Whispering Hope (3 page)

“What’s going on back here?” Mrs. Chambers said, poking her head in the doorway.

Wanda quickly scooped up the trophy and retreated to her former position on the bed while Skye leaned on the side of the dresser.

“Nothing,” Wanda said. “We’re just looking at some of my stuff.”

“Skye?” Mrs. Chambers said with her all-knowing tone.

“It’s okay, Mom.” Skye’s glance darted from her mom to Wanda and back to her mom again. “We’re cool.”

Wanda’s glance met Skye’s with another brand-new look, one of apprehension. She looked like she was
expecting Skye to tell every dirty little detail of the last few seconds.

“I heard a loud bang,” Mrs. Chambers said. “It sounded like the roof fell in.”

Skye saw Wanda open her mouth, ready to say something. “I dropped Wanda’s trophy,” Skye said and then gave Wanda another heartfelt smile. “Everything’s okay. Really.”

Wanda stared back at Skye, and just for a split second, Skye thought she saw something completely different on Wanda’s face, something she had never seen before. The hint of a genuine smile.

Thank you, Lord,
Skye prayed, giving Wanda another smile.
I think you and I got the upper hand in this round.

S
kye reached forward and stroked Champ’s neck. “Mom, is Dad bringing another horse home today?” “Well, honey,” Mrs. Chambers said, “it’s not often that he gets a free Saturday to go to a horse auction. I know he’s had his eye on a Mustang, and he learned that there was one for sale today. Don’t be a bit surprised if he and the girls pull in here later today with one in the trailer.”

Behind the large fenced-in Keystone Stables pasture, Skye and Mrs. Chambers trotted their mounts on a muddy road that trailed through the woods to Piney Hollow, the wilderness campsite and outdoor chapel that Skye loved so much. Skye rode Champ next to Mrs. Chambers on her dun mare, Lucy. Tippy and Tyler were having the time of their lives, romping and sniffing every tree within their noses’ reach. Although a brisk wind tousled the horses’ manes and tails, a cloudless sun coaxed Skye to unzip her coat and take off her gloves. There was nothing in the whole wide world that Skye enjoyed more than riding Champ and being with Mrs. Chambers to talk about “things.”

The first day of spring had already tickled nature, and although it was not yet April, Skye drank in the signs of new life emerging in every direction. Shade trees glistened with bright green buds that were squeezing their way out of drab brown limbs that had been dormant all winter long. The earth, thawing from its chill, smelled “new,” and birds chirped with a trill of delight. Skye spotted a few stray daffodils and crocuses hugging the fence posts along the back pasture, and the honking of geese high overhead heralded the news that warmer days were just around the corner.

“Do you really think he’ll come home with a wild Mustang?” Skye asked.

The wind teased Mrs. Chambers’ Stetson, forcing her to tighten her chin string. “If he finds the right one,” she said. “He’s wanted to have one from out West for years. If the price is right, we’ll have horse number six. Since you and Chad took that course at the horse whispering camp last summer, we figured you two can help train the new member of our equine family.”

“Chad and me?” Skye said while her heart took a funny beat. “I’d love to try. I’m sure he would too.”

“I’m so glad you had the opportunity to learn that technique,” Mrs. Chambers said. “With horse whispering so popular all around the world, I look for the days of
breaking
horses to soon be a thing of the past.”

Skye nodded as her mind drifted. “Mom, when Sam Kline, the director of the horse whispering camp, showed us old pictures of how cowboys whipped and spurred horses and used twitches on their noses and did other horrible stuff to make them listen, I cried like a baby. Horses used to obey out of fear or pain. Now with the horse whispering techniques, they bond with their trainers and actually enjoy learning. It is so cool.”

Ten minutes of conversation later, Skye and Mrs. Chambers rode out of the woods to the small clearing
at the base of three sloping hills. In the center of Piney Hollow under a cluster of pines rested the chuck wagon, still wrapped up in its winter clothing of canvas tarps and rope tie-downs. Skye glanced to the left to the outdoor chapel with its stone cross and few rows of hewn treetrunk benches. A gust of wind blew sharply, and a small whirl of leaves danced across the benches. No one but Mrs. Chambers knew how very special that chapel was to Skye.

