan, you will not post with Buddy. Your lesson is done!”
Jonathan pouted for several seconds and stared at Skye. Then, dropping the reins on the saddle’s horn, he started to cry. He ripped off his riding helmet, threw it on the ground, and jumped off his horse. Wailing like someone had just given him a black eye, Jonathan fled into the barn.
Now what! Skye said to herself. She reached over to Buddy’s saddle, grabbed his reins, and led him back toward the barn. Tying both horses’ reins to the corral posts, Skye ran into the barn after Jonathan. Over in a dark corner filled with hay bales, Jonathan sat, crying his eyes out.
Skye hurried to kneel in front of Jonathan.
Venturing one nasty look at Skye, the boy lowered his head onto his folded arms. He sobbed and sobbed.
Skye touched him, and Jonathan pulled away fiercely. He pivoted his body a half turn, completely ignoring Skye. The battle of the wills had begun again.
“More trouble?” Skye heard Mr. Wheaten’s voice coming from the open barn door.
“Yes,” she answered. “He wouldn’t listen during his riding lesson again.”
“Need any help?” Mr. Wheaten asked.
“I think I can handle this one,” she said. “Thanks anyway.”
“I’ll be in the corral if you need me.” The man’s voice trailed away.
Skye sat on her haunches, contemplating her next move. Jonathan stared off into space with crocodile tears streaming out of his big brown eyes. By now, his nose had joined in, thick liquid running down over his lips.
Skye reached into her jeans pocket for a wad of tissues. All in one move, she pulled one loose and reached toward Jonathan’s nose.
Smack! Jonathan slapped Skye’s hand so hard the tissue flew. With eyes full of contempt and the nastiest scowl he could muster, he stared straight at her.
“I hate you!” he signed viciously.
Favoring her stinging hand, Skye sat dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that,” she signed. “You always say you like me.”
“I don’t like you!” he said. “I hate you! Just leave me alone!” Again he turned, this time with his back toward Skye. He buried his face in his arms, and again cried in loud sobs.
Slowly Skye stood, and for a brief moment stared at the heartbroken boy. He hates me.
The last time she had heard those awful words was in one of her foster homes, a long time ago, where she lived above a garage and was treated like a maid. The other kids in that home had said that too. At that terrible place, she knew she wasn’t wanted, spending more time in the garage than in the house. Ugly memories filled her mind like a flooding cesspool. Her own eyes filled with tears.
Should I try to help? she asked herself. Can I? She reached and almost touched Jonathan’s quivering shoulder but quickly withdrew her hand.
I’m not helping him at all, she told herself. I’m only making things worse. With her own tears streaming, Skye turned and fled the barn.
“Skye!” Mr. Wheaten yelled from behind. “Wait!”
Halfway across the road, Skye stopped. Wiping her eyes, she turned as Mr. Wheaten covered the distance.
“What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” Mr. Wheaten’s eyes and opened hands expressed his deep concern.
Skye’s body heaved with deep sobs. “Oh, Mr. Wheaten, I just can’t help Jonathan. He hates me. I just can’t do this anymore.”
“Aw, little lady,” the big man said. He reached his muscular arms around Skye and drew her toward him. He patted her on the head. “That’s all right, Annie. You’ve done the best you could.”
“But—but I don’t want to disappoint you—or the Lord!” she cried, wiping her nose on her arm.
“Oh, you haven’t,” Mr. Wheaten said in a consoling voice. “I think you just need a rest from all this pressure. Don’t feel so bad. I’ll reassign Jonathan and his classes to Tim and Linda. Maybe my wife can help too. Now don’t you worry your pretty little head over this. We’ll help this kid yet.”
Skye stepped back from the man and stared into his compassionate eyes. “But I can’t! And I wanted to help him. I feel like such a failure!”
“Well, now, the summer’s just startin’. You can work with him again, if you want to. Maybe in a week or two, you’ll feel strong enough to try it. What do ya say?”
Skye pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. “If you say so, Mr. Wheaten. This might be the best thing for all of us, especially Jonathan.”
Mr. Wheaten looked around and then focused on the barn. “Is he still in there?”
“Yeah.” Skye sniffled.
“You tend to the horses,” Mr. Wheaten said. “I’ll get Tim, and we’ll take care of Jonathan. Sooner or later, he’s gotta learn to listen.”
“I sure hope it’s not later,” Skye said, walking toward the corral.
“Me too, little lady,” Mr. Wheaten said. “Me too.”
chapter thirteen
The next morning in the cafeteria, Skye and Morgan monitored their girls at the Five Ferns table. Caleb had just gotten Morgan her tray and was sitting beside her. Skye sat down at the other end of the table and searched the room, looking for a certain blond young man. At a corner table Chad and Linda sat together, laughing up a storm. Skye just smiled.
At the doorway Tim’s boys came in and headed toward the breakfast line. Skye noticed that worry shrouded Tim’s face. After he scanned the room, he rushed toward her table.
