A Hourse to Love (5 page)

How in a zillion years can she clean her room in
that thing?
Skye asked herself, glancing over at Morgan’s wheelchair.
What a suck-up!

“Hey, how come you’re in a wheelchair anyhow?”Skye asked.

“I was born with cerebral palsy,” Morgan answered.

“But that’s never stopped her from enjoying life, has it?” Mrs. Chambers added and then directed the next question to her husband. “What do you have planned today, dear?”

Mr. Chambers sipped his juice. “I’l be doing my

‘Home, Home on the Range’ thing today. I need to bale the hay I cut in the south field this week, and the lower pasture fence needs mending. Maybe Skye would rather help me than go shopping.” He chuckled.

Mrs. Chambers laughed. “What’s your preference, Skye? Pitching hay bales in a barn loft or choosing new clothes and bedroom accessories. The choice is yours.”

Skye grimaced. “Shopping,” she answered, clear she would rather not do either.

“We’l be back sometime in the late afternoon,” Mrs.Chambers added, sipping a cup of coffee. “This evening I’l show her around the property. Skye, whenever you’re ready we’l hit the road.”
A
fter tackling every yard sale in a thirty-mile radius, Skye and Mrs. Chambers ate lunch at Skye’s favorite fast-food place and then visited the interior decorating department of the largest store at the mal .

“I hope you’ve put some thought into your bedroom and what you’d like to do with it,” Mrs. Chambers said.She and Skye walked slowly up and down the aisles.

“Not real y,” Skye answered casual y, trying to hide her excitement at the thought of actual y making some decisions on her own.

“What do you like? I mean, do you have any hobbies —anything that interests you?” Mrs.

Chambers pointed to a wal display littered with bright colors and designs. “Look at al those different bedspreads and matching curtains.”

Skye studied the display, searching for something different.

“A while back I saw the coolest movie,” she said,

“and this girl had a black light and dark purple wal s with long strings of glass beads hanging on the windows. That was too cool, but I don’t see any black bedspreads here. Maybe we could get some posters at the gift store I saw when we came in.”

“No, I don’t see any black bedspreads either,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Anything else you like?” Skye stood thinking, her mind far away, and a half smile slipped out. “Hey, I know! Mr. Johnson, you know, my last foster dad, raced dirt bikes. He had the coolest red bike. I always wanted to ride it, but he’d never let me. Yeah, dirt bikes. I love dirt bikes!

And motorcycles — real y big ones — like Harley Davidsons.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Mrs. Chambers

said, pointing. “Look there! That teal and beige one with — I don’t believe it — red dirt bikes. That set looks like it was made just for you.” Skye rushed toward the wal display and pul ed the large plastic bag out of a bin. “Wow, this is too cool!

Can I get this one?” Her face beamed with delight.

“Sure,” Mrs. Chambers answered, smiling. “I imagine that gift store has some real y neat posters with dirt bikers flying al over dusty roads. Very good, Skye. You’l have the coolest bedroom this side of Snyder County. Let’s check out and we’l go back to the gift store.”

“Great!” Skye said, fol owing Mrs. Chambers.

A
fter supper with the family, Skye could hardly contain her excitement when she put on a helmet and climbed on the back of a four-wheeler behind Mrs. Chambers.

Wow! This is more like it!
Skye thought.
Forget
the horses and sign me up for this!

Together they toured Keystone Stables, with Mrs.

Chambers revealing some interesting facts that even caught Skye off guard. The place was more than a foster home. It was also a licensed facility for kids with al kinds of problems. Those who were deaf, blind, and had other special needs were al welcome at the thirty-acre ranch for weekends and summer camps. Everywhere she looked, Skye saw ramps, railings, and different kinds of equipment.

Beyond the fences and pond were open fields and riding trails through the woods and hil s.

To the right of the pasture, a short distance from the house, Skye saw a cluster of towering pine trees with a gazebo, picnic pavilion, and a trickling brook with a wooden bridge. To the left, behind the barn, sloped a gentle hil with a breathtaking view of more rol ing hil s, farmland, and Jack’s Mountain off in the distance.

As the sun was setting, Mrs. Chambers and Skye pul ed up to the back of the house.

“There’s one part of our house you haven’t seen yet,”Mrs. Chambers said. “Our basement is not exactly an ‘ordinary’ basement. I’l show you.” Skye fol owed Mrs. Chambers around to the side of the house to an entrance with a business sign above

the

door

that

said

CHAMBERS’

CHAMBERS.

“This is Tom’s business, Skye. He builds and repairs computers,” Mrs. Chambers said as they walked into a room that looked like a smal computer factory. “Over in the other part of the basement is our game room.”

Mrs. Chambers flipped a light switch and opened a door.

“Wow!” Skye exclaimed. Her glance darted from one end of the spacious room to the other. The wal on her right was stacked with a television, a DVD

player, a CD player, computers, and video games, as cool as any arcade she had ever seen. A Ping-Pong table and pool table stood in the center of the room. And tucked in the back was a kitchenette with a serving counter. To her left along the wal stood a row of card tables and folding chairs, and in the far back corner hung a lamp that looked like a traffic light with red, yel ow, and green lights.

“It’s yours,” Mrs. Chambers said. “Al you need to do is ask.”

“Real y?” Skye asked.

“Real y.”

Saturday turned out to be one of the best days of Skye’s life, but al those happy feelings were forgotten on Sunday when the family attended Community Bible Church. As far as Skye was concerned, it was just another painful experience she’d have to endure. In the Sunday school teen class, Skye super-slumped in a chair next to Morgan.