The horses walked next to the wagon to a wooden hitching post where Mrs. Chambers and Skye dismounted, wound the reins around the railing, and walked to the chapel. Skye took off her hardhat and ran her fingers through her long hair as it whisked in another sharp gust. Tippy and Tyler went running off into another sniffing adventure.

Mrs. Chambers sat on the bench in front of the cross and gestured for Skye to sit beside her. “Skye, what runs through your mind when you come here?”

Skye sat down and stared at the cross. “I think of how stupid I was, and how you loved me—how God loved me—no matter how many dumb things I did. When I think of that stunt I pulled, trying to jump Champ over the wall, and how Dad tumbled off his horse—”

“Skye, we don’t need to rehearse all the mistakes you’ve made. Lord knows, I’ve made my own share as well. God did a wonderful work in your life, and he can change Wanda, too, can’t he?”

“Oh, so you want to talk to me about Wanda,” Skye said, staring into Mrs. Chambers’ deep blue eyes.

“Yes, honey,” Mrs. Chambers answered with a warm smile. “I know that it’s going to be rough for a while with Wanda. I also know that she could be dangerous, so please be very careful around her. Tom and I are watching her every move, but she’s street smart. She thinks she knows how to hoodwink the whole bunch of us. I just want you
and Morgan to be on your guard.” She wrapped her arm around Skye’s shoulders and drew her close.

“Thanks, Mom,” Skye said.

As Mrs. Chambers released her grip, Skye stood and looked back at Champ. “I remember how I hated everything when I first came here, even him. Wanda reminds me an awful lot of myself. I want to help her, Mom, but she told me to stay out of her way.”

“I figured she did. She doesn’t want anyone in her space.” Mrs. Chambers stood, and she and Skye headed toward the horses. “All good things take time, honey. God has a perfect plan for Wanda’s life, with perfect timing. We need to try to help her see the truth and then stay out of
his
way as he works and changes her from the inside out.”

“She’s awful mad about something,” Skye said. “Where are her parents?”

“Her father’s in prison and her mother died a few years ago.”

“How’d her mom die?”

“I’m not quite sure. I think Wanda’s grandmother mentioned something about her having a bad heart.”

“Well, at least she knows where they are.”

“Skye, maybe someday God will open the door for you to find out what happened to your parents. I know that troubles you.”

“Maybe someday,” Skye said. “In the meantime, I guess we just have to concentrate on Wanda. I’ll have to pray harder for her.”

Mrs. Chambers touched Skye’s arm. “That’s a great idea, Skye. Let’s take time right now,” she said, and they bowed their heads.

“Lord,” Mrs. Chambers began, “we ask that you help us with Wanda. We know that she’s hard to love, but we know that you love her as much as you love us. Please help her to realize that we want to help her. And, Lord, we pray for her to accept you into her life.”

“And, dear God,” Skye said, “help Morgan and me to know what to do and when. We want to be patient with Wanda, so I’m asking for patience. Please.”

“In Jesus’ name, amen,” Mrs. Chambers added.

“Amen,” Skye said.

Back at the barn, just as Skye and Mrs. Chambers turned their mounts out to pasture, Mr. Chambers, Morgan and Wanda pulled in with the two-horse trailer, occupied by one wild Mustang.

As the truck and its rig stopped in front of the barn, Wanda jumped out of the passenger side of the truck. “That horse is nuts!” she said. “And he’s nuts for buying it.” She pointed at Mr. Chambers who was getting out of the driver’s side of the cab.

“What do you have back there, Tom?” Mrs. Chambers asked as she retrieved Morgan’s wheelchair from the cab.

“I bought a six-year-old tobiano pinto gelding,” Mr. Chambers said. “I finally got my Mustang from out West.”

Wanda leaned against the fender of the truck. “That horse is a wild maniac!” she said, folding her arms. “He kicked and bucked the whole time they loaded him on the trailer.”

Skye walked behind the truck and watched as Mr. Chambers carefully approached the back of the trailer and unhooked the latch that held the ramp in place. Carefully, an inch at a time, he let down the ramp, staying clear of the horse’s back legs. Without cause, the horse lifted one rear leg and let out a swift kick, just missing Mr. Chambers’ arm.

“A black-and-white pinto!” Skye said. “Wow, he is nasty, Dad, but he’s also beautiful.”