“Skye, have you seen Jonathan?” His voice conveyed raw panic.
“No,” she said, confused. “I only see him this time of the day when he comes in here with your group. And besides, I’m not working with him anymore. At least, not for the time being.” She too quickly scanned the room.
Tim’s rambling words betrayed his growing concern. “I thought maybe he had come in here ahead of our scheduled time. When I woke the boys up this morning, his bed was empty. I thought he was in the bathroom. I know now that I should have checked. I got so busy I for got about him. Later, after everybody was dressed, I lined up the boys to bring them for breakfast, but he wasn’t there. I checked the bathroom then, but he wasn’t there either. Now I’m really worried.”
“It sounds to me l
ike he might be pulling one of his neat little bathroom tricks again,” Skye said confidently.
“What do you mean?” Tim asked.
“He sits on top of the toilet against the wall and pulls his feet up. Then you can’t see if he’s in any of the stalls.” Skye stood, directing her words to Morgan. “I’ve got to see if Jonathan’s up in his cabin. I’ll be right back.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Tim asked.
“Nah,” Skye said, already heading toward the door. “You get your boys settled. They need you. I’ll find Jonathan.”
“Yeah,” Morgan said, “our girls are already settled. We’ll be cool, won’t we, girls?”
“Yeah, cool,” they said, one after another.
Skye hurried out of the mess hall and ran past the barn to the boys’ cabins all facing the pool. Rushing into Tim’s cabin, she headed straight to the bathroom. Quickly she went to three stalls and pushed on the doors, fully expecting one to be locked. But all three doors swung open freely.
In a heartbeat, the panic she had seen on Tim’s face raced through her veins like a charge of electricity.
She ran back to the cafeteria where Tim and Mr. Wheaten stood talking near the food line. As soon as Skye hurried in, their anxious looks turned in her direction.
“He’s not there!” Skye said when she joined them.
“Now where could that boy be?” Mr. Wheaten raised his hat and scratched his head. “He seemed all right when we talked to him yesterday.” He glanced at Skye. “All I wanted him to do was apologize to you some time today. That didn’t seem to bother him much at all.”
“Yeah,” Tim added, “and you certainly weren’t mean to him, Mr. Wheaten. But remember, all Jonathan kept saying was ‘Okay.’ Maybe he didn’t really understand what we wanted him to do.”
“It’s awfully hard to tell what a deaf kid really understands,” Skye said. “They nod their heads ‘yes’ all the time, even when they don’t have a clue what we’re talking about. They really have it rough.”
Mr. Wheaten squared his hat on his head and took a deep breath. “Well, we’ve got to find him—and now!” He walked to the sound system and picked up the microphone. “Attention, ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention?”
The room settled to not even a whisper.
Mr. Wheaten continued. “Jonathan Martin did not come in here with his cabin. Has anyone seen him this morning?”
“No!” echoed across the room. Dozens of campers shook their heads.
“All right then,” Mr. Wheaten said. “I’m going to check with the sick bay and the maintenance crew. Maybe somebody has seen him wandering around. If not, staff and volunteers, we need to put Emergency Plan A into action. You who are members of the search team, please meet me in my office in ten minutes.” He placed the microphone down and hurried outside.
As instructed, in ten minutes the search team assembled at Mr. Wheaten’s desk. Skye, Chad, Linda, and Tim were among the eight who eagerly awaited the next orders.
Mr. Wheaten stood under his steer horns with worry plastered all over his face. “Nobody, and I mean nobody, has seen Jonathan today. I want you people to scour these grounds. Leave no rock unturned. And look up in every tree. Kids his size love to climb trees! Linda, you take the swimming pool, slide, and pond area. Tim, you check all the cabins, boys’ and girls’, and the picnic area. Chad, take an ATV and go down to the lower east end of the camp. Check the playing fields, including all the equipment, and then search the perimeter of the whole camp. It’s gonna take you a while to cover ten acres, but take your time and be thorough. Skye, I want you to check the corral area and barn, including the tack room and hayloft. The rest of you come with me. I’ll take you by truck to the outskirts of the camp. We’ll check each hiking trail leading away from the camp for half a mile or so. I sure hope he hasn’t wandered off into the woods. It’ll be like searching for a penny in a copper mine.”
“What’ll we do if we find him?” Chad asked.
“Bring him right back here, even if you have to drag him.” Mr. Wheaten raised his finger emphatically. “This is no joke, even if he thinks it’s funny. We’ll all meet back here in an hour, with or without him. Oh, and before you all go, let’s have a word of prayer.”
After Mr. Wheaten prayed for the searchers and Jonathan, everyone left the office in a rush.
Skye hurried across the street toward the barn. Sliding the door open, she went inside. First, she checked the hay bales on ground level where twice in as many weeks Jonathan had hidden to pout.
No Jonathan.
She ran to the large tack room at the other end of the barn, searching under and behind barrels, saddles, blankets, and anything large enough to hide a skinny little kid.
No Jonathan.