During the main worship service, Skye double-super-slumped between Mr. and Mrs. Chambers, trying to ignore everything Reverend Newman, the man in the fancy suit at the pulpit, said. It didn’t make any sense anyway. Heaven? Hel ? Forgiveness?

Jesus dying for the sins of the world? It was like a foreign language to Skye, and her mind wandered as far away as she could get.

Of al the tortures prepared just for her, the one that shook Skye the most was the one facing her on Monday, the first day of her ten-day suspension from school: riding that beast Champ out in the field. She just knew she’d fal off him and get trampled.

To make matters worse, both Mr. and Mrs.

Chambers took off work to spend the day with Skye, showing her the ins and outs of living with horses.

Morgan had just left for school, the sun was splitting the sky, and Skye found herself marching between her prison wardens and two guard dogs off to the gal ows at the barn. What she wouldn’t give now for a ticket to Chesterfield. Her only other option was faking appendicitis, but she wasn’t sure where her appendix was, so instead she grumbled al the way to the barn.

“Now,” Mr. Chambers said as he unlocked the corral gate and al three walked through, “we’re going to take this easy. First we’l show you how to handle a horse with your feet on the ground.” Skye watched the dogs as they took off, sniffing the ground and running back toward the house. She glanced down in the meadow. A cluster of horses were eating grass near the pond’s edge. Inside the corral she backed up against the closed gate, hung her thumbs on her pockets, and tried to steady her legs. Frantical y, her eyes searched for a hole to crawl into, but there was none. She ran her fingers through her hair, never letting her glare leave Mr.Chambers. He opened the barn door, grabbed a lead rope off a hook, and walked into the shadows.

“We’l help you get to know Champ before you ever get on his back,” Mrs. Chambers said. “You’l do just fine. Just relax. He can sense when you’re nervous.”

Skye snarled, “This is ridiculous! I don’t want to —

I can’t — ”

“We’re here to help you. Just give yourself a chance.”

Out of the shadows came Mr. Chambers leading the sorrel gelding. Skye studied the horse from head to tail as the two approached. The morning sun bounced off his reddish-brown coat, making him look like he had been polished with expensive oil.

Champ’s muscles rippled as he pranced, and his mane and tail whisked in the breeze. Scared as Skye was, she was overwhelmed by the beauty of this magnificent horse. Now, suddenly, her wobbly legs had some competition — a melting heart and half a wil to at least try to get to know this gorgeous beast.

“I’l get the grooming gear,” Mrs. Chambers said, disappearing into the barn.

“Hold your hand out and let him sniff you,” Mr.Chambers said, leading the horse closer to Skye.

Skye

cautiously

reached

out

her

hand,

surrendering it to the horse’s muzzle.

“Now come and walk up here with me, Skye,” Mr.Chambers said as he faced the horse toward the side of the barn. “Don’t ever walk behind a horse, no matter how wel -trained he is. That’s dangerous.

Always stay where he can see you, either far enough in front or to his side.”

Mr. Chambers waited for Skye, and then the three walked on until they reached a metal brace on the wal , where he tied the rope.

Skye stood a safe distance away, studying every move the horse made as Mr. Chambers positioned him. Champ nodded three times, rubbed his head on his leg, and whisked his tail to shoo a fly. Then he looked directly at Skye and forced out a loud whinny that made her jump and step back farther.

“Here we are,” Mrs. Chambers said as she rounded the corner. “Now we’l show you how to keep a horse clean.”

Skye sidestepped toward Mrs. Chambers and fixed her glare on every move the frisky animal made.

“This is a currycomb,” Mrs. Chambers said, lifting a round metal-toothed tool out of a bucket, fol owed by four other items. “And this is a comb for his mane and tail, a brush, a hoof pick, and insect repel ent.

Since he’s not covered from head to toe with mud, we’l start with the brush. Here.” She shoved the brush into Skye’s unsuspecting hands.

“You want to ride a happy horse?” Mr. Chambers said as he held Champ by the halter. “You groom him before
and
after you ride him. Never mind the fact that after you’re done he’l rol in mud or dust in the field. He stil loves to be brushed. Come on. I’l show you what to do.”

As though walking on glass, Skye stepped toward Mr. Chambers and tried to hand him the brush.

“Oh no,” he said, “you do it. See the strap on the back of the brush? Slip your hand through that and step up to his side.”

Skye did as she was told, lips pinched, knees wobbling, heart melting.

“Start up by his ears and under his mane. Brush in long strokes as hard as you can. When you get better at this, you’l have a brush in both hands. Now go ahead. Work your way down his neck, withers —

that’s around his lower neck — and across his back and rump. Then we’l do his other side and the legs.” Skye took a deep breath and stepped toward the horse, holding the brush out as if it were poison. Just as she careful y reached up and laid the brush on his neck, Champ moved his hind legs, shifting his rump toward her.

Skye jumped away from the horse and she felt like she was going to jump out of her skin. Her cheeks flushed and the hair on the back of her neck prickled.

“I can’t do this!” she insisted.

“Sure you can,” Mrs. Chambers said, slipping her arm around Skye. “Here. I’l help you. One thing you need to remember is that Champ is highly trained. I know that doesn’t mean anything to you now, but once you get to know him you’l be amazed at how obedient he is.”

The woman clicked her tongue and placed her hand on the horse’s rump. He sidestepped back against the barn and stood without moving a muscle.

Together Mrs. Chambers and Skye approached the horse. This time Skye passed her test, placing the brush on the horse and swiping numerous times across the whole side of his body. As she finished brushing his rump, Champ looked back at Skye, letting out a soft nicker that sounded like he was giggling.