“Beautiful, yes,” Mr. Chambers said. “But wild as a March hare too.” He backed away from the trailer,
lifted his Stetson and, despite the chilly air, wiped a layer of sweat from his forehead onto his coat sleeve. “He’s a rescued animal. The last joker who owned him whipped him and half starved him. Thankfully, the PA Animal Rescue Squad got the horse before more damage was done. They’ve been able to put some weight on him, but we’re going to have our hands full training him.”

Morgan turned her wheelchair to face the trailer. “His name is Rebel. How appropriate is that?” Her glance darted Wanda’s way.

“I want all of you girls to move way back.” Mr. Chambers pointed toward the back porch of the house behind Skye. “In fact, that’s as good a place as any to watch the action. Eileen, please be ready to open the corral gate.”

Skye and Morgan immediately headed toward the porch.

“You too, Wanda,” Skye heard Mr. Chambers say. “Now.”

“Tsk,” Wanda said as she slid her hands into her jean pockets and sauntered toward the back porch.

Skye chewed her lip as she watched Mr. Chambers cautiously walk into the right side of the trailer and reach over the partition to his left to loosen the lead rope that held Rebel’s head steady during transport.

“Easy, Rebel,” Mr. Chambers said. Then he clicked his tongue and slowly started to ease the horse out of the trailer. Mrs. Chambers headed toward the training corral just a few yards away where she quickly unlatched the gate, swung it open, and stepped out of the way.

“Easy, fella.” Mr. Chambers had the lead rope wound tightly around both hands as Rebel inched his way back and off the ramp.

As the Mustang backed out of the trailer, Skye studied every muscle in his powerful body. Eyes wild with fright, the horse took a few more steps back while Mr. Chambers quickly walked down the ramp. For a moment, Rebel and
Mr. Chambers stood in place with only the horse’s long, flowing, black-and-white mane and tail whisking in the breeze. The horse arched his neck, swiveled his ears and then let out a nervous snort as he explored the strange place he was about to call his home.

An inch at a time, Mr. Chambers crept his hand toward the horse, aiming to slip his fingers around the halter. “Easy, boy,” he said, “no one’s going to hurt you.”

“No one will hurt you, boy,” Skye repeated her dad’s words, but no one was listening.

Just as Mr. Chambers touched the halter, the horse yanked up his head, let out a piercing whinny, and reared up on his hind legs. Like pedals on a bike, the horse’s front legs pawed at the air within inches of Mr. Chambers’ head. All the while, the horse screamed high-pitched whinnies as though someone were beating him with a whip.

Skye leaned forward on the porch railing and her heart raced with fear. “Dad, watch out!” she yelled. “He’s going to kill you!”

M
r. Chambers stumbled backward, losing his footing. He tumbled onto the trailer ramp and sent his Stetson flying. Spooked by the hat, Rebel reared up again and yanked the lead rope from Mr. Chambers’ hands.

Suddenly from behind the trailer, a lasso loop sailed through the air and slipped over Rebel’s flailing head.

“Way to go, Mom!” Skye yelled.

“She has him!” Morgan yelled.

Skye stretched forward, watching Mrs. Chambers who had just thrown the lasso and was tying her end of the rope around one of the corral fence posts. Rebel yanked and pulled, reared and neighed, but Mrs. Chambers’ tie held secure.

“I’ve got him, Tom!” Mrs. Chambers yelled.

“This is like some kind of Wild West show with Rebel the Wonder Horse showing off big time,” Skye said.

“I hope no one gets hurt,” Morgan said.

“That horse is nuts.” Wanda’s brain was stuck with only one thought.

Mr. Chambers scrambled to his feet and groped at the lead rope that dangled and bounced from Rebel’s head. Finally, he was able to grab it and pull it in the opposite direction of Mrs. Chamber’s tether. Now he had Rebel where he wanted him—between a crosstie and unable to do much of anything but kick.

“They got him!” Skye said.

“I’m telling you, that horse is nuts.”

“Wanda, you’re getting your point across, loud and clear,” Skye grumbled.

“He won’t be nutso for long,” Morgan said. “Keystone Stables is a place to get un-nutsoed whether you’re a horse…or a kid.”

“Eileen,” Mr. Chambers yelled, “keep the rope taut while I coax him into the corral!”