She ran up the stairs to the hayloft where she looked behind hundreds of bales stacked like gigantic blocks.
No Jonathan.
Down the stairs she flew. She searched every stall on both sides of the long corridor. She glanced at her watch. An hour had just about passed.
“Champ,” she said when she got to her horse’s stall, “I have no time to socialize right now. Jonathan’s on the run—again!”
Champ nickered and nodded as Skye hurried past. She finished checking the rest of the stalls and headed toward the sliding door.
Wait! Skye stopped dead in her tracks.
“That last stall is Buddy’s stall!” she said. “And it’s empty!”
She hurried back and leaned over the Dutch door, scanning the stall like Buddy just had to be in it. A layer of straw bedding and one pile of horse manure were all she saw.
Rushing in, she bent down and touched a lump of manure. Cold and dry. “That means he hasn’t been in here for hours!” she told herself.
She darted out of the stall and ran back down the long corridor. Stopping at the doorway of the tack room, she zeroed in on the far left corner, at the brace and hook where Buddy’s saddle and bridle belonged.
Empty!
“Oh, no!” Skye yelled. “That means—he’s ridden off the campgrounds!”
At 10:00 a.m., Skye sat on Champ outside the barn. Mr. Wheaten and four other staff members were sitting on horseback as well. Every rider held an open map. All the saddles had been equipped with a canteen of water, a first-aid kit, and a blanket rolled up on the back. From each rider’s belt, a cell phone dangled from one side and a megaphone from the other. Mr. Wheaten was giving last-minute instructions to the search team.
“Our job is to comb this immediate area,” he said, his voice ladened with stress. “Caleb and two other men are already searching the main highway and the woods on the other side of the road. I’ve notified the Shamokin Park Rangers, and four of them have started to search their six hundred acres on ATVs. It’s up to us to cover the north, south, and east woods adjoining the camp. Thank goodness we have blue skies. That will make the job much easier.”
“Do we have to stay in pairs?” Tim asked.
Skye and Chad exchanged smiles.
“Yes, safety first!” Mr. Wheaten answered. “Besides, if Jonathan is hurt, he’ll need all the help he can get. Any other questions before we head out?”
“What about wild animals?” An anxious look swept over Chad’s face. “I mean, could Jonathan be in any danger?”
Mr. Wheaten squared his hat and forced a smile that belied the worry eating away inside. “Bear and cougar have been sighted in these woods. So, yes, I would say there is some concern. However, as long as they’re not provoked, they’d probably run in the opposite direction from any human. Also, the tweeter on your megaphones will do a number on any animal. Set that high-pitched noise off, and they’ll hightail it into the next county. Don’t forget, that whistle will bring Buddy right to you if he’s within hearing range.”
Skye squared her own Stetson and stroked Champ’s neck. “What if we don’t find him? You said yourself that there are hundreds of acres to cover and dozens of hiking trails.”
“We have to find him,” Mr. Wheaten declared, “and God will help us. I’ve already notified the state police, and if we don’t find the boy by nightfall, they’ll activate a missing persons APB at daybreak. In addition to an army of volunteers from nearby towns, the police will use their own search teams and helicopter as well.”
“What about Jonathan’s parents?” another rider asked. “Do they know?”
“I called them about an hour ago,” Mr. Wheaten said. “Of course, they’re frantic. They should arrive here some time in the late afternoon. I only hope by then Jonathan can greet them.”
“Mr. Wheaten,” Skye asked, “can we pray before we start?”
“By all means, little lady,” he answered. “God knows exactly where Jonathan and Buddy are.”
Mr. Wheaten prayed. Tugging the brim of his hat down, he said, “Remember, stay together, and don’t get lost yourselves. Use your cell phones to keep in touch with one another. If you see any signs that Jonathan has been where you are, let us know. And Skye and Chad, you’ve got a tough job. Along the stream to Oneega Falls, at least a dozen trails shoot off from the main one. The dampness from the stream makes the footing treacherous, even for the horses. Be very careful. Any other questions?”
“No,” everyone responded.
“Then let’s synchronize our watches,” Mr. Wheaten said, glancing at his. “It’s ten fifteen. We’ll meet back here in five hours. Let’s move out.”
chapter fourteen
Five hours later, Skye and Chad joined Tim and the rest of the search team back at the barn. No one had seen a trace of Jonathan. The riders dismounted with heads hung low. Hardly a word was spoken.
Despite her love for riding, Skye was glad to slip off Champ’s back. Her body ached, and she was sure her legs would stay bowed forever. A lather of sweat coated Champ as he huffed from his grueling hike. Skye petted his dilating nose and kissed him on his sweaty cheek. “Good boy, Champ,” she said. “You get double oats for supper tonight.”
Lined up at the corral fence, a new team of six staff members sat on fresh horses. After Skye, Chad, and Tim relinquished their equipment, they joined the rest of their team in the corral to cool down the horses. Mr. Wheaten started to address the fresh riders, ready to search until dark.
Summer Camp Adventure Page 7