While Mrs. Chambers pulled, Mr. Chambers slowly eased off his rope, forcing the horse to take the lead toward the corral. Rebel snorted, pranced, and yanked, but trapped in the crosstie, that was all he could do to show his extreme displeasure with the entire situation.

When Rebel barreled into the corral, Mr. Chambers dropped his end of the rope and slammed the gate shut. He then grabbed Mrs. Chambers’ lasso and cajoled the horse toward him with Rebel on the inside of the corral and Mr. and Mrs. Chambers on the outside.

In a lather of sweat, Rebel realized the uselessness of his fury and started to settle down. He planted all four hooves firmly on the ground and stood still as a statue in a Civil War museum. Then one cautious step at a time, with a series of snorts and head bobs and his mane and tail whisking freely, he inspected the two annoying humans.

Mr. Chambers climbed onto the bottom rail of the corral fence, and as Rebel stepped within arm’s reach, Mr. Chambers carefully unclipped the horse’s lead rope. With the lasso, he drew the horse within inches of the tie
post and double-knotted the rope. He then backed off the fence, scooped up his hat, and, drenched in perspiration, he and Mrs. Chambers joined the girls on the porch.

“We’ll just let him calm down for an hour or so before I try to get him into the barn,” Mr. Chambers said.

“Dad,” Skye said, “is he damaged beyond repair?”

“Well,” Mr. Chambers said, “I’ve always wanted a
wild
Mustang from the West, and I think I got my wish this time. I bought him because I think he’s trainable. There’s always hope. He just needs some TLC, but it’s going to take some time. We’ll get that puppy in shape sooner or later.”

Wanda sneered, “Puppy? Yeah, right. He’s more like a raging werewolf.”

Mr. Chambers looked directly into Wanda’s eyes. “When animals are hurt as badly as this one, it takes them just as long to get over the pain as it does kids that are hurt.”

“But there’s always hope.” Mrs. Chambers also gave Wanda her undivided attention. “Especially when we have God’s help.”

Wanda folded her arms and looked away.

Hmm,
Skye observed.
She doesn’t have much to say now.
“When can Chad and I start working with Rebel?” she asked as she shifted her attention to the horse.

Mr. Chambers smoothed his mustache and then rubbed his chin. “Let’s plan for a couple of weeks from now. While you’re at school, I’ll start the horse whispering process and get the kick out of him. From that point on, you and Chad can continue.”

“Yeah.” Morgan giggled. “Rebel doesn’t know what’s coming. In no time at all, he’ll change from an I-don’t-wanna-do-nothing Mustang grouch to an I-wanna-be-your-equine-friend happy trail horse.”

“No way,” Wanda jeered. “This I gotta see.”

Mrs. Chambers gave Skye and Morgan a radiant smile. “Greater miracles than that have happened at Keystone Stables. Haven’t they, girls?”

“Yup,” Skye said.

“You’ve said it, Mrs. C.,” Morgan added.

Mr. Chambers slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Well, dear, what’s cooking in the kettle for supper? I’m so hungry I could eat a horse—ah, but not that one.” He pointed toward Rebel.

“Steak and baked potatoes on the grill,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Minus the horse.”

“We could have horseradish,” Skye suggested with a giggle.

“Okay, enough horsing around,” Mr. Chambers said. “Let’s mosey on in to the feed stall.”

While everyone joined in a hearty laugh, Skye noticed that Wanda didn’t move a muscle.

“I’m going to mend a fence down in the pasture,” Mr. Chambers said to Skye and Chad as he hopped in his truck and started to pull away from the training corral. “I’ll be within earshot if you need me.”

“Okay, Mr. C.,” Chad said. “Thanks.”

On a beautiful April afternoon two Saturdays after Rebel arrived, Skye and Chad managed to get him into the training corral where they were about to begin their horse whispering techniques. Although Mr. Chambers had, indeed, gotten the kick out of him and had begun working him on a longe line, Rebel still balked and pranced the opposite direction when any human got too close. He made it perfectly clear that as far as allowing anyone to touch him or tack him, his answer was a clear-as-crystal “no way.”

“Easy, boy,” Skye said, closing the gate behind her. She cautiously detached the lead rope from the horse’s halter and coiled the rope in her hands. Chad stood along the sidelines ready to offer assistance when needed. He squared his black Stetson and spoke softly. “Skye, remember what Sam said at the horse whispering camp. An abused horse takes longer to bond with us than a wild one fresh off the plains. Just take your time.”

“Gotcha,” she said. As she carefully reached to touch Rebel’s muzzle, the animal reared and whinnied, his eyes wild with fear.

Skye stepped back, allowing the horse to relax. He pawed the ground, snorted, and backed up. Pivoting his powerful body, he faced his long flowing tail toward Skye. In stark defiance, he once again stood perfectly still and focused on the barn. With ears pricked forward and neck arched out over the fence, his sleek black-and-white coat sparkled in the warm spring sun.

“He is one gorgeous hunk of horse flesh, isn’t he, Skye?” Chad said.

“He sure is, and I can’t wait to ride him. And I’m going to, sooner or later.” Skye took one end of her lead rope and started twirling it. Advancing toward Rebel, she spoke loudly to get his attention. “Hey, Rebel, boy. Let’s do some longeing without the rope. What do you say, fella?”

Starting the process to bond with the horse, Skye used an advance-and-retreat method that she had practiced at camp. Gently, she worked Rebel by pitching one end of her long lead rope at his hindquarters while talking to him, thus forcing him to retreat or circle the perimeter of the corral. In the center of the corral, Skye’s eyes and body followed every move the trotting horse made.

Skye planned that when Rebel tired of running and stopped, she would try to advance, staring eyeball to eyeball with the horse, and reach to touch his face. If he
would allow her to make contact, she then would retreat and wait for him to come to her. At that point, Rebel would recognize her as the leader of his herd. She and the horse would bond, and he’d trust her enough to allow her to touch him all over his body, further his training, and make him a reliable mount. But Skye knew this horse had been damaged—badly—and it might take weeks before she would see anything happen at all.

For several minutes, Skye forced Rebel to retreat. When she withdrew the rope and he stopped, she made him advance. Just as her hand touched the horse’s nose, a truck passing in front of Keystone Stables backfired, sending Rebel into a frenzy. He jerked up his head, let out a screeching whinny, and pivoted toward the fence, turning his tail toward Skye. With another loud nicker, he arched his neck and dug his hooves firmly into the ground. While he snorted, his ears swiveled like some kind of equine radar machine.

“Hey, Chad, old buddy!” Skye heard a familiar, and unwelcomed, voice yelling from the backyard. She slipped out of the corral and joined Chad at the same time Wanda arrived in her boys’ clothes, baseball cap and all.

“Hi, Wanda,” Skye said.

“What’s happening?” Chad said, tipping his Stetson toward the girl.

Wanda punched Chad in the arm and threw a quick glance at Rebel. “Looks like nothing much is happening with Dog Meat there. What a trip.”

“Wanda, all good things take time,” Skye said. “I think we would have made progress if that truck hadn’t backfired.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Wanda slurred and in the next breath said, “Hey, Chad, how about a game of Nine Ball? The woman said I could take a half hour break from my science project while she ran to the grocery store.” Wanda
pointed her thumb toward the house, then swirled her index finger. “Whoopdeedoo. A measly half hour.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Skye said.

Wanda completely ignored Skye. “What’d ya say, Chad?”

“Maybe later,” Chad said, reaching for the rope in Skye’s hands. “I want to try my hand with Rebel.”

“Can I watch?” Wanda asked Chad.

“As long as you stay back here and don’t make any noise,” he said. “His kind don’t like distractions.”

“I want to watch
you,
not him,” Wanda said, smirking at Skye.

Skye felt her face turn red hot, hotter than it had been in ages. Bubbling like a volcano ready to explode, anger that she thought she had long learned to control turned her stomach upside down. She stared at Wanda, gave her a return smirk, and turned toward the house. “I’m going for some lemonade. Anyone else want some?”

“Sure,” Chad said.

“Got any beer?” Wanda cackled.

“You’ll find that three miles down the road,” Skye said.

“I’ll pass,” Wanda said. “Watching Chad is all I want right now.”

Ignoring Wanda, Chad crawled into the training coral and focused on Rebel.

Tears flooding her eyes, Skye rushed into the house, ran into her bedroom, slammed the door, and crashed onto her bed.

“I don’t like her. God, I know it’s wrong, but I just don’t like her,” she said, and soaked her bedspread with tears.